Ordinarily Barberry Hill was overflowing with guests at that time of year for both the Earl and her Ladyship had vast numbers of relatives, but the plague was keeping everyone at home and only occasionally some neighbour came to call. More encouraging news, however, had begun to come from London. The number of deaths was decreasing, though it was still over a thousand a week. Many who had left town when fewer than a hundred died in one week were now going back. The streets were full of beggars covered with plague sores, but no more corpses were to be seen and the dead-carts came only at night. A feeling of optimism was beginning to prevail again for they thought that the worst was over.
Bruce was growing restless. He was worried about what had happened to his ships and the prizes he had brought; he wanted to go back to London and, as soon as possible, to sail again for America. Amber asked when he thought that he would leave.
“As soon as I can. Whenever it seems likely that men will be willing to sign on again.”
“I want to go back with you.”
“I don’t think you’d better, Amber. I’m going to Oxford first—the Court’s there now and I want to see the King about a grant of land. The weather’s terrible and I can’t take the time to travel by coach—and once I get to London I’ll be so busy I wouldn’t be able to see you. Stay here with Almsbury another month or two—the city isn’t safe yet.”
“I don’t care,” she insisted stubbornly, “whether it’s safe or not. If I can see you at all I’m going. And it won’t hurt me to ride horseback that far, I’ll warrant you.”
But one noon as she stood at her windows looking out over the grey-skied rolling hills that swept away south, watching a party of horsemen approach the house, a strange feeling of dread and suspicion began to take hold of her. Before it was possible actually to distinguish the individual horses or their riders she was sure that Bruce was not among them. Suddenly she turned, swooping up her skirts, and rushed out of the room, along the hallway and down the great staircase. She arrived at the bottom and confronted Almsbury just as he entered the hall.
“Where’s Bruce!”
Almsbury, who wore a long riding-cloak and high leather boots, his brown hair wet and the feathers on his hat soaking and draggled, looked at her uneasily. “He’s gone, Amber. Back to London.” He took off his hat and knocked it against his knee.
“Gone? Without me!” She stared at him, first in surprise and then with growing anger. “But I was going, too! I told him I was going!”
“He said that he told you he was going alone.”
“Blast him!” she muttered, and then all at once she turned and started off. “Well, he’s not! I’m going too!”
Almsbury shouted her name but she paid no attention and ran on, back up the stairs again. Half-way up she passed someone she had not seen before, a well-dressed elderly man, but though he turned and looked after her she ignored him and ran on. “Nan!” she cried violently, bursting into her rooms again. “Pack some clothes for me! I’m going to London!”
Nan stared at her and then looked toward the windows where the rain was furiously beating and splashing and the upper branches of an elm tree could be seen writhing with the wind. “To London, mam? In this weather?”
“Damn the weather! Pack my clothes I tell you! Anything, I don’t care! Throw it in!”
She was yanking loose the bows that fastened the front of her bodice and now she tore the gown down and stepped out of it, kicking it to one side as she went to the dressing-table and began to slam her bracelets onto its polished wood surface. Her face was glowering and her teeth clenched furiously.
Damn him! she thought. At least he could let me have that much! I’ll
Nan scurried about, pulling gowns and smocks and shoes off hooks and out of drawers. Both women were so occupied they did not see Almsbury open the door and come in until he spoke.
“Amber! What in the devil are you doing?”
“Going to London! What d’ye think?”
She did not even glance at him but was jerking the bodkins out of her hair, which tumbled down her back. He crossed over swiftly and his face appeared behind her in the mirror. She gave him a truculent glare, daring him to try to stop her.
“Leave the room, Britton! Do as I say!” he added, as Nan hesitated, looking at Amber. “Now listen to me! Do you want to make a fool of yourself? He doesn’t
“I don’t care what he wants. I’m going anyway. Nan!” She whirled about, shouting the girl’s name, but Almsbury caught her wrist and brought her up shortly.
