“In a moment, madame. Can’t you bear it just a little longer?”

Jemima sighed. “Very well. But hurry—please.”

Amber went to stand before Jemima, her head cocked to one side as she examined the dress, and her eyes ran tauntingly up and down the girl’s figure. She saw Jemima begin to fidget nervously, a faint shine of sweat came to her forehead; and then all at once her arms dropped and she sank to the floor, her head falling back, her eyes rolling. The dressmakers and maids gave excited squeaks and the men stepped aside in alarm.

Amber took charge. “Pick her up and lay her on the bed. Carter, bring some cold water. You—run for some brandy.”

With the help of two of the maids she got Jemima out of her gown, took the pillow from under her head and began to unlace her busk. When Carter brought the cold water she sent them all out of the room—though Carter was obviously reluctant to leave Jemima in the care of her step-mother—and wrung out a cloth to lay on Jemima’s forehead.

It was not more than a minute before Jemima regained consciousness and looked up at Amber, who leaned above her. “What did I do?” she asked softly, her eyes going uncertainly about the empty room.

“You fainted. Take a sip of this brandy and you’ll feel better.” Amber put her hand behind Jemima’s head and tipped it forward. Both of them were silent for a moment, and Jemima made a face as she tasted the brandy.

“The dizzy feeling’s gone,” she said at last. “You can call the others back in now.” She started to sit up.

“Oh, no, Jemima. Not yet. I want to talk to you first.”

Jemima glanced at her swiftly, her eyes guarded. “What about?”

“You know what about. There’s no use trying to pretend. You’re pregnant—aren’t you?”

“No! Of course I’m not! I can’t be! It’s just that—Well, I’ve had the vapours, that’s all.”

“If you thought it was only the vapours why didn’t you tell anyone? Don’t try to fool me, Jemima. Tell me the truth and maybe I can help you.”

“Help me? How could you help me?”

“How long has it been since your last flux?”

“Why—almost two months. But that doesn’t mean anything! Oh, I know I’m not pregnant! I can’t be! I’d die if that happened!”

“Don’t be a fool, Jemima! What the devil did you think when you laid with him? That you had a charm of some kind-it couldn’t happen to you? Well, it has, and the sooner you admit it the better for you.”

Suddenly Jemima began to cry, scared and distracted now that she was finally forced to confront the fact from which she had been fleeing for weeks. “I don’t believe you! I’ll be well again in a few days, I know I will! You’re just trying to scare me, that’s all! Oh—go away and leave me alone!”

Amber gave her an angry shake. “Jemima, stop it! Most likely some of the servants are listening! D’you want everyone to know what’s happened? If you’ll keep your mouth shut and be sensible you can save yourself and your family too. Don’t forget what a disgrace this will be for them if it’s ever found out—”

“Oh, that’s what I’m afraid of! They’ll hate me! They’ll-Oh—I wish I was dead!”

“Stop talking like an idiot! If you marry Joseph Cuttle on the 15th—”

Jemima snapped out of her hysteria as if she had been dashed with cold water. “Marry Joseph Cuttle! Why, I won’t marry Joseph Cuttle and you know it! I wouldn’t marry him for—”

“You’ve got to marry him! There’s nothing else you can do now! It’s the only way you can keep the Dangerfields from being disgraced.”

“I don’t care! I don’t care about them! I won’t marry him! I’m going to run away from home and take lodgings somewhere and wait till Lord Carlton comes back. He’ll marry me then, when he knows what happened.”

Amber gave a short brutal laugh. “Oh, Jemima, you silly green foolish girl. Lord Carlton marry you! Are you cracked in the head? He wouldn’t marry you if you had triplets. If he’d married every woman he’s ever laid with I don’t doubt he’d have as many wives as King Solomon. Besides, if you ran away from home you wouldn’t even have a dowry to offer him! Marry Joseph Cuttle while you’ve still got time—it’s the only thing you can do now.”

For a long moment Jemima lay perfectly still and stared up at her.

“So at last you’re going to get your way,” she said softly. Her eyes glittered, but her next words merely formed on her mouth:

“Oh, how I despise you—”

CHAPTER THIRTY

JEMIMA’S WEDDING WAS a social event of considerable importance.