Kathleen Winsor: Forever Amber

But she was not able to think coherently or make any real decisions. Just before five, her footman came to say that the Fortune would be ready to weigh anchor in an hour.

Amber snatched up her cloak and flung it on, dropped her gloves and picked them up again, started out the door and ran back for her fan and when she was halfway down the corridor remembered she had forgotten her mask. Automatically she turned and started back, then suddenly muttered, “Oh, the devil take it!” and ran on. Her coach had been kept in readiness all night at the Palace Gate and Nan and the others would meet her at the wharf.

Entering the Stone Gallery from the narrow corridor she ran directly into a group of men just emerging from Lord Arlington’s suite of rooms across the way. It was still half dark in there and a footman who accompanied them carried a torch. Startled, Amber stopped still, then abruptly she started on again. She did not notice who they were and would have passed them without a glance had not a familiar voice spoken to her.

“Good morrow, your Grace.”

She looked up into the Baron’s face and for a sudden panic-stricken moment she wondered if the King had found out her plan and sent him to stop her. In another moment Buckingham, too, had come out of the shadowy group to stand beside his Lordship. Now she was sure it was some plot! But nothing should prevent her from leaving—nothing on God’s earth. Ignoring the Duke, she raised her head defiantly and looked at Arlington.

“My lord?” Her voice was cold, sharp.

“Your Grace is abroad early.”

Unexpectedly she was ready with a facile lie. “Lady Almsbury is ill—she sent for me. And isn’t this early for you, too, my lord?” she inquired tartly.

“It is, madame. I go on a mission of the gravest importance—I’ve just got word the King’s sister died yesterday morning.”

For a moment Amber was shocked into forgetfulness of her own affairs. “Minette?” she repeated. “Minette—dead?”

“She is, madame.” He bowed his head.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She had an instant of passionate pity for Charles.

Then the Baron raised his head again and looked at her. All at once she saw some strange gleam of amusement in his eyes. She glanced swiftly at Buckingham—he was smiling. Both of them seemed to be laughing at her. What was it? What did they know? What had happened? It must be something that concerned her, something unpleasant, to please them so much.

And then, with sudden unexpected relief she realized that it no longer mattered. In another hour she would be gone from England—gone from Whitehall and its plots and schemes forever. She would never come back again, never. She would not have believed it possible, even yesterday, that she could be so glad to leave England.

I’m so sick of all of you, she thought. Then Arlington was speaking again.

“Don’t let me detain you, madame. Your business, also, is important. You mustn’t be late.”

Amber curtsied, the Baron bowed, and they passed.

Buckingham looked around over his shoulder, Arlington did not look back, but they exchanged smiles. “Good riddance,” muttered the Duke. Then suddenly he laughed. “Gad, but I wish I could see her face when she arrives in Virginia and finds Lady Carlton in good health! I congratulate you, sir. Your plot worked better than I hoped. We’ve put that troublesome jade out of our way.”

“Her Grace may be gone,” said Arlington. “But there’s never an end to trouble here at Whitehall.” The tone of his voice was significant and Buckingham looked at him with quick suspicion. Arlington’s face turned blank. “Come, your Grace—there are matters of real importance to attend to this morning.”

Amber had picked up her skirts and started to run. Outdoors it was growing light and the sun streaked over the tops of the brick buildings. Her coach stood waiting. As he saw her coming the footman flung open the door and reared back in rigid attention; she laughed and gave a snip of her fingers at his braid-covered chest as she climbed in. Imperturbably he slammed the door, motioned to the driver and the coach rolled forward. Still laughing, she leaned out, and waved at the closed empty windows.

THE END