Authors: Nina Coombs Pykare
Samantha started visibly. “Worry? Why should I worry? His lordship is nothing to me.” She pricked her finger and winced.
“Here now,” said Maria, swiftly changing the subject. “I most forgot. Mr. Kean wants you to fix his costume for
Macbeth.
He says he ripped a seam t’other night during the battle scene.”
Samantha laid aside the gown she was working on. “I’ll go right away.”
“Now, if the man wants to talk,” Maria added as Samantha reached the door, “why you just tarry awhile and let him. He gets lonely, that’s all.”
As she made her way down the corridor, Samantha mused again about a man like Kean being lonely when every person of consequence in the entire city would be pleased to spend time with him. She knocked softly.
“Come in.” The brusqueness of his tone immediately informed her that his mood was not the best. She pushed open the door.
“It’s me. Maria said you had something that needs mending.”
Kean looked up from the script he was studying and smiled bitterly. “Ah, Samantha. If only your nimble fingers could mend other things.”
She moved closer, not quite understanding. “What needs mending?”
“How about my soul?” he asked.
Samantha felt a shiver go over her. Kean was clearly in one of his bad moods. “No one but God can mend souls,” she said softly.
Kean’s eyes seemed agonized as he regarded her. “Always the innocent, aren’t you, Samantha?” He shook his dark head. “I believe I was never as innocent as you are now.”
“Surely as a baby -” Samantha began. Kean laughed, a harsh ugly sound that caused Samantha to shiver again. “You forget. My mother was not like most women.”
His dark face showed such suffering that Samantha’s heart ached for him. She moved closer. “That is all over now. Now you are a success - admired, loved. You have money. Respect.”
Kean shook his head. “Samantha, it’s not enough!”
His voice was so haunted that she felt a cold hand clutching her heart. “But what is there more?” she asked. “You have love. You have your wife and son.”
Kean shuddered and buried his face in his hands. “And how I have hurt them, Samantha. My poor Mary, she has been through so terribly much.” He raised a haggard face. “And the worst of it is, I can’t stop! I just can’t! I know that all London talks about my ‘terrible proclivities.’ But, Samantha, they don’t understand. I can’t stop drinking. I can’t stop frequenting those ‘dens of iniquity.’ I
need
the blue ruin. I need it like I need air and food. I can’t go on without it. Oh, what’s the use? You can’t understand.” He dropped his head into his hands again.
Samantha stepped closer and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know anything about gin,” she said softly. “But I do know about not being able to stop doing something that is harmful to you.”
“You do?” Kean looked up in surprise. “You, Samantha? How could you know such things?”
Samantha smiled softly. “You forget, Ned. I am five and twenty, not a child. I am quite capable of wanting what I should not have.” A picture of Roxbury’s darkly handsome face flashed before her eyes. Yes, she was quite capable.
Kean sighed. “I expect I’m being maudlin. But sometimes such terrible feelings assail me that I can’t stand it.” He shuddered convulsively. “Long ago, before I came to Drury Lane, when I was still a struggling player, I said that I should go crazy if I became a success. Now I’m afraid I shall.”
“Nonsense,” said Samantha briskly. “Your mind is quite sound. You must dismiss such ridiculous thoughts. Concentrate on your next new role.”
“They want me to do Romeo after the first of the year. I don’t much like the part, but I suppose I must do it.”
“Come,” said Samantha with a little smile, “you will make a capital Romeo. You’re just tired now and dispirited. You should think of how much pleasure you have given the world. And will continue to give it. The audiences love you.”
“Audiences are fickle.” Kean frowned. “Let someone better than me come along, and they’ll all flock to him.”
Samantha’s peal of laughter was genuine. “Oh, Ned, what a goose you are. Better than you? How silly! There’s no one to hold a candle to you.”
Kean smiled feebly. “Samantha, you are priceless. You would raise the spirits of a dead man.”
“I should hope not!” she replied with a smile and was rewarded by a little chuckle. “There now,” she said. “Life is never quite as bad as we think it is. Papa used often to say that every cloud has a silver lining if only we look long enough.” She smiled wryly. “I admit that sometimes it takes a long time to find that lining. And sometimes I never succeed.”
Kean’s smile now seemed healthier. “Thank you, Samantha. You’re a breath of fresh air.”
“Thank you, Ned,” she said. “I am glad I could help. But now I must find your costume and get it mended.”
“It’s over there,” said Kean with a boyish grin. “But you won’t find anything wrong with it.”
“But you said -”
“I said it needed mending. I saw Maria as I was coming in, and I was already feeling vile. So I told her a Banbury tale because I knew you could make me feel better.”
Samantha was deeply touched. “Thank you, Ned. But now I must run. Maria needs me.”
He nodded. “I know. Run along.”
Samantha had eaten her supper and given the dishes back to Jake when a young boy came to summon her to Mr. Arnold’s office. She sent a startled glance toward Maria. She had not even seen Mr. Arnold since the day he hired her.
“Don’t get yourself all upset,” cautioned Maria. “Lily Porter can’t do nothing to hurt you. Just run along. Maybe Mr. Arnold wants to increase your wages.”
Samantha laughed nervously. “Oh, Maria. It can’t be that. Well, I guess the only way to find out is to go see.” She laid aside her sewing and rose.
Minutes later she was tapping on his door. “Come in,” called Arnold.
Samantha opened the door and entered. Mr. Arnold sat behind the battered old table that he used as a desk. He did not seem angry. “Come in. Miss Everett.” In fact his tone was overly cordial.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes.”
Only then was Samantha aware of the dark figure of a man that stood off in the shadows. Her pounding heart informed her instantly that the man was Roxbury!
Mr. Arnold smiled. Even in her state of shock Samantha recognized the ingratiating nature of that smile. “His lordship has asked a favor of me. I do not ordinarily allow such things, but since you have been very faithful in attending to your work, I shall make an exception this time.” He attempted to frown without losing his smile and was not successful. “So,” he continued, “just run along and enjoy yourself.”
Samantha stared from one to the other in bewilderment. She had absolutely no idea what was going on. “I -” she began.
The earl glided forward, his hand fastening on her elbow. “Miss Everett thanks you,” he said as he propelled her from the room. “Be assured that I shall not forget this favor.” By his last word they had reached the corridor, and he closed the door firmly behind them. He began to lead her away.
Finally Samantha found her voice. “Milord!” she demanded. “I am not going a step further until you explain your actions.”
The earl grinned. “It’s really quite simple. I have a box at Covent Garden, and tonight Kemble is playing Brutus in
Julius Caesar.”
Samantha stared at the man. Could he possibly have lost his wits altogether? “You are not making sense,” she said hotly. “You may have a box in every theatre in London. That has nothing to do with me.”
“Au contraire,
my pet,” he said. “As you are aware, my sessions backstage with you have given rise to certain discussions.”
“Of course I’m aware,” said Samantha impatiently. “But what has that to do with this?”
“My, my, you must learn better manners,” he said, a look in his eye giving her a little shiver of apprehension. “Or I shall not take you to the theatre again.”
“I don’t -” She stopped in midsentence. “Take
me
to the theatre?”
The earl nodded. “Yes. I find that without your stimulating conversation even Shakespeare drags dully. Therefore, I propose to remedy this by taking you along.”
Samantha tried to still the beating of her heart. “I can’t. I have to work.”
The earl grinned. “You are mistaken. You
had
to work; you no longer have such an obligation. I have settled it all with Arnold.”
“But how?”
The earl’s grin became slightly sarcastic. “It’s quite simple, my dear. I made the management a small present.”
“You what!” Samantha wrenched her arm free from his grasp.
“I made the management a small present,” he repeated. “And they consented to dispense with your services for this evening. Now we must hurry. You must get home and properly gowned. I like to be there when the curtain rises.”
“You are insane!” cried Samantha. “You cannot buy my services in this way. I refuse to go. I shall tell Arnold so myself.”
The earl’s smile was not pleasant. “I shall not restrain you physically,” he said, adopting the laconic expression of the rake, “but I caution you to think a little. I am a patron of this theatre - a very liberal patron. Arnold will not be above half-pleased to see me treated in this fashion. Indeed, you will do yourself damage by recourse to him. If he suspects that I am displeased, he will not hesitate to dismiss you immediately.”
Samantha fairly quivered with rage. “You are despicable,” she cried hotly. “An utterly despicable man.”
“Softly, softly,” cautioned the earl with a devilish grin. “Suppose Mr. Arnold should hear you? You don’t want to jeopardize your position, now do you?”
Waves of anger swept over Samantha. She did not think to be grateful that the earl had not previously exercised this power - which was so clearly his - to force her to do his will. She only thought, if such a word can describe the mad chaos that existed in her mind, of the absolute effrontery of such a man!
“Gently, gently, Samantha,” he soothed. “I do not ask for much. Not the desertion of your highly touted principles. Merely your presence for the evening. Now what is wrong with that? I know for a fact that you’ve wanted to see Kemble again. Can you not just relax and enjoy it instead of flying off the hooks like this?”
Samantha fought the anger. Every word he said was undoubtedly true. Nevertheless, it was extremely annoying to be treated in such a highhanded fashion. Like some kind of idiot child, incapable of decision.
Almost as though he read her mind, he observed, “I didn’t ask you ahead of time because I knew you would refuse me.” His smile took on that boyish quality that so tugged at her heart. “I know I was bold as brass to do such a thing, but please, now that it’s all done, can’t we just go see Kemble and enjoy it?”
Samantha hesitated. She really did want to see Kemble, and she also knew that he’d been right again; she would have refused had she been asked.
“I promise to be on my best behavior. All theatre critic and no rake.”
At her disbelieving look he chuckled. “Almost no rake,” he amended. And then his face grew serious. “Please, Samantha. I’m telling you the truth. I so miss your conversation that without you any play seems dull.”
Samantha was aware of a warm feeling growing inside her. How odd that his lordship should have the same sort of feelings she did. In other circumstances she might almost think - She shoved the thought aside. “All right. But don’t you ever do such a thing again.”
“Capital! But we must hurry.”
“Wait! I must tell Jake.”
The earl looked rather sheepish, a remarkable feat for such a man. “I saw him in the corridor earlier and let him in on my plan.”
“And he didn’t warn me!” cried Samantha.
“Don’t be too hard on him,” said the earl as he hurried her out the door and into his waiting carriage. “I threatened him with a thrashing if he breathed a syllable.”
A remarkably short time later Samantha found herself clad in the coral silk and wearing her mama’s pearls, being led into a box at Covent Garden. It was one of the best boxes; she noticed that immediately. But considering the earl, that was not at all surprising. She took a deep breath as his lordship bent to remove her cloak.
“You look quite beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you, milord,” she said primly. “That will be enough of the rake, if you please.”
“Don’t get your back up so soon,” he replied with a charming smile. “A gentleman always compliments the lady he’s with. Besides, if you continue to scowl like that, everyone will think I have squired a harridan.”
“Oh!” For the first time Samantha considered the implications of attending the theatre with his lordship. Here she sat, just as she had imagined she might if she became his Cyprian. And what would the members of the
ton
believe she was? Would they think she was already what Roxbury wanted to make her?
She turned on him, her cheeks now pale. “I did not think about that. You rushed me so. It never crossed my mind.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, his expression grave.
“Those people, all those people. What if they think that I - that I -” She could not say the terrible words aloud.
The earl took her gloved hand in his. “Come, Samantha,” he soothed. “You have no dealings with the
ton.
What does it matter what they think? Besides, you have twice attended with your Mr. -”
“Mr. Pomroy,” said Samantha distractedly. “But that was different.”
“I fail to see how,” his lordship replied. “Pomroy is male.”
“He has a wife,” retorted Samantha.
The earl practically snorted. “That has certainly never deterred a man before. Samantha, Samantha, you
are
such an innocent.”
She flushed, but she continued to look into his eyes. “You knew this when you brought me here. That they might think -”
The earl’s mouth tightened. “It’s a trifle late in the day to consider such things,” he said rather curtly. “You have been seen in prolonged conversation with me backstage. You have ridden in my carriage. Anyone who wishes to think ill of you already has ample cause to do so.”
Samantha pondered this for several minutes and sighed heavily. “No wonder so many young women fall from grace. The world is full of traps for the innocent.”