“So this is to be goodbye?” she said.
“I think not,” Jeffrey said. “I shall always be at your service if you need me.”
She entered her carriage and leaned back. Tears poured down her cheeks at the knowledge that, to all intents and purposes, Jeffrey was dead. There could no longer be any contact between them.
When she reached her house in Brattle Court the Waddingtons were waiting for her. The old actor and his wife were puzzled at the midnight arrival of Noel Hastings and Mary’s leaving so early in the morning with him.
Mary removed her bonnet and sat with them in the small parlor. She bade Hector to close all the doors and when the three of them were seated there in privacy she revealed what she had learned. She ended with, “I must bind you to silence, on your honor. I only told you because I know both of you are fond of Jeffrey and Noel and can be trusted.”
“I will not betray them,” Hector said heavily.
“Nor I,” Peg Waddington said through her tears. “It is a tragedy that someone with Jeffrey’s ability should throw away his life in such an unthinking manner!”
“I agree,” Mary said. “It is a pity he was not wounded last night. Perhaps that might have caused him to think seriously about giving up his life as a highwayman.”
Hector frowned. “Do you think that would have altered his course?”
“I hope so,” she said. “And I can only pray that some incident will cause him to repent and return to the theatre where he belongs. I cannot give up that hope.”
“I shall pray along with you,” Peg promised. “Perhaps he will come to his senses.”
Her husband’s face was bleak. He said, “More likely he’ll go on with his robbing until he is caught and his neck stretched.”
“And old Noel’s as well,” Peg said. “That old man began his criminal career late in life.”
“He is devoted to Jeffrey,” Mary said. “Just as we all are.”
Hector Waddington said, “You must keep away from him. There will be an almighty scandal when the truth comes out. All those who have enjoyed his hospitality, including the Prince Regent, will throw up their hands in horror and turn against him.”
“Such fantastic parties,” Peg observed. “And the money came from his highway robberies!”
A covenant was made among the three and they kept their silence. Several times in the weeks which followed Grant Curtis invited her to join him at soirées given by Jeffrey in his Berkeley Square mansion. Each time she made some excuse. Puzzled, Grant took her out to supper one evening following the play and expressed his curiosity about her refusals.
He studied her across the table and asked her, “I thought you and Jeffrey Hunt were good friends?”
“We were,” she said.
“Then why do you refuse to attend his entertainments?” Grant asked. “They grow more exotic each time! At the last soirée he had a genuine harem girl dancing for the assemblage! The Prince Regent decided to duplicate the event at Brighton and had Jeffrey introduce him to the lady.”
She smiled sadly. “I’m sure his parties are interesting. Jeffrey is a most … creative person.”
“Is it that you do not wish to attend them with me?” Grant Curtis asked.
“If that were true I would not be here with you tonight,” she said.
“Then what is the answer?”
She looked down at her plate. “I do not approve of the life Jeffrey is leading. I think his frivolity a waste of his abilities. I’d like to see him return to the theatre.”
“He’s fabulously wealthy,” Grant said, repeating the popular version of Jeffrey’s affairs. “I doubt he ever will.”
“I’m wealthy and I returned to the stage,” she said.
Grant smiled at her. “You are a very special person. I doubt that he has your character. But I’m glad in a way you are angry with him. That may mean you’ll think more seriously of my interest in you.”
She said, “I thought we’d decided to be good friends and no more.”
“I warned you. I shall keep trying to change that,” Grant Curtis said. And then he added, “Not that there aren’t plenty of other eligible bachelors in London interested in you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Indeed?”
“I could name a few,” he said. “Upon my honor, you don’t know the attraction you have for us poor males. The other night I met Sir Edward Blake at a gaming house.”
The mention of the name gave her chills. “Oh?”
He smiled. “Sir Edward knows we are neighbors and he at once began plying me with questions about you. He mentioned that you and his brother, Howard, had once been very close and that Howard’s wife is madly jealous of you.”
Mary said, “From all I have heard she is madly jealous of any female he happens to notice.”
“Unfortunate,” Grant agreed. “I knew Nell before she married Howard. We were all wary of her despite her wealth. She was strange even then. And the story is that she has grown worse.”
“I can well believe it,” Mary said acidly.
Grant went on, “However, it was in you that Sir Edward showed a tremendous interest. I vow he is obsessed with you. He kept talking about you and asking me a host of questions. As you may know he is a dangerous man where the fair sex are concerned. He has a thirst for women and has left a trail of broken hearts in his wake, from great ladies to barmaids!”
“I have heard of his reputation,” Mary said grimly. “And I can promise you that he will never have any luck in winning this Lady! I despise him and all men of his kind!”
Grant nodded in approval. “The fellow is a bounder despite his title. He ought to be suffering marriage with the demented Nell rather than Howard who is a rather nice chap.”
They had a pleasant supper and sat over glasses of wine for a while after. At her door he bestowed a kiss on her lips and asked her, “May I resume sending you a nightly bouquet of roses?”
She smiled ruefully and shook her head. “I accept such gifts only from a lover, not from a good friend.”
“Then I shall have to wait a little longer in the hope my status may be changed,” he bantered.
“Pray do not think of me in that connection,” she warned him.
Grant’s face fell. “You cannot allow too many years to pass before you marry again,” he said.
“Lady Carter may decide against a second marriage,” she told him. “At least that is how she feels at the moment.” And with that she went inside.
The company were busy at the theatre preparing a new version of Oliver Goldsmith’s, ‘She Stoops To Conquer’. It was to be a gala occasion with Mary playing the role of Miss Hardcastle and Hector Waddington in the role of her father. Peg was to play Mrs. Hardcastle, and the popular comedy was expected to draw full houses at the Maiden Lane.
One morning as they paused in rehearsal Hector came to her and called her to the side of the stage. He said, “I thought you’d best see this.”
She took the newspaper he proffered and read the account which he had indicated. It was under the heading: “Crimson Mask Robbery!” It went on to tell of still another stagecoach holdup on the great London road by the highwayman, The Crimson Mask. The dapper thief had taken a large amount of money from the passengers. One of them had drawn a pistol just as the highwayman and his assistant were about to ride away. His bullet had found its mark in the assistant’s heart and the Crimson Mask had recklessly risked being shot himself to lift the dead man’s body and ride off with it on his own mount. The Crimson Mask had escaped with the body of his presumably dead confederate.
Mary’s lifeless hands dropped the newssheet. In a strangled voice she said to the old actor, “Poor old Noel Hastings is dead!”
“Without question,” Hector Waddington said. “and Jeffrey could not leave him there. Someone might have recognized the old man. He had to whisk the body away!”
“What a risk he took doing it!”
“He had no choice!”
She said,
“Now he is quite alone!”
Hector nodded. “And how long will it be before one of his victims puts a bullet through him?”
“Perhaps he will give up now,” she suggested.
“You know he won’t,” the old man warned her, and Mary feared he was right.
The company opened in the romping “She Stoops To Conquer” and Mary lost herself in the excellent role of the Squire’s daughter mistaken for a serving girl. The audience loved the play and once again May Waddington became the darling of London. She took many curtain calls every night. It seemed that she had reached the peak of her stage career.
It was in the midst of all this success that tragedy was to strike her. She was preparing for the performance one night when the stage manager knocked on her dressing room door.
“What is it?” she asked.
From the other side of the door the stage manager said, “Gentleman here wishes to see you. I told him the curtain goes up in fifteen minutes but he claims it is urgent.”
Her immediate thought was of Jeffrey. If he were in trouble and had come to her himself the stage manager would have recognized him. But perhaps he had not dared show himself and so had sent someone else.
She put on a dressing gown and went to the door. She told the stage manager, “I’ll see whoever it is for five minutes. No longer!”
“Yes, Miss Waddington,” he said. He vanished and a moment later a distraught Howard Blake came along the hall and entered her dressing room.
Mary was astonished, as he was the last person she’d thought to see. She exclaimed, “Howard! What are you doing here?”
His face was chalk-white. He said, “Nell! She’s dead!”
“What?”
“Killed herself,” he went on tautly. “Took poison. Her maid found her in our bedroom!”
“How horrible! She was surely mad!”
Howard nodded. “That is not all!”
“No?”
“Before she died she sent her father a letter telling of her intention. He received it too late to prevent her death.”
“And?”
Howard swallowed hard. “This is what I must warn you of. In the note she claimed I’d been unfaithful and she cited you.”
“Oh, no!” Mary gasped.
“You said she was mad and indeed she was,” Howard told her.
“What can we do?”
“Nothing, for the moment,” Howard said. “I’m going to try and reason with her father. If I’m successful I may be able to make him destroy the letter and that will be the end of it.”
“And if you don’t succeed?”
Howard spread his hands. “That is why I had to warn you. The word will spread like wildfire. It would create a fearful scandal!”
“Would people believe it? Take the word of a mad woman seriously?” she asked.
He said, “Only a few realize she was mad. The general opinion would be bound to be sympathetic.”
From outside the door came the stage manager’s voice, “Ten minutes, Miss Waddington!”
“I have no more time!” she said breathlessly.
“I will go,” Howard said. “I oughtn’t to have come here. It is dangerous for you. But I had to let you know and I couldn’t trust anyone else.”
“Yes, yes,” she said. “Now, go!”
He hesitated at the door. “I love you, May. I always will!” And then he went out.
Somehow she managed to complete making up and go on with the performance. As soon as the curtain fell she hurried home with the Waddingtons and went straight to her room. She did not want to tell them yet of this dire happening. But she walked the floor of her bedroom most of the night.
In the morning she sent out a maid for a copy of the morning journal. When it was brought to her she sought out the story of Nell Blake’s death. It was on the front page under a heading: “Takes Own Life!” She read on quickly and was relieved to see there was no mention of a suicide letter. Just a hint that the lady was in ill health and unhappy because of it.
She prayed that Howard had persuaded Nell’s father to disregard the letter as the ramblings of a mad woman and to destroy it. But in the early afternoon she had a visitor. The visitor was none other than Howard’s older brother, Sir Edward Blake.
The maid showed the arrogant Sir Edward into Mary’s private apartments. Sir Edward stood there as coldly handsome as ever. He seemed to have aged not at all.
Glancing around, he said, “I assume we have complete privacy?”
“Yes,” she said tensely, afraid to think what his presence in her house might mean.
“You have a fine establishment here,” he said with a cold smile.
“Thank you.”
His cruel eyes fixed on her. “You no doubt are wondering why I am here?”
“Yes,” she said, steeling herself for whatever was to come. “Yes, I am.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sir Edward Blake did not seem to be in a hurry to get to the point. He smiled at Mary in his familiar arrogant fashion, a foppish figure in his pale yellow waistcoat, lace-ruffled shirt and skin tight breeches. He produced a golden snuff box from the pocket of his beige vest and daintily touched some to his noctrils. After casually returning the snuff box to his pocket he glanced around the room.
“I consider Blake House one of London’s finest mansions,” he said. “But this far surpasses it. You are most fortunate.”
She eyed him warily. “You have yet to tell me why you have done me the — honor — of visiting me.”
“True,” he agreed. Then he said, “You have heard of the unfortunate demise of my sister-in-law, Nell?”
“Yes,” she said. “I have.”
His eyes mocked her. “And I assume you also know that she took her own life?”
“I was told that.”
Sir Edward said, “Before her suicide she wrote a letter to her father. In it she declared her intention to take her life and gave as the reason that you were having an affair with her husband.”
“That simply was not true!” Mary said quietly.
The man whom she had come to hate shrugged. “Nell had a lively imagination. She’d been told you and Howard were friends some time ago. It did not take much for her to see the popular actress, May Waddington, as her rival.”
Mary knew he was trying to frighten her. She said firmly, “It is general knowledge she was a neurotic woman given to fantasies.”
“Some say so.”
“You know it is true!” she said sharply.
“My unhappy brother gave me the task of seeing his late wife’s father and trying to arrange for the destruction of the letter. Nell’s father had refused to see him so he had no other choice but turn to me.”
“And?”
Sir Edward smiled coldly. “Naturally I was happy to take on the task. Not only for my brother’s sake but to help you out of an unfortunate predicament.”
“I do not deserve such kindness,” she said with irony.
“Do not say that,” he protested. “I found Nell’s father badly upset and seeking vengeance. I think I have made some headway with him. It is my hope that after I have another talk with him he will relent and return the letter to me. There will be no scandal, nothing for you or Howard to worry about.”
“Is this what you have come here to tell me?”
“Not quite all,” the Sir Edward said with an icy smile on his dissipated yet still handsome face.
“Please go on.”
“I find myself in a strange situation,” he said. “I have always had the highest regard for you. A deep interest in you, yet you have chosen to turn your back on me.”
She said, “I think you imagine that, Sir Edward.”
“On the contrary,” he said. “I know it to be true. Yet you have always shown a warm regard for my brother, Howard.”
“I would prefer not to discuss that,” she said stiffly.
He nodded. “I’m sure you would. But I’m afraid we must. I’ll be very frank with
you. I finally know who you are, Lady Carter.”
She rose from her chair. “What are you saying?”
“I’ve finally recognized you, Miss May Waddington,” Sir Edward said. “And I know from some investigations I’ve made that you are merely a foster-daughter of the Waddingtons and your real name is Mary Scott, a former kitchen girl in my parents’ house!”
Mary felt her cheeks burn as anger and fear billowed up within her. “If you remember all that you must also remember your cruel treatment of me!”
He made a gesture to indicate his regret. “True,” he said. “And I can understand that you must hate me. But if it will make up for my behaviour in any way, let me tell you that in all these years I have never forgotten you.”
“That is touching,” she said with sarcasm. “I’m sure there are dozens of other poor girls whom you must remember in the same way!”
“Do not be hard on me,” he said. “I still have very warm feelings for you. That is why I am here. To offer you safety from scandal and to open a future for us!”
“There can be no future for us,” she hissed.
“Hear me out,” he said. “I know I can get the incriminating letter back and end any threat of scandal for you and Howard. In return I ask that you become my — friend again.”
She listened with growing horror and disgust. “Are you telling me you’ll destroy the letter if I agree to become your mistress?”
He spread his hands. “Isn’t that stating it rather too crudely?”
She pressed him. “But it is what you mean!”
He smiled in his evil fashion once again. “Perhaps it is best that we have a full understanding. Yes, that is what I would ask from you.”
Mary said, “Thank you, no! I can accept any scandal the letter may cause me rather than the dishonor that is the alternative.”
He looked briefly disappointed. Then he said, “You have always been inclined to quick judgements. I shall give you time to consider this. Say, three or four days. You can send me a message if you have a change of heart. If I don’t hear from you by that time I shall see the letter reaches the press. And I shall also spread the news of your humble beginnings in London.”
Vintage Love Page 155