They were adding new plays to their repertoire and one day John approached her about the employment of a friend and his daughter. He said, “There is a character actor, Charles Dale, and his daughter, Marie. They have fallen on bad times. I’d like to see them hired. We need some new actors for the new plays.”
Fanny wanted to be generous in the matter and told him, “If you approve of them I see no reason why they can’t be added to the company.”
John looked pleased. “Thank you, Fanny. This fellow was kind to me when I was starting in the business. I’ll invite Dale and his daughter to have dinner with us after the show tomorrow evening. You can decide about them for yourself.”
It sounded reasonable and so she made herself ready the following evening after the play ended. She put on one of her new dresses, all taffeta and lace at the wrists and neck. Booth was in one of his best moods. She realized later she ought to have been suspicious but she wasn’t.
Charles Dale was a big man and stout as well. His hair was white and his face purplish in contrast. He spoke of long tours in the Southern United States before the War, and of his lack of work since then.
“It’s this way, Mrs. Cornish,” he told her across the white-clothed restaurant table, “I have no friends here and no one seems to want to hire myself or Marie.”
Marie was petite and red-haired, with a thin voice and not at all like her father. She had a pleasant face but was no beauty and she did not indicate possessing much talent. This was Fanny’s first impression of her.
But they were a devoted father and daughter. Old Charles Dale fairly beamed every time he glanced at his daughter and she returned the deep feeling by fluttering her own long lashes at him in what appeared a bond of mutual admiration.
With daughterly devotion Marie told the group at the table, “I’m fit only for the smallest parts but dear Daddy is a wonderful actor!”
Charles Dale beamed more warmly at his dedicated Marie and said, “Do not believe her, friends. She acts well enough and she is always a blessing to me in my old age.”
Fanny smiled. “We’ll have no trouble using you both!”
“What a kind lady!” Marie said with high-pitched joy. “And you also, Mr. Booth!”
John Wilkes Booth looked amused and said, “I left it up to Mrs. Cornish. She is the one to whom you must be grateful.”
“We shall be,” Charles Dale boomed, delight on his purple face. “Be sure that we’ll work hard to justify your having faith in us.”
As it turned out, the big man with his white hair, booming voice, and pompous manner was an asset to the company. He showed up well in small character parts such as judges and squires and the audiences were fond of him. Marie was relegated to the roles of maids and often to non-speaking parts. She did them with a show of interest they hardly justified. But she gave no trouble.
The most amusing thing about the two was their devotion for each other, so openly and often displayed. The actors joked among themselves that there had never been such a father and daughter team before. The two lived in some obscure boarding place apart from the others in the company and made no attempt to become more friendly with their co-workers. They were content in their offstage hours to live by themselves.
Edwin Booth returned from England. John Wilkes would give his more famous brother little time. But Edwin made it a point to attend several of their performances and to commend John on his playing of Richelieu, which was normally a part Edwin himself excelled in.
One afternoon when there was no matinee, Edwin invited Fanny to luncheon at Delmonico’s. She was frequently by herself now with John all too often absent on some mysterious errand. So she decided to accept the invitation. She met John’s more eminent brother at the restaurant and they were shown to a suitably quiet table.
The smaller Edwin had his brother’s charm but in a more quiet manner. His eyes were deep-set and sad, and it was rumored that he was still stricken by the tragic loss of his lovely young wife.
He told her, “I have long wished to know you better, Mrs. Cornish.”
“Thank you,” she smiled. “You know my high regard for you and the esteem in which my late husband held you.”
Edwin nodded. “I was much impressed by David. And when I was in London many actors and others told me of his great talent. You have much to be proud of in his memory, Madam.”
Her eyes blurred a trifle and she managed,
“That is most generous of you.”
“Not at all,” he said. “I met others who spoke of you both. And one friend of yours in particular, who was much pleased to hear of your great stage success over here, Sir George Palmer.”
She was stunned. “You actually talked with George?”
Edwin Booth smiled. “I met him a number of times at his London club. Friends were kind enough to take me there.”
“How is he?”
“Very well,” the actor said. “He is married and seemingly happy.”
“Yes, I expected he would marry,” she said. “His wife does not enjoy the best of health.”
“I gathered as much,” Edwin Booth said. “Though I did not meet her. But I did not come here to talk to you of the Palmers. I have come to congratulate you on what you’ve done for my brother, John.”
“I’ve done little,” she said. “He is a fine actor and he has developed through working steadily.”
“That is the thing!” Edwin said dramatically. “You, alone, of all I know, have made him keep at his trade. I have hopes that he may have recovered from his political madness and now be satisfied to play the king only on the stage!”
She smiled ruefully. “I wish that could be true. But I’m close to him. In secret he is still very much the Rebel. His sympathies all with the Confederacy.”
Edwin frowned and sank back in his chair. “I’m sorry to hear that!”
“I keep on hoping,” she said. “And it seems the war may soon end. General Grant has turned out to be such a wonder!”
“Agreed,” the famous actor said. “Do try to
keep my brother in rein, Mrs. Cornish. I’m starting on tour in a week and I shall not be here to stay him in any of his madness.”
“I promise to do my best,” Fanny said.
The earnest, deep-set eyes met hers. “Is there any truth in the rumor that you and my brother will one day marry?”
She was caught off-guard by this question. She hesitated and then said, “Marriage has been discussed between us. I’m not sure it would be good for John or for me.”
“You fear to marry him?”
“Perhaps when the war is over and he is more settled in his mind,” she said. “But then he may have other plans. I know he has been seeing another lady.”
Edwin Booth nodded soberly. “Bessie Hale.”
“Yes.”
“What can he see in the girl as compared to you?” he demanded angrily. “And to top it all she is the daughter of a Northern Senator and a member of Lincoln’s cabinet!”
She could have easily told the reason for John’s seeking out the vapid girl but she felt that it would only worry him needlessly without his being in any way able to change things. Better to leave it as it was. They finished their luncheon with talk of the theatre and then the famed actor saw her home.
John heard of Edwin’s visit and came to her dressing room before the evening performance to tell her so. He strode in, clothed in the crimson of the noted French Cardinal, and in his dramatic way, declared, “What are you and my brother up to behind my back?”
She rose from her dressing table and said, “I’m not aware that we’ve been up to anything!”
John said, “Are you conspiring to leave me and act with him?”
She smiled sadly. “Do you think that likely?”
“What then?”
“We enjoyed a friendly luncheon. That is all.”
The red-robed John continued to study her with indignation. “Am I expected to believe that?”
“Yes. Just as I’m
supposed to believe your attendance on Bessie Hale is innocent.”
John looked taken back. He stared at her and asked, “Why bring her into this?”
“I think I’m justified!”
“Bessie Hale has never meant anything to me and you well know it,” he replied angrily and strode out.
She could tell by his acting that evening he was much on edge. As usual this resulted in his giving a dynamic, exciting performance. A number of well known people had turned out to see how John handled Richelieu in contrast to Edwin’s interpretation and apparently they were well satisfied.
She was caught up by the vigor of John’s performance and knew once again that he had a strong influence over her.
They shared the curtain calls and he kissed her after the curtain came down for the final call. A gesture he had been lately forgetting.
She smiled up at him and said, “There was much passion in your performance tonight!”
“The best will come later,” he told her with a knowing look.
Phineas T. Barnum came to her dressing room to congratulate her and she wanted to take him aside and warn him that she was worried about John Wilkes’ behaviour. But the big man was so pleased by everything she found it hard to do this. Also, he had brought two old friends to see her.
Little Emmie and her sword-swallower husband were on hand to offer their congratulations. They were on holiday from the freak museum and thoroughly enjoying themselves. Their only problem was that Little Emmie was slowly losing weight and her husband was gaining it.
Her husband pointed at the fat woman and said dolefully, “Would you believe it! She lost near three stone! And that in only a matter of two years!”
Fanny asked the fat woman, “Is your health good?”
“I feel better than ever,” Little Emmie said, still almost as wide as she was tall.
“Then I can’t see the forty pounds weight loss will hurt you professionally,” Fanny told her.
“And I’m close to the same heavier,” the sword swallower said. “It can’t be the swords and fire!”
“Too much ale!” Little Emmie said firmly. “He quenches the fire with plenty of ale and that’s what’s giving him girth.”
Fanny laughed. “Well, what does it matter as long as you’re both healthy and happy!”
“Right, ma’am,” the old sword swallower said. “We’ll give your best to Mrs. Larkins. And if you’re ever down our way she’ll be pleased to see you.”
Barnum good-naturedly shepherded the fat woman and her husband out of the dressing room and Fanny completed her change from stage costume to street dress. She had expected that John would come by for her but he didn’t. She was about to leave when her maid informed her she had another visitor and presented her with an engraved card. She read the card which merely offered the name “Eric Mason” in a fine scroll. She did not recognize the name but assuming it must be some admirer she told the maid to show him in.
He was a tall, slender young man with compelling gray eyes and a kind of emaciated good looks. He bowed and in a voice with an English accent said, “You are most gracious to receive me, Mrs. Cornish.”
She smiled. “Do sit down, Mr. Mason. May I ask your business?”
He waited until she sat and then seated himself across from her. She saw that his clothes were shabbily correct and that his shoes were cracked and had signs of wear. Not a rich man was her instant conclusion.
“I much admired your performance tonight,” he said. “I have only recently come to America!”
“Yes. You have a touch of Lancashire in your voice. “
He smiled bleakly. “I had hoped it was erased. To get to the point, I’m an actor. And I knew your late husband, David Cornish.”
She was at once interested. “You knew David?”
The young man nodded. “We toured together when we were both starting. He was slightly older but we generally shared lodgings.”
“How interesting!”
The young man spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “I never did acquire the same reputation as David. But I have worked hard and long at my trade. And I hope I may make my name here.”
“I also hope so,” she said. “Are you working?”
“I have just returned from Boston,” Eric Mason said. “At the moment I’m between engagements. But I’m used to most of the popular leading roles. I had a long tour as leading man just prior to my leaving England.”
“Well,” she said, “I’m glad you have come to see me. We must see each other again and talk of David.”
“I would enjoy that,” Eric Mason said rising. “And if you have any work suitable for me I would be most happy to accept it.”
She was also on her feet. “Since you hope to play leading roles it would be a mistake to offer you a supporting part, or small bit in our company. And I’m afraid that is all that is liable to be available. As you know, my leading man is John Wilkes Booth!”
“You couldn’t ask for a better one, ma’am,” the actor said.
Fanny had a last minute thought and told him, “I suggest you go to the office of P.T. Barnum, our producer, and tell him I sent you. Leave your name and credentials with him. He stages many plays.”
“Thank you,” the thin, young actor, said looking pleased. And he bowed and withdrew.
She dressed for the outside cold of the New York winter night and had the stage door man call a sleigh to take her to her hotel. Muffled in furs and with a fur rug spread over her for warmth she was drawn quickly through snow-covered streets to the accompaniment of a merry jingling of sleigh bells. Other sleighs passed and it seemed the air was filled with this melody of a wintery night!
Her breath showed in the frosty air as the sleigh driver helped her onto the icy sidewalk and she made her way inside the lobby of the hotel. A roaring fire in the fireplace of her bedroom made it as warm as a tropical isle. She took off her outer things and sank into an easy chair and gazed into the ever-changing flames of blue, red and yellow and wondered what mystery lay ahead for her in their hues.
Meeting the young actor tonight had brought back memories of David and her father! Of her own struggling days in the theatre! And of the love and dedication she had come to know for the stage through these two men who had played such important roles in her life. And memory of England invariably made her think of George Palmer. George, who was now safely and happily married to another, and whom she must forget forever. But how can one forget a true love?
By forcing one’s self into new love affairs. She had tried that with Peter Cortez and it had ended in jealousy and cruel recriminations. Peter had left her in a fury and gone off to join the army in a cause in which he did not believe.
Now she had become the mistress of John Wilkes Booth? Was she a wanton? She prayed not. Rather, she was a lonely woman looking for love and companionship and hardly ever finding it.
She had not lied to Peter. She had never told him she was in love with him only. But because he’d wished to believe this he had come to see it that way! So their romance had ended in disaster.
Would it be the same with John? She hoped it wouldn’t. There was much more between herself and John than there had ever been between her and Peter. For one thing John was a genius of an actor whom she could not help respect, and for another she knew that John was truly in love with her. This business with Bessie Hale was part of his spying game. She had never taken it seriously. The tragic thing might be that the poor girl would. John was a handsome man who had left a trail of broken hearts in his wake.
The door of her bed-sitting room opened and John came striding in. He said nothing but went straight to her and raising her from the easy chair took her in his arms. His kisses were as ardent as she could wish and their bodies were pressed together to the ultimate degree of intimacy.
Slowly and very methodically he went about disrobing her until she stood before him with her naked loveliness reflecting the moving magic tints from the glowing fire. Then he lifted her
in his arms and carried her to the bed.
It was a special night for them. Never a tender lover, John, was, on this occasion, almost cruel in his abandon. It was as if his hunger for her would never be fully satisfied and she found herself floating into an ecstatic state of fulfillment. When they had finished they were both utterly exhausted.
Close to each other in bed they needed no words to express their bliss. Fanny began to believe that all would be well. That the man so quiet at her side now, would remain at her side through all her life. She sank into a deep sleep with a faint smile playing at her lips, her lovely breasts not quite hidden by the coverlet.
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