Vintage Love

by Clarissa Ross

  Lord Andrew was cool in his greeting of her. Shortly after she was reinstalled in the London town house, Enid learned of his excesses in gambling. Whispers came to her of his huge losses in many of the gaming houses, as well as in the homes of the socially elite. She also discovered that Andrew’s almost constant companion at the gaming houses was the Duke of Bridge-water, a half-mad nobleman, who talked of nothing but canals, had destroyed all the gardens around his home, and would not allow any woman servant in his employ.

  Enid went to Gustav’s studio for her first fencing lesson. She found that Susie Smith had abandoned her acting career and had moved in with Gustav. Some claimed this had happened because of a falling-out between Susie and Kemble, who had wanted her to assume more minor parts in his company so that he could advance the talents of another actress to play opposite him.

  Whatever the reason, it was a fact that Susie had become Gustav’s mistress. She seemed to be quite happy with the gallant Frenchman.

  As soon as Enid became proficient enough, she and Susie began to fence together. One afternoon, after they had indulged in an especially lively match, Susie threw down her mask and said, “You have a natural ability at this. I declare you are already my superior!”

  “But you have been fencing so much longer,” Enid protested.

  “No matter. You have caught on very fast, and you are taller and stronger than I.”

  Gustav was of the same opinion, and when Enid came for her fencing lesson the next afternoon, he told her, “I want you to take part in a little game.”

  She stared at him. “What sort of game?”

  “A practical joke I wish to play on someone. Susie suggested it to me.”

  Enid smiled. “Your Susie is too often given to mischief. Just what is this joke?”

  “Remember my speaking of the actor Kemble?”

  “Yes. You promised I would meet him.”

  “I still want you to. I think you’d like him, and he couldn’t help but be enchanted by you. Now, let me explain. Kemble thinks most seriously of himself. It is his one fault. He has been acclaimed the finest actor in all of England, and perhaps he is. He also considers himself the best swordsman in London, and in that he is surely wrong.”

  “So?”

  “I propose to set up a match pitting Kemble against an unknown young man of great fencing skill. I am positive that Kemble will be defeated.”

  “What part am I supposed to play in this?”

  He laughed. “You, my dear Enid, will be the young man!”

  “You’re mad!”

  “Not at all. I swear you can defeat him in a fencing match.”

  “I very much doubt it—and in any case, I’m not a young man!”

  “We can manage that,” he went on quickly. “Your figure is relatively slender. With the proper clothing, a wire mask, and your hair tied securely under a bandana, who would guess?”

  “It’s preposterous!” she exclaimed.

  “At least let Susie fix you up in the disguise. If you are not satisfied, there will be no need to go ahead with it.”

  She hesitated. “Suppose I can make myself look like a young man and deceive Kemble. What is the point to my defeating him at fencing?”

  “To take him down a trifle,” Gustav said. “He is a good fellow, but he has grown too full of himself. This little trick would be just the thing for him.”

  “And if he surpasses me with the blade and inflicts a serious wound on me, what then?”

  “I will tell him you are a novice.” Gustav rubbed his hands together, enjoying himself hugely at the prospect. “He is not a vicious type who would be liable to lose his temper.”

  “It is I who would have to risk that!”

  “I swear it is worth doing,” he urged. “And I shall be on the sidelines to call the match to a halt if it goes against you.”

  “I fear I sense the purpose behind all this,” Enid remarked wryly. “Susie is still suffering from his treatment of her and wishes to see him humiliated.”

  “That’s part of it,” Gustav allowed. “You wouldn’t rob her of this chance to even a score, would you? It is only fair that you ladies stand by each other!”

  “Let me think about it,” Enid said.

  8

  A week later Enid found herself disguised as a young man, masked, and with sword in hand, facing a tall, courtly man who studied her with a patronizing air. In the background stood Susie Smith and Gustav. The match had been artfully arranged by them, and Enid, against her better judgment, was a willing party to the conspiracy.

  “Begin, gentlemen!” Gustav commanded, stopwatch in hand.

  “En garde!” John Philip Kemble declared dramatically.

  Enid took what she hoped was a manly stance, and the struggle between them began. She soon realized why she need not fear the distinguished actor. He was much larger-boned than she, of course, and not nearly so agile. His style of fencing was as deliberate and heavy as his style of acting. He was good enough, but simply not as quick-footed or as quick-thinking as she.

  Their swords clashed, and although his thrusts were skillful, Enid always wound up besting him. After several minutes she saw that the struggle of combat was taking its toll on him. As he darted back and forth, trying to get in closer to her or to force her sword from her hand, he began to breathe heavily, and perspiration lined his cheeks. Enid remained cool and alert.

  Kemble grew more frantic in his efforts as he became wearier. Enid parried her weapon with his and continued to outfence him. Then, at last, he let himself get into a position that allowed her to give his blade a vicious twist and tear it from his hand.

  “Enough!” Gustav cried. “I declare the mystery youth the winner!”

  Kemble mopped his brow with a white silk handkerchief. “I’m not sorry the match is at an end,” he sighed. “I bow in defeat to a better man.”

  Gustav laughed. “Not exactly!”

  Kemble frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You lost to a woman!” Susie exulted as she came forward.

  Kemble’s face turned ashen. “You’re jesting!”

  Gustav crossed over to Enid and removed the mask and the bandana covering her hair. Enid found herself blushing prettily as her blonde curls tumbled down her back.

  The actor stared at her in shock. “I cannot believe it!”

  “You had better,” Susie told him dryly.

  Awed, Kemble moved closer to Enid. “You truly are a woman!” he exclaimed.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “Please forgive my deception.”

  Kemble turned to the other two. “I know who must have conceived this dubious jest. Suppose I had seriously harmed this lady?”

  Gustav laughed. “I would have stopped you. Take it in good stride, friend Kemble, and meet Lady Enid Blair!”

  The actor bowed. “My great honor, madam. You are expert at fencing.”

  “Never so expert as you are on the stage,” Enid replied charmingly. “I have much admired your Hamlet, and wished to meet you to tell you so.” A little fib, nothing more.

  Her ready compliment overcame his bad humor. At once he looked less sullen, and he even managed to smile at her. “You are something of an actress yourself. I vow I would not have taken you for anything but an agile lad.”

  Susie put an arm around Enid. “We’ll go into the other room, and in a few minutes you’ll see what a fine lady she is.”

  Gustav told the actor, “You refresh yourself, John. And then we’ll join the ladies for a hearty luncheon with plenty of excellent red wine!”

  As Susie was helping Enid into her regular clothes in the bedchamber, she cried, “He’s taken with you! Not that I’m surprised! So is Gustav! But Kemble doesn’t show interest so easily in a lady.”

  Enid laughed. “I don’t want him to become too obsessed with me. I have, as you know, a jealous husband.”

  “So you do,” Susie agreed. “But what do you think of our Kemble?”

  Enid sat before the mirror hang
ing above Susie’s dressing table. She smiled at her reflection as she began to arrange her hair. “I think he is a nice, rather somber man. Perhaps a little too concerned with his own importance.”

  “You have hit it exactly,” Susie said. “But do not think lightly of him. He is something of a genius, and in the parts where his melancholy style is called for, he excels.”

  Enid gave the former actress a searching glance. “Have you quite forgiven him for his slight of you?”

  “Probably not,” Susie was quick to admit. “But if he hadn’t encouraged me to leave his company—and his attentions—I wouldn’t have fallen in with Gustav so soon. And I’m deeply in love with that Frenchman.”

  “Enough to marry him?”

  “If he will have me.”

  Enid rose and placed an arm around her friend. “I predict that one day soon he will. I think he fears you will return to the stage.”

  “I might do that, but I wouldn’t leave Gustav. Many actresses have happy family lives outside the theater. When their confinement time comes they leave, but some of them return to the boards.”

  “I think I can understand why,” Enid said. “It’s a wonderful world of make-believe, so different from mundane reality.”

  Susie smiled. “At least all events are ordered. And when your time on the stage is over, you don’t really mind coming back to reality.”

  They went out into the main room, which served as the living area, library, and dining room of the cramped lodgings. Gustav had set out plates of food and a decanter of red wine.

  Kemble’s liquid brown eyes widened when he saw Enid. “You are right!” he exclaimed. “She is a most beautiful maid! Fairer than I have seen for many a day!”

  Enid allowed the actor to seat her next to him. She laughed and said, “That sounds suspiciously like a quotation from a play.”

  “It is,” Susie told her, and they all laughed. “I have heard John speak those very lines onstage.”

  Kemble looked a little guilty. “You ought not to give away the secrets of a fellow professional.”

  “But I’m no longer in the profession!” Susie protested.

  “You will be,” he said. “If you would forget your pique, I could use you at Drury Lane again.”

  “Don’t attempt to lure her back!” Gustav growled, pouring wine for everyone.

  “No harm would come of it, Brideau. You may be sure of that. She is a fine soubrette, and as such I would like to hire her again.”

  Susie looked up from her plate to ask him, “Doesn’t Lady Blair make a better boy than your sister, Mrs. Siddons, did when she played in As You Like It?”

  Kemble nodded. “Lady Blair would make an excellent Rosalind. My blessed sister refused to wear proper male attire when she masqueraded as a boy and the result was a strange hodgepodge. That harmed the play.”

  “You are having a successful season at Drury Lane with your own company,” Enid observed.

  “My public is loyal,” Kemble told her.

  “Perceptive of talent,” Gustav amended. “And John is an innovator when it comes to scenery and costumes. He has brought forth many new ideas in staging.”

  Kemble could not take his eyes off Enid. “You are the wife of Lord Andrew Blair, isn’t that so?”

  “Yes,” she replied in a small voice.

  “I have met him and some of his companions,” Kemble said, running a hand through his dark chestnut hair. “They gamble at a club I frequent on occasion.”

  She smiled grimly. “I understand it is rumored that my husband’s gambling losses amount to nearly the same sum as our national debt.”

  The actor laughed. “Judging by the wild plunges I have seen him indulge in, that could be true.”

  No more was said about Andrew, and the talk turned back to the theater. Enid learned that John’s younger brother Stephen was a member of his company, a man addicted to overeating. It also came out that John and his famous sister, Mrs. Siddons, did not get along very well. John thought she was both arrogant and avaricious. She was known to be mean in her payment of the actors in her company and to be continually battling with the managers of the theaters where she played. Enid was thrilled by all the inside chatter of the theater world, and the discovery that even the idols of the West End had their share of human foibles was a revelation to her.

  After lunch, Kemble insisted on taking Enid home in his open carriage. As they drove through the sunny streets, she blushed at the knowledge that many people recognized the famous actor by her side and were unquestionably trying to guess who his latest conquest might be.

  As they approached the turn into Regent Street, Kemble said abruptly, “I want to see you again.”

  “I will visit the theater some evening.”

  He frowned. “No. I meant I want to spend time with you and get to know you better.”

  Enid gave him a warning look. “You forget my husband.”

  Brown eyes met those of sloe. “Why can’t you forget him? For at least a little while.”

  She glanced at the red brick houses and the great, full-leaved trees lining the street. “I realize you are aware of his reputation … his great weaknesses.”

  “Yes.”

  “However, I have a pact with him that I’m loath to break. At least for now.”

  “I’m merely asking that we meet away from the theater, though of course I would like you to see my Hamlet again, and my Brutus, too. But I think it’s more important that we become friends.”

  “You are well known,” she reminded him. “Many questioning eyes have focused on this carriage ever since we left Gustav’s.”

  “I cannot help being a public figure.”

  “But I can help being seen in public with you,” she countered.

  “Then let us meet privately,” he urged. “I like to dine in my lodgings after the performances. Will you join me there?”

  She hesitated. “To what purpose?”

  “I admire you greatly and I would like to have you for a friend.”

  “I wish it could be so,” she said.

  “Do I interest you at all?” he asked her gravely.

  She felt her cheeks flush. “It may be that you interest me too much.”

  “That could not be.” He smiled ruefully. “Pray think over what I have said. I will send you a message shortly, inviting you to dine with me. I trust you will accept.”

  She made no reply. The striking-looking actor was unlike anyone she had ever met before. He lacked the aristocracy and French charm of Armand, but he possessed other qualities that made her regard him with admiring eyes. He was an artist, with an artist’s sensitivity. She was certain that he approached each of his roles with an intellectual interest. He was not a shallow fop, like so many of the males she had met in London society and, indeed, like a goodly number of the theater’s leading men.

  Kemble saw her to the door and kissed her hand. Once more he promised, “You shall hear from me.”

  Enid did not expect to see him again very soon.

  Several nights later Andrew informed her they were to attend a house party hosted by Sir James and Lady Evelyn Drake. Enid knew her husband would insist on her accompanying him, so she didn’t protest. Besides, he had been in a bad mood lately, as the gaming tables had continued to go against him, and she was especially anxious not to cross him.

  She chose a new rose satin gown for the affair and dressed her hair with rose and white silk ribbons. A vibrant emerald necklace and a matching pair of earrings completed her ensemble.

  Sir James and Lady Drake represented the younger social set, and their party offered a healthy sprinkling of the city’s young bloods and their ladies, as well as many notables from the worlds of politics and the arts. In the crowded drawing room of the large Regent Street mansion, it was not surprising that Enid should find herself face to face with John Philip Kemble, resplendent in a formal gold jacket and fawn breeches, a white wig covering his chestnut hair.

  The actor instantly looked less bor
ed and hastened to bring her a glass of wine. Then he began to speak earnestly. “I have done little but think about you since our meeting.”

  She smiled. “Did you think of the boy who bested you at fencing or the girl who refused your invitation to dine?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I do not recall your declining my invitation, only showing a certain hesitation in accepting it.”

  “That almost amounts to the same thing.”

  “I have not given up hope. You know I lead a very solitary life.”

  “What about the lady who took Susie’s place in your heart—or should I say bed?”

  “You have the sting of a wasp!”

  “I like to speak frankly.”

  “That is frank enough for anyone.” Kemble shuddered. “The truth is, the lady in question proved to be a worthless actress, a baggage who gave me no pleasure—in bed or out of it.”

  “But you would like Susie back in your company.”

  “I need her in my company. But that is all I want from her.”

  “From what she said to me, I think she may be ready to return to the stage.”

  “Good. I’m happy to hear that. Susie is a talented young miss, but not as adept at fencing as you.”

  “I fear that is a small talent.”

  “Your beauty alone would be enough,” John complimented her with his usual gallantry.

  “Thank you.” Then she noticed that Andrew, who was standing a little distance away with an unhealthy-looking, spindle-shanked young fop, was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

  Kemble noted the same thing. “Your husband has found a crony,” he remarked.

  “That is a simple accomplishment.”

  Their eyes met and locked. Enid looked away first.

  “I’ve been working on some new set designs for my next production of Hamlet,” Kemble said, his voice suddenly husky. “My sister thinks I’m spending far too much on staging the play, and I’d welcome your opinion.”

  “But I know nothing about staging plays!” Enid protested.

  “You have exquisite taste and good judgment. They are all that is required. Would you look at my sketches for the designs and the costumes?”