Vintage Love (192 page)

Holding her hand a moment too long, he said, “You seem very familiar to me. Perhaps because I’ve seen you so often in the theatre.”

“No doubt that is it,” she replied, not looking up at him directly. Her heart was pounding.

As Grant brought her a glass of claret punch, he said, “You seemed unlike yourself when we arrived. I’ve never known you to be so nervous.”

“It was nothing,” she said. “I worked hard in the play tonight. I think I’m weary. Some audiences are more demanding than others.”

“So I’ve been told,” Grant agreed.

They moved about the great house in which she had served as a maid. Once she caught a glimpse of old Mrs. Higgins supervising the servers. But the housekeeper was much too busy to see her.

A voice behind her said, “May” in an urgent tone.

She turned, startled, and saw Howard gazing at her with mild despair in the middle of the crowded room. She said, “Yes.”

“I didn’t get a chance to speak to you when you came in,” her former suitor said.

She said, “You look very tired.”

He frowned. “It’s strain! Nell and I had a rotten row this evening. She’s still in a bad mood.”

Mary did not know what to say, so she settled for, “Her gown becomes her. She looked well at your side.”

“I wish she might be anywhere else,” Howard said bitterly. “We’ve been to see you at the theatre many times lately. But she has never allowed me to take her backstage to meet you!”

“I’m sorry,” she said politely. “You are always welcome to come and see me after a performance. You know the way.”

“I do,” Howard said. “And I will find my way there myself one of these nights, I promise you!”

At that moment a new crush of people arrived and Howard was surrounded by other guests. She was not sorry for the interruption and had Grant Curtis escort her back to the supper room. He went to get more punch and she stood momentarily alone and uneasy amid the chattering crowd.

Then, to her consternation, she saw Nell Blake come striding towards her purposefully. The dark girl with the pointed nose came close to her and in a low voice said, “You are here tonight only because of my husband’s insistence. I did not want you!”

Her long acting experience allowed Mary to accept this with some poise. She smiled sweetly. “How kind of you to tell me!”

“Don’t try your acting tricks on me!” Nell Blake said angrily, her voice still low. “I know you and Howard are having an affair. He has dragged me to the theatre to indulge his obsession for you. But I have never given him the satisfaction of going backstage to praise his mistress!”

Mary, astounded, said, “You are badly mistaken!”

“I’ve heard about you,” Nell went on maliciously. “You and Howard were lovers long before I met him. I warn you it won’t go on! I shall expose you two before all London!” With that threat Nell flounced off wearing a fixed, false smile and waving her fan at too fast a tempo.

Mary stood there quivering with concealed rage. She clearly realized she should have taken the Waddingtons’ warnings and stayed away from Blake House. But she had not thought Nell was jealous to the point of madness! One could only feel sorry for poor Howard!

Grant came back with glasses of champagne and said, “Sorry to be so long!”

She gave him a troubled look. “Please don’t be angry, but I’d like to be taken away from here now — at once!”

Grant’s handsome face showed surprise. “Did something happen?”

“I was insulted and falsely accused of wrongdoing by our charming hostess,” she said between clenched teeth, managing to keep a social smile on her lips the while.

Grant Curtis nodded with understanding. “Of course. I’ll get your cloak at once.”

A stricken Howard met them at the door. “You really must not go so early,” he pleaded.

She gazed up at his anxious, white face and pitied him. “I’m sure the party will go on better for Nell with the absence of at least one unwanted guest. I’m sorry, Howard,” she added. “It was good of you to invite me!”

Her evening had ended in a sorry shambles. She was still in a mood of deep depression the next day. As she strolled in her garden old Madame Goubert and Rover came to join her. Rover bounded up to her and panted happily as she fondled his soft head.

Madame Goubert said, “We had a rare walk, your Ladyship. And he enjoys it.” Then, staring at her, “How pale you look!”

Mary continued fondling Rover, grateful for this one link with the good, serene days when her aged husband had been alive. She said, “I had a trying evening last night. I was out too late.”

The former strong woman said, “I don’t know how you stand them parties after the show! It’s too much for you!”

“You are right,” she agreed. “In the future I must avoid them.”

Things were not improved that night when Howard Blake presented himself at her dressing room following the show. She recieved him with a feeling of distress.

“Why did you come here?” she asked him. “You know your wife will put the worst possible construction on it!”

“I could not help it,” he said unhappily. “I had to apologize for her unforgivable behavior.”

“There’s no need,” she said. “I should have been wise enough not to attend the party.”

Howard said, “I wanted you there.”

“Nell did not!”

“I refuse to let her break our friendship,” he said. “I loved you once and wanted to marry you. I still do!”

“You mustn’t be ridiculous,” she told him. “You have a wife! A wife who is wildly jealous of me!”

“I don’t care!” he said. “We’ll part! You and I can be married. I love you, May!”

Mary shook her head. “You’re talking like a madman. In the name of all that we meant to each other, don’t ruin things now. Stop seeing me or thinking about me. Your wife will get over her fury.”

Howard Blake’s handsome face was bleak with despair. He said, “You are wrong! You don’t know what she’s like. If she isn’t ranting about you it will be somebody else! I sometimes think she’s insane. I was warned before I married her but I would not listen!”

“Then you must make the best of things now,” Mary said.

“Is that all you can say?”

“I’m deeply sorry for you, Howard,” she told him. “But there is no way for us. You must not try to see me again.”

He scowled. “She will go on accusing us!”

“But it will have no substance and that makes the difference,” she said. “She’ll tire of it after she finds it pointless.”

“I can’t agree.”

“You must at least try,” she said firmly.

Howard stared at her in blank despair. “I have never understood you, May. You would not marry me when I pleaded with you. I thought it was Jeffrey. But you proved that to be wrong by marrying poor old Carter. You turned from me though I’m sure you cared enough to be my wife. Why?”

She stood there in troubled silence. How could she tell him at this moment? Repeat the sordid story of her being a slavey in his house and seduced by his rake of a brother! She had gone through enough torment without trying to explain that.

She looked down and said softly, “Be content when I tell you there was a good reason.”

“I shall never believe it!” he retorted. And in his anger he swept her into his arms and kissed her so cruelly that he crushed her lips painfully. Then he roughly released her and left her dazed and near tears as he rushed out of her dressing room.

He did not return that night nor any other night. The Waddingtons assured her she had done right and the matter was at an end. She was not so sure. She remembered the malevolence of Nell on the night of the party and was inclined to agree with Howard that his wife suffered from a touch of madness.

She tried to get in touch with Jeffrey but he was still away in Scotland. The servant in charge of his house at Berkeley Square did not seem to know when Jeffrey and Noel Hastings were due to return. Mary kept busy at the theatre, thankful for the nightly work which kept her from brooding too much.

One foggy night she returned home from the theatre with the Waddingtons as usual. She was especially weary as she had gone shopping during the day. All her clothes were wearing out and she needed some things in the newer fashion. She’d had a long trial of selecting materials and then an equally trying time at her dressmaker’s. So she went to bed completely exhausted and sank into a deep sleep.

She was awakened in the night by someone shaking her roughly. She looked up in sleepy surprise to see that it was Madame Goubert in nightcap and with a shawl around her shoulders who had roused her.

The former strong woman said apologetically, “I’m sorry to wake you, ma’am. But there’s an old gentleman come to the door and he’s been hurt. He asked for you!”

Mary sat up in disbelief. “Asked for me? Are you sure?”

“I am, your ladyship,” Madame Goubert said worriedly. “I didn’t want to wake you yet I thought you should know.”

She sighed. “Did he give his name?”

“Yes. He’s a stout old man. He said his name is Noel Hastings. He’s seated in a chair in the hall and he’s bleeding badly!”

“Noel Hastings!” she exclaimed. “Of course I know him!” The name had brought her fully awake. “Give me my slippers and dressing gown!”

“Yes, your Ladyship,” the strong woman said fetching the requested items. “It is my opinion the old man should have a doctor.”

“We’ll see,” she said. “If we need help I’ll send for Doctor Dexter.”

Mary hurried downstairs with Madame Goubert following after her and carrying a lighted candle. They found Noel Hastings sprawled in a chair in the reception hall. The stout, old man’s face was pale and his eyes were closed. When he heard their approach he opened his eyes and sat up a little.

“Mary!” he gasped.

“Noel Hastings!” she said. “What has happened?”

“We returned from Scotland today,” the old man said weakly. “I stayed out late at a gaming house. I was attacked by ruffians in the street. I remembered you lived in this area and found my way here.”

“Your arm!” Mary cried, seeing that his coat sleeve was bloodstained and some blood was actually beginning to drip on the parquet floor.

“One of the villains put a bullet through it,” the old man groaned. “I’m very weak! I’ve come a long way!”

“You might have been killed!” Mary said.

“I very nearly was. They took my purse! Everything!” Noel Hastings moaned.

Madame Goubert asked, “Shall I send for the doctor, your ladyship?”

The old man raised his good arm in protest. “No!” he cried. “Don’t do that! The bullet went clear through the flesh! No bone is splintered! You can bandage me up as well as any doctor. Please do it at once!”

Mary stood there indecisively and then said, “You are probably right! You’re losing blood rapidly! Better to try to clean and bandage the wound at once! Do you think we can remove your coat?”

The old actor nodded. “Yes, yes, I think so.”

So she and Madame Goubert went about the grim task of taking care of his wound. A bowl of warm water, fresh linen and some alcohol were all they had to work with. But in the end Mary had the arm bandaged neatly and the bleeding halted.

Noel Hastings eyed her gratefully, “Thank you for your kindness to an old man. I feel better already.”

“You need a stiff drink of whiskey and a good night’s sleep,” Mary said. “If you are not better in the morning we can easily get Doctor Dexter.”

“I’m sure I won’t need him,” Noel Hastings said. He rose to his feet unsteadily. “If your servant will show me to a room and someone will clean and patch my coat I’ll be on my way in the morning!”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Mary told him. “You will remain here for a few days until you are properly able to leave.”

“Jeffrey will be concerned about me!”

“In the morning I shall send word to him,” she promised.

Madame Goubert supported the injured man to a guest room and saw that he had a flagon of whiskey at his bedside. Then they all returned to bed. But Mary did not sleep for a long while. The entire incident had an air of mystery about it. She felt there was more to be told than Noel Hastings had revealed about his injury.

She was up early in the morning, fearful that he might try to leave without talking to her. The Waddingtons were still asleep in their apartments when she went to the guest room where Noel Hastings had spent the night. As she’d suspected he was already up and dressed. He had not been able to put on his coat, so he had pulled the arms inside it and draped it over his shoulders like a cape.

Mary faced him in the room, saying, “You’re ready to leave and you weren’t going to tell me!”

The old man looked embarrassed. “I have caused you enough trouble.”

“Not at all,” she said. “You must breakfast with me. Your encounter with those thieves must be reported to the police. I shall call them after we eat.”

“No!” the former character actor said. “I must go and join Jeffrey.”

“I’ll have a servant take a message to him. Write it down and I’ll have it dispatched to him at once,” she promised.

Th old man finally lost the facade he’d maintained so well. Staring at her brokenly, he said, “You can’t send him a message.”

“Why not?” she felt her fear gathering within her, fear for Jeffrey.

“I don’t know where he is,” Noel Hastings said in a despairing tone.

In that moment all her suspicions concerning Jeffrey’s opulent way of life returned to trouble her. There was a mystery about his sudden wealth which she had never liked and which she now began to fear might lead to a shocking discovery.

She sat down opposite the old man who had sunk onto the edge of the bed and was sitting there with the makeshift cloak around him looking ill and frightened.

In the calmest tone she could manage she said, “I want you to tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” he echoed uneasily.

“Yes,” she said. “The truth about what happened last night. How you came to be wounded! And the
real
source of the money Jeffrey has been spending in such a wanton manner!”

“I do not understand,” the old man said.

Her eyes met his, hard and demanding. “I’m sure you do. If you came by that wound in your arm as you’ve insisted, why are you afraid to have me summon the police?”