Vintage Love (188 page)

The young actor hesitated and then his face became grim again. “It might be a very good idea,” he said. “Acting is a precarious profession, we are given to falling on hard times!”

She stared at him with disbelief. “I’m not joking!”

“I’m sure you aren’t,” Jeffrey said. “You have my blessing. I think you could do nothing wiser!” And with that he turned and marched away from her.

Mary burst into tears and was still standing there sobbing in the wings when Peg Waddington saw her and came to her. “What is it, my dear?” the older actress asked.

“Jeffrey was here!”

“Why didn’t you call me? Or Hector?” Peg wanted to know.

She sobbed, “He didn’t want to see you. He’s gone! His company has disbanded and he’s out of work!”

“I was afraid of that,” Peg said, her arm around Mary to comfort her.

“I told him if he left I would marry old Lord Patrick Carter!”

“And what did he say to that?” Peg asked.

“He was hateful! He said it was a good idea.” Mary felt spiteful anger now which dried her tears. “And since that is the way he feels I vow Lord Patrick Carter will soon have a bride!”

Mary kept her vow and accepted Lord Patrick Carter’s offer of marriage. The wedding date was set for mid-September and the old gentleman was made ecstatically happy by her decision. Both Hector and Peg Waddington were quick to advise her she could back out of the agreement if she changed her mind, though she felt they favored the match.

In the meantime she continued to appear in various roles on the stage of the Maiden Lane. Her elderly bridegroom-to-be attended almost every performance and the bouquets of roses continued to arrive backstage.

Mary was still badly hurt by Jeffrey’s attitude and she heard no more from him. Hector Waddington said there was a rumor the young man had gone to Scotland to join a travelling dramatic company there but no one seemed to be certain of this. For her part, she knew she still cared deeply for the young actor and was entering into this unlikely marriage chiefly to spite him.

Young Howard Blake was enraged when he heard she proposed to marry the ancient Lord Carter. Howard’s temper was not improved by her refusal to see him. She did not like snubbing the young man but she knew he had become seriously interested in her and because of circumstances, unknown to him, she had to discourage him. However, he was persistent, and she finally agreed to go out for a carriage ride with him one lovely afternoon in late August.

It was a perfect day for a ride in Howard’s landaulet. The driver sat up front very straight of back and aloof.

Next to Mary as they drove through the pleasant green of Regent’s Park was Howard Blake in a yellow waistcoat, brass buttoned fawn jacket and spotless high white stock. He had curbed his anger at her decision and his manner was now almost fraternal.

A perch phaeton passed them going the other way with a well dressed man in it wearing an elegantly distinctive cravat. He raised an ebony, silver-tipped walking stick at Blake and the young man nodded in acknowledgment. He said, after the phaeton had passed, “Do you know who that was?”

She smiled, holding a white parasol over her head to protect her from the sun. “No. But I imagine it was someone important.”

“How right you are,” Howard Blake told her. “That was the famous Beau Brummell!”

“Really?” she was impressed. “They say he is the best-dressed man in all England.”

“It’s perfectly true,” Howard agreed. “At the moment he is newsworthy because he has annoyed the Prince Regent with his waspish tongue.”

“Oh?”

Howard nodded. “The Prince Regent is touchy about his stoutness and Beau Brummell has continually made cutting comments about it. The story is the Prince Regent will no longer speak to him nor permit him access to his inner circle.”

“That must be distressing for a man who is known as a social butterfly,” Mary said. “If court circles snub him he will hardly be accepted anywhere.”

“True,” the young man at her side agreed. “It could well mean that poor Beau may have to leave England. And that couid be disastrous for him.”

The carriage rolled on and Mary pointed out a group of youngsters frolicking on the grass with a little white dog.

“How charming they look!” she exclaimed.

Howard gave her a meaningful look. “It would seem you’ll have plenty of dogs in your future but no children such as those you’ve just admired.”

“Howard!” she said in reproach. “You promised you would not bring up that subject if I saw you this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to break my word. But I can’t bear to think of you married to that eccentric old man!”

“Lord Patrick Carter is thoughtful and kindly,” she defended her husband-to-be. “I know he will offer me a good life.”

“You’ll become another of his pampered pets!” Howard said his young face crimson with anger. “Everyone laughs at him and his dressed-up dogs!”

“If he wishes to indulge in that bit of nonsense he can well afford it,” she retorted. “He knows he is the butt of rude humor but he does not mind. He has a cynical view of human beings and that is why he prefers dogs!”

“And why are you marrying him?” Howard wanted to know.

Mary was unable to make a proper reply to this. She could not tell him that she had loved someone who now was lost to her, and that she had decided on this course in a fury of despair. Nor could she explain, that though she might have considered marrying him, this was impossible because of the relationship which had existed between herself and his brother.

To change the subject, she quickly said, “What have you heard from your brother in India?”

Howard frowned. “He was wounded in a night attack. But he is recovering.”

“Will he soon return to England?”

“Probably,” Howard said. “Why are you so interested? You have not met him.”

“You are wrong,” she said. “I met him once at a party given by the Prince Regent. He asked me to dance and I refused. I did not like him. He seemed far too arrogant, not at all like you.”

Howard smiled grimly. “I’m at least pleased you prefer me to my brother.”

“He is in no way your equal,” she said.

“Still he will succeed to the title,” Howard told her. “I am only the second son.”

“You will do well enough,” she said with a smile and patted his hand as the driver swung the carriage around and started back along the same roadway on which they had come.

“What sort of parents are the Waddingtons to allow you to marry a senile old man?” Howard wanted to know.

“They have not swayed me,” she said. “The decision is my own. I’m sorry for his loneliness and I do not wish to make any other match.”

“Is there nothing I can say to dissuade you from this mad decision?” the young man asked.

“Nothing.”

He was silent for a moment. Then with a deep sigh, he said, “I shall always go on loving you but it would be wrong for me to see you again.”

“I agree,” she said.

He looked straight ahead, distress shadowing his pleasant face. “I do not know what the future holds for me.”

“You will meet a charming girl of your own social set and marry,” she said.

“There is no one for me but you!”

“You think that now,” she said. “You will find another. I promise you!”

He made no reply. The rest of the the drive was in silence. When he took her back to her house he was polite and formal. She tried to maintain the same calm though her throat was tight with pain at the thought that she was not likely to see him again.

“Goodbye, May,” he said tautly.

“I shall miss you, Howard,” she told him, her eyes meeting his sadly.

She hurried inside so he would not see her tears. She was miserable for several days afterwards and only the necessity of going to the theatre and giving a performance kept her from moping in her room.

It was inevitable that the day of her wedding should arrive. She made her last appearance as Hermia in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. There were tearful goodbyes to her fellow players, most of whom had been her friends since she’d first joined the Waddingtons.

One hearty old actress hugged her and bellowed what most of the others had said, “You’ll be back! Mark that! You’ve a true talent and love for the theatre! You’ll not remain away from us long!”

Mary smiled and shook her head. But in her heart she felt it was true. She did love the theatre and the adulation of the audiences. If the opportunity presented itself she would probably return. Meanwhile it was to be marriage and life on Lord Carter’s estate in Hampstead.

Lord Patrick Carter arranged the details of the wedding. And it was typical of his preference for dogs to humans that there were more canines in attendance at the ceremony than people. Hector Waddington was on hand to give Mary away and Peg acted as her matron of honor. Lord Patrick was attended by his estate manager and a Great Dane solemnly garbed in a black waistcoat. It was to the great brown beast’s credit that he sat with dignity by his master all through the service.

The ceremony was held in the family chapel on the grounds of the estate. The old vicar who conducted the nuptials raised his venerable eyebrows when following the main wedding party a master of hounds with some thirty-odd dogs took up a stand at the rear of the tiny, stone church.

Mary presented a lovely picture in her high-waisted white gown and veil and old Lord Patrick Carter looked proud and pleased. Peg wept through the ceremony while Hector, with his old actor’s poise, looked every inch the noble father. The frail old vicar pronounced the words, “man and wife” which gave plain Mary Scott, otherwise known as May Waddington, yet another name — Lady Mary Carter.

The festive wedding party lasted well into the night and was held in the main ballroom of Lord Patrick Carter’s imposing house. In the big baronial room, a string quartette played jigs from the minstrel’s gallery. Lord Carter had invited his neighbors and estate help to the party as well as the dogs, so there was no formality.

Mary and he cut the huge wedding cake and all were given slices of it along with other delicious food and champagne. A huge roast of beef had been prepared especially for the dogs and twice during the evening the thirty-odd animals raced into the ballroom to romp among the guests. The music, laughter, barking and dancing made it a highly unusual and lively affair, one which Mary would never forget.

Finally all the guests left, except Peg and Hector who were to stay at the house, and the time came for old Lord Patrick Carter to bid his bride goodnight.

The little old man smiled at her and said, “This has been the most wonderful evening of my life! I trust you were not unhappy?”

She told him sincerely, “Not at all! It was a truly delightful experience.”

“And I have decided you shall not be lonely tonight or indeed on any night,” Lord Carter said with a twinkle in his pale, gray eyes.

“No?” she said, wondering with a start of fear if he were about to abandon his promise to be her husband in name only.

“No,” the old man chuckled. And with that he made a signal and the master of hounds came forward with a spotted coach dog pup, who looked up at her happily with large yellow eyes and wagged his tail. “This is Rover. He enjoys nothing more than sleeping on a bed. He is friendly, clean and in time will become a good protector. He is my gift to you on this wedding night!”

She laughed in delight — and relief. “How generous of you! Will you not miss him?”

“Hardly,” Lord Carter said. “I have a half-dozen others in my bedchamber every night.”

She knelt down and patted the soft head of Rover fondly and said, “Then I shall be pleased to accept your gift!”

Rover became her constant companion by day and night. The Waddingtons stayed on for a few days and then had to return to their duties at the theatre. They left only after promising to return whenever they could spare some time away from their acting.

Thus began a new period in Mary’s life. She found it hard to adjust to being the mistress of a great house and “Milady” to the servants and her husband’s friends. The running of the household took a great deal of her time and occasionally Lord Carter had small dinner parties for some of his wealthy and titled neighbors.

At one of these dinner parties in early December Mary heard several interesting pieces of gossip at the table. A dowager named Lady Sylvia Field informed her, “Beau Brummell has left England. You might say the Prince Regent has banished him.”

“And they were such friends!” Mary marvelled.

The stern-faced Lady Field frowned, “No longer. And I understand that Brummell is badly off financially. He has no money and left a lot of debts behind him!”

“Tragic!” she said.

“I expected it,” the old woman said. “And did you know we have a new Lord Blake? Old Sir John had an apoplectic fit and died three weeks ago. His son, Edward, who was invalided home from the army in India, has succeeded to the title.”

“Oh? So it is Sir Edward Blake now,” she said thoughtfully.

“Yes,” Lady Field sighed. “He’s rather handsome but a scoundrel, at least where women are concerned.”

“Has he married yet?”

“No. I doubt that he will. He is too fond of other men’s wives!”

Mary pretended casual interest, trusting that the soft candlelight of the table would hide any betraying expression she might have shown. She asked, “What about his brother?”

“Howard?”

“Yes,” she said.

Lady Field looked surprised. “Haven’t you heard? He is soon to be married.”

“Really?” She could not help the hollow sound of her comment. “To whom?”

“A Nell Thomson,” Lady Field said. “The daughter of a wealthy importer. A pretty child but bad-tempered and spoiled so they say! And more than a little … odd, for want of a better word.”

“Howard is so pleasant. I trust he will find happiness with her,” Mary said.

“I hope so,” the old woman agreed. “Though I’d be bound to say the chances are likely all against it!”

From the other end of the table Lord Patrick Carter caught her eye and gave her an affectionate smile down the long table line with guests. She smiled at him in return. She had grown tremendously fond of the kindly old man who had not only made her a lady in title, but had taught her how to behave like one. From him she learned fine points of conduct that not even the Waddingtons had been able to offer her.