“The Waddingtons have operated the Maiden Lane well,” her companion continued. “They have prospered as they deserve! And you are their daughter!”
“I am their foster daughter,” Mary corrected her.
The old woman studied her with interest. “Amazing!” she said. “You look a deal like both of them! I am the Duchess of Hampton! I shall attend all your new plays.”
“You are most kind!” she said, praying the Duchess would leave.
“I love the theatre. It is as simple as that,” the Duchess of Hampton went on.
Grant Curtis came to Mary’s rescue, saying, “Let me take you to the garden, Miss Waddington. As I recall you greatly admired it when we were last here!”
She gave him a grateful look. “I would enjoy that!”
“The garden is for the young!” the old Duchess muttered with an arch look at Mary, then moved off in search of other prey, her back bent and her head thrust forward.
Grant pushed a path through the crowd to the rear door and the garden.
“I dislike such large crowds,” she said with a shudder of apprehension.
“Are you cold?” he worried.
“Not really,” she said. “We’ll go back inside in a moment.” She knew what was going to happen but she dared not share her knowledge with him.
He said, “That old harridan would have gone on for hours.”
“It seemed hours as it was,” she sighed.
“I do not see Howard Blake here,” Grant said. “But then he would not come to such an affair so soon after his wife’s suicide.”
“Not likely,” she said. And then, “Perhaps we ought to go back now. I’m beginning to feel slightly chilly.”
He escorted her into the main room again. Jeffrey was now mingling among his guests, spending a few minutes with one group and then another. Grant Curtis watched the former actor with admiration.
“He has a way with people,” he said.
“Jeffrey has a lot of charm. It was his most valuable asset in the theatre,” she replied, her eyes on Jeffrey as he moved easily around.
“Howard Blake may not be here,” Grant Curtis said. “But I see his elder brother, Sir Edward.”
“Where?” she wanted to know.
“At the end of the room not far from the musicians,” was his reply.
She glanced down the room and saw Sir Edward in a light rose costume and white wig. He was standing in conversation with several people. He looked in her direction and saw her at almost the same instant she had located him. He excused himself from his friends and turned to come up the length of the room and speak to her. She gripped her fan tightly and her other hand was clenched at her side.
Sir Edward appeared to be in excellent humor. He bowed deeply and taking her hand kissed it. Then he bowed to Grant Curtis, saying “You are most fortunate in having the company of such a lovely lady!”
“I am aware of that,” Grant Curtis said sternly, making it clear he could do without the other man’s company.
But Edward was not moving on. It was evident he wanted to talk further. With that icy smile he said, “Howard chose not to attend.”
Mary was trembling as she measured the distance between herself and the richly-dressed man. She said, “It would not have been seemly for him to do so.”
The hard eyes fixed on her. “No message has come to me from you.”
“No.”
“When may I expect one?” he asked.
“Never!”
Staring at her, he said, “I don’t think you’ll make that mistake.”
She was watching the progress of Jeffrey as he moved nearer to her. She looked up at Sir Edward defiantly. “I have not changed my mind.”
“If you do not care for your own sake, consider my brother a moment,” Sir Edward told her.
“I have.”
“He will be ruined and you as well,” Sir Edward said maliciously.
Mary saw that Jeffrey was at her elbow, so that Grant had been forced to step back. At this moment everything was as they had planned. Her eyes fixed on the gloating smile of Sir Edward she angrily lifted her hand and slapped him so hard across the face that he stumbled backward.
“What’s this?” Jeffrey exclaimed, a protective arm around her.
“The cad insulted me!” she cried out. “Called me a vile name!”
Sir Edward had recovered himself and with flaming face came at her. “The creature lies!” he snarled angrily. “She slapped me without having any reason for it!”
“Sorry!” Jeffrey said, looking grave. “I wish that were the case, Sir Edward. But it is you who are lying. I heard the malicious phrase spring from your lips, though before Heaven I wish I hadn’t! You are the guilty one!”
Sir Edward gazed at him astounded. He sputtered, “What kind of game is this?”
“You insulted this good lady while she is my guest,” Jeffrey told him as the crowd around them grew.
Sir Edward was aghast. “You scoundrel!”
Jeffrey had a pair of braided gauntlets in his right hand and now he lifted them and smote the angry man on either side of the face with them. He said, “Enough, Sir Edward. You may select your seconds and let me know when and where you wish satisfaction!” With that he took her by the arm and led her away from a fuming Sir Edward.
The row was the crowning glory of the party. Word of it spread around the room and excitement grew every moment. It was a happening to delight the most jaded of London party goers.
“I heard it all,” the old Duchess of Hampton told a deaf old gentleman anxious to be brought up to date. “That uncouth Sir Edward called her a street slut!”
“A street slut, indeed!” the old gentleman marvelled.
“And then she drew back and smote him!” the Duchess said. “It was a wonderful moment!”
Other reports just as wild were circulating. The party went on with unusual vigor, though Sir Edward was seen talking to two grim-faced cronies from his club, whom he had undoubtedly settled on as his seconds.
At the garden door she stood with Jeffrey and Grant. Jeffrey had found a cloak to throw over her shoulders and then had rescued her from the crowd.
Grant said, “May I be one of your seconds, Hunt?”
“Delighted,” Jeffrey said.
She looked up at Jeffrey in the darkness. “I fear you have placed yourself in grave danger!”
“Nonsense!” he said.
“A duel is not a laughing matter!” she told him.
“There may be no duel,” he said. “Edward Blake is such a craven he is apt to flee the country before he meets me on the field of honor.”
Grant Curtis said, “I don’t think he dare do that. You humiliated him before all London society. He could not show himself again if he backed down!”
Mary implored him, “Perhaps you’d better forget the whole business. I do not want you risking your life!”
“It is my decision,” he said. “I need the excitement. Besides the row has made my party. It will be the talk of London — far eclipsing any minor scandals that may arise.”
“No question of that,” Grant Curtis agreed.
“I must return to my guests,” Jeffrey said. And to Grant he added, “I would like the actor, Hector Waddington to be my other second. You know him as May’s foster-father.”
“Of course,” Grant Curtis agreed. “We will need a doctor.”
“I will bring Doctor Dexter,” Mary said. “He can be trusted.”
Jeffrey gave her a worried look. “I do not want you to be there!”
“If there is to be a duel, I must be present,” she said firmly.
Jeffrey turned to Grant and said, “Take her home! She will only be subjected to unpleasantness if she remains.”
“Of course,” Grant agreed.
Mary hesitated and told Grant, “Wait for me at the garden gate.”
The young man glanced at Jeffrey and then at her with understanding eyes. He said quietly, “I shall be there. I shall or
der the carriage.” And he left them.
Mary rushed into Jeffrey’s arms. “My poor darling! Have I sentenced you to death?”
He held her close. “My life is not worth much. My fate is bound to catch up with me one day soon! It’s a good gamble! I think I can best him with whatever weapons he selects.”
She said, “If you do, you must leave England with me and we shall be married!”
He smiled down at her. “I cannot fight against your wishes any longer.” And so the bargain was sealed with a kiss.
The next afternoon Grant and Hector returned from a meeting with Sir Edward Blake’s seconds. The two men were in a sober mood.
Grant told her, “The scene of the duel is to be Shepherd’s Park, The time, dawn tomorrow and the weapons, pistols.”
“I wish the choice had been swords,” Hector Waddington worried. “I would be more hopeful. Jeffrey is an expert with the blades!”
She said, “No doubt Sir Edward has heard that and it influenced his choice.”
Grant frowned. “Sir Edward has two of his cronies as seconds! Thorough blackguards like himself!”
“Both men of title,” the old actor said grimly. “It makes one wonder about the state of British nobility!”
“I shall notify Dr. Dexter,” she said, trembling again. She was filled with a dreadful premonition about the forthcoming duel.
“You think he will come?” Grant asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I know he will. He is devoted to me. I will bring him in my carriage and I will have Madame Goubert along to attend me.”
Old Hector Waddington looked troubled. “You should not be there, my dear. Jeffrey does not wish it!”
“I must be at his side,” she said firmly.
Their conversation was interrupted at that moment by Madame Goubert lumbering into the room and saying, “A gentleman to see you, your ladyship. Mr. Howard Blake!”
The name caused a ripple of shock in the room. Grant and Hector exchanged concerned glances. Mary told them, “You remain here. I shall speak to him in the library.”
She left them and led an agitated Howard into the library. He was obviously upset as he said, “What is the meaning of this duel?”
“Please!” she begged him. “Do not ask me about it!”
“Edward swears it was all trumped up! That he was deliberately snared into challenging Hunt! And that you are the one responsible!”
“Do you believe him?”
“I find it most difficult,” he said.
She assured him, “You may take my word for it! Edward is the one at fault, whatever he may say!”
“That is good enough for me,” Howard said. “Should I make any attempt to halt the duel?”
“It is too late,” she said. “It is the way Jeffrey wishes it. Better to let it proceed.”
Howard looked at her unhappily. “I have the feeling you two are in this to protect me. I would prefer to fight my own battle!”
“Believe me, you are not involved,” she said. “You must stand aside and let this grim business take place.”
Howard ran his hand across his eyes. “So much has happened! I’m stunned!”
She touched his arm. “We can discuss this later. Just now it is better we do not talk or be seen together.” And she sent him reluctantly on his way.
That night she visited Dr. Dexter who agreed to serve at the duel. As she prepared for bed she confided what was going to take place at dawn to Madame Goubert. She finished with, “Sir Edward is a vicious man. I trust Jeffrey will silence him for all time tomorrow morning.”
The strong woman nodded. “Do not think I have forgotten the night you came to me at Pilkington’s Circus, nor the sad state you were in! He is a villain unfit to live!”
On this there seemed universal agreement. Yet as Mary rose in the gray dawn she had a horrible fear that all might not go well. The fact that the morning was cold and foggy did not raise her drooping spirits.
The old doctor arrived with his medical bag in hand ready to be of service. His manner was subdued and he said little. Then Grant arrived and told Hector his carriage was at his disposal. The two were going in Grant’s carriage while Mary, the doctor and Madame Goubert were following in hers.
The streets were quiet as they drove across London to Shepherd’s Park on the great city’s outskirts. It was a favorite spot for duels and rarely a day went by that one did not take place in some section of the big park. Grant had told her where to go. There was a forest of tall elms near a pond. The thick growth of great trees provided excellent privacy for the grim business planned.
She called out to the coachman as they reached the spot. Several other carriages were on the roadway occupied only by the waiting coachmen. She, Madame Goubert and old Dr. Dexter alighted from the coach and made their way between the trees to the clearing where the duel was to be fought.
In the open area surrounded by tall elms she saw Sir Edward Blake standing in the distance with his two seconds and a third man, presumably a doctor, gathered around him. Jeffrey was smiling boyishly as she came up to him and introduced him to the doctor. Neither Grant nor Hector were looking nearly as relaxed. They showed distinct signs of uneasiness.
Jeffrey kissed her on the cheek and said, “It will be all settled very shortly.”
Hector Waddington ordered Mary, the doctor and Madame Goubert to stand back at a distance. She watched in the misty dawn as the seconds of the two men met and conferred. Edward Blake glanced at her coldly and seemed completely at ease. The weapons were examined and each man took a pistol in hand.
The tension grew as the seconds moved back and Jeffrey, his head high and smiling, marched to the middle of the open space and greeted a grim-looking Edward Blake. The two men turned their backs to each other and marched the required number of paces. Mary gasped and lifted her hand to her mouth to prevent herself crying out.
They swung around and each fired. The sound of the shots echoed in the woods. The acrid smell of gun smoke wafted to Mary’s nostrils. She watched with wide eyes and saw that Jeffrey’s smile was only a little diminished. Then she saw the red stain spreading on his chest and screamed. At the same time he collapsed and old Dr. Dexter ran to aid him, followed by Grant and Hector.
Mary was sobbing and stumbling as she went to join the injured man. But before she could reach him she was blocked by Sir Edward Blake. There was blood coming down his temple from a graze in his head but it was plain he was not seriously injured.
“Please!” she begged, trying to side step him.
“No!” he said sharply. “Your scheme didn’t work! Next time your face will be slapped and I’ll do it!”
Madame Goubert sprang forward. “Don’t talk to her Ladyship like that!”
“Mind your business, you old fool!” Edward Blake snapped and brutally pushed her aside.
Madame Goubert staggered under the blow and then her small eyes took on a peculiar gleam, a gleam of near madness. As the arrogant Edward Blake turned to leave she pounded on him and lifting him in the air bent his body over her knee until his back arched grotesquely. There was a hideous cracking noise. Then she released the limp body and let it slide onto the grass where she stared at it dully.
The doctor acting for Blake came racing across the grass to kneel by the fallen man. “You madwoman! What have you done?” he demanded.
Sir Edward Blake was stretched out on his back, his eyes staring and a bloody froth coming from one corner of his mouth as he uttered weird gurgling sounds.
Mary averted her eyes from him and staggered on to where Dr. Dexter and the others were kneeling by Jeffrey. As she joined them the old doctor stood up and faced her sadly.
“He’s dead, Lady Carter,” the old man said, “The bullet went through his heart!”
She broke into uncontrollable sobbing and Grant took her in his arms and led her across the open field to the carriage. Madame Goubert, still stunned, came slowly behind them.
Hector Waddington made the arrangem
ents for Jeffrey’s burial. Mary sat in the drawing room of the house in Brattle Court in a state of shock. Peg quietly ministered to her and kept telling her she must not blame herself for Jeffrey’s death. But she did.
Grant Curtis called on her late in the afternoon. He told her, “Edward Blake is still alive but they do not think he’ll live through the night.”
She gave him a frightened look. She could not speak.
“His back is broken. He made a fatal mistake in striking Madame Goubert.”
“If he dies what will they do to her?” she worried.
“Nothing,” Grant said. “He brought it on himself by striking what he presumed to be a harmless old woman! His arrogance finished him in the end.”
“Too late,” she sighed.
“I know,” Grant said soberly. “You loved Jeffrey Hunt.”
“Yes,” she said with resignation. “I loved him. And yet I somehow knew it was never to be.”
The faithful Grant said, “If there is anything I can do, let me know.”
She raised her eyes to him. “I will. Thank you. You have been a staunch friend.”
The Waddingtons did not want her to appear at the theatre that night. Peg worried, “You will collapse before the play is over. I’m certain of it!”
“No,” Mary said. “I will do my part. It is what Jeffrey would expect of me.”
And she did perform that night, though she fainted after the final curtain call. In the morning Hector brought her the news that Sir Edward Blake had died in the night.
“It will be Sir Howard Blake now,” the old actor said.
When all Jeffrey Hunt’s bills were paid there were only a few pounds left. Mary donated the money to charity. No one but Mary and the Waddingtons would ever know that he had been the highwayman known as the Crimson Mask.
There was an investigation into Sir Edward Blake’s death but even the most hostile witnesses, his seconds, were forced to admit that he had viciously struck the strong woman and so infuriated her that she had retaliated without realizing the consequences of her strength. The court absolved her of blame while giving her a solemn warning to keep her unusual powers in check in the future.
Sir Howard Blake left for the Continent on an extended tour directly after his brother’s burial. Mary continued at the Maiden Lane with the Waddingtons and her popularity grew even greater.
Vintage Love Page 157