Beloved Scoundrel (16 page)

The next morning he was all contrition and anxious to win her forgiveness. He brought her tea and toast on a tray for her to enjoy before rising. This was something he had never done before.

With one of his winning smiles, he said, “I thought it might clear your head before you got up to prepare for our train journey to New York this morning.”

“You are too thoughtful this morning,” she said sitting up with the tray before her. Her eyes lifted to meet his. “Is it because of last night?”

His smile vanished. He touched his fingers nervously to the end of his mustache and said, “Last night is over with! Finished! I would prefer that you put it out of your mind!”

“I wish I could!”

His eyes were cold. “You must!”

“I see,” she said quietly, knowing that he was still unwilling to give her any further explanation. He seemed to relax again as he said, “So waste no time, my dear. The train will not wait for us. We have only about time to make it as it is.”

Knowing this to be true she attempted no further arguments with him. After having some of the tea she rose and washed and dressed. She was still worried that the authorities might in some way link them with the killing and they would be arrested before they could board the New York train. They finally arrived at the railway station and gathered with the company before boarding the train.

John Wilkes Booth worried her by leaving with the excuse he wished to purchase some cigars from the railway station tobacco shop. She found herself standing with the elderly Leroy Barnes, the leading character actor with their company. The old man had a fine head of white hair which he wore long over his collar, and he invariably wore a broad brimmed black hat and stylishly cut coat with a fancy velvet collar.

He smiled at her as they stood together in the hurly-burly of the station. He said, “A most auspicious occasion for us, Miss Cornish.”

“Yes,” she said, managing a smile for the old man. “But then you are no stranger to the New York stage. It will be my first appearance.”

“You will be well received,” Barnes replied, a look of confidence on his weathered, deeply-lined features. “And I’m sure the public will acclaim Mr. Booth. He may wind up as famous as his brother, Edwin.”

“He hopes to surpass him.”

“I doubt that,” the old man said. “But I think he is a fine actor.”

It was then that Nancy came breathlessly to join them. The pretty blonde girl told Fanny, “I couldn’t let you go without seeing you off!”

Fanny took the other girl’s hand in hers. “I wish you were coming with us.”

“I know,” Nancy sighed. “But there is Tom and his play! He cannot hope to get it all down without my help. And I shall have work with the incoming company.”

Fanny said, “I shall miss you sorely. And do let us hear from you.”

“I shall write,” Nancy promised. “And when the play is done you shall be first to read it.”

“Wish Tom my best,” Fanny said.

“I will,” Nancy promised. “Poor fellow, it is not easy for him! And look at all these others!”

She nodded towards the many uniformed men who were moving about in the crowded station. Some were with wives and sweethearts others alone or in a group.

“If only this war would end!” Fanny prayed aloud.

Old Leroy Barnes nodded. “I think it may soon come to a climax. The South are steadily weakening and they say General Grant has more than a half-million troops ready for the attack!”

Nancy passed a newspaper to Fanny and said, “Here is the morning paper. I thought you might like to read it on the way to New York. There is a brief paragraph mentioning Major Furlong’s party last night in honor of you and Mr. Booth!”

“Really?” she said. “John will be interested to see it. He will miss the Washington parties.” She glanced anxiously in the crowds milling about them to see some sign of his returning. A cold fear hit her that perhaps he might not come back!

Nancy went on, “Terrible things are happening here all the time. There is a story about a man being murdered in a back alley last night. Stabbed to death!”

Fanny’s cold fright increased. She said tautly, “Indeed?”

“Yes,” the blonde girl nodded, unaware of the impact of her words. “It seems the victim was a hunchback!”

Fanny echoed, “A hunchback?”

“Yes,” Nancy said soberly. “And a rather important Person, according to the newspaper story. It said that he was a famous secret service figure and it was felt he had died in line of duty.”

Leroy Barnes nodded eagerly. “It is well known the Feds have their own spies liberally sprinkled about Washington.”

“I suppose they must,” Fanny said in a small voice, hoping they would not notice her upset state.

Nancy seemed unaware of any change in her and went on to answer the old character actor, saying, “The newspaper story goes into that. It said that he had been about to reveal a spy ring dedicated to moving drugs illegally across the lines.”

Fanny barely heard the words, yet they made an impact on her. And at that moment her worst fear was relieved by the return of John Wilkes Booth. He was as dashing as ever as he kissed Nancy goodbye and made some jolly comments to her and the old character actor.

Then the trainman blew his whistle and called out for them to board and there were frantic moments of last goodbyes. Then she found herself seated on the train with John at her side. He removed his hat and cloak and smiled at her.

“Time to relax,” he said.

She glanced at him. “You think so?”

“Yes,” he said, as the train started abruptly and then ran smoothly along the platform leaving a sea of faces and waving hands behind them. He glanced at the newspaper in her lap. “You have a paper.”

“Yes,” she said, aware that the noise of the train now served to cover their conversation from their neighbors.

“Any mention of the Furlong affair?” the handsome actor asked casually.

“Yes,” she said. “But more space was given to the murder of a hunchback.”

John Wilkes Booth showed no emotion. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she went on grimly. “It appears he was a well known member of the Secret Service.”

“Too bad!”

“Yes,” she said. “He was a member of the

Union Secret Service not the Confederate. I had it all wrong from the start!”

He gave her a mocking look. “What difference does it make?”

“He was about to reveal the head of a spy ring sending medical supplies to the South. The paper believes that is why he was killed.”

Booth shrugged. “Well, the war does continue! “

She looked at him accusingly. “He meant to take you prisoner or kill you. After following you all that time he had the information he needed.”

The handsome actor nodded. “Yes. That is why he asked me to keep a rendezvous with him last night.”

“You knew one of you had to die?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you think I should commend you for your display of courage,” she said with bitterness.

He said calmly, “You didn’t feel so strongly as long as you thought the hunchback one of my own turned on me. It makes a difference when you discover he was always the enemy!”

“I take no sides,” she replied.

“Very well,” he said. “Be content that the Southern wounded will continue to get their needed supplies.”

Chapter 8

New York welcomed the new company starring Fanny Cornish and John Wilkes Booth at Brougham’s Lyceum Theatre during the closing months of 1864. The city was prospering as never before, the war had created a whole new group of wealthy people along with its terrible devastation for the rank and file. The draft riots were almost forgotten with the victorious General Grant leading the Union Army.

For the first weeks of the engagement John Wilkes Booth was a model of good behavior. She and he shared adjoining suites in a hotel near the theatre. He was the perfect lover both onstage and off. The critics gave both the youngest of the Booths and Fanny rave notices. It seemed that Phineas T. Barnum had a gold mine in them!

But Fanny almost knew that this happy state of affairs could not go on for long. She could feel the increasing tension in her co-star and constantly worried about what he might do. Each time there was fresh news of the South’s defeat he ranted and raved in a way which frightened her. Yet he preserved a calm face for the public.

There were fewer parties for them in New York. But one of the new society leaders held a ball and she and John were invited. It was there she first set eyes on Bessie Hale, the lovely, brown-eyed daughter of Senator John Parker Hale, a member of Lincoln’s cabinet. The attractive girl was literally swept off her feet by the overwhelming John Wilkes! He neglected Fanny to dance with the senator’s daughter most of the evening.

On the way home in their carriage she chided‘him about it, saying, “The girl is young and attractive but she is a beauty without brains! Everyone says so! What can you see in her?”

John laughed and touched his hand on hers. “You need not be jealous, dear Fanny. I was merely trying to be a good guest. Surely you saw that our hostess threw us together.”

She gave him a sharp glance. “I think you deliberately set out to woo her. And it is not the girl, but the information you hope to get from her and her father that interests you. It is more of your spying.”

He shrugged. “Since you realize that why let it bother you?”

“I do not like to see people so used,” she said. “Nor do I enjoy watching you betray those offering us friendship.”

“Think no more about it,” he told her and leaned close to kiss her on the cheek.

But she had reason to think a good deal more of it. He began to be absent without explanation on various occasions and bits of gossip began to wend their way back to her both from mutual friends and items in the press. It became a poorly kept secret that John Wilkes Booth was often a guest at the New York home of Senator Hale. Fanny tried to ignore the whole matter.

They were adding new plays to their repertoire and one day John approached her about the employment of a friend and his daughter. He said, “There is a character actor, Charles Dale, and his daughter, Marie. They have fallen on bad times. I’d like to see them hired. We need some new actors for the new plays.”

Fanny wanted to be generous in the matter and told him, “If you approve of them I see no reason why they can’t be added to the company.”

John looked pleased. “Thank you, Fanny. This fellow was kind to me when I was starting in the business. I’ll invite Dale and his daughter to have dinner with us after the show tomorrow evening. You can decide about them for yourself.”

It sounded reasonable and so she made herself ready the following evening after the play ended. She put on one of her new dresses, all taffeta and lace at the wrists and neck. Booth was in one of his best moods. She realized later she ought to have been suspicious but she wasn’t.

Charles Dale was a big man and stout as well. His hair was white and his face purplish in contrast. He spoke of long tours in the Southern United States before the War, and of his lack of work since then.

“It’s this way, Mrs. Cornish,” he told her across the white-clothed restaurant table, “I have no friends here and no one seems to want to hire myself or Marie.”

Marie was petite and red-haired, with a thin voice and not at all like her father. She had a pleasant face but was no beauty and she did not indicate possessing much talent. This was Fanny’s first impression of her.

But they were a devoted father and daughter. Old Charles Dale fairly beamed every time he glanced at his daughter and she returned the deep feeling by fluttering her own long lashes at him in what appeared a bond of mutual admiration.

With daughterly devotion Marie told the group at the table, “I’m fit only for the smallest parts but dear Daddy is a wonderful actor!”

Charles Dale beamed more warmly at his dedicated Marie and said, “Do not believe her, friends. She acts well enough and she is always a blessing to me in my old age.”

Fanny smiled. “We’ll have no trouble using you both!”

“What a kind lady!” Marie said with high-pitched joy. “And you also, Mr. Booth!”

John Wilkes Booth looked amused and said, “I left it up to Mrs. Cornish. She is the one to whom you must be grateful.”

“We shall be,” Charles Dale boomed, delight on his purple face. “Be sure that we’ll work hard to justify your having faith in us.”

As it turned out, the big man with his white hair, booming voice, and pompous manner was an asset to the company. He showed up well in small character parts such as judges and squires and the audiences were fond of him. Marie was relegated to the roles of maids and often to non-speaking parts. She did them with a show of interest they hardly justified. But she gave no trouble.

The most amusing thing about the two was their devotion for each other, so openly and often displayed. The actors joked among themselves that there had never been such a father and daughter team before. The two lived in some obscure boarding place apart from the others in the company and made no attempt to become more friendly with their co-workers. They were content in their offstage hours to live by themselves.

Edwin Booth returned from England. John Wilkes would give his more famous brother little time. But Edwin made it a point to attend several of their performances and to commend John on his playing of
Richelieu,
which was normally a part Edwin himself excelled in.

One afternoon when there was no matinee, Edwin invited Fanny to luncheon at Delmonico’s. She was frequently by herself now with John all too often absent on some mysterious errand. So she decided to accept the invitation. She met John’s more eminent brother at the restaurant and they were shown to a suitably quiet table.

The smaller Edwin had his brother’s charm but in a more quiet manner. His eyes were deep-set and sad, and it was rumored that he was still stricken by the tragic loss of his lovely young wife.

He told her, “I have long wished to know you better, Mrs. Cornish.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “You know my high regard for you and the esteem in which my late husband held you.”

Edwin nodded. “I was much impressed by David. And when I was in London many actors and others told me of his great talent. You have much to be proud of in his memory, Madam.”

Her eyes blurred a trifle and she managed,

“That is most generous of you.”

“Not at all,” he said. “I met others who spoke of you both. And one friend of yours in particular, who was much pleased to hear of your great stage success over here, Sir George Palmer.”

She was stunned. “You actually talked with George?”

Edwin Booth smiled. “I met him a number of times at his London club. Friends were kind enough to take me there.”

“How is he?”

“Very well,” the actor said. “He is married and seemingly happy.”

“Yes, I expected he would marry,” she said. “His wife does not enjoy the best of health.”

“I gathered as much,” Edwin Booth said. “Though I did not meet her. But I did not come here to talk to you of the Palmers. I have come to congratulate you on what you’ve done for my brother, John.”

“I’ve done little,” she said. “He is a fine actor and he has developed through working steadily.”

“That is the thing!” Edwin said dramatically. “You, alone, of all I know, have made him keep at his trade. I have hopes that he may have recovered from his political madness and now be satisfied to play the king only on the stage!”

She smiled ruefully. “I wish that could be true. But I’m close to him. In secret he is still very much the Rebel. His sympathies all with the Confederacy.”

Edwin frowned and sank back in his chair. “I’m sorry to hear that!”

“I keep on hoping,” she said. “And it seems the war may soon end. General Grant has turned out to be such a wonder!”

“Agreed,” the famous actor said. “Do try to

keep my brother in rein, Mrs. Cornish. I’m starting on tour in a week and I shall not be here to stay him in any of his madness.”

“I promise to do my best,” Fanny said.

The earnest, deep-set eyes met hers. “Is there any truth in the rumor that you and my brother will one day marry?”

She was caught off-guard by this question. She hesitated and then said, “Marriage has been discussed between us. I’m not sure it would be good for John or for me.”

“You fear to marry him?”

“Perhaps when the war is over and he is more settled in his mind,” she said. “But then he may have other plans. I know he has been seeing another lady.”

Edwin Booth nodded soberly. “Bessie Hale.”

“Yes.”

“What can he see in the girl as compared to you?” he demanded angrily. “And to top it all she is the daughter of a Northern Senator and a member of Lincoln’s cabinet!”

She could have easily told the reason for John’s seeking out the vapid girl but she felt that it would only worry him needlessly without his being in any way able to change things. Better to leave it as it was. They finished their luncheon with talk of the theatre and then the famed actor saw her home.

John heard of Edwin’s visit and came to her dressing room before the evening performance to tell her so. He strode in, clothed in the crimson of the noted French Cardinal, and in his dramatic way, declared, “What are you and my brother up to behind my back?”

She rose from her dressing table and said, “I’m not aware that we’ve been up to anything!”

John said, “Are you conspiring to leave me and act with him?”

She smiled sadly. “Do you think that likely?”

“What then?”

“We enjoyed a friendly luncheon. That is all.”

The red-robed John continued to study her with indignation. “Am I expected to believe that?”

“Yes. Just as I’m supposed to believe your attendance on Bessie Hale is innocent.”

John looked taken back. He stared at her and asked, “Why bring her into this?”

“I think I’m justified!”

“Bessie Hale has never meant anything to me and you well know it,” he replied angrily and strode out.

She could tell by his acting that evening he was much on edge. As usual this resulted in his giving a dynamic, exciting performance. A number of well known people had turned out to see how John handled Richelieu in contrast to Edwin’s interpretation and apparently they were well satisfied.

She was caught up by the vigor of John’s performance and knew once again that he had a strong influence over her.

They shared the curtain calls and he kissed her after the curtain came down for the final call. A gesture he had been lately forgetting.

She smiled up at him and said, “There was much passion in your performance tonight!”

“The best will come later,” he told her with a knowing look.

Phineas T. Barnum came to her dressing room to congratulate her and she wanted to take him aside and warn him that she was worried about John Wilkes’ behaviour. But the big man was so pleased by everything she found it hard to do this. Also, he had brought two old friends to see her.

Little Emmie and her sword-swallower husband were on hand to offer their congratulations. They were on holiday from the freak museum and thoroughly enjoying themselves. Their only problem was that Little Emmie was slowly losing weight and her husband was gaining it.

Her husband pointed at the fat woman and said dolefully, “Would you believe it! She lost near three stone! And that in only a matter of two years!”

Fanny asked the fat woman, “Is your health good?”

“I feel better than ever,” Little Emmie said, still almost as wide as she was tall.

“Then I can’t see the forty pounds weight loss will hurt you professionally,” Fanny told her.

“And I’m close to the same heavier,” the sword swallower said. “It can’t be the swords and fire!”

“Too much ale!” Little Emmie said firmly. “He quenches the fire with plenty of ale and that’s what’s giving him girth.”

Fanny laughed. “Well, what does it matter as long as you’re both healthy and happy!”

“Right, ma’am,” the old sword swallower said. “We’ll give your best to Mrs. Larkins. And if you’re ever down our way she’ll be pleased to see you.”

Barnum good-naturedly shepherded the fat woman and her husband out of the dressing room and Fanny completed her change from stage costume to street dress. She had expected that John would come by for her but he didn’t. She was about to leave when her maid informed her she had another visitor and presented her with an engraved card. She read the card which merely offered the name “Eric Mason” in a fine scroll. She did not recognize the name but assuming it must be some admirer she told the maid to show him in.