Vintage Love (55 page)

Enid’s father sighed heavily. “Then this business in France is as bad or even worse than we supposed it to be.”

Armand’s eye bore a haunted look. “I will not rest while such inequities continue. Uprisings and burnings are rampant, murders less so. As long as these actions persist, I will work as an agent for the Royalists. I can do no less.”

“Do you work in disguise?” Enid asked.

Armand nodded. “Always in disguise. I wear the rough clothes of a peasant and use a compound to darken my skin even more. The danger is always there, but at least my camouflage gives me some measure of protection.”

Lord Alfred leaned forward. His face was filled with the depth of his concern. “May God keep you safe, my boy,” he said in a trembling voice.

Another happy day passed in the idyllic countryside. Armand knew he would love to see it in summer, when the grass and the leaves would be thick and green, and the flowers bright and abundant.

• • •

Later that night, when the house was silent and bright beams of moonlight cast a silver-blue magic over Enid’s room, Armand came to her. He closed the door softly behind him and moved to her bedside like a man in a dream. He dropped his dressing robe and stood naked before her. Her eyes caressed his well-formed, muscular body, and she threw back the covers to reveal her own glowing nudity.

No word was spoken between them as Armand gently lowered himself on top of her. Their bodies merged into a steadily increasing rhythm of rapture. Enid breathed words of endearment to him, hoping that their communion would go on forever. She was lost in a world where only feeling mattered, in which she had never before known such elation, such ecstasy, such release. Then their passions exploded in a final, glorious moment that left them both gasping and not quite able to fathom the bliss they had shared.

Armand touched his lips to hers and said in a low voice, “This is our last night together, my love.”

At once she began to protest. “No! How can that be?”

“It has to be. I had hoped for another day, but I must leave tomorrow.”

She held him close to her. “I cannot let you go.”

“There are to be no tears and no discussion. You must be brave in the way I have seen the noble ladies of France meet their dark destiny.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I’ll never see you again! I know it!”

“You must not think that!” he rebuked her gently. “You must be hopeful, and so will I. One day it will be my great happiness to return here to your Surrey.”

“You really mean that?”

“I swear it.”

“And you will be cautious? You will take no more risks than you need to? You have been so reckless in the past!”

His smile was tender. “I had no reason to be otherwise then. Now I have the promise of you.”

So the brief halcyon interlude at her parents’ country house came to an abrupt end. Armand departed in a carriage early the next morning. He displayed no great show of emotion on leaving, nor did Enid. But the simple exchange of a kiss between them served to seal the pact they had made the night before. He promised to send her word of his doings whenever he could, but he warned her that she might have to wait for long periods without any message from him.

• • •

Life was dull gray for her afterward. She tried to interest herself in the affairs of the estate, and she enjoyed being with her father and mother, but always her thoughts were of Armand in that dangerous country across the Channel.

As the weeks lengthened into months, she had warm notes from both Susie and Gustav. John Philip Kemble wrote her several long letters, begging her to return to London and resume her friendship with him. He promised not to press her to marry him and said he would agree to whatever terms she wanted to establish for a relationship between them.

Enid was determined not to sleep with the actor any more. She had become his mistress when she had assumed she would never see Armand again. But Armand had returned and they had resumed their lovemaking. Now she felt more bound to the French nobleman than ever, and she refused to sully her love for him by continuing what had really been a casual affair with Kemble.

At the same time, she missed the friendship of that sober-minded man. He had been both a good adviser and an interesting companion. She wondered if they could forge a new relationship, one without any sexual bonds. Judging from the tone of his letters, she thought it might be possible, and she began to consider the idea of returning to London and the excitement it offered.

One of the things that held her back was the fact that her efforts to free herself from Andrew were not progressing very well. It was now nearly five months since the grim night that she had left him. Her father’s lawyers had tried to work out some sort of arrangement with Andrew, but to no avail. He was viciously avoiding taking any step that would give her the freedom she so desired from her year-old marriage.

• • •

One day in late August, Enid received her first word from Armand. He was well but very tired from his efforts. He mentioned some incidents that he had referred to in an earlier letter, one that she had obviously never received, and went on to tell her that France was in an uproar, but he hoped to be able to see her again before too long.

• • •

On a rainy afternoon in October, when Enid was seated in the drawing room reading from the sonnets of Shakespeare to her mother and father, a troubled-looking manservant made his entrance and interrupted her in the midst of her reading.

Lord Alfred leaned forward on his cane and asked irritably, “What is it, Hobbs?”

The elderly servant apologized. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but there is a person outside who demands to be brought in here.”

Enid and her father exchanged a meaningful glance. Then she inquired, “Who is it?”

The unhappy Hobbs said, “Lord Andrew Blair, your ladyship.”

“Andrew!” she cried, springing to her feet.

Lord Alfred raised himself up with the aid of his cane. “You may allow the fellow to come in.”

“Very well, my lord,” Hobbs said, and went out.

Enid’s mother rose. “Do you wish me to retire, Alfred?”

He halted her with a gesture. “No. I think it is better if you remain here.”

He had barely uttered these words when Andrew came striding in, wearing a black wool cape and blue breeches. The first thing Enid noticed was the ugly red scar on his cheek. She had indeed marked him for life. His face was florid, and he had put on more weight since she had last seen him. Excessive drinking, she guessed.

Andrew studied each of them with a sour smirk. “How fortunate! I find you all here together! A touching family study!”

Enid’s father took a step toward the younger man and demanded, “Why have you intruded on us in this manner?”

Andrew smiled nastily. “I was never an intruder when I came here to extend you credit.”

“You have been repaid with interest,” Lord Alfred said sharply.

“So I have,” Andrew returned coolly. “But I have not been treated fairly in other respects. I charge you with trying to turn my wife against me and encouraging her to leave me.”

“There is no truth in that!” Enid cried. “I left you of my own accord.”

“Knowing you had a place to come to,” Andrew snapped. “And a place where you could entertain your French lover!”

“We shall have none of that!” Lord Alfred fumed.

Lady Caroline moved toward her husband. “Do not upset yourself so, Alfred. It is not good for you, and this young man is not worthy of even your rage.”

“Thank you, Lady Henson.” Andrew bowed mockingly. “Very well said.” He turned to Enid and announced, “I have come to take you home.”

“I refuse to go!” she declared vehemently.

“You are my wife, bound to be obedient to me by the rules of our marriage. Your place is at my side, and I want you to return to London with me.”

“Not because you love me,” she said unhappily, “but because you wish to abuse me further.”

“I don’t care to discuss that,” he told her airily. “Simply pack your things!”

Her father moved between her and the irate Andrew and said in a calm, icy tone, “She will not go with you.”

“Is that your last word?” Andrew asked.

“Yes. She intends to be free of you, and there is no hope of her returning with you.”

Andrew stared at him for a moment. “I will make you a promise,” he said slowly. “I will never let her go.”

“You will have to,” Lord Alfred argued. “I’ll spend every cent of my fortune on lawyers if necessary.”

“My fortune is a good deal larger than yours,” the younger man sneered, “and I will fight any action you may bring against me until my dying day. I shall make countercharges against you as well—on the grounds that you have interfered unfairly in my marriage!”

“Go!” Enid’s father ordered, pointing to the doorway.

Andrew gave Enid a scathing look. “Remember this! Remember this day when I tried to bring us together! Now I shall fight you all the way!” He turned abruptly and strode out of the room.

Lady Caroline collapsed into the nearest chair. “Why did we ever let you marry that madman?” she sobbed.

Enid went to her mother and knelt by her side. “It will be all right,” she promised, though she did not believe what she said. Andrew was venomous in his hatred of her and would spare no effort to make her life a misery. And being bound to him by marriage vows was certainly a repulsive situation.

Her father was trembling with rage, and he used his cane to support himself. “Were I a young and healthy man, I’d have thrashed him,” he muttered.

That night Enid could not sleep. Her mind was in a turmoil. Visions of the sneering Andrew and his threats haunted her. She was also filled with fear for Armand. She had heard from him only once since he had left Surrey, and naturally she could not help but worry and wonder. Once again she thought about going back to London, where she might be closer to the events of the day.

But this was not to happen for another sixteen months, during which time Enid received two more letters from Armand as well as additional threats from Andrew. She knew she was safest in the home of her parents.

• • •

In January of 1792 a letter arrived from Susie, telling Enid of Kemble’s new production of
Hamlet,
that was using the costumes and scenic designs he had shown her so long ago. Susie said she had the role of Queen Gertrude, and dropped a wisp of gossip by mentioning that Kemble was now quite enamored of an actress who was playing Ophelia to him onstage and mistress to him at his lodgings.

Enid read her friend’s letter with pleasure and interest. It set her mind at rest on one point. During her extended absence Kemble had found a new bed partner, which meant that it would be much easier for her to resume her friendship with him since he wouldn’t be expecting any favors from her. This, along with a desire to be with her friends again, solidified her decision to return to London very soon.

Her father made no objection, but he voiced a warning. “You must not so much as attend the same social gatherings as your husband. I do not trust him within a foot of you.”

“I will be living in an entirely different world, so you need not worry,” she said.

“And where will that be?” he asked.

“My friend tells me there is a vacant flat on the floor below her husband’s studio. I can rent it and I won’t be alone there.”

Lord Alfred sighed. “I am relieved to hear that, at least. And there is no problem about money. I will make arrangements with my London bank for you to draw funds as you require them.”

Enid kissed him on the cheek. “You are much too kind to me, Father.”

“Kind?” he repeated with dismay. “Hardly. I let you marry that cad when I was in financial straits. I can never repay you for my allowing that mistake to happen.”

“It wasn’t your fault that the marriage turned out as it did.”

“It was my fault to have allowed it,” he insisted. “Now, you must promise me again that you will never meet or talk with him. My lawyers say that would work against the interests of our case, such as they are.”

“Yes, Father, I promise.”

In February, Enid set out for London. It was small wonder that she no longer felt like a naive young girl. She had gone through a great deal since her marriage to Andrew Blair nearly three years ago, more than most women did in a lifetime. She had seen the sordid side of life and its cruelties. And she had found a man she loved dearly and whom she hoped to marry one day. In the meanwhile, she would be in London, and if luck ran with her, perhaps Armand would turn up there on one of his underground missions. This was the underlying reason for her return to the city.

Susie was there to greet her on her early-morning arrival. They embraced fondly amid tears of joy. Then the petite actress took Enid down to the cozy flat one flight below the studio and showed her around her new premises.

“Gustav is out on business,” Susie said. “It is always business these days. Between my being at the theater and his being involved with the refugees, I hardly ever see him!”

“What is the latest news?” Enid asked.

“Things are much worse,” Susie replied, her pretty face shadowing. “King Louis is under attack for treason. He and the queen will probably be in prison before long.”

“It has come to that?”

“No one is safe any more. Everyone fears for his life. The revolutionists are even quarreling among themselves and beheading each other!”

“Perhaps that means the revolution will fail.”

Susie shook her head. “Gustav thinks it may go on forever.”

“Oh, no!” Enid cried in distress.

“Yes. After all, it will be three years in July!”

Then Enid asked the question she had been wanting to voice ever since she had arrived. “Is there any word at all about Armand? I heard from him only a few times, and his last letter was written in November of last year.”

“We have heard nothing, otherwise I would have let you know at once.”

Enid sighed. “I’d hoped there would be at least a glimmer of information as to his whereabouts.”