Vintage Love (173 page)

“George’s character will stand in his favor.” Fanny paused. “Unless his affair with me is dragged into it.”

“A man may have a mistress and still be incapable of murder,” Hilda said.

“That is surely so,” Fanny said, “but any black mark against George at this time will hurt him.”

The old actress suggested, “Could it have been someone else in the house who poisoned her?”

She frowned. “I suppose so. Though I can’t imagine who, and I’m inclined to go along with the suicide theory.”

“An abused servant?” Hilda said.

“I know little about the household,” Fanny admitted. “Or how many servants were employed. I would expect quite a few.”

“Or another member of the family; this Dora Carson, who brought you the bad news. Could she not be the culprit?”

Fanny shook her head. “Never! Dora is an even more unlikely suspect than poor George. I think we must consider it a suicide.”

“You must not try to see the Marquis again,” Hilda warned her. “It will be a temptation but you must fight it.”

“I will,” she promised. “And I pray that George will also behave with reason. He must not be seen coming here.”

“There should be no need of that so long as his cousin acts as his messenger,” the old actress said.

Fanny put aside her empty teacup and lay back against the pillows. She worried, “There’s one person involved who frightens me. The Reverend Kenneth! If he should decide to talk there is no telling what harm he may do!”

She was to live with these worries for some time. The following morning the newspapers carried the story of the mysterious death of the wife of a member of the House of Lords in headlines. It became the latest scandal on the lips of Londoners of every class. At the theatre the next night there was much discussion of the scandalous affair backstage. Fanny tried to avoid being dragged into the talk but she could not help overhearing some of it. And she was appalled at the number who nodded their heads wisely and decided George had killed his wife.

They were doing a new play, “The Lost Island,” about a group of people shipwrecked on an island in the Pacific. The play was filled with action, with Sir Alan playing the courageous captain and Fanny a noble lady among the passengers stranded on the island. Much special scenery was used, including scenes of the shipwreck and the island. Backstage was crowded with the special effects and the large crew needed to provide them.

Fanny was standing in the shadowed wings backstage ready to make her entrance when she heard a commotion from the rear of the backstage area and then the dread shout of, “Fire!”

The cry rang out above the words of the actors onstage and they halted in consternation. At the same instant there was the strong smell of smoke. Fanny hurried to the rear of the stage setting and saw clouds of smoke and flames rising from a distant corner where extra scenery was stored. Stagehands were desperately trying to battle the fire, seemingly without success.

She ran to the wings again in time to see Sir Alan Tredale, who was onstage, advance to the gas footlights and calmly announce to the large audience, “We have a small fire backstage, ladies and gentlemen. I ask that you retire slowly and in good order from the theatre until the danger is over, at which time you may re-enter and we shall resume the performance.”

The audience reacted speedily and in a panic rather than in good order. The frightened voices of men and women rose in a clamor as they scrambled, fought, and shoved their way to the nearest exits. It was a scene to strike terror in the soundest heart.

Above the din Sir Alan called out vainly for order as smoke swirled around him on the stage. The other actors made coughing exits while he knelt down and begged the orchestra to remain in place and strike up some lively tune to calm the audience. Fanny saw the stricken face of the orchestra leader as he hesitated over the request, and then saw him give way to his fear completely, throw down his baton, and join the maddened patrons in racing for the outside and safety. Needless to say the other musicians followed him, the violinists and horn-players clutching their instruments under their arms.

Sir Alan came stumbling out to where she was standing and glimpsing her, cried, “Come along, my girl! If we remain here we’ll be burned to death or suffocated!”

She allowed him to guide her to the stage door and out into the wide alley where other members of the cast stood huddled together in despair. At the same time the black autumn night was lit up with the flames shooting up through the roof of the backstage area of the theatre.

“The People’s is doomed,” Sir Alan said grimly. And he turned to those who had escaped with them and asked, “Are all the company and crew out?”

Silas Hodder staggered over to them, his head cut and bleeding. He said, “All out and accounted for, sir!”

“I fear those in the audience will not fare so well,” Sir Alan said grimly. “They are in full panic and trampling on each other!”

Silas Hodder said, “It was arson, sir. A masked man came running in and struck me down. I was stunned for a moment! By the time I came round he had set the fire and made his escape!”

“No doubt one of Tobias Wall’s thugs,” the actor said angrily. “I did not think the opposition would sink to such a despicable thing as this!”

Fanny heard the sounds of fire engines clanging and tugged at the distinguished actor’s arm. “It will not be practical or safe for us to remain here! The fire fighters are arriving and they will need to work from here. There is also the danger of the building collapsing!”

“Quite so!” Sir Alan said and he called out to the grim, frightened actors and crewmen to move out of the alley and away from the danger. Then he led the way with Fanny at his side. The melancholy group straggled along, knowing their jobs and many of their material possessions were being destroyed by the flames.

When they reached the street and mingled with the maddened patrons, it became evident this was no minor calamity. People were still jammed in the exits and the screams of those trapped inside could be heard. Many had already been trampled to death underfoot or suffocated in the panic-stricken flight from the burning theatre.

The fire engines with their teams of strong horses pulled up. The bright red and brass trucks and the firemen in their red uniforms and brass helmets added to the color and clamor of the scene.

Fanny watched as they went about battling the fire with an orderly precision born of experience. These stalwart fellows in their shining helmets and red jackets had the trucks drawn close around the burning building, the pumpers working and the hoses streaming water to stem the flames within minutes of their arrival.

They also helped to clear the jammed exits and carry out those who had collapsed or had died. Despite their valiant efforts the flames continued to spread until the entire huge wooden structure was ablaze. Doctors had been summoned and surgeries set up in near-by pubs and shops. Dazed survivors of the blaze stood staring blankly at the flaming building or went about frantically crying out the names of relatives or companions who had been in their company and were now lost.

A fireman in high rubber boots, his clothing black with soot and smoke, his face as dark as that of any Ethiopian went over to shere the company had gathered and warned them to move further up the street.

“The walls will burst! Get away while you’ve time!” he cried, moving down the line of spectators with his warning.

They took heed of his words and saw that the fire trucks and engines were being moved. The horses pawed the cobblestones and neighed in terror as they waited to be led from the danger area. Ladders were retrieved and some left behind as frantic warnings circulated among the firefighters. These last brave ones to move from near the doomed structure barely escaped before the front wall bulged out with a puff of smoke and flame and rained rubble on the street.

Sir Alan’s noble face was highlighted by the reflection of the fire as he sadly watched his theatre collapse in a flaming ruin. His arm around Fanny and in a tight-lipped voice, he said, “It is the finish for me! I shall retire! After what has happened here tonight I never wish to step on a stage again!”

“You will feel differently later,” she comforted him. “You will find another theatre, begin once more.”

“Too late,” Sir Alan said sadly. “I have been thinking about retirement to a quiet cottage somewhere in the country. Now I know the time has come.”

She did not attempt to argue with him. After a while the crowd began to disperse. Police had arrived to take charge. Already thieves and pickpockets had joined the crowd to make a miserable profit on the tragedy.

Silas Hodder found a carriage to take Fanny and Hilda to their apartment. The old woman was in a state of shock and near collapse. Silas Hodder decided he should come along with them to help Hilda up the stairs.

By the time they made the short journey the old actress had recovered herself sufficiently to require hardly any help, but they both invited Silas up for a brandy. The stage door man did not refuse.

He sat in a high-backed chair, gaunt and shattered, as Fanny tended to his cut head and tied a bandage neatly around it. She asked him, “This arsonist. Did you get a good look at him?”

Silas shook his head. “He was masked, just as I told Sir Alan! But I do know one thing. He wasn’t a big man, he was of no more than medium size!”

“So you do recall something,” she encouraged him. “If you keep trying you may remember more details.”

“What he was wearing?” Hilda Asquith suggested.

The gaunt-faced man frowned. “He struck me with a club of some sort. I only had a quick flash of him! But I think he was wearing dark clothing!”

“Likely,” Fanny mused. “He would be least noticed if he wore dark things. If Tobias Wall was behind what happened tonight he has more than one death on his conscience!”

“I’ll warrant that,” Silas Hodder agreed. “The last count the firemen and police made were over thirty dead and three times that many injured.”

Hilda Asquith said, “I’m only thankful all the company escaped. But now they have no work.”

Fanny reminded her, “It does not matter for us. You and I have an invitation to join the new company David Cornish is forming.”

The old woman brightened. “I was thinking it might be the workhouse for me! But if David wants me I’m willing to join him as long as my old body allows it.”

“I, too, am cast into the depths again,” Silas Hodder said lugubriously. “No doubt I shall soon be back to begging and sleeping in cemetery crypts once more.”

Fanny put an arm around him fondly. “I think not! When I have told David Cornish what a fine stage door man you are I’m sure he’ll be begging you to work for him!”

Fanny slept little that night. The next morning she and Hilda sat long over breakfast talking about the fire and their future. For a short while she forgot all about George and his plight. Then it came back to her. It seemed that misfortunes arrived in parcels.

Their first visitor of the day came at noon. It was David Cornish and he brought copies of all the London morning newspapers with him. The young actor was warmly sympathetic.

He hugged Fanny and then old Hilda, saying, “You might have died in that fire last night!”

“I’d be no great loss,” old Hilda smiled mirthlessly. “A noisy old bag of bones. But it would have been different if Fanny had gone, with all her future before her!”

Rather morosely, Fanny said, “I wonder if my future will be worth having?”

“Of course it will!” David said. “Dreadful as last night was you must not let it allow you to lose your zest for life. We theatre people, above all others, need that.”

She said, “Sometimes it is hard to cling to. Sir Alan has decided to retire. He told me last night he will not attempt to start over.”

“Then the theatre has lost a fine and gallant old actor,” David said with sincerity. “He will be missed. But it does solve one problem. You no longer need hesitate in joining me.”

Fanny smiled ruefully. “That is true. Hilda and I will be glad to accept your offer. And there is the stage door man whom I can recommend. He has been a good friend to me. I’d appreciate your finding a place for him.”

“I shall have need of a stage door man,” David said. “If he is a friend of yours, send him along. In fact, I’d like the names and addresses of all the company. Sir Alan surrounded himself with good actors. I’d consider it a privilege to hire as many of them as I can use.”

Hilda Asquith said, “I’m sure Silas Hodder can supply you with a list. If not, you can go directly to Sir Alan for it. I’m certain he’d be glad to help.”

Fanny was studying the headlines. She said, “Thirty-seven killed and nearly a hundred injured! What a terrible thing!”

David nodded. “According to the
Times
it is suspected that a thug hired by a rival theatre manager started the fire. Do you think that possible? Can their be such villainy and rivalry among theatre managements in this city?”

“Yes,” she said. “You must keep that in mind when you start your company. Some of the cheap theatres south of the Thames are solid against the new and better companies who are taking away their business. Yet I did not think even they would do such a dastardly deed as was committed last night.”

David said, “I shall maintain extra guards at my theatre. A tragedy like this must not be allowed to happen again. I would expect it to go hard with the criminal if he is found.”

“The chances are he won’t be,” Fanny said with a sigh. “There are so many evil men in London willing to take on any criminal task for the right payment.”

David gave her a knowing look. “I’m sure of that, just as I’m sure that the evil in London is not confined to the lower classes. Have you read of the mysterious death of Marquis George Palmer’s wife?”

Fanny was taken by surprise at his sudden reference to this matter. She tried to maintain a calm facade, calling on all her skill as an actress. She said, “I read about the case but I gave it scant attention.”

David, who happily seemed to be ignorant of her having had any relationship with the Palmer family, or who had forgotten if she’d mentioned it, said, “I’ve read the accounts carefully and I think it’s plain this fellow has poisoned his wife. I’d be willing to bet he’ll be arrested for the crime.”