Forever Amber полностью

“Holy Jesus, Amber, don’t be a fool! I’ll meet you somewhere later.”

“I’m not afraid of the plague—I never get sick. When will you be through unloading?”

“Not before night.”

“Then I’ll come back here for you at sundown. Nan and the baby are at Dunstable and we can meet them there. I’m not living at Dangerfield House any more—I’ve got lodgings in St. Martin’s Lane.”

“Then go there and stay. Keep off the streets and don’t talk to anyone.”

He turned away and then, as she watched anxiously, her face wistful as a child’s, he looked around and gave her a smile and a slow weary wave of his hand. He walked off down the wharf and disappeared into the crowds.

But she did not stay at home as he had told her to do.

She knew that he was skeptical about a great many things in which she believed, and a unicorn’s horn was one of them. Wearing it pinned inside her smock she felt perfectly safe as she went out to make arrangements for their supper, for she thought that tomorrow morning would be early enough to leave. She ordered their supper at the Blue Bells, a very fine French tavern in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and then went back to set the table herself. All her silver had been stored with Shadrac Newbold but there was pewter enough in the kitchen to make a handsome show and she amused herself for most of an hour experimentally folding the napkins to resemble weird birds. In the courtyard she gathered a great armful of limp yellow roses that climbed over the walls and onto the balconies, and arranged them in a large pewter bowl for the dining-room table.

She took delight in each small detail, each unimportant little thing which she did, with the hope that later it would make him comfortable or cause him to smile. The plague began to seem almost a blessing to her now, for it meant that they would be together for several weeks, perhaps months—perhaps, forever. She thought that she had never been so happy, or had so much cause for happiness.

The last hour before she set out she spent brushing and arranging her hair, polishing her nails, and painting her face-very subtly, for she did not want him to look at her with the smile she knew so well, which always made her feel that she was both foolish and wrong. She was standing at the window fastening a bracelet when she saw a funeral procession turn the corner. There were banners floating, horses and men tramped solemnly, and though it was still light several torches burned. She turned quickly away—resenting the intrusion of death into her happiness—threw on her cloak and went downstairs.

The wharf was half deserted now and as she rode out along it the wheels of her coach rumbled noisily. He was talking to two other men, and though he gave her a nod he did not smile and she saw that he looked even more tired than before. After a few minutes all three returned to one of the ships and disappeared from sight.

By the time a quarter of an hour had gone by she was beginning to grow impatient. Now, just what can be keeping him all this time! Here he hasn’t seen me for ten months and what does he do? Goes back to his damned boat for a drink, I suppose! She began to tap her foot and flutter her fan. From time to time she sighed and scowled, and then she smoothed her features again and tried to compose herself. The sun had set, dark red over the water, and now there was a slight breeze which seemed refreshing after the hot day just passed.

It was at least another half-hour before he came back and by then her eager anticipation had turned to angry pique. He got in and sat down heavily. She gave him a sideways glance and said tartly:

“Well, Lord Carlton! Have you come at last! Pray don’t let me keep you from something important!”

The coach began to move again. “I’m sorry, Amber—I’ve been so damned busy I—”

She was instantly contrite and ashamed of her meanness, for she could see that his eyes were bloodshot and even though the air was cool now, little drops of sweat stood on his forehead. She had never seen him look so tired, and her hand reached over to his. “I’m sorry, darling. I know you didn’t keep me waiting on purpose. But why did you have to work so hard and so long? Sure now, those men aren’t such fools they can’t unload a ship by themselves.”

He smiled, stroking her fingers. “They could have unloaded it alone, and would have been only too glad to. But these prizes are the King’s, and God knows he needs them. The sailors haven’t been paid and the men are refusing to work any more for tickets that can’t be cashed—Contractors won’t supply commodities they know they won’t be paid for. God, you don’t have to be here three hours to hear a tale of woe that would make a lawyer weep. And I might as well tell you—the three men who were sick yesterday are dead, and four more got it today.”

She stared at him. “What did you do with them?”

“Sent them to a pest-house. Someone told me that the gates are guarded now and that no one can leave without a certificate-of-health. Is that true?”