Beloved Scoundrel (9 page)

She regarded this is a danger. She knew she could not live without the theatre. So in a way this man strolling at her side was more like her than Peter. Yet she had given herself to Peter. She had known she would live to regret it and daily she was more concerned about their relationship. His jealousy was growing and had reached a climax tonight.

John broke his silence to say, “I have heard that David died instantly in the wreck.”

“Yes.”

“At least he did not suffer nor live to be crippled. That would have been tragic for him. He was a handsome man and a fine actor.”

“Thank you.”

“I know it must have been painful for you,” he went on.

“I shall never be quite the same,” she admitted. “He played a great role in my life.”

“Of course. But death must be accepted.”

“I have accepted it,” she said.

“You bill yourself as Fanny Cornish,” he said. “You did not return to your own name of Hastings.”

“That is my way of paying back my great debt to him.”

“Alive and dead, I envy him,” the man at her side said. “To have had such a faithful love.”

“I do not think myself an exception,” she said. “Many wives must care for their husbands equally.”

“True,” he agreed. “I have no real fear of death nor do I think I am a coward. I have told you why I’m not a soldier in the war. I’m more useful out of it. But when my end comes I hope it may be as swift as David’s. I do not wish to decay with age, or linger in pain. Let it be clean and quick!”

“I suppose we all wish for that.”

He glanced at her. “Your beauty will never fade. It will last beyond any of us.”

“That is sheer nonsense,” she said. “All humans fade and die.”

They had reached the ornate entrance of the fashionable Washington Hotel in which she was staying. The cloaked John Booth gazed at the doorman and the splendor of the lobby and observed, “Phineas T. Barnum must be paying you well. I am living in much meaner quarters.”

“Being here is not my idea,” she said, somewhat embarrassed. “Peter Cortez is a very wealthy man. He is staying here and wanted me to be here as well.”

The sharp black eyes fixed on hers. He said, “None of the rest of the company are living here?”

“No.” She could tell by his carefully phrased question that he was not finished with her.

“So it is one of those arrangements,” he said quietly. Then he shrugged. “I had not thought you so careless. But even knowing about this I cannot think his behavior tonight was what one would expect of a gentleman.”

She was stunned. In a small voice she said,

“Good night, John Booth!” And she turned and went quickly inside leaving him standing out there alone, a ghostly figure in the murky night.

Peter Cortez did not present himself at her door until the next morning. She had breakfasted and was seated writing a letter to Adam Burns, who had continued to be her friend all this time. She got up and went to the door and opened it.

The handsome Californian was as perfectly groomed and dressed as usual. His modish blue jacket and brown trousers were from the shop of an expensive tailor and the silver-topped walking stick which he casually held was also distinctive.

He came strolling in and looked about him. “You surprise me,” he said, with a forced smile.

She closed the door and asked, “What do you mean?”

“I’d rather expected you would be entertaining John Wilkes Booth. I couldn’t see such ardor parting from you for the night.”

Her face crimsoned and she clenched her tiny hands at her side. She forced herself to say calmly, “I’m not as loose as you would appear to think me.”

He arched his eyebrow. “Perhaps you did not take him to your bed because you had reservations, due to the fact I help pay for the room.”

“If this is to be your line of conversation you will please leave,” she said, pointing to the door.

Peter took a step towards her, his face suddenly having a change of expression. He said, “Fanny, my darling, I can’t help being jealous.”

“That is evident,” she said angrily, moving away from him.

He followed her, pleading, “You must forgive me for what I said last night and just now. My pride was badly hurt!”

“Your pride!” she said.

“Yes. You know me well enough to know I am a sensitive man.”

“What about my pride?” she asked.

“I said I was sorry,” he fumbled, his handsome face flushing.

“And you think that will make it all right?”

He tried to grasp her by the arm and she eluded him. He said, “After all you are in the wrong!”

“I was wrong to ever listen to you!” she flashed back. “To surrender myself to you!”

He looked ugly again. “You were anxious enough for my arms and my bed!”

She shook her head. “And you call yourself a gentleman? Surely the standards in California cannot be all that high?”

“You are no stranger to men! What about the titled lover you left behind in London? And who knows how many others before David Cornish came along,” he sneered. “Do not play the llone weeping widow wronged’ with me!”

She studied him a moment in contemptuous silence and then she turned her back on him. In a barely controlled tone she said, “l can only charge your cruel and ignorant behavior to a madness brought on by your jealousy. In all the past I have never known you to be like this. Nor did I think you could behave so disgustingly!”

She could hear him turn and start for the door and then halt and come back again. At her elbow, he pleaded, “Tell me you won’t see this man or speak to him ever again and I will forgive you.”

“How generous,” she said, without turning to him.

“Your word will be enough,” he urged. “I know I can trust you.”

“Until the next time you come up with more groundless suspicions,” she said turning to him.

He looked down. “I cannot help my nature.”

Fanny gave a deep sigh. And then she said, “For the good of the company I will overlook this. But I will be leaving this room and moving to more modest accommodations for the balance of the engagement.”

Peter looked stunned. “You mean you are leaving me?”

“I will no longer be your mistress, to speak frankly,” she said. “And it would seem I should since you have been so honest in your comments.”

“I did not mean it!”

“I know you did,” she said, gazing at him coldly. “And perhaps I deserve it for behaving as I did. I knew it was a poor arrangement from the start!”

His anger now began returning. The blonde man cried, “So that is why you slept with me! To keep your precious company together! To build your own career, using me as a stepping stone!”

“If you want to think that!”

“Then you will use me no longer,” he said. “I am leaving you and the company.”

It was her turn to plead, “Do what you like about me. But do not desert the company. You will close the theatre and put many innocent people out of work.”

“I don’t give a damn about the theatre, or the precious company! I never have!” he told her.

“Now you are being truthful!”

“I’m taking the train to New York,” he said. “You can explain to your beloved company! “ And He hurried out of the room and slammed the door after him.

As soon as he was out of the room she dropped into the nearest chair and began to sob aloud. Not only because he had chosen to destroy the company but because of the dreadful things which he’d said to her. He had exposed himself as a shallow, wealthy man used to buying what he wanted and enraged if anything were taken from him. She had feared her liaison with him from the start. Now she had all too truly been proven right.

After her initial emotional reaction she began to try and make some plans. The understudy could play for the afternoon performance of
The Rivals
. But tonight the company was scheduled to do
Richelieu
and she knew the young man, while he might know the lines, was not equal to playing the famous Cardinal. Peter had been no more than adequate in it but had insisted on it being including in their schedule.

She would have to send a telegram to Barnum and ask his advice. She would also check at the box-office and see if the house was well sold out. Lately all the evening performances had been crowded, with a number of standees at the back. The city was filled with troops on leave or waiting to go to the front, many of them young officers who enjoyed an evening in the theatre. In many, cases the last they would ever experience. Her heart was tormented by the sight of the earnest, young faces as the junior officers stood to applaud her at the end of a performance.

To disappoint such patrons was almost traitorous. It showed what she had always suspected, that Peter had no true love for the theatre.

She went downstairs and checked to see if Peter Cortez had truly checked out of the hotel. The puzzled clerk told her that he had. He said, “He left a while ago for the railway station. He took only one bag with him. The rest are to be packed for him and sent on to his hotel in New York.”

“I see,” she said, knowing there was no longer any hope of his changing his mind. It was settled now.

The clerk asked, “Did he have some bad news?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“What about the plays? Will they go on?” the clerk wanted to know.

“I hope so,” she said. And she gave the clerk a look of concern. “I would appreciate your not mentioning this to anyone.”

“Very well, madam,” the clerk said.

“And I wish to send a telegram to Phineas T. Barnum in New York.”

The clerk handed her a yellow pad and pencil. “If you will be good enough to write it out, Madam.”

“Yes,” she said, taking pad and pencil. She thought a moment, then wrote: “Unhappy dispute between myself and Peter. He has left Washington. Will somehow try to keep company going without him. Advise immediately about replacement. Fanny.”

She gave the clerk her message and he read it back to her and was well trained to the point that he betrayed no surprise at its contents. He simply told her, “I will see that it gets off at once, madam.”

“Thank you,” she said. “And if the reply comes when I’m at the theatre send it there by messenger. “

She walked hurriedly to the theatre where a morning run through had been scheduled for
Richelieu
which was to be the evening’s play. When she arrived she found Nancy Ray backstage talking to the stage manager, an elderly actor named Leroy Barnes. Fanny lost no time in joining them.

“I have bad news,” she said.

Nancy stared at her. “What now?”

“Peter has left us!”

The gray-haired Barnes showed disbelief on his lined, aristocratic face. “You’re saying that Peter Cortez has left the company without any notice?”

She sighed. “I’m afraid that is it.”

“How could he!” Nancy said angrily. “How could he let us all down?”

She told the blonde girl, “He was annoyed at John Wilkes Booth coming to see me last night. It developed into a personal argument and he decided to make me suffer by walking out on the company.”

“That is shameful!” the pert ingenue said. She then asked, “What will we do?”

Fanny said, “I’ve given is some thought coming over. The understudy should be able to get us through the matinee. And we’ll either have to find another actor able to play the Cardinal in tonight’s performance or cancel it.”

Leroy Barnes showed concern on his ancient face. “In my prime I could step into a role at short notice. But now my memory is not up to such a quick study.”

Fanny said, “I have sent a telegram to Mr. Barnum asking about a replacement. But whatever he does, no one will get here in time to do the play tonight.”

Nancy said, “The understudy is bad in that role but surely better to give a poor performance than cancel.”

Leroy Barnes turned to Fanny and said, “You’ll forgive me, Mrs. Cornish, but it seems to me you’ve overlooked the most hopeful possibility.”

She said, “Oh?”

The old man nodded. “Yes. You mentioned John Wilkes Booth having been here to see you. He is well known for his playing of
Richelieu
. If you could get him to join you it would be an extra attraction.”

“I’d forgotten,” she admitted. “But even if he does know the part I’m not sure he is still in Washington.”

“We can send someone to find out,” the old stage manager told her. “What do you think?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she said. “See if you can find him.”

Nancy said, “We may as well run through the play with the understudy. Then if worse comes to worst we can use him.”

“That would be wise,” she agreed.

And so it was arranged. The company ran through the plan quickly with the understudy reading the Cardinal’s lines. Not only was he too young for the part, he didn’t know the lines well. He begged off the last act to go to his dressing room and firm himself in his lines for
The Rivals
, which was the afternoon play. At least this part was within his range.