True, there were ominous rumblings of approaching trouble in the Crimea. There were some who went so far as to predict war with Russia! And the miserable poverty of many in the city and countryside in this era of growing industrial prosperity and the making of a new wealthy middle class did not appear to distress young Queen Victoria or her Consort, Prince Albert.
Then, without warning, a troublesome rivalry began in the London theatre world. Sir Alan Tredale was too much of a gentleman to initiate any such thing, and the other noted stars of the London stage, Charles Matthew and his wife Lucy, were close personal friends. It was from a much less exalted section of the theatre managers that the ill-will sprang.
There were a group of cheap companies presenting lurid dramas of a type gradually losing appeal. They blamed their vanishing audiences on the prosperity of Sir Alan and his company. These theatres south of the Thames presented such thrillers as Gloomy Dell and Suicide Tree. One of the gaudiest managers of these cheap drama houses was Tobias Wall, who had been pointed out to Fanny at several London restaurants.
Tobias Wall was a stout, red-faced man with graying side-whiskers and a florid manner both on stage and off. He wore frockcoats of atrociously loud plaids and his bad manners matched his poor taste. But he did have a following among the rabble and he became the chief among the trouble-makers for the People’s, Covent Garden, Drury Lane and Haymarket theatres.
He sent bully boys to annoy patrons lining up at these theatres to purchase tickets and also had these same roughnecks shove their way past the ticket takers to pass out handbills of the current Tobias Wall play in the theatres. Appeals to the police did little good; the bullies were dispersed only to return soon again. The London police could not be at the theatres constantly as they had other calls on their services.
Silas Hodder had several run-ins with the bullies trying to force their way in the stage door and though he and the other backstage crew had managed to repel the thugs, he was gloomy about the developments.
As Fanny paused to talk with him on her way out of the theatre one evening, the gaunt-faced man told her, “I don’t like it, Fanny! I don’t like it at all! Sir Alan is taking this too lightly! I say Tobias Wall and his lot are out to cause us serious trouble!”
She sighed. “I know others who agree with you. I will talk to Sir Alan and urge that we take more precautions.”
But when she approached the gentlemanly stage star he only showed pain on his handsome face and spreading his hands, asked, “What can I do? I will not stoop to the methods of these villains. I can only depend on the police and hope they will soon tire of baiting us.”
The hot summer came and some of the hooliganism ended. It appeared that Sir Alan had been correct. The worst of the conflict seemed to have passed. One August afternoon when there was no performance at the theatre Fanny accepted the invitation of a young admirer, Simon Frith, to accompany him to the races. She agreed on the condition she might bring Hilda Asquith along as chaperone. The charming, blond, young Simon was the son of a wealthy London brewer and had the reputation of being a rake, so she felt she must be especially cautious with him.
To her surprise, Simon cordially agreed that Hilda should accompany them in his carriage. And so they all three drove out to Ascot.
It was a hot afternoon and both Fanny and the elderly actress had worn light dresses of cotton lawn and carried parasols to protect them from the sun. Simon Frith in light gray frockcoat and gray tophat was perspiring fiercely as they arrived at the racetrack. The circular track was surrounded by the carriages of the gentry and the less affluent strolled about between the carriages.
“I vow it is the warmest day of the season,” Simon said, after he’d found a place for the carriage and a groom had taken his horses off to a shady spot. He stood beside the carriage wiping his forehead with a large white linen handkerchief. “My apologies for bringing you out on such a day.”
“I do not get to the races very often,” Fanny smiled. “So I’m bound to enjoy myself. And so is Miss Asquith.”
“It is all quite thrilling!” Hilda Asquith agreed.
Simon replaced his hat on his head and glanced about bleakly. “I’m afraid it is all too familiar to me.” The races had not yet begun and vendors were going about hawking cold drinks and food items. Itinerant acrobats and other entertainers were giving the crowd gathered there a sample of their talents. Later one of their number would go from carriage to carriage with a tin cup for donations. Jockeys were also appearing on finely-groomed horses and it presented a colorful spectacle.
Simon Frith told them, “If you will excuse me, I have a favorite bookmaker whom I must find before the horses run!” And with a bow he left them and vanished in the motley crowd.
Old Hilda Asquith smiled. “It would appear young Mr. Frith is more interested in betting than in female companionship. I fear my being here is hardly necessary.”
“You are wrong in that,” Fanny told her. “I need company while Simon attends to the races and there is always afterwards to consider. I have heard some distressing stories about our charming host.”
“At any rate I’m enjoying it,” the elderly actress said. “I have never attended such a grand affair before.”
Fanny was about to make a reply to this when a young man in the red and gold jacket and blue breeches of an army officer came up to their carriage. Removing his black hat with its gray plume he addressed himself to her.
“Well, Fanny, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me so soon!” he said.
She stared at the pleasant-faced, fair-haired young man for a moment before she recognized him. Then she exclaimed, “You’ve grown a mustache, Captain Charles!”
“I have but I can’t imagine it has made so much difference in my looks,” he teased her good-naturedly. “I’m afraid I made so little impression on you, you’ve forgotten me!”
“Not at all,” she said with a small laugh. “You remember you were always a favorite with us downstairs.”
The young army officer said, “But it’s downstairs for you no longer, Fanny. I’ve seen you on the stage playing opposite Sir Alan. You’ve become a star of the London stage.”
“You’ve seen me at the theatre?” she asked, pleasantly surprised.
“Several times,” Charles Palmer assured her. And with another of his amused looks, he added, “And I’m not the only one. Another member of my family whom you must remember a lot better than you do me, has also watched you on the stage.”
Fanny felt her cheeks burn. “Really?”
“I have much to tell you,” Captain Charles Palmer said.
“The races are about to begin,” she told him. “Miss Asquith and I are awaiting the return of Simon Frith.”
“Simon?” Charles raised his eyebrows. “You are mixing in fast London society, my girl. Do you think Simon would excuse you if you joined me for a short chat and left Miss Asquith here to entertain him?”
She smiled in confusion. “I’m not sure he’d approve.”
Hilda Asquith had taken in the situation and at once spoke up, saying, “Go on with your friend, Fanny. I will explain to Mr. Frith when he comes back. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“There you are!” Charles said warmly. “Miss Asquith is on our side!”
She turned to Hilda and said, “Tell Simon I won’t be long.” Then she allowed Charles to help her down from the carriage and lead her a distance from the track.
As they walked, a cry rose up from the race track, and people began hurrying by them in the opposite direction, anxious not to miss the first race. Charles glanced at her, “You don’t mind missing the race, I trust.”
“No,” she said. “I’d rather talk.”
“And so would I,” he agreed. “So many things to say. There is a big oak tree back here which will offer some shade.”
They reached the huge tree which was within sight of the race track. The area surrounding it was deserted and so they were able to sit together on the grass and talk wi
thout interruption.
Charles studied her with admiring eyes. “I must say you’ve grown a lot move lovely! And you were a beauty at the start!”
“No flattery, please,” she said.
“It’s not flattery,” the young officer protested. “You know I’ve always been in love with you!”
“Charles!” she reproved him and touched his hand gently with hers to show that she was indeed very fond of him.
His pleasant face shadowed. “I know. It has always been George hasn’t it?”
Fanny blushed. “What about George?”
“You should have married him. He was eager to marry you, he told me so himself.”
She shook her head. “Your father made me see how disastrous that would have been for both of us. And he was right.”
“You are a star of the stage who mixes with high society. You could marry him now,” Charles said. “Unhappily for both of you, it is too late.”
Fanny’s head swam and she said faintly, “Too late?”
He nodded. “He married Virginia. You knew father was determined to make the match. He succeeded. George and Virginia have a son and a daughter.”
She fought to recover herself from the shock of this news, telling herself it should not be important to her. She had not seen George for years. They lived in different worlds.
Looking away she said in a taut voice, “I hope Virginia has made him a good wife. I trust they are happy.”
“They are not.”
She turned to stare at Charles’ sober face. “Why do you say that?”
“Virginia was never right for George,” he said. “We all knew that. Even before the marriage there was the rumor of her drinking.”
“Has it gone on?”
“Worse than before. She disgraced George on several important occasions. Now he has stopped making social engagements altogether and devotes himself to his political career.”
“And Virginia?”
“Continues to drink and there is talk of her having affairs with other men behind George’s back.” He hesitated. “I might say one of those named is your escort of today, Simon Frith!”
“No!” she cried in dismay.
Charles shrugged. “You need not be upset by it. Virginia is to blame for her own conduct. She doesn’t even properly run the house for George or look after the children. Our cousin, Dora, has had to move in with them and take charge of the youngsters.”
This mention of Dora Carson made Fanny think fondly of the warm-hearted, poor relation of the Palmers. She said, “Dora was so kind to me. I hoped that George might marry her.”
“She would have made him a better wife than Virginia. But, again, father opposed George showing any interest in Dora. And to be truthful, George did not care for her enough to marry her. You were his single great love.”
“A downstairs maid!”
“That did not matter,” Charles said, looking at her directly. “I know you gave yourself to him. I do not think it wrong. What was wrong was your leaving the way you did.”
“What else could I do?”
“You might have discussed it with George,” his brother said. “He might have agreed to wait. To have tried to help you get a start on the stage.”
“I was too confused and frightened to wait,” she said. “The Reverend Kenneth had already labeled me as a harlot. To that, your father added that I was also a fool!”
“Father is a stubborn old man,” Charles said. “And as for brother Kenneth, he has always been a little mad. He has made a fetish of his religion. Last year he became so mentally ill he had to give up his post as assistant to the Bishop. Now he has recovered and has a small church of his own.”
She stared down at the grass. “It’s all past history. I only wish thing’s were better for George.”
“And I wish that they were better for you,” Charles said with urgency. “Simon Frith is no sort of man for you to be going about with.”
“He is only a casual acquaintance,” she countered.
“He has a bad reputation.”
“I know,” she said. “That is why I was careful to have Miss Asquith chaperone us.”
“You showed wisdom in that,” he agreed. “George thinks you have great talent.”
She smiled wistfully. “He gave me my first big audience the night he forced me to entertain Prince Aran!”
Charles chuckled. “Of course! That studgy Indian chap! And the bounder fell in love with you and wanted to take you back to India with him as his concubine!”
Fanny corrected, “As an instructress for his children.”
“No one believed that for a minute,” Charles said. “Not even father. George soon put an end to it!”
“Perhaps I should have gone,” she sighed.
“It would have been an experience,” Charles agreed. “I understand the Prince’s father died shortly after he returned to India and so he is the Maharajah now.”
“Has he returned to England since?”
“No,” Charles said. “And according to my father he has not answered any correspondence sent to him by the family firm. One gathers he does not forgive easily. He blamed the family for not turning you over to him.”
She pictured her last encounter with the Prince and recalled the lean, grim face of the brown-skinned man. She said, “I’m sure he is a vindictive type.”
“I quite agree,” Charles said. “But enough of him. What about you?”
She told him of her adventures in provincial theatre and of meeting her father. She was careful not to mention David Cornish in describing these adventures and her coming to London and finding fame. She ended with, “I find a dedication to my stage career enough.”
“That can never be enough for a woman like you,” Charles argued. “You are sure there is no one else?”
“No one,” she said soberly.
“No use waiting for George,” he warned her. “Virginia comes from a long lived family of hard-drinkers, and she needs her marriage to George to cover up her drinking and her affairs.”
“What does the Reverend Kenneth think about her?” Fanny asked.
Charles sighed. “He visits her every so often and tells her she is headed straight for Hell. She, in turn, tells him to take the same destination. We’re truly a comfortable family,” he said acidly.
“It will work out,” she said. “There is Dora to solace George, and the children.”
“I’m not worried about him,” Charles said. “I’m concerned about you.”
“You needn’t be.”
“Marry me,” Charles pleaded, moving closer to her.
“Charles, I’m terribly fond of you,” she said, “but I can’t marry you.”
“Because of your feelings for my brother.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Because I’m so completely confused.” She stood up. “It’s time I returned to Simon’s carriage.”
Also on his feet, Charles restrained her, saying, “I think fate made us meet here today.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Otherwise I might never have seen you again.”
“What do you mean?”
“My regiment is sailing for the Crimea in a day or two. Trouble is expected there.”
She frowned. “I’ve heard rumors. I didn’t know that English troops were being sent.”
The young officer said, “Nothing official yet! We are being sent ahead to the area as a precautionary move, as are some of our largest naval units.”
She gave a tiny shudder. “Another war! I had hoped they might be at an end.”
“Never believe that,” Charles said. “So even though we have met there is no time for us.”
Fanny looked up at the crestfallen Charles. “I shall pray for your safe return!”
He smiled. “And I shall try jolly hard to keep out of danger since I want to see you again.”
“Come back soon and safe,” she said in a soft voice.
“Dear Fanny!” Charles said with emotion and he t
ook her in his arms and kissed her long and lovingly. When he at last let her go, he said, “If I get back will you think about my offer?”
She protested, “Don’t ask me for promises, Charles! I don’t want to make any I can’t keep.”
“Then don’t,” the young officer said. “And when I return I have the feeling you’ll be more sure of what you want. And I’m going to try and make sure you want marriage with me!”
Fanny smiled ruefully. “You’re very persistent!”
“Always!” he said, taking her by the arm and escorting her back in the direction of the race track.
When they reached the carriage Simon Frith was seated there with Miss Asquith, watching the race through binoculars. When Frith saw them coming towards the carriage he gave the binoculars to Hilda Asquith and came down to greet them.
Simon eyed the pair coldly. He said, “I did not know you and Charles were friends.”
She said quickly, “We’re old friends.”
“That is obvious,” Simon said in the same icy vein. “Since you chose to miss most of the racing to be with him.”
Charles spoke up, “We had a lot of catching up to do. We’ve not seen each other in years. I took more than my share of Fanny’s time as I’m being shipped out East in a day or two.”
This seemed to cheer Simon up. He said, “Are you? What luck! I wonder you don’t go on half-pay and let someone else take your place. It’s a fairly common practice, I’m told.”
Charles looked resentful. “Not for those who take the service seriously, though I hasten to agree there are only a few of us who do. I prefer to serve the Queen where needed and win my promotion rather than buy it.”
“Admirable!” Simon said with sarcasm. “Then we shall just have to carry on without you.”
“Not for long,” Charles said. “I have an idea the trouble out there will be settled shortly.”
“No need to rush,” Simon said with a sour smile. “I can promise to look after Fanny in your absence.”
Charles took this with good humor. “Since she is the darling of London I have no doubt there will be many to watch out for her.” He turned to the carriage. “Good day, Miss Asquith.” Then to Fanny, he said, “Remember all I have said.” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. Then he nodded to Simon and turned and went on his way.
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