Certainly that seemed perfectly reasonable for Charles had already recognized at least five illegitimate children, while Barbara herself was convinced that the child she carried was his and not her husband’s—or Chesterfield’s.
“Oh, but what’s to become of
“I think you’ll do very well, Barbara. I see no reason why you shouldn’t. You’re not exactly a helpless person, you know.”
“But that isn’t what I mean! Oh, you see how they all run after me now—Buckingham and Cooper and the rest of that crew—But if you marry someone else and fob me off—Oh, I’d die! You can’t think how they’d use me! And the women would be even worse than the men! Oh, Charles, you can’t, you
He paused now and looked at her sharply; then all at once his face softened and he sat down beside her again, taking her hands into his. Her face was wet with tears that welled out of her eyes and slid over her cheeks in great drops, splashing off onto the satin-covered blankets beneath her.
“Don’t cry, darling. What the devil do you take me for—an ogre? I won’t desert you, Barbara, you can be sure of that. You’ve given me a great deal of happiness, and I’m grateful. I can’t marry you, but I’ll see that you’re taken care of—very well.”
She was sniffling and her chin quivered but she was again conscious of her appearance and trying to weep attractively. “How? With money? Money won’t help—not in the case I’ll be in.”
“What would help?”
“Oh, Sire, I don’t know! I don’t see how I can—”
He interrupted her quickly, to stem another flood. “If I make you a Lady of my wife’s Bedchamber—would that help?”
He spoke to her like an indulgent uncle holding out a sweetmeat to a small girl who had fallen and skinned her knee.
“I suppose it would. If you really do it. You won’t change your mind and just—just—Oh—”
Now, suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge of her defeat, she burst into shaking sobs and flung herself toward him. He held her against his chest for a moment, patting her shoulder while she cried, and then very gently he disengaged himself and got up.
While she lay on the bed and sobbed he swiftly slid into his doublet, knotted his cravat, buckled on his sword, and taking up his hat came to stand above her. Charles, who could not do without women though he could very easily do without any one woman, was often inclined to wish that it was never necessary to see any of them out of bed.
“Barbara—I swear I’ve got to go now. Please don’t cry any more, darling. Believe me, I’ll keep my promise—”
He bent and kissed the top of her head and then turned and went to the door. He glanced back just in time to see her look around at him, red-faced and swollen-eyed; he gave her a hasty wave and went out.
She sat up slowly, her face wrenched into a scowl, one hand to her aching head. And then all at once she opened her mouth and gave a high uncanny scream that made the veins in her neck stand out like purple cords, and picking up a vase from the bedside table she hurled it with all her strength at the mirror across the room.
TO GET TO the Tap-Room, which was a floor and a half below the Lady Debtors’ Ward, Amber had to follow the candleman down a black narrow flight of stairs. But when they had gone only part way he turned suddenly and blocked the passage and she stopped three steps above him, angry and frightened at the look she saw on his face, for her advanced pregnancy gave her a sense of clumsy helplessness.
“Go on!” she cried. “What are you stopping for?”
He made no answer but lunged swiftly forward; one hand caught hold of her skirts and dragged her toward him. With a scream Amber knocked the candle out of his hand. Suddenly she found that he had given way and she was going swiftly down the steps, her hands reaching out blindly toward the walls, but the short chains on her wrists and ankles caught with a jerk. She lost her footing and toppled headlong, twisting desperately to protect her belly and yelling with terror as she plunged toward the bottom of the stairwell.
But even as she stumbled Black Jack Mallard started up, and he caught her before she had hurt herself. She could not see him but she felt with passionate relief a man’s powerful hands and arms, his great protecting body, and she heard the violent angry thunder of his voice bellowing curses at the candleman whose footsteps went pounding on up to the second story.
“What did he do to you? Are you hurt?” he demanded anxiously.
Spent with fear, Amber relaxed against him. “No—” she panted. “I think I’m—”
From above, the candleman shouted something unintelligible and with a snarl of rage Black Jack let her go and started after him. “You stinking son-of-a-whore, I’ll—”
Suddenly his warmth and protectiveness were gone. Amber’s eyes opened and she reached out frantically. “Don’t leave me! Please—don’t leave me!” She was afraid of other unseen dangers hiding there in the dark.
