“So you are a child of the theater?”
Susie laughed. “I’ve been called that, and I love it. It’s the only way of life I know. Kemble says I have a future, though it’s hard to tell with him, he’s such a moody fellow.”
“Is he of a melancholy nature?” Enid asked.
“Very much so,” Gustav answered. “He even plays his light romantic roles with a grim intensity. And his Hamlet is the most melancholy of those I have seen in both France and England.”
“I shall have to see him perform,” Enid said. “And you as well, Susie.”
“Thank you, my lady.” The young actress studied Enid with bright green eyes. “Most great ladies are old or ugly. You are young and beautiful.”
“That compliment is surely pay enough for my visit. I fear I must return to my carriage now.”
Gustav offered to see her down the stairs.
At the entrance door Enid turned to him and said, “I like your friend Susie. She is charming.”
“She is very talented, too,” the Frenchman agreed.
“I’m sure of it.”
“Have you thought about taking up fencing?”
“Perhaps I shall try it,” she replied. “But first I’m going down to Surrey to see my family. I have been away a while now, and since summer is here I feel the moment is right.”
Gustav looked forlorn. “How long will you be gone?”
“A month, maybe less.”
“You will lose much of your proficiency in French if you do not keep at it,” he cautioned her.
“My father speaks French fairly well, so I plan to have test conversations with him.”
“It won’t be the same,” Gustav said unhappily. “At least not for me.”
She smiled and touched his arm. “I will return as soon as I can, and we shall resume our lessons. And fencing, too. In the meantime, have a nice summer with your Susie Smith.”
He frowned. “She does not mean that much to me.”
“I’m sure you get on well together.”
“We do, but so do you and I.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him their relationship was very different, but she thought better of it. “I must go.”
Gustav stepped out on the pavement and helped her into the carriage. “I may wish to write. Where will you be?” he asked.
“Write me a letter in French,” she said, excited at the idea. “And I shall write a reply for you to judge. It will be a sort of exercise. I shall be in Hensworth, Surrey. My father is Lord Alfred Henson, and you can send your letters in care of him.”
“Excellent!” The handsome Frenchman’s hazel eyes were beaming with happiness.
As the carriage moved away and she waved to him in farewell, she had a momentary qualm that Gustav Brideau was becoming much too fond of her. While she was physically attracted to him and often ached for fulfillment as a woman, she did not want to have an affair with him. For one thing, there were echoes of Armand in his manner, and she had no intention of sullying the memory of her brief, but beautiful, romance with the nobleman. For another, she was loath to give herself cheaply. She had no wish to match her husband’s excesses in another direction. Although Andrew continued to bring his boys home and to make life generally uncomfortable for her, she would not lower herself by seeking out affairs simply to punish him. Thus, she would strive to keep Gustav as a friend and a teacher and hoped he would respect her wishes.
Andrew was strangely amenable to the idea of her visiting her parents for a month. His attitude puzzled her momentarily, but the truth soon came out.
“It will be rather convenient, as a matter of fact,” he said. “Vicomte Claude Robert is coming to spend a week or two as my guest. I know you don’t like him, so it’s better that you’re going away.”
“I wouldn’t care to be in his company,” she agreed.
Andrew looked piqued. “You ask me to accept your friends, but you refuse to be civil to mine.”
“Yours are often so much more than friends,” she reminded him.
He crimsoned. “We have an understanding, do we not?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “But since you are so worried about the servants’ tongues wagging, I trust you will be discreet in your carryings-on with the vicomte. No dinner parties with naked young male servants!”
“You will never forgive me for that little joke, will you?”
“I doubt that I ever could.”
7
Enid stood in the summerhouse on the rear lawn and gazed out at the vine-covered, old brick mansion, at the great elms sheltering it, and at the apple trees in the orchard. She could hear voices and the whinnying of horses from the stables beyond. This was her home, the place where she had grown up and which she loved more than any other. It was the preservation of Henson House and all that it meant to Enid and her parents that had been the true reason behind her marriage to Andrew. Oddly enough, she needn’t have been so quick to marry him after all, since her father was now well enough to look after his affairs again.
She had been heartened the moment she had seen him. Despite Lord Alfred’s use of a walking stick and his loss of weight, much of his old spirit was restored, and his voice was firm and strong. Her mother also looked less ravaged. Lady Caroline’s middle-aged beauty was almost in full bloom again, and she was planning several social events while Enid was at home.
One of the first things Enid’s father had done was to take her into his study for a private talk. In that book-lined room which she had always regarded with awe, he had studied her with troubled eyes and asked, “What about your marriage?”
She had been on guard at once. “I don’t understand your question, Father.”
“I think you do.”
“Father!” she had protested weakly.
“Let us speak freely, my daughter. I am no longer a sick man.”
“For which I’m grateful.”
“And I,” he had agreed. “The Lord has been good. But I was struck down at an unhappy time in my fortunes.”
“That was unavoidable.”
“I am now recovering some of my losses, and, with luck, I shall soon be back to where I was before my illness. You will never again have to worry about my ability to keep this place and take care of your mother.”
“That is the best possible news! I am so happy!”
He had sighed. “But I fear that, in the interim, you have suffered the most because of my situation. You are the one who saved me and thereby paid a great price.”
“What are you saying?” Fear had risen in her throat. Had he heard some wicked gossip?
“We are not so isolated here in Surrey,” he had told her. “Word does get down from London, you know. And the news about your husband and his actions is not what I would wish to hear.”
She had glanced away. “Gossips make much of little.”
“I did not care much for the fellow when we first met,” her father had continued, “but you seemed taken with him. And when he most generously offered to back any overdraft at my bank, I began to think that he was, after all, a sound fellow. It was only his manner that was annoying. In any event, I have cost him nothing. All has been paid back, and I am not beholden to him any more.”
“That he did not tell me.”
“It is something I felt you should know.” He had paused, then said, “I do not wish your mother to hear any of this, since it might throw her into despair, but rumor has it that you have wed a foul man—a sodomist!”
Enid had not been able to look at her father. “It wasn’t your fault, nor mine. Neither of us had any idea at all.”
Lord Alfred’s voice had threatened to crack. “I should have trusted my instincts about him! I should not have let him blind me with his offers of money!”
“It is done now, Father. Please don’t berate yourself.”
“That is why you are here alone, with no husband by your side—why you are so clearly unhappy. My poor dear girl, what is to become of you?”
>
Her courage had slowly come back now that the worst had been spoken. She had glanced at her father’s sorrowful face and replied, “I shall make a life for myself.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure just yet. But I shall. And one day I hope to win my freedom from Andrew.”
“He wants you as a facade and will not make it easy for you to leave him. I fear he could be most dangerous!”
“I know all that,” she had admitted.
Lord Alfred had leaned forward in his chair, his arms on his cane. “Does the cad have any love for you at all?”
“Not as we understand love. He has a cold nature but a devouring passion. And that passion is not for women.”
“So you have nothing between you!”
“Little. He regards me as an acceptable decoration for his house, as a suitable companion for social events. He has a possessiveness about everything he owns, and I expect he considers me a possession as well.”
“Never!” her father had exclaimed. “Oh, dear Lord, I literally sold you to this fellow in exchange for my own security!”
“I made the decision. You urged me to be sure of what I was doing—even up to the moment I left for Paris.”
“The Paris wedding!” he had cried. “That alone ought to have warned me!”
“Going to France turned out to be a very important thing for me.”
Lord Alfred had frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You remember Lucinda?”
“Of course. She lives in Versailles with her husband.”
“I went to visit them. They were most kind to me after Andrew had abused me. I met a man there … a friend of theirs. His name is Armand Beaufaire … and I fell in love with him.”
“Does your husband know about this?”
“I think he suspects something, but he has no way of truly knowing.”
“It is unfortunate you didn’t meet this man earlier.”
“I agree. He is a French count, and since things are very bad over there now, I am forced to realize that I may never see him again.”
“Do you plan to continue a loveless marriage with Blair?”
“For the moment. To pass my time better, I have been taking French lessons, and have become much more proficient in the language than I was. I’m even thinking of taking up fencing.”
Her father had looked astounded. “Is that a woman’s sport?”
“Some of the actresses in London are trying it. I thought I might, too.”
Lord Alfred Henson had stared at his daughter and then spoken. “Well, it seems I will have to let you make your own decisions. I am sure you are capable. I do not know what this Frenchman is like, but surely he must be a better man than Andrew Blair.”
“I can promise you that!”
“If you truly love each other, I trust the time will come when you may marry honorably. Though at the moment there are notable barriers to that.”
“I don’t think Andrew would be sympathetic to the idea of my leaving him.”
“Obviously not. He is using you as a front. But whatever you do, know that I will help you in any way possible.”
Now, gazing about her at the lush summer verdancy of the country estate, Enid found her father’s words reassuring. That he was financially independent again was a great relief to her. The house was a much happier place with Lord Alfred up and about.
• • •
A few days later, after one of her mother’s wonderful dinner parties, Enid received a rather disturbing letter from Lucinda. Matters in France had worsened. There was considerable unemployment, and the commercial treaty with England had resulted in a flood of superior as well as poorly made English exports. In Carcassonne alone a thousand workmen had been laid off, and elsewhere workers had smashed English machinery in the belief that such equipment was costing them their jobs.
Lucinda went on to say that the many uprisings had frightened off travelers from England and other countries. Half the laborers in Paris were unemployed. There was far less court spending, and one result of this was the recent bankruptcy of the queen’s personal dressmaker, Rose Bertin. A few weeks earlier a freak hailstorm had swept the Paris region and wreaked much damage. Grain was in short supply and the price of bread had soared, causing women and children to stand in endlessly long lines before bake shops.
Despite all this gloomy news, Lucinda claimed that she and her husband were happy. The duke would not think of leaving his estate, so they would remain in France and weather the darkening clouds. The most exciting tidbit for Enid was the brief mention that Armand Beaufaire was planning a trip to England.
Enid’s pleasant holiday took a different turn soon afterward with the arrival of Gustav Brideau one fine morning. The young Frenchman rode up on a black mare while she was standing by the rosebushes talking to the gardener. Wearing a light blue summer dress and a large bonnet to shield her face from the sun, she looked very much the country lady.
At first she could not believe her eyes. However, when Gustav turned his mount over to a stableboy and came striding toward her, she no longer had any doubts. In a white shirt open at the neck, a blue vest, and navy blue breeches, with his dark hair wind-tousled and his hazel eyes full of merriment, he emanated charm and romance.
“You!” she exclaimed as they met on the lawn.
“Yes, it is indeed I! I hired a horse in the village and found my way here.” He was bursting with vitality.
“If I had known you were planning a visit, I would have arranged for a carriage to meet you,” she said, flustered.
He laughed. “No need. I enjoyed the ride. I wanted to see you in your native surroundings.” He looked about approvingly. “It is lovely here. Magnificent. And you are truly deserving of it.”
“Will you be able to stay a few days?”
His eyes twinkled. “If I’m invited.”
“Of course you are. I’ll speak to my mother and father. They will place a room at your disposal.”
“London is very dull without you,” he remarked.
“What about all your theater friends?” she asked as she took his arm and led him toward the house.
“Most of them are also in the country. The summer season in London is very quiet. But when you return, there is one actor I want you to meet. John Philip Kemble.”
“Susie Smith’s leading man!”
He smiled. “Only on stage. He lives a solitary life away from his work. But I think he’s interesting, and I believe you would feel the same.”
“I shall look forward to the meeting,” she said.
“And will you begin fencing lessons when you return?”
“As soon as you like. I’m excited about doing it. Now, let me introduce you to my parents.”
Lord and Lady Henson were pleased to meet Enid’s good-looking friend, who had an easy knack of fitting in with people. Before long they felt completely relaxed with Gustav, as if they had always known him. Lord Alfred spoke with him about hunting, showed him his prized gun collection, and promised to see him ride to hounds one day soon. Lady Caroline was equally captivated by the high-spirited Gustav.
For Enid, Gustav’s visit held a mixed blessing. She enjoyed his company but feared her husband would hear of his arrival in Surrey and spitefully make the most of it.
She did her best to maintain a polite barrier between herself and the young man. They worked at her French lessons, went riding through the countryside, and often spent hours talking. Enid was impressed with his agile mind.
One warm, starlit night they strolled out to the summerhouse before retiring. Dinner had been exceptionally good, and her father had fallen into a nostalgic mood, recalling his younger days in London, to everyone’s delight.
When Enid and Gustav reached the summerhouse, he surprised her by sweeping her into his arms and kissing her ardently.
She pulled back from him in alarm. “You take liberties!” she protested.
“Didn’t you want me to kiss you?” he aske
d. “Surely this is the right setting.”
“I wish for us to remain friends.”
“And I would like to see us better friends,” he declared, ready to embrace her again.
“No,” she said gently. “You must not spoil things, Gustav. I’m very fond of you, and perhaps I would enjoy your embraces, but it would be the end for us. I am a married woman; you must remember that.”
A look of scorn crossed his face. “Your husband is a libertine who does not appreciate you!”
“But he is also intensely jealous of me and insists that I avoid any hint of scandal.”
“He provides quite enough of that with his lads!”
“Maybe so, but I do my best to make our marriage seem like a normal one so that our position in society is preserved.”
“Position be damned! I’m fond of you, and you need a man!”
Enid recognized the pulsing forces within her that had been brought to the surface by his embrace. Wryly, she said, “I wish I could deny that, but I truly can’t!”
“Leave your husband and come live with me,” Gustav implored her. “I could make you happy.”
“You could, and thank you, but I do not feel the match is right.”
“There is someone else?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“You don’t know him. He doesn’t live in London, nor even in this country.”
Gustav groaned in dismay. “How can I be expected to compete with some unknown man?”
“You cannot,” she said, lightly tapping his hand with her fan. “We will continue to be close friends, better friends than we would be if we allowed our passions full rein. And you will make me an expert in fencing as you have in French!”
“That’s not my ambition where you are concerned. I had other hopes.”
“For the time being, you must be content with these things,” she told him.
“All right, if you insist. But I refuse to give up hope.”
After this conversation with Gustav, she felt less tension between them. He remained at her father’s estate for a few more days and then returned to London. When she was certain that the vicomte had left for Paris, she packed her belongings, kissed her parents goodbye, and rejoined her husband.
Vintage Love Page 37