Vintage Love (48 page)

“You have hit it exactly,” Susie said. “But do not think lightly of him. He is something of a genius, and in the parts where his melancholy style is called for, he excels.”

Enid gave the former actress a searching glance. “Have you quite forgiven him for his slight of you?”

“Probably not,” Susie was quick to admit. “But if he hadn’t encouraged me to leave his company—and his attentions—I wouldn’t have fallen in with Gustav so soon. And I’m deeply in love with that Frenchman.”

“Enough to marry him?”

“If he will have me.”

Enid rose and placed an arm around her friend. “I predict that one day soon he will. I think he fears you will return to the stage.”

“I might do that, but I wouldn’t leave Gustav. Many actresses have happy family lives outside the theater. When their confinement time comes they leave, but some of them return to the boards.”

“I think I can understand why,” Enid said. “It’s a wonderful world of make-believe, so different from mundane reality.”

Susie smiled. “At least all events are ordered. And when your time on the stage is over, you don’t really mind coming back to reality.”

They went out into the main room, which served as the living area, library, and dining room of the cramped lodgings. Gustav had set out plates of food and a decanter of red wine.

Kemble’s liquid brown eyes widened when he saw Enid. “You are right!” he exclaimed. “She is a most beautiful maid! Fairer than I have seen for many a day!”

Enid allowed the actor to seat her next to him. She laughed and said, “That sounds suspiciously like a quotation from a play.”

“It is,” Susie told her, and they all laughed. “I have heard John speak those very lines onstage.”

Kemble looked a little guilty. “You ought not to give away the secrets of a fellow professional.”

“But I’m no longer in the profession!” Susie protested.

“You will be,” he said. “If you would forget your pique, I could use you at Drury Lane again.”

“Don’t attempt to lure her back!” Gustav growled, pouring wine for everyone.

“No harm would come of it, Brideau. You may be sure of that. She is a fine soubrette, and as such I would like to hire her again.”

Susie looked up from her plate to ask him, “Doesn’t Lady Blair make a better boy than your sister, Mrs. Siddons, did when she played in
As You Like It?”

Kemble nodded. “Lady Blair would make an excellent Rosalind. My blessed sister refused to wear proper male attire when she masqueraded as a boy and the result was a strange hodgepodge. That harmed the play.”

“You are having a successful season at Drury Lane with your own company,” Enid observed.

“My public is loyal,” Kemble told her.

“Perceptive of talent,” Gustav amended. “And John is an innovator when it comes to scenery and costumes. He has brought forth many new ideas in staging.”

Kemble could not take his eyes off Enid. “You are the wife of Lord Andrew Blair, isn’t that so?”

“Yes,” she replied in a small voice.

“I have met him and some of his companions,” Kemble said, running a hand through his dark chestnut hair. “They gamble at a club I frequent on occasion.”

She smiled grimly. “I understand it is rumored that my husband’s gambling losses amount to nearly the same sum as our national debt.”

The actor laughed. “Judging by the wild plunges I have seen him indulge in, that could be true.”

No more was said about Andrew, and the talk turned back to the theater. Enid learned that John’s younger brother Stephen was a member of his company, a man addicted to overeating. It also came out that John and his famous sister, Mrs. Siddons, did not get along very well. John thought she was both arrogant and avaricious. She was known to be mean in her payment of the actors in her company and to be continually battling with the managers of the theaters where she played. Enid was thrilled by all the inside chatter of the theater world, and the discovery that even the idols of the West End had their share of human foibles was a revelation to her.

After lunch, Kemble insisted on taking Enid home in his open carriage. As they drove through the sunny streets, she blushed at the knowledge that many people recognized the famous actor by her side and were unquestionably trying to guess who his latest conquest might be.

As they approached the turn into Regent Street, Kemble said abruptly, “I want to see you again.”

“I will visit the theater some evening.”

He frowned. “No. I meant I want to spend time with you and get to know you better.”

Enid gave him a warning look. “You forget my husband.”

Brown eyes met those of sloe. “Why can’t you forget him? For at least a little while.”

She glanced at the red brick houses and the great, full-leaved trees lining the street. “I realize you are aware of his reputation … his great weaknesses.”

“Yes.”

“However, I have a pact with him that I’m loath to break. At least for now.”

“I’m merely asking that we meet away from the theater, though of course I would like you to see my Hamlet again, and my Brutus, too. But I think it’s more important that we become friends.”

“You are well known,” she reminded him. “Many questioning eyes have focused on this carriage ever since we left Gustav’s.”

“I cannot help being a public figure.”

“But I can help being seen in public with you,” she countered.

“Then let us meet privately,” he urged. “I like to dine in my lodgings after the performances. Will you join me there?”

She hesitated. “To what purpose?”

“I admire you greatly and I would like to have you for a friend.”

“I wish it could be so,” she said.

“Do I interest you at all?” he asked her gravely.

She felt her cheeks flush. “It may be that you interest me too much.”

“That could not be.” He smiled ruefully. “Pray think over what I have said. I will send you a message shortly, inviting you to dine with me. I trust you will accept.”

She made no reply. The striking-looking actor was unlike anyone she had ever met before. He lacked the aristocracy and French charm of Armand, but he possessed other qualities that made her regard him with admiring eyes. He was an artist, with an artist’s sensitivity. She was certain that he approached each of his roles with an intellectual interest. He was not a shallow fop, like so many of the males she had met in London society and, indeed, like a goodly number of the theater’s leading men.

Kemble saw her to the door and kissed her hand. Once more he promised, “You shall hear from me.”

Enid did not expect to see him again very soon.

Several nights later Andrew informed her they were to attend a house party hosted by Sir James and Lady Evelyn Drake. Enid knew her husband would insist on her accompanying him, so she didn’t protest. Besides, he had been in a bad mood lately, as the gaming tables had continued to go against him, and she was especially anxious not to cross him.

She chose a new rose satin gown for the affair and dressed her hair with rose and white silk ribbons. A vibrant emerald necklace and a matching pair of earrings completed her ensemble.

Sir James and Lady Drake represented the younger social set, and their party offered a healthy sprinkling of the city’s young bloods and their ladies, as well as many notables from the worlds of politics and the arts. In the crowded drawing room of the large Regent Street mansion, it was not surprising that Enid should find herself face to face with John Philip Kemble, resplendent in a formal gold jacket and fawn breeches, a white wig covering his chestnut hair.

The actor instantly looked less bored and hastened to bring her a glass of wine. Then he began to speak earnestly. “I have done little but think about you since our meeting.”

She smiled. “Did you think of the boy who bested you at fencing or the girl who refused your invitation to dine?”

He arched an eyebrow. “I do not recall your declining my invitation, only showing a certain hesitation in accepting it.”

“That almost amounts to the same thing.”

“I have not given up hope. You know I lead a very solitary life.”

“What about the lady who took Susie’s place in your heart—or should I say bed?”

“You have the sting of a wasp!”

“I like to speak frankly.”

“That is frank enough for anyone.” Kemble shuddered. “The truth is, the lady in question proved to be a worthless actress, a baggage who gave me no pleasure—in bed or out of it.”

“But you would like Susie back in your company.”

“I need her in my company. But that is all I want from her.”

“From what she said to me, I think she may be ready to return to the stage.”

“Good. I’m happy to hear that. Susie is a talented young miss, but not as adept at fencing as you.”

“I fear that is a small talent.”

“Your beauty alone would be enough,” John complimented her with his usual gallantry.

“Thank you.” Then she noticed that Andrew, who was standing a little distance away with an unhealthy-looking, spindle-shanked young fop, was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Kemble noted the same thing. “Your husband has found a crony,” he remarked.

“That is a simple accomplishment.”

Their eyes met and locked. Enid looked away first.

“I’ve been working on some new set designs for my next production of
Hamlet,”
Kemble said, his voice suddenly husky. “My sister thinks I’m spending far too much on staging the play, and I’d welcome your opinion.”

“But I know nothing about staging plays!” Enid protested.

“You have exquisite taste and good judgment. They are all that is required. Would you look at my sketches for the designs and the costumes?”

“If you’d like,” she said softly.

His smile lit his face from within. “Just your saying that has given me added interest in the project!”

Soon Enid moved on to talk with some of the other guests, but she was conscious of Kemble’s presence all the while. He seemed to be everyone’s favorite.

On the drive home, Andrew sat beside her in sullen silence and tugged abstractedly at his white brocade evening jacket. Then he glanced at her and demanded sourly, “Why did you decide to make me look ridiculous at the party?”

She gave him a puzzled look. “I don’t understand.”

“You spent so much of your time with that actor Kemble!”

“Surely there was nothing wrong in that,” she said. “I met him at my fencing instructor’s studio.”

“Most people would think, from your actions, that you’d been gracing his bed!” Andrew snapped.

“Don’t judge me by your habits!”

“Come to think of it, you may have been doing just that,” he went on. “You certainly acted as if you’d met before. Touchingly intimate!”

“I’ve just told you, we did meet before!”

“So you did. Well, I will depend on you not to sully my name by giving him your simpering attentions again!”

Enid flashed him a hateful look. “How dare you, sir!”

“The man is not a proper person for you to associate with. The Drakes shouldn’t have had him at their party. He is not of society.”

“I disagree with you! You are sorely mistaken!”

“The facts speak for themselves. The man is an actor!”

“And why aren’t actors suited to society?”

“They are buffoons, itinerant entertainers, paupers with nothing more than an elegant facade!”

“I prefer an elegant facade to a rotting interior.” Enid turned her back on her husband and ended the conversation.

• • •

Two days later, when she went to Gustav’s for her fencing practice, she found him alone in his lodgings.

“Susie isn’t here,” he announced. “She’s gone back to Kemble.”

“Only to his company. You can’t hope to keep her off the stage with her talent.”

Gustav agreed cheerfully. “She should do what she enjoys. And now Kemble has eyes for no female but you, so she is safe from him.”

Enid stared at him in disbelief. “You’re jesting!”

“No, it’s the truth. Kemble is like a lovesick calf. It’s amusing, really. I think it’s because you whipped him at fencing.”

“It must be,” she mused, “for I have never given him the slightest bit of encouragement. At least I don’t think I have.”

“I know that. But John Kemble is a moody fellow, and you’ve apparently pulled him out of his doldrums. You could do him a great deal of good.”

“I wonder.”

“I’m sure of it. Besides, it seems my own cause is lost, so I may as well plead his.”

She laughed. “Silly! You know that I’m deterred by the same problems in both instances. I am a married woman.”

“I think it’s the other man, the one you were so mysterious about. He is the one who must be exorcised from your mind before you can be free to love properly.”

“I’m resigned to never seeing him again,” she sighed. “He is caught up in the French troubles.”

“The Bastille has already fallen, and God knows what will happen next.” Gustav shook his head. “I’m glad I chose to live in England.”

Enid eyed him worriedly. “Will it be much worse?”

“Heads will topple like rotten apples falling from the trees in late autumn.”

She sighed again. “Ours was only a brief acquaintance, but I believe I loved that man at first sight. I think we could have been very happy.” Enid’s expression was wistful. Then, as if in an effort to cast out unhappy thoughts, she straightened her shoulders and flashed a warm smile at Gustav. “It is in the past now. Perhaps I am lucky to have Kemble in love with me.”

“Have you ever seen him play Romeo?” Gustav asked.

“No. I’ve never seen him perform at all.”

“I’ll take you this afternoon,” the Frenchman promised. “Susie is doing Juliet. It is a part she has always played well. And I think seeing Kemble in the role of Romeo will give you a glimpse into his soul. You’ll appreciate what a tender, romantic fellow he is.”

“I have found him gentle of nature thus far.”

“He will never disappoint you,” Gustav promised.

Drury Lane was crowded that afternoon. On the way inside, Gustav nodded to a bewigged, full-faced gentleman who was talking with several companions in the lobby. “That is the very eminent playwright Richard Sheridan,” Gustav whispered to Enid. “I’m sorry to say he and Kemble have very different ideas about how Drury Lane should be operated. Sheridan is part owner of the theater, while Kemble is only the manager.”