“It runs through the galleries your young son will inherit a dukedom.”
Amber suddenly sat forward in her chair, her eyes glittering and eager. “Did the King tell you—”
“No, madame—not the King. But it’s current gossip.”
She slumped back then and made a face. “Gossip. Gossip won’t get me a duchy.”
“It is what you want then?”
“What I want? My God! There’s nothing I want so much! I’d do
“If that’s true, madame, and you wished to do something for me—why, I might be able to help your case somehow.” He modestly lowered his eyes. “I think I may say without vanity that I have some small influence here at Whitehall.”
He had, of course, great influence. And what seemed even more important, he had a well-established reputation for always bettering the condition of those he took into favour.
“If you can help me to a duchy I swear I’ll do anything you ask!”
He told her what he wanted.
It was generally known in the Palace that Buckingham often met with a group of old Commonwealth men who had as their object the overthrow of Charles II’s government and the seizure of power into their own hands. Because the kingdom had so recently been split and disorganized it gave hope to others of inordinate ambition that the like could be accomplished again. Arlington wanted her to learn the time and place of their meetings, what occurred there and what steps were taken, and to report the information to him. There was no doubt he could have learned these things himself but it was a costly process involving numerous very large bribes, and in persuading her to pay them, he saved himself that much money and gave in return nothing but what he could very well spare—a few words in her behalf to the King. Amber understood all this but the money had no value to her, and Arlington’s support was worth a great deal.
Amber had already bought four acres of land in St. James’s Square, the town’s most aristocratic and exclusive district, and for several months she and Captain Wynne—who was designing many of the finest new homes in England—had been discussing plans for the house and gardens. She knew exactly what she wanted: the biggest and newest and most expensive of everything. Her house must be modern, lavish, spectacular; money was of no importance.
So long as they can’t send me to Newgate, what do I care? she thought, and her recklessness increased apace.
After her conversation with Arlington she was convinced that the duchy was all but in her lap, and she told Captain Wynne to begin construction. It would take almost two years to complete and would cost about sixty thousand pounds—far more even than Clarendon House. This vast new extravagance set all tongues gabbling at Court, whether with awe, indignation or envy, for everyone agreed that no one beneath the rank of duchess could or should live in such state. And most of them decided that the King had finally promised her a duchy. Charles, no doubt amused, neither confirmed nor denied that he had and Amber optimistically took his silence for consent. But the weeks went by and she was still only a countess.
There was no doubt Charles seemed as fond of her as of anyone else just then, but he had nothing to gain by giving her a duchy, and the King’s generosity was usually at least half self-interest. Furthermore, there were so many demands constantly made upon him that he had developed a habit of automatic procrastination. Discouraged though she became at times, Amber was determined to get the duchy someway—and by now she had convinced herself that by one means or another it would always be possible to get anything she wanted.
She made use of everyone she could, no matter how little influence he might have, and though she busied herself eternally doing favours for others, she saw to it that she always got a return. Barbara Palmer was furious to see her rival making headway and told everyone that if Charles dared give that lowbred slut such an honour she would make him sorry he had ever been born. Finally she got into a public argument with him about it and threatened to dash out his children’s brains before his face and set the Palace on fire.
Less than a fortnight later Charles, in a spirit of malicious vindictiveness, passed a patent creating Gerald Duke of Raven-spur, with the honour to devolve upon his wife’s son, Charles. And the look on Barbara’s face the first time she had to leave an arm-chair and take a stool because the new duchess had entered the room was something Amber expected to remember with satisfaction all the rest of her life.
Immediately her position at Whitehall took on greater importance.
