Beloved Scoundrel (7 page)

“Perhaps,” he said. “But that death will forever be on my conscience. I did not understand. I was not kind. And so I shall always be haunted.”

“You must forget,” she said.

“And so must you,” he said, as their eyes met.

Fanny looked down quickly. “My case is rather different.”

“But you must not let David’s untimely death rule your life,” he insisted. “I know why you are insisting on star billing and pushing yourself to act again before you have truly recovered. You are obsessed with perpetuating his name in the theatre.”

She glanced up at him with a twisted smile. “Even if all you say is true, and I’m not sure it is, I think I’m strong enough to otherwise build myself a new life.”

“I want you to!” he told her shortly.

By working hard she kept the pain of David’s loss at a minimum. Her opening night in
The Rivals
drew a packed house. Her role of Lydia Languish was not a taxing one: she did it well. P.T. Barnum journeyed from Boston to be on hand and there was a gala party in a local restaurant following the show.

To find herself the toast of Philadelphia and seated next to the great Phineas T. Barnum at the table was her exciting experience. The big man was most attentive to her.

“When the company finishes in Philadelphia you go to Washington,” he said. “And then I’ll book you for a season in New York.”

“Washington!” she exclaimed. “The newspapers are full of the problems there. Especially since Mr. Lincoln has been elected president.”

“Abraham Lincoln is a strong man,” Barnum said. “If the country is to go through a crisis he is one for it. The slavery issue has become all important.”

She asked, “Do you think there could be a war between the North and South?”

“Many seem to think so,” the big man said gravely. “I hope not. It would be the cruelest kind of war. I have high hopes the South may think again before they secede.”

Fanny sighed. “So much trouble in the world. As I remember it that attractive, young actor John Wilkes Booth is very much involved in the problems of the South.”

“Because he has spent much of his career there,” the master showman said. “I fear he has hurt himself through his dabbling in politics.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I think he is very talented.”

“So do many others,” P.T. Barnum agreed. “But they are afraid of him because of his hot-headedness.”

The talk at the table turned to other subjects but she later thought of her strange meeting with John Wilkes Booth in New York. He had abruptly announced his love for her and had seemingly been serious about it. She had found him exciting but as a happily married woman she had not taken any of it seriously. She wondered if he had heard of David’s death and where he might beat the moment. No doubt back in the South and even more deeply involved in politics.

Peter Cortez continued to gain stature as an actor. He requested that the company do
The Cardinal
so he might play Edwin Booth’s famous role of Richelieu. There was no truly good part in the play for her but she agreed. She wanted to keep the blond man interested in his career. He had so easily succumbed to drinking in the past she wished to take no chances with him.

Peter was delighted to play
The Cardinal
and the critics in Philadelphia wrote rave reviews of his work. It was now late in a hot summer and often the theatre was intolerably warm. Barnum had offered to cancel the season several times but they were still doing a paying business and she did not want to be idle. She did not trust herself. She still felt torment every time she thought of David. She had to keep busy.

One especially hot night Peter came to her dressing room after the performance and invited her to his suite in the nearby hotel. Because of his wealth he had accommodations in excess of herself or any others of the company.

Looking as dapper as usual in blue jacket, yellow trousers and carrying a cane, he told her, “I have arranged for iced champagne and lobster to be waiting for us. Perhaps it will allow us to forget this damned heat!”

She wanted to refuse his offer but hesitated, thinking that she might seem needlessly aloof. They were close friends and co-workers. She did not have the right to turn her back on him as she pleased. He had proven himself a good friend. But she did not want more than that between them. She valued what they had and feared if their friendship progressed to the stage where they became lovers it might spoil everything.

So against her better judgment, she smiled and said, “Your offer is tempting!”

“Then yield to temptation and come along with me,” he said. “I felt tonight would be a terror and I planned this all for you.”

“I cannot stay long,” she warned him.

“I shall see you to your small, hot hotel room as soon as you insist,” he said with a mocking smile.

“But I hope the iced champagne and lobster will encourage you to remain a little time with me. Not to mention that my suite is cooler than your room could possibly be.”

“We are all not California millionaires,” she told him.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Didn’t mean to throw my weight about. But I would like you to come.”

So she did. And he had been quite truthful in saying that his suite was more comfortable than her tiny room. Not to mention the delicious cold food and drink. They sat talking and forgetting the dreadful heat.

“I’m weary of Philadelphia,” he told her as he sat close to her in the candle-lit room. “I’m glad were going to Washington next month.”

“With all the war talk?”

“I still hope it won’t come,” Peter said. “I don’t know which side I’d favor. In any event I’d like to play in Washington before anything does happen. September should be cooler.”

She laughed. “Barnum says we’re the first theatrical company to play Philadelphia through the hot season.”

“Your idea,” he reminded her over his champagne glass.

“We’ve all gained from it,” she told him. And then she asked, “Did I tell you the monument was erected on David’s grave on Tuesday. It’s exactly as I wanted it. I’m glad I was here to supervise it all.”

“Is that why you made us suffer through the summer?” he asked, refilling her champagne glass.

She warned him, “I shouldn’t have any more. My head is reeling now.”

“Protection against the heat,” he told her.

“Perhaps the President will attend some of our performances when we go to Washington,” she said. “I hear Lincoln is fond of the theatre.”

Peter put his glass aside and gazing at her with great intensity in his blue eyes, he said in a low voice, “Forget about Washington and Lincoln. Let us talk about us.”

She hesitated. Then said, “What about us?”

He said, “I cannot pretend any longer, Fanny. I want you! I want you more than anything else!”

She raised a hand to silence him. “No,” she said. “Do not spoil things between us!”

“I want to make the bond stronger not ruin it,” he said leaning close, his tone urgent. “I cannot go on as we have been.”

“Why not’? You are my good friend! I need a friend!”

“I love you and you know it,” he said almost harshly. “You cannot go on being faithful to a dead man!”

“Peter!” she said in reproval and jumped up.

He swiftly got to his feet. “We must settle this!”

“No!” she said, ready to leave, but afraid to move as her head was whirling wildly. Her body was betraying her. She had taken far too much of the iced champagne!

“Fanny!” he said hoarsely and he swooped her up in his arms and carried her into the adjoining bedroom and placed her on the bed.

He swiftly disrobed her in the face of her protests and then quickly removed his own clothing and stretched out beside her on the bed. Nothing more was said between them as their bodies joined in passionate love-making. The love scenes they had played so many times together on stage paled in comparison to this frantic writhing.

Fanny moaned softly as his urgent thrusts lifted her to a level of passion which she had never expected. She found herself responding and all else was forgotten in their mutual ecstasy! After the moment of shattering climax Peter kissed her gently on the lips and murmured, “My darling!” They lay very still and motionless, their bodies close together.

She stared up into the shadows and realized what had happened. They had taken an irrevocable step. There would be no going back. Peter would henceforth think of himself as her lover. She now knew the pleasure of his body and would be apt to yield to it again. There would be new tensions, new jealousies and the perfect partnership they had known would be surely threatened.

Chapter 4

So she and Peter became lovers. In the weeks before leaving Philadelphia they met many times in his suite. Fanny would spend the night there and return to her own room in the morning. Some of the things she had feared did not happen. Peter seemed quite the same in his relationship with her at the theatre. He showed none of the possessiveness nor jealousy which had worried her. But she still felt the affair was a mistake and she told him so.

They were strolling along a walk in the small park opposite the theatre. She wore a white dress and straw hat and carried a purple parasol. He had on his blue jacket and yellow checked trousers.

She said, “What is going to happen when we get to Washington?”

“I shall see we have rooms in the same hotel and on the same floor,” he said.

She gave him a worried glance. “Peter, do you think we can go on as we are?”

“There’s an alternative,” he said cheerfully.

“What?”

“Marry me!”