Vintage Love (164 page)

She took a deep breath. “You are certain you’re my father?”

“Yes,” he said. “I knew it when I saw you. I gave up the name of Hastings when I became involved in financial troubles. I left Bristol as Ernest Hansom and I have been Ernest Hansom ever since.”

Gradually she accepted what he was telling her as the truth, astonishing though it seemed. When the rehearsal ended they went to David Cornish and told him the news. The handsome young actor listened and placed his arm protectively around Fanny.

He said sternly, “You realize that in deserting Fanny as you did, you gave up all claim on her?”

Ernest Hansom looked hurt. “I wish to make amends as best I can.”

“You should not interfere in her life,” David said. It was obvious to Fanny that he was jealous of her new-found father.

She quickly told David, “Mr. Hansom—that is, Father is not the sort to do that. And it gives me great joy to know him to be such a talented and kindly man.”

David said, “He was not kindly when he deserted you and your mother.”

She pressed her fingers to David’s lips. “Enough,” she said. “That is all in the past.”

The young actor still glared at her father. “I am in love with your daughter,” he said. “I don’t care whether you approve or not!”

“Everything will be the same!” Fanny promised her jealous lover.

Ernest Hansom’s brick-red face was sad as he assured David, “I do not ask for rights which I forfeited long ago. It is enough to have found my daughter. I will allow her to make her own decisions as she has done up to now. I desire only success for Fanny and you.”

This promise on her father’s part appeared to placate David. But Fanny sensed there might be thorny problems ahead between this young man who loved her so much and her newly-found father. For the moment she put these concerns to the back of her mind in her joy at finding her parent.

When the news made the rounds of the company the emotionally inclined actors and actresses were stunned and touched. As old Hilda Asquith said, “It might be the sort of thing dear Mr. Dickens writes! The reunion of father and child! So unexpected! So satisfying!”

This was the way the entire company felt, all except David who kept a suspicious eye on Fanny and her father. His jealousy of her new-found parent was apparent in all but their love-making. Only during those passionate moments in bed did he seem to forget about Ernest Hansom.

In truth he had reason to worry about the old man’s influence on Fanny. For while he did not attempt to interfere with her affair with him, Ernest Hansom did work hard at instilling a heightened ambition and unrest in her.

Her career was a favorite subject with the character actor. As they sat together in the parlor of the theatrical lodging house one morning, he brought the subject up again.

“You must get away from all this,” he said.

Fanny said, “But Barnaby Samuels is a good manager and director! The company is friendly and I have learned all I know about acting from them.”

“The point is,” her father said, “you have learned enough. You must not remain in the provinces too long.”

“Why not remain here and learn more?” she asked.

“Because you will
not
learn more,” her father said. “You now need to take your talent and training to London. If you remain here too long you will be tagged a provincial actress and then you will never get a West End job.”

Her eyes widened. “Surely that must be true for David as well?”

“That young actor is not my concern, though I agree he ought also to leave the provinces for the city,” Ernest Hansom said urgently. “You must make the transfer while you are young and at the height of your attractiveness.”

“I do not like to leave Mr. Samuels,” she said.

“He will understand it is for your good,” her father said. “He plans to leave Wenside in a few weeks. And I have heard he may give up management because of his continued illness. If that is true we can both leave when the engagement here ends.”

She brightened. “You will help me gain a foothold in London?”

“I shall,” he said. “It will be one way of making up to you some small portion of what I owe. Sir Alan Tredale is a close friend of mine. He has his own theatre, The People’s, and he will give you an audition if I ask him.”

“Oh, Father!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. And then, she said, “What about David? Will you speak for him as well?”

“If he wishes me to,” Ernest Hansom said reluctantly. “I don’t know whether that young man will accept my help or not. He is mighty independent and I’m sure he doesn’t like me!”

Fanny managed a smile. “Nonsense! I’m sure he’ll value your help. And it isn’t so much that he doesn’t like you, as that he is jealous of you.”

“I know,” the old man sighed. “He doesn’t want to share you with anyone else. And I can’t say I blame him!”

“I’m so excited!” she exclaimed. “Think of us all going to London together! It will be a little different from my last experience there! Though most of the folk I met were good to me!”

“So you have said,” her father nodded. “That Silas Hodder sounds like an interesting character.”

“He was like a father to me,” she said, and then quickly amended this to, “I mean, he was as close to being a father as he could be.”

Ernest Hansom smiled. “I’m not jealous of him. Don’t think me as hot-tempered as David.”

“But you do like David, don’t you?” she worried.

“Yes,” her father said. “I consider him a fine young actor with a great future, if he doesn’t allow his stubbornness to spoil it. I think he might have been more considerate of you. But since you were lovers before I arrived on the scene I can say nothing. Granted, if he does the right things, he should make you a good husband one day.”

“I feel the same way,” she said seriously. “But he is so impatient. He keeps asking me to marry him and I keep putting him off. It is not an easy situation.”

“I expect not,” her father agreed.

“But we won’t think of that,” she said happily. “We will think about conquering London! And meeting Mr. Gilbert Tingley again at his Emporium of Wonders! And Moll, who is the mermaid now in my place! It will be so much fun! You’ll meet them all and they’ll like you!”

“And you will find a place on the London stage,” her father said. “Maybe one day Fanny Hastings will be a star. I could ask for no more.”

“I will do what you tell me, Father, and work hard. I promise.”

“I will also try to do better,” he said. “I have not had one drink since I came here. My happiness in finding you has been partly responsible for that.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “I know you will not succumb to drink again.”

“I hope not,” he said, though his tone lacked certainty. And she realized that this threat and this thirst must be with him all the time, a dreadful strain.

“Should I speak to David about the company closing?” she asked her father.

“No,” Ernest Hansom said. “I would prefer you didn’t, since Barnaby Samuels told me this in confidence. It might hurt the company’s morale if the news got out.”

“True.”

“Also,” he said, “I think it might be better not to say anything about our planning to go to London until the very end. If we do not speak of it until then, David will not have time to oppose the plan and brood about it. By offering it as a surprise I think he might be more willing to join in with us.”

“Very well,” she promised. “I shall not say anything to him until later.”

So it was agreed between them. In the weeks following Fanny glowed with an inward happiness from the knowledge of what was being planned. David noticed her excitement and was mystified by it.

One evening on the way home, he said, “You know there are rumors Barnaby is going to close the company. Yet you seem so happy!”

“I don’t think his closing the company will be such a disaster,” she said. “We are bound to find work.”

David gave her a grim look. “I’m not so sure. I haven’t a London reputation like your father!”

“You have talent and youth,” she said, squeezing her lover’s arm. “Father would trade his reputation for those things.”

It was a week later and they were doing a revival of “The Squire of Finby” when the skies quite unexpectedly darkened for Fanny. It began when shortly before curtain time a distraught Barnaby Samuels came to the dressing room she shared with old Hilda Asquith to ask, “Have you seen your father?”

She rose from her chair by the dressing room mirror, a small fear gathering about her heart. “No,” she said. “What is wrong?”

“He’s not in his dressing room,” the actor-manager said. “And I can’t find him anywhere in the theatre!”

Panic seized her. “The play begins in ten minutes!”

Barnaby nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid …” He didn’t finish what he was about to say.

“What will you do?” she asked unhappily.

“He’s probably drunk in some tavern,” the actor-manager said. “I know his part and my foot isn’t aching too badly. I’ll stand in for him!” And he hurried away.

Fanny slowly turned to the elderly Hilda Asquith who was finishing her make-up. She said, “What do you think?”

“Too bad,” Hilda said with a sigh. “But we were warned, you know.”

“I know,” Fanny said in a low murmur. But she could not believe it. Then her disbelief turned to anger that her father should do this. Give way to his weakness in this fashion! After all his talk about her having helped him with his drink problem! It had meant nothing! He had let her down before the company.

She made her way backstage and saw Barnaby standing waiting for his cue to go onstage. He was wearing the make-up of the Squire and dressed in his costume. All the company were now aware that her father was absent.

David came by her and said, “So it has happened! He has finally let us down!”

“Don’t!” she said in a near sob, and turned from him.

“I’m sorry,” David said. “It doesn’t matter. Barnaby will do the part. No one will be hurt but your father.” They had no further time to discuss the matter as the curtain had gone up and the play was beginning.

The performance that evening was an ordeal for Fanny. It took all her training and courage to help her carry on in the light-hearted role in which she was cast. She knew the others in the company were sympathetic but this did little good. At last the curtain fell on the last act, she took her bows and then was free to retreat from the stage.

Downstairs she hurriedly went about removing her make-up with the thought of going out and making the rounds of the local taverns in search of her father. Her anger with him had now given away to concern.

Old Hilda Asquith was considerate of her state and said, “Don’t take it too badly, my dear. Barnaby won’t dismiss your father for this one lapse.”

Tearfully, she turned to the old woman and said, “It is just that I hoped it would never happen.”

“He has done well all this time,” the character actress said. “You must remember that and not be too harsh in your judgement of him.”

Fanny rose from her chair and began to put on her street clothes. She said, “I simply wish to find him now and take care of him.”

“That is the proper spirit,” Hilda agreed.

“Perhaps David will come with me,” she said with a sigh as she started out of the room.

She did not get far as she was met by Barnaby Samuels in the doorway of the dressing room. She saw at a glance that the old actor-manager had bad news for her. His worn face was solemn.

In a tight voice, she asked, “Some news?”

“Yes,” the kindly old man said. “Word has just been sent me. We were wrong in blaming your father for not arriving in time for the performance. He did not give way to his weakness again.”

“Thank goodness!” she said. “But what detained him?”

Barnaby Samuels placed a hand on her arm. “You must be strong, dear girl. Let your belief in the Almighty sustain you in this sad twist of fate!”

“What is it?” she demanded, frightened.

“Your father was run down by a lorry as she was making his way to the theatre,” Barnaby Samuels said. “He had not been drinking. It was just that the lorry rounded a corner suddenly. Your father was killed in an instant!”

“No!” she said brokenly and began sobbing bitterly. The manager helped her back into her chair and Hilda Asquith came to tend to her.

Everything that followed was confused in Fanny’s mind. David and the other members of the company came and offered their sympathy, and it was David who saw her home to their lodgings in a carriage. Barnaby Samuels made the funeral arrangements with the local undertaker, sparing her that sad duty.

The body was laid out in the parlor of the lodging house. Happily, Ernest Hansom’s upper body showed no sign of the injuries which had taken his life. He looked sternly noble and serene as he lay in his casket. And Fanny was touched by the number of townspeople who came to offer their respects to the veteran actor who had entertained them so well.

Barnaby Samuels stood with her at the end of the room as they watched the line of townspeople paying their last respects. The actor-manager said, “He could not have been afforded a better farewell in London! These people had come to truly know his worth!”

Fanny stood there in sorrowful silence, thinking of the plans she and her father had made. How happy he had been at the prospect of returning to London and his desire to help her and David with their careers! Those plans were completely shattered now.

She said, “It was his dream to appear in London again.”

“He might have known disappointment,” Barnaby Samuels pointed out. “He had lost his reputation for reliability there. To have returned and not been accepted could well have put him back on the road to drink. Perhaps this way it is best.”

Fanny did not attempt to argue with the kindly old man. She maintained a calm demeanor in her sorrow. And when she attended the funeral service in the Wenside Anglican Church and saw him buried in the small cemetery next to it she preserved her dignity. David was at her side as the last sod was turned over the grave. Then they left the cemetery together.

Back at the lodging house Barnaby Samuels sat with her and David over glasses of port. Barnaby said, “My dear, I gather you know I’m giving up management at the end of the month.”