She liked the noise and confusion, the sense of importance it gave her to be great enough that she should be so pestered, and she liked to buy things. If the material was beautiful she could always order a new gown; if the setting was unusual or extravagant she could always find use for a new necklace or bracelet; if it had come from far away or was said to be very rare or if it merely caught her fancy she never refused another vase or table or gold-framed mirror. Her prodigality was well known among the tradesmen and before noon her apartments were almost as crowded as the courtyard of the Royal Exchange.
She would sit at her dressing-table wearing a loose gown, a pair of mules hanging on the tips of her toes, while Monsieur Durand arranged her hair. Nan Britton had advanced quite beyond such tasks. She was now waiting-woman to a countess and had no duties but to dress handsomely, always look her best, and accompany her mistress wherever she went. And, like most waiting-women of fashionable ladies, she had her coterie of lovers—many of them the same lords and fops who circulated among the ladies themselves. Nan enjoyed her life with all the gusto and enthusiasm she brought to everything she did—though it was a triumph and success she had never expected, for which she would have made no effort herself.
The tradesmen and women hovered in a buzzing circle about Amber, thrusting first this and then that beneath her nose. “Pray, look at these gloves, madame—and smell them. But place them to the nose and you’ll never have another scent. Is it not exquisite?”
Amber smelled. “Neroli, isn’t it? My favourite scent. I’ll take a dozen pairs.” She whisked a tiny brush over her curved black brows, smoothing them and taking off the specks of powder.
“I’ve been saving this length for you, madame. Feel that nap, as deep as anything ever woven. And the colour—it becomes your Ladyship to a miracle. See how it matches your eyes!—as near as anything could. And let me add, madame,” leaning close and whispering, “the Countess of Shrewsbury saw it the other day and was mightily taken with it. But I told her it was already gone. I could see it for no one but you, madame.”
“I’ll have to take it now, won’t I, you crafty knave?” She slid a pair of diamond drops into her ears. “But it is beautiful. I’m glad you saved it for me—and don’t forget me when your next shipment comes in. Nan, give him the money, will you?”
“Madame, I beg of you, take this bracelet into your hand. See how it strikes the light—how it flashes like fire? Finer stones were never mined. And let me tell you—though it’s worth five hundred pound and more—I’ll give it to your Ladyship at a great loss to myself, only for the honour of having my work upon your Ladyship’s arm. Though anyone else would demand at the very least five hundred pound—I’ll give it to your Ladyship for but one hundred and fifty.”
Amber laughed, holding the bracelet in her hand and admiring it. “At that price how can I afford not to have it? Leave it then. I’ll buy it.” She tossed it onto the dressing-table amid the heap of boxes and jars and bottles, letters, fans, ribbons. “But send me a bill—I never keep such sums on hand.”
“S’il vous plaît, madame—” It was Monsieur Durand’s agonized voice. “I beg of you, do not move about so much! First this way and then that. I can accomplish nothing! Mort Dieu, madame!”
“I’m sorry, Durand. What’ve you got there, Johnson?”
It went on morning after morning, this daily fair, offering entertainment and profit for all, and Amber gave them at least as good a show as she got. Fiddlers were almost always in the room, playing the latest ballads or the newest tune from a play. Half-a-dozen maids came and went. Tansy strolled among them and sometimes made a request for himself; he had grown inordinately vain of his clothes and Amber dressed him at great expense, though he still refused to put on a shoe which was not worn out. The King had given her a spaniel puppy which she called Monsieur le Chien and he nosed at everyone, snapping and barking at whoever had not been previously identified.
Amber was thus occupied one morning when a little page entered the room and came to her. “Madame, the Baroness Stanhope to wait upon you.”
Amber rolled her eyes impatiently. “Hell and furies!” she muttered, and looked around over her shoulder just as her Ladyship entered the room. Then her eyes opened wide in amazement, and it was a moment before she could gather her wits enough to stand and welcome her mother-in-law.
