Beloved Scoundrel (17 page)

He was a tall, slender young man with compelling gray eyes and a kind of emaciated good looks. He bowed and in a voice with an English accent said, “You are most gracious to receive me, Mrs. Cornish.”

She smiled. “Do sit down, Mr. Mason. May I ask your business?”

He waited until she sat and then seated himself across from her. She saw that his clothes were shabbily correct and that his shoes were cracked and had signs of wear. Not a rich man was her instant conclusion.

“I much admired your performance tonight,” he said. “I have only recently come to America!”

“Yes. You have a touch of Lancashire in your voice. “

He smiled bleakly. “I had hoped it was erased. To get to the point, I’m an actor. And I knew your late husband, David Cornish.”

She was at once interested. “You knew David?”

The young man nodded. “We toured together when we were both starting. He was slightly older but we generally shared lodgings.”

“How interesting!”

The young man spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “I never did acquire the same reputation as David. But I have worked hard and long at my trade. And I hope I may make my name here.”

“I also hope so,” she said. “Are you working?”

“I have just returned from Boston,” Eric Mason said. “At the moment I’m between engagements. But I’m used to most of the popular leading roles. I had a long tour as leading man just prior to my leaving England.”

“Well,” she said, “I’m glad you have come to see me. We must see each other again and talk of David.”

“I would enjoy that,” Eric Mason said rising. “And if you have any work suitable for me I would be most happy to accept it.”

She was also on her feet. “Since you hope to play leading roles it would be a mistake to offer you a supporting part, or small bit in our company. And I’m afraid that is all that is liable to be available. As you know, my leading man is John Wilkes Booth!”

“You couldn’t ask for a better one, ma’am,” the actor said.

Fanny had a last minute thought and told him, “I suggest you go to the office of P.T. Barnum, our producer, and tell him I sent you. Leave your name and credentials with him. He stages many plays.”

“Thank you,” the thin, young actor, said looking pleased. And he bowed and withdrew.

She dressed for the outside cold of the New York winter night and had the stage door man call a sleigh to take her to her hotel. Muffled in furs and with a fur rug spread over her for warmth she was drawn quickly through snow-covered streets to the accompaniment of a merry jingling of sleigh bells. Other sleighs passed and it seemed the air was filled with this melody of a wintery night!

Her breath showed in the frosty air as the sleigh driver helped her onto the icy sidewalk and she made her way inside the lobby of the hotel. A roaring fire in the fireplace of her bedroom made it as warm as a tropical isle. She took off her outer things and sank into an easy chair and gazed into the ever-changing flames of blue, red and yellow and wondered what mystery lay ahead for her in their hues.

Meeting the young actor tonight had brought back memories of David and her father! Of her own struggling days in the theatre! And of the love and dedication she had come to know for the stage through these two men who had played such important roles in her life. And memory of England invariably made her think of George Palmer. George, who was now safely and happily married to another, and whom she must forget forever. But how can one forget a true love?

By forcing one’s self into new love affairs. She had tried that with Peter Cortez and it had ended in jealousy and cruel recriminations. Peter had left her in a fury and gone off to join the army in a cause in which he did not believe.

Now she had become the mistress of John Wilkes Booth? Was she a wanton? She prayed not. Rather, she was a lonely woman looking for love and companionship and hardly ever finding it.

She had not lied to Peter. She had never told him she was in love with him only. But because he’d wished to believe this he had come to see it that way! So their romance had ended in disaster.

Would it be the same with John? She hoped it wouldn’t. There was much more between herself and John than there had ever been between her and Peter. For one thing John was a genius of an actor whom she could not help respect, and for another she knew that John was truly in love with her. This business with Bessie Hale was part of his spying game. She had never taken it seriously. The tragic thing might be that the poor girl would. John was a handsome man who had left a trail of broken hearts in his wake.

The door of her bed-sitting room opened and John came striding in. He said nothing but went straight to her and raising her from the easy chair took her in his arms. His kisses were as ardent as she could wish and their bodies were pressed together to the ultimate degree of intimacy.

Slowly and very methodically he went about disrobing her until she stood before him with her naked loveliness reflecting the moving magic tints from the glowing fire. Then he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

It was a special night for them. Never a tender lover, John, was, on this occasion, almost cruel in his abandon. It was as if his hunger for her would never be fully satisfied and she found herself floating into an ecstatic state of fulfillment. When they had finished they were both utterly exhausted.

Close to each other in bed they needed no words to express their bliss. Fanny began to believe that all would be well. That the man so quiet at her side now, would remain at her side through all her life. She sank into a deep sleep with a faint smile playing at her lips, her lovely breasts not quite hidden by the coverlet.

Unhappily there was to be a rude awakening and it came the following morning. John was first to rise and in his dressing gown brought the fire to new life so that the room was as warm and pleasant as the panes at the window were cold and frostcoated. He kissed her tenderly to wake her and took her order for breakfast.

While the food was on its way he read the morning paper in front of the fireplace and she washed and put on her warmest long robe. Then she joined him, sitting on the floor before the fireplace.

“How I envy ordinary people!” she exclaimed, looking up at him with a smile. “They can live like this always. Enjoy each other in the morning. Be together all the day!”

He put down his paper and smiled, “I’m afraid that is hardly the ordinary people’s lot. You are thinking of the privileged wealthy!”

She pressed her head against his knees. “Well, whoever they are, I wish we could live like them!”

The handsome actor looked sadly amused. “You would tire of such a life sooner than you think, dear Fanny. I know you. Like myself, you are a kind of gypsy! And the theatre will always be the most important thing in your life.”

Fanny looked up at him with an attractive pouting expression on her lovely face. “I’m sure I could settle for that other sort of life with the right man.”

“Don’t believe it!”

She smiled. “Well, what does it matter? We have our own lives and who could be happier than we are this morning?”

His eyes were tender and he bent close to her and placing a hand under her chin, drew her lips to his. He murmured, “No one could be happier than I at this moment!”

Their romantic moment before the fireplace was interrupted by the arrival of the waiter with a table on wheels bearing their breakfast. He went about setting the table for them and then bowed and left. The table had been placed in front of the fireplace for comfort and they continued their conversation over a leisurely breakfast.

She said, “An actor came to pay me a visit at the theatre last night. A man named Eric Mason. It seems he knew David long ago.”

John did not seem to be listening to her. There was a slight frown on his face. He said, “Oh?”

“Yes,” she continued. “He and David were members of the same travelling company when they were both young. He appeared to be a nice man.”

“That is most interesting,” John Wilkes Booth said but he did not sound interested.

She touched her napkin to her lips as she finished with her tea and with a worried glance, asked him, “What is the matter, John?”

He stared at her a moment in silence. Then he got up from the table and began pacing back and forth impatiently. She at once recognized that he was going to have one of his dark moods. Those moments which she most feared.

Still pacing, he said, “Nothing is going well! The cause is close to lost!”

She gave him a pleading look. “Please don’t spoil things by going into one of your rages!”

He halted and frowned at her. “What can you expect of me? The morning paper is full of news of defeat for the Confederacy! That cursed Lincoln will be king before you know it!”

“Don’t talk such nonsense!”

He came back and sat across the table from her, leaning forward, as he said tensely, “I’m not talking nonsense! Make no mistake about it! If the South is defeated Lincoln is bound to be elected again! And he will never let the reins of government go. He will change the Constitution and have himself named the first monarch of the United States.”

“That is all mere speculation!”

His burning eyes fixed on hers and he said, “Those of us in the know happen to be sure this will come about. It now needs a desperate act to save the South.”

She stared at him, afraid to try and guess what he might offer next. She said, “This should not concern you!”

“It does,” he said, tautly. He hesitated and a cunning look crossed the handsome face. Almost a mad look. “I will tell you something but you must swear to keep silent.”

Fanny shook her head. “I want no part of your politics and spying!”

“As the woman I hope to marry, I must confide in you,” John Wilkes Booth went on urgently. “For over a year now a group of us have been concocting a plan to save the Confederacy if all else fails!”

“A group of you?”

“Yes. I have good people to help me. Michael O’Laughlin and Sam Arnold who were at school with me. A couple of others interested in the cause and Lewis Paine, a former Confederate army man. We have held meetings at the house of Mrs. Mary Surratt. Her son John is one of us.”

Fanny listened with growing dismay. “What sort of plan do you have?”

The mad eyes burned more brightly. “It concerns Lincoln!”

“Lincoln?”

“Yes,” the handsome actor went on excitedly. “Our plan is to capture him and spirit him away from Richmond. There he will be held hostage until the Union agreed to end the war on terms fair to the Confederacy!”

“You think you can actually kidnap the President?”

John Wilkes Booth showed disgust. “Lincoln is no more than an ordinary man. We have a plan. The moment will come when he is unguarded and we will capture him!”

“More likely you’d be mowed down by gunfire,” she said unhappily.

“I have every confidence in the scheme,” he said.

“But you can’t go to Washington,” she protested.

“You mustn’t leave here when we are at the peak of our success.”

He scowled. “The fate of my country is more important to me than a successful New York season!”

The more she heard the more distressed she was becoming. She said, “You aren’t actually thinking of putting this plan into action?”

He nodded. “I must. The South is on its knees.”

“What you do will not change things!”

“I must try!”

“What about your love for me? Your loyalty to Mr. Barnum?”

John stood up. “You know that I love you and that I admire Barnum more than any other manager I’ve worked under. But I cannot be kept from my destiny!”

She sat back in her chair limply. “When?” she asked in a dull tone.

“I cannot be sure,” he said. “I’m waiting for certain word from Washington. When it comes I cannot delay!”

“What about the play?”

“The understudy can take over,” he said. “I cannot concern myself with such puny problems.”

He quickly dressed for the street and when he’d put on his overcoat with its fur collar came to her to gently kiss her before leaving.

She looked up at him dolefully. “I’m so worried!”

“Don’t be,” he said, with one of his warm smiles. “If I don’t see you before I’ll talk to you at the theatre tonight.” And he left.

Fanny now had her turn of pacing up and down the room. She had not liked anything she’d heard and she knew the actor well enough to be sure he was sincere in all he’d said. He had bound her to keep silent when he’d confided in her but she worried that perhaps she should break her word and pass the grim news to P. T. Barnum.

Yet she did not want to cause trouble for John. There was a chance the moment for the plot would not present itself and all her fears were for nothing. She kept telling herself this and almost came to believe it. So she decided to say nothing to anyone and hope that it all might work out all right.

She remained in the comfort of her hotel room most of the day. Many people had been felled with complaints of the throat and lungs and she could not afford to be ill at this time. So she was especially good to herself.