Beloved Scoundrel (3 page)

“Back to London!” she said with dismay.

“At least I know I can find work there where I’m known,” he told her.

“But I can’t go back!” she protested. “It would start the talk all over again.”

“It seems we’ll have to risk that,” her husband said. “You needn’t return to the stage. You can live quietly without anyone knowing you’ve returned.”

“No!” she protested. “Let us find work here. There must be other opportunities.”

“Remember,” he said, “this country is in the process of recovering from a recession. There is bound to be a shortage of jobs.”

“We must not give up,” Fanny said with determination. “We must find something.”

“How?” her husband asked.

“By using the same methods as we would in London,” she told him. “Use our contacts.”

“That is the whole point,” David argued. “We have no contacts here!”

“Wrong!” she said. “We have two friends in the profession who have offered us an introduction to a reputable manager, P.T. Barnum.”

David showed surprise. “You’re right! I’d forgotten! When shall we visit them?”

“They’ll be working this evening,” she said. “That might be the best time to visit them. It is likely Mr. Barnum will be at his museum then.”

So they strolled back to the boarding house paying no attention to the many pedestrians and heavy vehicular traffic. At last they reached the boarding house to find that the fat Mrs. Sherman and her husband had already left for the museum. Fanny and David had dinner and continued making plans for approaching Mr. Barnum.

The museum building was of stone with some ornamental design. They had passed the Theatre Comique in which a team named Harrigan and Hart were playing in a vehicle called, “Mulligan’s Silver Wedding.” Now they reached the American Museum with the name
Barnum
’s prominently above the entrance. Below was a sign:
Headquarters
. At the top of the building there were three flags flying and the name
Barnum
’s again prominently displayed along with paintings of great whales and other freaks.

David studied the big colored canvas at the roof of the building and said, “Flamboyant!”

Fanny pressed his arm. “Don’t condemn him for that! You know it is needed in show business.”

“I’m not a freak!” David said, almost angrily. “I’m a dramatic actor who has proven his worth.”

“Of course you are!”

He at once relented and apologized, “My dearest Fanny, I meant no offense. You have reached the same eminence as myself in London. So it is of no importance that you began in a freak show. But here in New York we are without friends or reputation!”

“We will change that,” she said stalwartly. “Let us go in to the show.”

David and she joined the line and paid their entrance fee. Soon they were in the great hall with its many wonders. Because of their state of mind they ignored the huge, stuffed whale, and other interesting freaks to hurry to the stand where the fat woman, Little Emmie, was finishing her spiel to about a dozen gawking men and women. She had postcards with drawings of herself which she peddled to them. Several bought a card and then they all moved on.

It was Fanny’s chance to approach the platform and address the fat woman, “Mrs. Sherman, do you remember our talk this afternoon?”

The fat woman was putting some coins in her purse and she closed the purse and stared at her for a moment then she burst into one of her amiable smiles. “Of course! You’re’ the two from England!”

“Yes,” David said sadly. “All the way from England! And for nothing, I fear!”

The fat lady leaned forward. “For nothing?”

“We have been led astray by a bankrupt manager,” Fanny told the woman and went on to quickly explain the details.

Little Emmie was all sympathy. She made clucking sounds and gasped alternately. Then she held out her pudgy hands to ask, “What will you do?”

“I don’t know,” Fanny said with a wan smile. “Maybe Mr. Barnum will hire me as a mermaid.”

“We must do better than that for you,” the fat woman said. Then she pointed, “Here comes Mr. Sherman! He will know what to do.”

The thin man came up to them in a state of anger. He didn’t even look at them but told his wife, “I have just been most royally insulted. Some lad told me I didn’t swallow the sword at all. That it was collapsible! After all the time I’ve taken to stretch my throat! I let him have it, I tell you. And when he felt the point of that weapon he knew it was genuine!”

“Ernest!” the fat woman moaned. “You haven’t been fighting with the customers again. You mustn’t mind what they say. We aren’t supposed to hear it! They call me the most dreadful names like Mother Mutton and Fat Fanny! I just pay no attention to them!”

The thin man sighed. “I suppose you are right, my dear.”

“You haven’t even noticed our friends,” she reproached him.

He now turned to David and Fanny and gazed at them rather blankly, “Friends?” he said.

“Table acquaintances would be more accurate,” David spoke up quickly. “We met at lunch at Mrs. Larkins.”

“Of course!” The tall, thin man said offering David a bony hand. “You must forgive me. I’m a little upset.”

“We understand,” Fanny said. “It so happens we are also upset. We can sympathize with you.”

Then Little Emmie told her husband what had happened and the thin man was equally sympathetic in his reaction to the bad news.

He frowned, “Managers like that should be jailed. The great trouble is that it is always impossible to catch up with them.”

David nodded. “Desmond Dempsey vanished in the night and left a host of creditors behind. His last play was aptly named, ‘The Road to Ruin.’ And I fear he has brought us to the same end.”

Ernest Sherman said. “You mustn’t let it discourage you. New York is full of managers.”

“None of them know us,” Fanny pointed out.

“One soon will,” the thin man assured her.

“I’m taking you to see Mr. Barnum in his office.”

“He’s here now?” David asked eagerly.

“Yes,” the thin man said. “I talked to him a little while ago. No use putting things off. Let us advance on his office at once.”

Little Emmie told her husband, “And don’t you go complaining to him, Ernest.”

“I know how to handle these matters,” the rake-like Ernest said with dignity.

They walked the length of the great hall, passing the many attractions with the small knots of people gathered before each one. Barkers stood beside the freaks on the various platforms and pointed out the unusual and world-shattering strangeness of their offerings. There was no doubt that P.T. Barnum had a hit on a money making formula.

Fanny’s heart was pounding as they approached the door to the office in the rear of P.T. Barnum marked on it clearly. Ernest Sherman gave them both a reassuring look and then knocked lightly on the door. Answering a summons to enter he went in, and beckoned them to follow him.

The room reeked of cigar smoke, the air was blue with it. Seated behind a flat-topped desk littered with posters and other papers was a big man with a cigar in his mouth. He had a stern, purplish face and his hair was thinning. His eyes were the chief attraction as far as Fanny was concerned. She could not recall ever seeing shrewder-looking eyes.

“What’s the trouble, Sherman?” the big man rasped. “Have you choked on your sword? Or has Little Emmie collapsed her chair again?” And he laughed at his own comments.

Ernest Sherman joined weakly in the laughter and said, “You will have your jokes, Mr. Barnum. Fact is I’ve come to introduce Mr. David Cornish and his wife, Fanny. They’ve come all the way here from London only to be tricked by a bankrupt manager and left without work.”

P.T. Barnum puffed on his cigar and studied them. “Glad to know you, folks,” he said. “You should have known better.”

Fanny tried to ease her own nerves by gazing at David. Her handsome husband was deathly pale. Quietly, he said, “I know it was stupid of me. But I thought Dempsey was a reliable manager and not a rogue.”

“Ha!” Barnum said. “In this business we find those who are responsible one day and rogues the next. I think some people think that of me.”

“Never, Mr. Barnum,” Fanny spoke up. “I think are a genius. And I have great respect for what you’ve done. I once worked in a London freak show. For a Mr. Gilbert Tingley.”

“Gilbert Tingley!” Barnum said, for the first time showing some friendly interest in them. I met him when I was in London. A good fellow though of limited talents!”

Chapter 2

“Gilbert Tingley was one of the kindest men I’ve ever known,” Fanny said warmly. “He was good to all his people. I was a mermaid in his museum.”

P.T. Barnum chuckled. “Can’t offer you anything in that line here,” he said. “We exhausted the novelty of that one years ago. But maybe I can offer you something better.”

David at once showed interest. “We are open to almost any sort of engagement, Mr. Barnum. Though I must tell you that we were names in the London theatre.”

The stout showman puffed on his big cigar and nodded approvingly. “That’s the right tack, young man. Never be afraid to blow your own horn. Let people know your worth!”

Ernest Sherman looked pleased and told the famous Barnum, “If you will excuse me, sir. It’s time I was back at my platform! Fire eating scheduled in a few minutes. And thank you, sir!”

P.T. Barnum waved him on his way. “Off to your platform, my man. We must not keep our patrons waiting for the wonders!” And he laughed heartily again. Then he gave his attention to Fanny and David, saying, “You have arrived at an opportune moment. I am about to open a dramatic company in Philadelphia. If all goes well it will play the entire season, as long as business lasts in any event.”

“We’d be happy to join your company,” David said eagerly.

Fanny spoke up, “If you have no others engaged I’m sure we could take on the leading roles. We’ve had much experience.”

The big man behind the desk regarded her with pleased interest. “I like your ambition,” he said. “The fact is I have engaged a leading man by name of Peter Cortez. He has been a sensation in his home areas of California and I propose to launch him here. You could be leading lady to him.”

David looked unhappy but he managed, “She is a fine actress, sir. You’d never regret the move!”

Before Barnum could answer Fanny said firmly, “I’m sorry. I have no doubt your Peter Cortez has been popular in a remote section of America. But my husband and I have played leading roles in the greatest theatrical center in the world, London! I fear you must hire us as a team or not at all.”

Barnum frowned. “You’re saying you won’t take the job unless I make your husband your leading man?”

“That is exactly it,” Fanny said and she gave David a small smile, to encourage him.

David was having a mighty battle within himself and showed it in his troubled manner as he asked her, “Are you sure about this, Fanny?”

“Yes,” Fanny said.

Barnum’s frown vanished and he chuckled again. “You’ve got spunk, girl. And I like that in a female! And you’re probably right. I can make more advertising the company with two of London’s leading actors heading it then I could with Cortez. I can use him anyway. But you two shall be my leads. That is, if we can come to suitable financial terms.”

David spoke up hastily as if to prevent her making any more firm statements and said, “There’ll be no arguments about money, sir. We’ll depend on you to be fair.”

Barnum arched an eyebrow and asked her, “Do you feel the same way?”

“Yes,” she said with a small smile. “I have every confidence in you, Mr. Barnum.”

“Very well,” the big man said. “I’ll have contracts drawn up for you to sign in the morning. Rehearsals begin here tomorrow. You leave for Philadelphia in two weeks.”

So it was settled. Their first job in America and for one of the country’s most famous impresarios. They left the smoke-filled office in a dazed state of happiness. They were not able to tell the good news to the thin man Ernest Sherman as he was busy swallowing his swords as they passed his platform. But they did stop and confide their good fortune to Little Emmie and she was delighted.

They made their way back through the gaslit streets to Mrs. Larkins’ boarding house which now seemed a pleasant haven in a friendly world. So much had changed since the dismal news about Desmond Dempsey. Now they were about to begin rehearsals of a company which they would head. And though they were going to play in Philadelphia it might not be too long before P.T. Barnum found them a New York engagement.

David made love to her tenderly that night. And after, as they lay side by side, he told her, “I was proud of you-the way you handled Mr. Barnum. I don’t think I could have done as well.”

She laughed softly. “l had to be strong for us! And I learned some of my stubborn pride in my work from you and from my father.”

“Bless his memory,” David Cornish said. “And bless you.”

The noises in the boarding house and in the streets outside ended. All was silent in the blue darkness of their small bedroom. David fell asleep almost at once following their lovemaking. But Fanny lay awake staring up into the shadows and feeling a puzzling sort of melancholy. She could not understand it. She knew she should be ecstatically happy with this man she cared so much for at her side and the future looking bright.

But the feeling of melancholy persisted. It was almost a chill thing. As if something or someone were trying to warn her that there was peril and heartbreak ahead. She tried to shake off the mood and tell herself this was nonsense on her part. She wondered if it was because the man she had so truly loved was still in England, ready to marry another. But when she’d accepted David’s offer of marriage and left London she had put all thoughts of George Palmer behind her. And she had kept to this decision.

She decided she felt melancholy because of being in a strange country and not having any of her good friends near her to consult with as she would in London. She reproached herself for not being thankful for their good fortune and vowed not to allow herself to be depressed. But it was not as easy as that. She still felt some concern.

At last she slept. And in the morning they were both up early and full of plans. They had breakfast and left for the American Museum to sign their new contracts and begin the rehearsals for Philadelphia. Neither Little Emmie or her husband had appeared for breakfast and Mrs. Larkins cheerfully supplied the information that the two were late risers.

P.T. Barnum was in his office when they arrived and so was his lawyer. The contract was simple and generous in its terms. Both David and Fanny signed it and then Barnum himself escorted them to another section of the big building. He opened the door on a large room where a dozen or so players of mixed ages and about evenly divided as to sex were standing or sitting about.

Barnum took his cigar from his mouth and announced, “This is David Cornish and the lady is, Fanny Cornish, his wife. They were stars in London and they will head the company. Mr. Cortez will play second leads and Miss Ray will be the ingenue. I’ll leave the rehearsal in the hands of Mr. Cornish!”

Having made his announcement the big man marched out. He did not wait to hear the reactions of the other members of the company. There was much murmuring and grave looks passed between some of them.

Then a pert, diminutive blonde girl wearing a plumed bonnet and a low cut yellow dress came sidling up to them and said, “I’m Nancy Ray. I was to be leading lady before Mr. Barnum hired you two.”

Fanny said, “I’m truly sorry. My husband and I prefer to work as a team.”

“Quite understandable,” the pretty blonde said with a twinkle in her blue eyes. “I wouldn’t let any other female near my husband if he were as handsome as yours.”

David Cornish looked amused. “I appreciate the compliment, Miss Ray. But I warn you I’m an old professional and my head is not easily turned by such remarks.”

The tiny blonde smiled knowingly at him. “You won’t find me difficult, Mr. Cornish. But I’m not sure you’ll discover Peter Cortez so easy to deal with. He is expecting to be the leading man and he will not be pleased with what has happened.”

“Is Mr. Cortez present?” David asked, looking around.

And he was answered by a lean, elderly man who told him, “Cortez is known for turning up late at rehearsals. And he now and then doesn’t show up at all.”

David listened politely. Then he said, “I will have to go into that matter with Mr. Cortez personally.”

“l hope to be here to see you do it,” the tiny blonde Nancy Ray said with grim relish.

David turned from her and asked one of the other players, “What play are you rehearsing for opening?”

“We’re to open with ‘Taming of the Shrew,’ and follow with ‘The Country Wife,’ “ was the answer of the thin, old man.

“I know them both and so does my wife,” David said with crisp professionalism. “You all know the roles in which you have been cast. Miss Ray will play the sister while my wife does Kate. The young lady previously doing the sister can be standby.”

Fanny watched her husband with pride. He had always been an excellent actor. And he had grown in experience as a director. She was sure he would produce a company of which they could be proud. And more importantly, one which would please P.T. Barnum.

From the moment David called out, “Places!” the rehearsal of the lively Shakespearian comedy went along reasonably well. Both she and David knew all the lines for their parts and so did many of the other actors. Only a few read from sides not yet memorized. Every so often David halted the rehearsal to change some bit of stage action or to correct the reading of an actor’s line. She watched the faces of the other players and as the rehearsal went on and David showed his ability as an actor she could sense respect from their new associates.

When they finished the first act David told the others in a friendly way, “I like your work. I’m sure we’ll wind up with a good performance.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cornish,” the elderly, lean actor said, extending a hand to David. “My name is Lester Loft. I have played with some of the finest Shakespearean actors and I’ve seen no Petruchio I’ve enjoyed more than yours. Nor any Kate to rival that of your wife.”

There was applause from some of the other players and murmurs of approval. It seemed to Fanny that their victory was to be too easy. Then a door opened and a tall, handsome man with silky, golden hair and a face of delicate perfection strode in. The newcomer was dressed in a fashionable black jacket and gray-striped trousers. He carried a silver-topped walking stick of black ebony and after he came into the room he stood with his gray tophat still on and leaning on his cane gazed at David with an expression of rage.

“You are David Cornish!” the newcomer said. And as he spoke it was evident that his words were slurred and he swayed just a trifle as he leaned on his cane.

“I am,” David said politely, moving to greet him. The room became hushed as the players watched this developing drama with awe.

“You’re the limey who’s taken my job!” the handsome golden-haired man said tipsily.

“No one has taken your job,” David said, his face flushed but his voice restrained. “You are to be second man in the company. That is Mr. Barnum’s decision.”

“A plague to Barnum,” Peter Cortez said drunkenly. “And a plague to you, sir.”

David looked on the edge of losing his temper and Fanny knew what that could mean. She had seen her stalwart husband battle with some thugs in London and had marvelled at his strength and dexterity. It was evident that the handsome Peter Cortez was underestimating his opponent.

She broke the tension by moving forward to the drunken man and saying, “I’m Fanny Cornish, Mr. Cortez. You must blame me solely for what has happened. I refused to be leading lady to you and insisted that my husband take your place.”

“Did you?” the young man said, a bit taken back by her quiet direct approach. Then he added, “That is rather turning the tables for in most cases it is I who take the place of the husband!”

“And in bed as well!” the pert Nancy Ray called out from the back.

This unexpected sally brought forth a burst of raucous laughter from the company, young and old. Even Peter Cortez sheepishly joined in the burst of amusement. Fanny felt a sense of relief, hoping the tension had been broken.

David Cornish told the drunken Cortez, “We are about to end the morning rehearsal. You may as well wait until the afternoon to join us.”

“Before then I’ll be having a talk with Phineas T. Barnum,” the young man said in a manner which indicated he meant to cause trouble if possible.

David bowed. “As you wish.”

Peter Cortez turned to her and with a thin smile said, “I’ll look forward to knowing you better. I have great luck with other men’s wives.” He bowed to her drunkenly and went on out.

David let no time pass but turned to the company and again crisply ordered places. And the rehearsal continued. They went on for another hour and Peter Cortez did not return. David then gave the company an hour for lunch.

It was little Nancy Ray who guided David and Fanny to a tiny basement eating place under a building adjoining the theatre. The tiny underground room had a half-dozen tables seating four each. There was a stove in the corner and the stout woman who owned the place labored over stove and counter in full view of the patrons.

They had barely seated themselves at the plain table when the others were all taken. A few waited in the entrance way to get the first open table. The fare was simple, soup and bread, cheese and apple dumpling with tea.

David said, “It reminds me of some of the small pubs at home.”

“Caters mostly to theatricals,” the pert, blonde Nancy said. “It’s cheap and the food is good.”

“Thank you for introducing, us to it,” Fanny said.