While he was gone Amber sat fanning herself. The day was hot and she could feel her high-necked black-satin gown sticking to ‘her skin; her silk stockings, moist with perspiration, clung tight to her legs. Presently he returned and sat down to count out the pieces of gold and silver for her, stacking them in piles on the table while she watched him drowsily.
“That was a fine boy little Mrs. Jemima had, wasn’t it?” he said conversationally.
Amber had not known that Jemima’s child was born, but now she said sarcastically: “So soon? She was only married last October.”
He gave her a glance of surprise, and then smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, yes, perhaps it is a little early. But you know how young people are—and a contract is as binding as the ceremony, they say.”
He scooped the money into a purse and handed it to her as she got up to go. At the door she turned. “Any word of Lord Carlton?”
“Why, yes, as it happens, I have. Some ten days ago one of his ships put into port and a man came to tell me that his Lordship would be here soon. I’ve waited for him now longer than I’d intended, but I can’t wait any longer. Perhaps he’s heard of the sickness and decided not to come. Good-day, madame, and the best of luck to you.”
“Thank you, sir. And to you.”
Everyone was wishing everyone else good luck these days.
She drove immediately down to the wharves and sent Jeremiah to inquire for Lord Carlton. After half-an-hour or so he returned to say that he had found a man who had been on the ship which had come in and that he was expected at any time. The men who had manned the first ship were all waiting impatiently, for they wanted their shares of the venture.
Back home she saw that several carts piled with her own gilt leather trunks and boxes stood before the house, and Nan came running down the stairs to meet her. “A man died this morning only four doors up the street!” she cried. “I’ve got everything ready! We can leave this instant, mam! Can’t we, please?”
Amber was annoyed. “No, we can’t! I’ve just heard that Lord Carlton is expected in port any day and I’m not going till I’ve seen him! Then we’ll all go together.”
Suddenly Nan began to cry. “Oh, we’re all going to catch it and die! I know we are! That’s what happened to a family in Little Clement’s Lane—every one of ‘em died! Why can’t you meet his Lordship in the country? Leave ’im a message!”
“No. He might not come at all then. Oh, Nan! For Heaven’s sake! Stop your blubbering then. You can go tomorrow.”
Nan set out very early the next morning with the baby, her nurses, Tansy, two of the maids, and Big John Waterman—who had come with them from Dangerfield House because he was in love with Nan. She was to go to Dunstable and wait there or, if there was plague in the town, to continue on until she found a safe place and sent back a message. Amber gave them a great many instructions and admonitions regarding the care of the baby and protection of her belongings and they rattled off, waving back at her. Then she sent Jeremiah back to the wharves—but Bruce had not come.
London was emptying rapidly now.
Trains of coaches and carts started out early every morning: twenty-five hundred had died the week before. The sad faces of the plague prisoners—shut in with the sick—appeared at many windows, and bells tolled from almost every parish church in the city. People held their noses when they passed a cross-marked house. Some families were storing their cellars with great supplies of food and then sealing the house, stuffing every crack and keyhole, boarding the doors and windows to keep out the plague.
The weather continued hot and there was no fog; it had not rained for almost a month. The flowers down in the courtyard, roses and stocks and honeysuckle, were wilting and the meadows about the town were beginning to dry up and turn brown. Street vendors hawked cherries and apples and early pears, though oranges were scarce since the war had begun, and everyone who could afford it bought ice—cut off the lakes and rivers in the winter and stored underground packed in straw—to cool their wine and ale. They talked almost as much about the heat as they did about the war or the plague.
Amber was finally beginning to feel nervous herself. The long funeral processions, the red crosses on every hand, the tolling bells, the people passing with their noses buried in a pomander or bottle of scent had at last made her uneasy. She wanted to get away, but she was sure that if she left, Bruce would arrive the same day. And so she waited.
