Lucilla was now so different a woman as to be scarcely recognizable. Her head was as golden as Susanna’s, curled in the latest fashion and decorated with ribbons and flowers and a twisted strand of pearls. Her face was painted like the face of a China doll and there were evidently “plumpers” in her cheeks to keep them firm and round. Her gown—made of pearl-grey satin over a fuchsia-coloured petticoat—looked as though it had been turned out by deft French fingers and the busk she wore beneath it narrowed her waist and thrust her breasts high above the neckline. There was a string of pearls about her neck, diamond pendants swinging from her ears, half a dozen bracelets on her wrists, and rings on three fingers of each hand. All of them had a wicked glitter that looked both genuine and expensive. She had become, in just a fortnight, a very elegant lady of fashion, somewhat over-ripe, but still inviting enough.
My God! thought Amber. Look at that old bawd.
The two women embraced, casually, but Lady Stanhope had seen the surprise on Amber’s face and she looked at her triumphantly as though now demanding, not giving, admiration. But after the first shock of seeing how she had changed, Amber’s horrified thought was that all this had been accomplished on her money. The Stanhopes, she knew, had lost their one small source of income when their tenements had burned in the Fire.
“You must forgive my rudeness, madame,” began Lucilla immediately. “I’d have called sooner but I’ve been so furiously busy!” She paused, somewhat breathless, to fan herself. Though she thought it must be envy in her daughter-in-law’s eyes she could not but be conscious for all her finery and dyed hair and false curls that she would never be three-and-twenty again and that the years between had been long and stubborn.
“Oh, it’s I who should have called on you, madame,” protested Amber politely, trying to count up in her head the number of pounds sterling she saw represented in Lady Stanhope’s ensemble; and the higher the total mounted the angrier she became. But she smiled and asked her to be seated while she finished her toilet and then, as Lady Stanhope caught sight of a length of blue velvet, Amber quickly told the tradespeople that it was time for them to go.
“Come to my apartments tomorrow morning,” said Lucilla with a wave of her hand, and the man took up his velvet and left with the others.
Amber sat down to stick on her patches while Lucilla panted, obviously uncomfortable in her too-tight corset. “Heavens!” said her Ladyship, crossing her small feet and cocking her head on one side to admire them. “You wouldn’t believe how taken up with business I’ve been this fortnight! I’ve a great acquaintance here in town, you know, and everyone must see me at once! Provoking creatures! I’ve been most horribly towsed.” She put one hand to her head, preening. “I’ve scarcely seen Gerry at all. Pray tell me, how has my dear boy been?”
“Very well, I think, madame,” replied Amber, too angry over the thought of her hard-gotten money going to decorate this old woman to be able to pay much attention to what was being said.
Now she got up, crossed the room and went behind a magnificent blue-lacquered Chinese screen, beckoning one of the women to bring her gown. Monsieur le Chien was nosing curiously about Lucilla’s shoes and yapping from time to time, not at all intimidated by the sharp looks she gave him. Only Amber’s head and shoulders could be seen now and while she was not looking Lucilla’s eyes studied her, slightly narrowed, hard and critical and disapproving. But as Amber glanced suddenly across at her she smiled, a quick and guilty smile.
“It’s strange I never see Gerry in the mornings. At home he always called on me each day before he did anything else. He’s always been the most devoted child a mother could want. He must go abroad very early.” She spoke rapidly, looking at Amber as though she expected her to lie.
“Why, as far as I remember,” said Amber, sucking in her stomach while the maid jerked tighter the strings of her busk, “he hasn’t been here at all since the day you arrived.”
“What!” cried Lady Stanhope, as horrified as though she had heard that her son was under arrest for picking pockets. “Doesn’t he sleep with you!”
“Tighter,” muttered Amber to the maid. “It’s
