“I do like him,” Enid admitted.
“Then you must see him perform as Hamlet,” Susie said firmly. “He is very good in the role. He had me play Gertrude rather than Ophelia, as I wrote you, though I don’t have the stature for her character. But I try to suggest it.”
“I’m sure you’re quite perfect.”
Later they strolled over to Drury Lane. Enid was thrilled to be back in London, and for the moment she forgot her worries about Armand. London was the center of everything, she decided, as she mingled with the lively crowd in the streets. A hint of spring was in the air today. Wagons and carriages rolled by, and there was much bustle and shouting. This was the city of prizefights and bull and bear baiting, of cock fights, horse racing, theater, and gambling—and, she reminded herself, of the likes of Andrew Blair.
Kemble had reserved one of the dress boxes on the right for her sole use. As the theater began to fill, she sat there in regal splendor, hearing whispers as to her identity and feeling very much the focus of attention. At last the curtain rose and the play began.
When Kemble made his entrance as Hamlet, there was a loud ovation. He ignored the applause and continued in his role. But when he gave his soliloquies, Enid noticed that they seemed to be directed at her.
She enjoyed Polonius and the bearded Horatio, and Susie was more than adequate in the role of the Queen, though her small size unfortunately worked against her. But when Jenny Woods appeared as Ophelia, the play really went downhill. Jenny, like Susie, had auburn hair, limpid green eyes and a pretty, oval face. But, unhappily, her face was devoid of expression and she read her lines in a wooden fashion. The Drury Lane audience jeered at her several times but were kind enough not to boo her off the stage, as they sometimes did with players they didn’t like.
By the time the curtain fell, Enid was convinced that, despite the untalented Ophelia, this production of Hamlet was very good. The costumes and designs were a complete success. She made her way backstage to convey her impressions to John Philip Kemble.
He was waiting for her in the wings, still wearing his costume and stage makeup. He clasped her in his arms and kissed her soundly. “You’ve come back, dear Enid!” he cried, not hiding his joy at seeing her.
“The play was fine!” she exclaimed.
“That is high praise from you. I know you’re an excellent critic.”
“It is good to be back,” she told him.
“And to have you back,” the actor beamed. “We are going to indulge in a feast of celebration.”
“Susie told me. But you ought not to have bothered.”
“Why not? It is an occasion!” Kemble declared grandly.
She was vaguely aware of others in the background and then recognized Jenny Woods in her Ophelia dress, standing by rather timidly.
“And this is Jenny.” Enid moved toward her. “You are so attractive in your costume!”
“Thank you,” the girl replied shyly. She was very pretty and very young.
“Jenny is new to the stage, but she is coming along well,” Kemble said with a hint of embarrassment. “Now we must go to our dressing rooms and change. Do wait—we shall be back in a few minutes.”
As they left her, the bearded young man who had done so well as Horatio came up and bowed to her. “Your ladyship,” he said.
“Horatio!” she replied. “You are a very good actor.”
He smiled. “Thanks to you.”
“I know you,” she said suddenly, and then she gasped. “It is the beard! That is why I didn’t recognize you! You are Graham!”
“I am Graham,” he acknowledged with a small laugh. “And thanks to you, I am now an accredited member of the company.”
“How happy I am for you, Graham!”
“And I shall always owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“There are no such things as debts among friends,” she told him. “And I think we have earned the right to call ourselves friends.”
“Kemble has invited me to attend your party,” Graham said, “so I’ll go now and change my costume.” And with a smile he disappeared behind some stage props.
Enid turned around and headed for the empty stage. Suddenly she was startled to see a figure emerging from the shadows of the opposite wings. The figure was that of a man and he came toward her slowly. He wore a long black cape and his pale face was wreathed in a smile. His left eye was covered with a black patch, and his head was completely bald. Enid almost ceased breathing as she realized that the man approaching her was Louis Esmond.
He limped across the stage and greeted her suavely. “May I inquire if you are a visitor like myself or one of the company?”
Enid fought her sudden attack of nerves and strove to present a calm facade. “I am a visitor and a friend of Mr. Kemble’s,” she replied.
“Ah, Mr. Kemble,” Esmond sighed. “What a delightful actor! So fine as Hamlet!”
“I agree.”
The bald man was staring at her. “You know, I have the feeling we have met before.”
“I think not,” Enid lied, aware that her voice was trembling.
“I’m French, as you perhaps have noticed. Have you traveled in my country? It is possible we may have met there.”
“I know little of France, aside from Paris and Versailles.”
His single eye gleamed wickedly. “Versailles, once the site of the royal palace.”
“I understand the king and queen are no longer there.”
“No,” he said softly, staring at her as if he had secret thoughts. “You know, you are a remarkably pretty young woman. Are you an actress?”
“I fear not.”
“Too bad. You would do well, I should surmise. Ugly as I may seem to you now, I myself was once a leading man on the stage.”
“That does not surprise me,” Enid told him. “You possess great personal magnetism.”
“Thank you.” He flashed a broad smile. “That is most kind of you. I would still be in Paris and on the stage but for the grave injuries I suffered in the chaos which has overtaken my poor country.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, wondering what he was up to.
He shrugged. “I am of the nobility. You understand, I am sure. It would be worth my life to return there. So now I’m here in your London, a poor exile.”
Enid thought she was on to his game. He was shrewdly pretending to be his enemy. The agent of the revolutionists was posing as an exiled aristocrat so that he could mingle with the unsuspecting among the refugees and gain valuable information from them. No wonder he was called the revolution’s master spy!
He nodded, keeping his good eye fixed on her. She began to feel that he was boring into her mind with his probing stare.
“Are you also a friend of Kemble’s?” she asked.
“Only an acquaintance. I was introduced to him by another friend of mine, and we had a pleasant talk. I promised to see his play and he invited me here today. He is having a party for a Lady Blair.”
“I am Lady Blair,” Enid said.
“Ah!” Esmond seemed delighted. “Like myself, you are of the nobility.”
Just then Kemble appeared in his street clothes and shook hands with Esmond. “So you two have met?” he said.
“I find Lady Blair charming,” the Frenchman replied.
Kemble smiled at her. “The vicomte is a member of the French nobility, for which you have so much sympathy. I invited him to your party so you could exchange thoughts with him.”
“I’m afraid I have very little to offer,” she apologized.
“Nonsense,” the actor scoffed. “You have been interested in the refugee cause from the start.”
Enid was relieved to see the publican arrive with his helpers, their arms laden with food. They set the delicious-smelling dishes on the long table that had been placed in the center of the stage. The members of the theater company began trickling in, Graham and Susie among them.
Susie came up to her. “Any sign of Gustav?” she asked
.
Enid took her aside and said in a low voice, “It will be lucky if he stays away.”
“Why do you say that?”
Enid nodded toward Esmond as he stood chatting with John Philip Kemble. “That is the archfiend, the agent of the mob, Louis Esmond!”
“Esmond!” Susie gasped.
“Yes. He somehow contrived to meet Kemble and get an invitation here.”
“How can I warn Gustav off?” his wife worried. “He could arrive here any minute!”
“Just pray that he doesn’t. Esmond is already trying to place me.”
“Oh, no! What shall I do?”
“There’s nothing to be done for the moment,” Enid told her. “Just pretend to be calm.”
“I can’t when I’m terrified,” Susie said. “You don’t seem to be afraid at all!”
“I’m trembling inside.”
Kemble stepped to the middle of the stage and called out for silence. Everyone was given a glass of champagne. “We are here today to welcome the return of my dear friend Lady Blair,” he said. “I’m sure all of you will happily join me in this toast to her!”
He raised his glass, as did the others. Enid found herself pushed forward to make a reply.
“I’m overcome!” she protested. “You have been too kind!” She was not pretending when she claimed to be overwhelmed by the moment. The presence of the cruel Esmond had done that much for her.
Susie edged her way over to Enid. “Perhaps we should get away from here,” she suggested.
“I can’t just yet. Kemble would think me ungrateful.”
“But it is no longer safe for you here!” Susie objected.
“Esmond can’t recall where we met. I’m safe until he does.”
The party continued happily, and Enid noticed that Louis Esmond was spending much of his time in the company of Kemble. The two chatted earnestly over glasses of champagne. Then she saw Gustav enter and look about for Susie. She decided to try to send him away before Esmond recognized him. But before she could reach him across the crowded stage, he had spotted Susie and gone straight over to her.
Enid saw a worried Susie give him the warning message, and he turned at once and started out. He hadn’t taken more than a few steps, however, when Kemble called out to him.
“Don’t run off, Gustav. As Susie’s husband, you are one of us and are entitled to be here!”
All eyes were now focused on Gustav, so he could do little but turn back to face Kemble. “I wasn’t intending to leave,” he said awkwardly.
“Then come and have some champagne,” the actor insisted.
Gustav crossed slowly to the table and accepted a glass from him. Then Kemble said, “We are drinking to the return of Lady Blair. I’m sure you’d like to join in.”
Gustav raised his glass and bowed to Enid, saying, “I have the highest regard for Lady Blair!” And in one long swallow he downed his champagne.
Louis Esmond had been staring at Gustav, and now he moved toward him and said softly, “We have met before.”
“I think not,” Gustav replied, ready to turn away.
“I insist that we have,” Esmond went on in that soft tone. “And now I remember where.”
“Do you?” Gustav said, attempting to meet the uncomfortable moment.
The agent now wore a smile of triumph. “Our last meeting was much more exciting. I shall not soon forget it.”
“You are making a mistake, I am sure.” Gustav’s handsome face was drained of all color. He put down his empty glass as if he were about to flee.
Once more it was Kemble who halted him from leaving by saying, “Gustav is married to one of our finest actresses, the lady who plays the Queen.”
Louis Esmond continued to smile. “I’m not at all surprised to find that he is a Royalist. My own tastes, however, lie in other directions.”
Several people came up to the table just then to refill their glasses, and Esmond moved away. Susie and Gustav, looking thoroughly unhappy, remained where they were as the crowd swirled around them. The party was a great success.
Enid was about to suggest that it was time for them to go when she heard a voice at her elbow. “Now I know where we met before!”
She turned quickly and saw Esmond standing beside her. She stared at him blankly and said, “I do not understand.”
“Don’t tell me your memory is failing you,” he mocked.
Angered, she lashed out at him. “Sir, I have an excellent memory!”
“Then you must surely remember a warehouse and a villainous crew who attacked it and set it on fire two years ago.” Louis Esmond purred, his one good eye burning with hatred.
“You have an actor’s imagination, sir. I know nothing about what you are saying. And now perhaps you will excuse me.”
She went over to Kemble to say goodbye. The actor turned to her and immediately remarked, “You look filled with ire! Has anyone said something to displease you?”
“No,” she replied. “The truth is, I’m weary. I debated whether I should come to the party or not. I didn’t wish to disappoint you, so I came. But now I really must leave.”
“We shall talk more later. Come to my flat for supper tomorrow evening. Jenny will fix us some fine fare.”
“Very well,” she agreed.
“You look as lovely as ever, dearest Enid. I have missed you greatly.”
“And I have missed you, too. Until tomorrow night, then.”
She quickly made her way to Gustav and Susie and the three of them moved toward the exit. Louis Esmond was still engrossed in a conversation with Kemble’s overweight brother, Stephen. Enid was sure he was trying to garner as much information about them as he could.
No sooner were they in the street than Gustav exclaimed, “He recognized us! He made that very clear!”
“I made no admission,” Enid said. “I’m certain he is suspicious, but how can he be certain?”
“He saw us together,” Gustav muttered unhappily. “And then together again tonight. He might have been confused about one of us, but seeing us together did it!”
As they walked toward the studio, Susie murmured, “I was going to stand outside the theater and warn you not to come in, but you arrived before I could do that.”
“Where did Kemble pick him up?” Gustav asked.
Susie sighed. “John told me a French actor introduced him as Vicomte Gerard, a noble refugee who had been on the stage in his youth.”
“Esmond often assumes different identities,” Gustav told her.
“Kemble should be warned about him,” Enid pointed out.
“I will do it,” Gustav promised. “I will wait until the party is over and then go to his flat and tell him.”
Susie gave them a troubled look. “What will happen now? Will Esmond come after us?”
“I doubt it,” her husband said. “This is London. But he may set spies to watch us and discover our contacts, the agents who work in France. In that way he could make excellent use of us without any violence.”
“He probably thinks we are of more use to him alive than dead,” Enid offered hopefully.
Susie shuddered. “I wish I could believe that. I won’t be able to close my eyes at night!”
When they arrived at their building, Enid went up to the studio to discuss the matter a little further, and then she walked down to her own flat. She had pretended to believe Gustav when he claimed that Esmond and his men wouldn’t try to harm them. But she wasn’t by any means convinced that this was true. Esmond knew that she and Gustav had rescued Armand and destroyed Esmond’s warehouse filled with firearms. That must have been a major setback for him, and he was not a man to ignore a thirst for revenge.
She carefully bolted her door and hoped for the best. It was comforting to know she had Susie and Gustav for neighbors, and because of her extreme weariness, she slept soundly through the night.
14
In the morning she was awakened by a knocking on her door. She put on a dressing gown
and called out, “Who is there?”
“Me,” came the reassuringly familiar voice of Gustav.
She unbolted the door and let the fencing master in.
“I thought you should know the news,” he said, “so I have come to you early. Did I wake you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied. “Let me hear what news you bring.”
Gustav looked grimly pleased. “You will be surprised to know that Louis Esmond left London last night.”
“What brought that about?”
“Troubles within the revolutionist group back in Paris. They needed him, and so presumably he had to forget about us and take care of more urgent business.”
“What luck for us!”
“Yes. My contacts inform me that the revolutionists are splitting into rival groups. It is hard to tell who will be the leader or who will lose his head as the days go by. Apparently no one trusts the other.”
“That is in our favor,” she said, very much relieved. “Did you warn Kemble about Esmond?”
“I did, and he was extremely upset. He vowed not to allow him in the theater again. He learned from his brother that Esmond had asked a number of questions about us. Happily, Stephen didn’t have much to tell.”
“It doesn’t matter now, if Esmond has returned to France.”
“He sailed at dawn. But he will be back, unless he is removed from power as head of the spy system. That’s when we’ll have to be extra careful. On his return, he may decide to deal with us.”
“Your own agents should warn you of his coming, shouldn’t they?”
“That’s true, but there are times when they don’t always know everything. Just as the other side doesn’t always know.”
“How long will this awful state of affairs in France go on?” she asked, thinking of Armand and his danger-filled missions.
“Until there is no more France, it seems,” Gustav replied slowly.
“And what of Armand?” She voiced her worry aloud. “What can have happened to him?”
Gustav shook his head. “There has been no word.”
Enid studied his uneasy expression and then, in a different tone, she asked, “Are you keeping something from me, my friend?”
The fencing master crimsoned. “You know I would never keep any facts from you!”
Vintage Love Page 45