Vintage Love

by Clarissa Ross

  Grant Curtis nodded with understanding. “Of course. I’ll get your cloak at once.”

  A stricken Howard met them at the door. “You really must not go so early,” he pleaded.

  She gazed up at his anxious, white face and pitied him. “I’m sure the party will go on better for Nell with the absence of at least one unwanted guest. I’m sorry, Howard,” she added. “It was good of you to invite me!”

  Her evening had ended in a sorry shambles. She was still in a mood of deep depression the next day. As she strolled in her garden old Madame Goubert and Rover came to join her. Rover bounded up to her and panted happily as she fondled his soft head.

  Madame Goubert said, “We had a rare walk, your Ladyship. And he enjoys it.” Then, staring at her, “How pale you look!”

  Mary continued fondling Rover, grateful for this one link with the good, serene days when her aged husband had been alive. She said, “I had a trying evening last night. I was out too late.”

  The former strong woman said, “I don’t know how you stand them parties after the show! It’s too much for you!”

  “You are right,” she agreed. “In the future I must avoid them.”

  Things were not improved that night when Howard Blake presented himself at her dressing room following the show. She recieved him with a feeling of distress.

  “Why did you come here?” she asked him. “You know your wife will put the worst possible construction on it!”

  “I could not help it,” he said unhappily. “I had to apologize for her unforgivable behavior.”

  “There’s no need,” she said. “I should have been wise enough not to attend the party.”

  Howard said, “I wanted you there.”

  “Nell did not!”

  “I refuse to let her break our friendship,” he said. “I loved you once and wanted to marry you. I still do!”

  “You mustn’t be ridiculous,” she told him. “You have a wife! A wife who is wildly jealous of me!”

  “I don’t care!” he said. “We’ll part! You and I can be married. I love you, May!”

  Mary shook her head. “You’re talking like a madman. In the name of all that we meant to each other, don’t ruin things now. Stop seeing me or thinking about me. Your wife will get over her fury.”

  Howard Blake’s handsome face was bleak with despair. He said, “You are wrong! You don’t know what she’s like. If she isn’t ranting about you it will be somebody else! I sometimes think she’s insane. I was warned before I married her but I would not listen!”

  “Then you must make the best of things now,” Mary said.

  “Is that all you can say?”

  “I’m deeply sorry for you, Howard,” she told him. “But there is no way for us. You must not try to see me again.”

  He scowled. “She will go on accusing us!”

  “But it will have no substance and that makes the difference,” she said. “She’ll tire of it after she finds it pointless.”

  “I can’t agree.”

  “You must at least try,” she said firmly.

  Howard stared at her in blank despair. “I have never understood you, May. You would not marry me when I pleaded with you. I thought it was Jeffrey. But you proved that to be wrong by marrying poor old Carter. You turned from me though I’m sure you cared enough to be my wife. Why?”

  She stood there in troubled silence. How could she tell him at this moment? Repeat the sordid story of her being a slavey in his house and seduced by his rake of a brother! She had gone through enough torment without trying to explain that.

  She looked down and said softly, “Be content when I tell you there was a good reason.”

  “I shall never believe it!” he retorted. And in his anger he swept her into his arms and kissed her so cruelly that he crushed her lips painfully. Then he roughly released her and left her dazed and near tears as he rushed out of her dressing room.

  He did not return that night nor any other night. The Waddingtons assured her she had done right and the matter was at an end. She was not so sure. She remembered the malevolence of Nell on the night of the party and was inclined to agree with Howard that his wife suffered from a touch of madness.

  She tried to get in touch with Jeffrey but he was still away in Scotland. The servant in charge of his house at Berkeley Square did not seem to know when Jeffrey and Noel Hastings were due to return. Mary kept busy at the theatre, thankful for the nightly work which kept her from brooding too much.

  One foggy night she returned home from the theatre with the Waddingtons as usual. She was especially weary as she had gone shopping during the day. All her clothes were wearing out and she needed some things in the newer fashion. She’d had a long trial of selecting materials and then an equally trying time at her dressmaker’s. So she went to bed completely exhausted and sank into a deep sleep.

  She was awakened in the night by someone shaking her roughly. She looked up in sleepy surprise to see that it was Madame Goubert in nightcap and with a shawl around her shoulders who had roused her.

  The former strong woman said apologetically, “I’m sorry to wake you, ma’am. But there’s an old gentleman come to the door and he’s been hurt. He asked for you!”

  Mary sat up in disbelief. “Asked for me? Are you sure?”

  “I am, your ladyship,” Madame Goubert said worriedly. “I didn’t want to wake you yet I thought you should know.”

  She sighed. “Did he give his name?”

  “Yes. He’s a stout old man. He said his name is Noel Hastings. He’s seated in a chair in the hall and he’s bleeding badly!”

  “Noel Hastings!” she exclaimed. “Of course I know him!” The name had brought her fully awake. “Give me my slippers and dressing gown!”

  “Yes, your Ladyship,” the strong woman said fetching the requested items. “It is my opinion the old man should have a doctor.”

  “We’ll see,” she said. “If we need help I’ll send for Doctor Dexter.”

  Mary hurried downstairs with Madame Goubert following after her and carrying a lighted candle. They found Noel Hastings sprawled in a chair in the reception hall. The stout, old man’s face was pale and his eyes were closed. When he heard their approach he opened his eyes and sat up a little.

  “Mary!” he gasped.

  “Noel Hastings!” she said. “What has happened?”

  “We returned from Scotland today,” the old man said weakly. “I stayed out late at a gaming house. I was attacked by ruffians in the street. I remembered you lived in this area and found my way here.”

  “Your arm!” Mary cried, seeing that his coat sleeve was bloodstained and some blood was actually beginning to drip on the parquet floor.

  “One of the villains put a bullet through it,” the old man groaned. “I’m very weak! I’ve come a long way!”

  “You might have been killed!” Mary said.

  “I very nearly was. They took my purse! Everything!” Noel Hastings moaned.

  Madame Goubert asked, “Shall I send for the doctor, your ladyship?”

  The old man raised his good arm in protest. “No!” he cried. “Don’t do that! The bullet went clear through the flesh! No bone is splintered! You can bandage me up as well as any doctor. Please do it at once!”

  Mary stood there indecisively and then said, “You are probably right! You’re losing blood rapidly! Better to try to clean and bandage the wound at once! Do you think we can remove your coat?”

  The old actor nodded. “Yes, yes, I think so.”

  So she and Madame Goubert went about the grim task of taking care of his wound. A bowl of warm water, fresh linen and some alcohol were all they had to work with. But in the end Mary had the arm bandaged neatly and the bleeding halted.

  Noel Hastings eyed her gratefully, “Thank you for your kindness to an old man. I feel better already.”

  “You need a stiff drink of whiskey and a good night’s sleep,” Mary said. “If you are not better in the morning we can easily get Docto
r Dexter.”

  “I’m sure I won’t need him,” Noel Hastings said. He rose to his feet unsteadily. “If your servant will show me to a room and someone will clean and patch my coat I’ll be on my way in the morning!”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Mary told him. “You will remain here for a few days until you are properly able to leave.”

  “Jeffrey will be concerned about me!”

  “In the morning I shall send word to him,” she promised.

  Madame Goubert supported the injured man to a guest room and saw that he had a flagon of whiskey at his bedside. Then they all returned to bed. But Mary did not sleep for a long while. The entire incident had an air of mystery about it. She felt there was more to be told than Noel Hastings had revealed about his injury.

  She was up early in the morning, fearful that he might try to leave without talking to her. The Waddingtons were still asleep in their apartments when she went to the guest room where Noel Hastings had spent the night. As she’d suspected he was already up and dressed. He had not been able to put on his coat, so he had pulled the arms inside it and draped it over his shoulders like a cape.

  Mary faced him in the room, saying, “You’re ready to leave and you weren’t going to tell me!”

  The old man looked embarrassed. “I have caused you enough trouble.”

  “Not at all,” she said. “You must breakfast with me. Your encounter with those thieves must be reported to the police. I shall call them after we eat.”

  “No!” the former character actor said. “I must go and join Jeffrey.”

  “I’ll have a servant take a message to him. Write it down and I’ll have it dispatched to him at once,” she promised.

  Th old man finally lost the facade he’d maintained so well. Staring at her brokenly, he said, “You can’t send him a message.”

  “Why not?” she felt her fear gathering within her, fear for Jeffrey.

  “I don’t know where he is,” Noel Hastings said in a despairing tone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  In that moment all her suspicions concerning Jeffrey’s opulent way of life returned to trouble her. There was a mystery about his sudden wealth which she had never liked and which she now began to fear might lead to a shocking discovery.

  She sat down opposite the old man who had sunk onto the edge of the bed and was sitting there with the makeshift cloak around him looking ill and frightened.

  In the calmest tone she could manage she said, “I want you to tell me the truth.”

  “The truth?” he echoed uneasily.

  “Yes,” she said. “The truth about what happened last night. How you came to be wounded! And the real source of the money Jeffrey has been spending in such a wanton manner!”

  “I do not understand,” the old man said.

  Her eyes met his, hard and demanding. “I’m sure you do. If you came by that wound in your arm as you’ve insisted, why are you afraid to have me summon the police?”

  Noel Hastings looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want a fuss made about it. It would do no good.”

  She said, “I say there is more than that to it!”

  His glance was frightened. “What have you guessed?”

  “I’ve surmised that you and Jeffrey are involved in some illegal traffic! I am a friend to you both and will never betray you. For your own safety and for Jeffrey’s you would be wise to tell me the truth!”

  “Jeffrey would never forgive me,” the former actor quavered.

  “Never mind about that now,” she said. “Tell me the truth!”

  The old man hesitated for a long while, then he asked her, “Have you heard anything about the Crimson Mask?”

  Her eyes widened. “Of course! There have been stories in all the papers! And much talk at every London gathering! The Crimson Mask is the highwayman who has been plaguing stagecoaches on the northern route for the past several years!”

  Noel Hastings nodded. “Jeffrey is the Crimson Mask and I am his associate!”

  “No!” she gasped in horror at the statement which she realized now only confirmed the suspicions she had repressed for so long.

  “We have been at it ever since Jeffrey’s company failed,” Noel Hastings said. “Last night we attacked a stage just outside London. They had an armed guard. I was hit right away and Jeffrey ordered me to ride away. I don’t know what happened to him. He may have been killed or wounded. I have no idea.”

  Mary shook her head. “What a fool he is! Sooner or later he must have known he would be killed or captured and hanged! Why risk his life and yours in such a reckless manner?”

  Noel Hastings’ lined face was grim. “He needed to make money. It appealed to his sense of the dramatic. I went along with the idea.”

  “You should have tried to dissuade him from such an enterprise!” she said.

  “He would not listen to me,” the old man said. “I didn’t want him facing the danger alone!”

  “So Jeffrey is the Crimson Mask!”

  “If he still lives. There was a lively exchange of shots going on when I rode away from the scene,” Noel Hastings said miserably.

  Fear for Jeffrey’s safety replaced her shock. She said, “I shall have my carriage brought round at once. We’ll go to his house and see if he is there.”

  It was another foggy London day and she was grateful for the thick mist which cloaked them in anonymity. Her heart was pounding with apprehension when they reached the door of Jeffrey’s town house. She could see by the taut face of the old actor that he was also on edge.

  Mary hurried to the door with Noel Hastings following, slowed down by his injury. She rang the bell and after a moment Jeffrey’s butler opened the door. He gazed blankly at Mary but was delighted when he saw Noel Hastings standing at her side.

  “The master has been worried about you, sir,” the butler told him.

  “He is at home?” Mary enquired.

  “Yes,” the butler said.

  “Tell him we’re here,” Noel Hastings said escorting her inside. They went directly to the drawing room. He told her, “You can forget all about what I told you if you like.”

  “No,” she said. “We must face him with the truth!” The old man sighed and went to stare out the window unhappily. He was still standing there when Jeffrey entered the room.

  The first thing Jeffrey did was to close the doors to the hall so they might talk in privacy. Then he went straight over to Noel Hastings, ignoring her, and anxiously asked him, “Are you all right, old friend?”

  Noel Hastings turned to face Jeffrey, poised and elegant in a jade-green dressing gown. The old man sighed, “I just had an arm wound. I panicked and went to Mary’s house. She looked after my arm and kept me for the night.”

  Jeffrey listened grimly and then crossed to the middle of the room where he said to Mary with resignation, “I gather Noel has revealed everything about his accident and the cause of it.”

  “Yes,” she said, facing him unflinchingly.

  Jeffrey smiled, a humorless grimace. “No doubt you suspected it all along.”

  “That you were the Crimson Mask? Hardly,” she said. “When Noel told me this morning I was terrified that you might have been killed or captured last night. So we rushed here!”

  Jeffrey shook his head. “There was no need for panic. I managed things very well. In spite of the armed guard I carried out my mission.”

  “And you were not hurt?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “Unhappily the guard was killed. I lost my head when he shot and hit old Noel.”

  A look of horror crossed her lovely face. “Murder! You will surely be hanged if you are captured!”

  “I would be hanged in any case,” Jeffrey said with a shrug. “Now that you know about me what do you propose to do?”

  Her eyes met his defiantly. “I will ask your vow that you give up this wicked business! That you return to the stage where you belong and abandon this life of crime!”

  “Too late,” he sai
d. “I have gone too far. There is no turning back.”

  “Don’t be a fool!” she begged him.

  “If you look at it calmly you’ll realize I have no choice. I have become used to this way of life. It suits me well.”

  She asked him, “And when you stand on the gallows?”

  He smiled. “All lives must end. I shall have had an interesting one, to say the least. And I’ll be remembered as one of the best hosts in London.”

  “You would risk your neck for that?” she said, not able to believe it.

  Jeffrey said, “There is much more to it than that. Life is always a complicated business. What I want to know now is if you plan to turn us in to the authorities?”

  “You know I’ll never do that,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Jeffrey said. “I have always felt as close to you as to any other human being. I shall continue to do so. I can not expect you to feel the same way, but if you ever need my help, do not hesitate to call on me.”

  Mary said, “I no longer understand you. I feel I never really knew you!”

  “Let it go at that then,” said Jeffrey wearily.

  She hesitated, then she said, “I asked you once to marry me. Now I ask you again. I can give you respectability and security. Together we can make the future wipe out the past.”

  “Thank you, Lady Carter,” he said using her title in a mocking fashion. “That is indeed generous of you. But I cannot risk it. Sooner or later someone is bound to recognize me and link me with the Crimson Mask. I will not have you involved.”

  “Not even if I’m willing to take the risk?” she asked in desperation.

  “I must refuse such generosity,” Jeffrey said in a more gentle voice. “Though I shall not soon forget it.”

  She stood there frustrated and shaken. Near tears she glanced at the grim Noel Hastings standing by the window and then at Jeffrey in his rich green dressing gown.

  In a taut voice, she said, “Then there is nothing more for me to say.”

  “I fear not,” Jeffrey replied.

  She started towards the closed doors. He quickly joined her and opened them for her to leave. He accompanied her to the front door. She gazed up at him sadly, her hand on his arm.