Beloved Scoundrel (12 page)

She had not been so fortunate in her affair with Peter. While there had been a good friendship between them, it had not sufficed for marriage. The way they’d parted had been sad.

Now there was John Wilkes Booth! Poor John! He claimed that once he had his personal life in order he wanted to marry her, but she could not help but wonder if that day would ever come. John was obsessed with his ambition to excel his brothers in the theatre and at the same time torn by his political sympathies for the South which might yet win its battle for independence.

She cared a good deal for John. Further, she respected his fabulous talent. He understood her much better than Peter Cortez ever had. If things went well and John did eventually express his desire to marry her again she might well accept him. In the meantime she would try to give him whatever support she could.

While she did not approve of the spying of which she suspected him, she could not condemn him for it. This country which she had adopted was torn by tragedy. Thousands of fine young men on both sides were dying needlessly. It was not a time when one could soberly sit back and be objective. Surely not a man with the emotional range of a John Wilkes Booth.

In the afternoon she dressed and went downstairs to walk to the theatre. As she left the hotel she happened to notice a hunchbacked man with a very ugly, wrinkled face who was standing near the doors. He had a face like some simian creature and the likeness was enhanced by a thin whisker which ran from one ear to another, no more than an inch long and not showing on the face except down the cheeks and under the chin.

The hunchback had a weathered, brown face and wore a shabby brown suit. On his head there was a battered brown hat. Her first reaction was that he was grotesque looking and she quickly turned and started on her way to the theatre. When she halted at an intersection she glanced behind her and to her surprise the hunchback was following her. Or so it seemed.

The discovery put her in a panic. As soon as the wagon went by and the way was clear she hurried across the street. The sidewalk was busier here and she moved as swiftly as she could manage. She did not turn to look back again until she reached the alley leading in to the stage door of the theatre.

She glanced down the street and her heart skipped a beat. For there he was, still following her at a cautious distance. Frightened she raced down the alley and into the theatre.

The old stage door man looked at her in surprise. “Is anything wrong, Mrs. Cornish?”

“I’ve been followed,” she said.

“Followed?”

“Yes. I have no idea why. A smallish man, a hunchback. He is wearing a brown ·suit and hat.”

The door man frowned. “You want me to report it to the police?”

“I don’t know,” she worried. “You might take a look and see if he is in the alley.”

“I’ll do that,” the old man promised. And he went and looked out and then he returned and said, “No sign of him.”

She gave a deep sigh. “Perhaps it was my imagination. I’ve been terribly nervous lately.”

“These are trying times,” the old man said.

“But one good thing is having Mr. Booth in the company. The box office people say they’re selling as many seats as there are in the theatre.”

She managed a small smile. “Yes. We are fortunate. The company should be here soon for the rehearsal of
Hamlet.”

The stage door man smiled. “I saw Mr. Edwin Booth as Hamlet. I guess Mr. John will do it a good deal differently. He puts lots of excitement into his acting.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “He does.”

She went up to her dressing room and studied the sides of Ophelia. She had rarely played the role and wanted to make the most of it. John had given her several suggestions so that her performance would mesh in with his. She had thought of playing his mother, the Queen, but he had persuaded her that Ophelia would be much better for her.

So busy was she with her studying that she lost track of time. Suddenly she looked up and John Wilkes Booth was crossing the dressing room towards her with a smile on his handsome face.

“We are all down below waiting for you as the Devil told his friend,” John said.

“I forgot the time!” she gasped, jumping up.

“No need to be concerned,” he said. “I only just arrived.”

“What kept you?”

He gave her one of his quizzical looks. “Business,” he said without further explaining.

The rehearsal proved an exciting one. She had expected John’s interpretation of
Hamlet
to be spirited and he did not disappoint her. Yet it was not overdone in any sense. Indeed, there were moments when he was most touching in the role. She felt that he would be much liked by the audience. Her own Ophelia had to be pitched just right in the mad scenes so that they would be on an even level.

There was a madness in John’s own eyes as he seized her by the arm beside her father’s grave in the famed madness scene. It was as if a spark from him ignited her and made her play against him. When it was over she felt quite exhausted.

Nancy Ray came up to her in the wings and whispered, “You both were fine in that scene.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“What a difference John Wilkes Booth has made in the company,” Nancy said.

“Yes. There is no question of that,” she agreed.

The other girl went back to the rehearsal and Fanny strolled around at the rear of the stage area feeling weary. She was standing alone in the darkness when she saw a figure at the other side of the stage which made her go rigid for a moment. It was the ugly hunchback man whom she was sure had followed her.

Somehow he had made his way past the stage door and was now apparently waiting for someone. As she stood there watching she saw John Wilkes Booth appear and go towards the man.

There was a brief conversation between John and the hunchback. Then the hunchback turned and left the theatre by the stage door. John also went back to the main area where the rehearsal was going on. She waited until they had both vanished and then she went to the stage door man.

“Who was that?” she asked.

The old man stared at her. “Someone to see Mr. Booth,” he said.

“Did he give his name?”

“No,” the old man said.

“I think that is the man who followed me. The one I told you about when I came in,” she said.

The stage door keeper looked upset. “I’m sorry Mrs. Cornish. I guess I forgot clean about that. This fellow came in and asked for Mr. Booth. So I went and gave word to the stage manager Mr. Booth was wanted. A little later he came out and talked to the stranger. Then the stranger left.”

“Yes,” she said, rather impatiently. “I saw all that. You did notice he was a hunchback and wearing brown?”

The old man nodded. “I did.”

“I don’t want you to let him in the theatre again,” she told the stage manager. “No matter what he says. I’m going to ask Mr. Booth about him. There’s something about that man that frightens me.”

“You can depend on me, Mrs. Cornish.” The stage manager promised. Though she much wondered if she could.

She waited until the rehearsal had ended and then made her way over the John who was giving the stage manager some last minute instructions. She waited until he had finished.

He turned to her, seeming in a good mood and said, “I think it went well.”

“Yes,” she said. “But what I want to discuss with you is a short man in a brown suit. A hunchback!”

Chapter 6

The handsome, mustached actor arched an eyebrow. “Did you say hunchback?”

“Do not pretend,” she said. “Leave that for the stage. You know as well as I, of whom I’m speaking.

The man you talked with backstage only a short time ago.”

Booth smiled. “Oh, that fellow!”

“Yes,” she said firmly, waiting for a reply.

The actor laughed. “Well, upon my word you are most mysterious and serious about it.”

“I have a right to be,” she told him. “That man followed me from the hotel to the theatre a little earlier. I was terrified.”

John Wilkes Booth stared at her in amazement. “You must have imagined it.”

“I know that I didn’t,” she said. “Who is he?”

Booth shrugged. “Just a man. A trademan’s flunky here to collect money from me.”

“I do not see him as a bill collector,” she said.

“I cannot help that,” the handsome actor replied. “I have told you as much as I can.”

“No doubt,” she said dryly. And then she added, “Do you know what I think?”

“What?”

“That it had to do with your spying for the Confederates. That this man is one of a chain of Southern spies.”

“That’s preposterous!” he replied. But his words lacked conviction.

“I only hope that he does not follow me again,” she said. “You can warn him I’ll call the police if he does.”

John Wilkes Booth looked amused. “I expected you to be worried about our opening performance in
Hamlet
tonight and you come to me with all this nonsense!”

“I am worried about the play, but everything in its place. I felt I must discuss this with you first.”

“Think nothing more about it,” he told her and then he returned to discussing the set with the stage manager.

Fanny waited for Nancy Ray to join her. She had arranged with the pretty, golden-haired girl to have lunch at a downtown restaurant with her and then do some shopping for accessories in several of the fashionable downtown shops. Nancy came racing down the iron steps and over to the stage door where Fanny was waiting. Breathless, the petite girl said, “I had to have my gown for tonight fitted again.”

“I didn’t mean to hurry you,” Fanny told her.

Nancy smiled good-naturedly. “You didn’t. It’s all fixed now.”

“Then we should go directly to the restaurant,” Fanny said. “Shall we take a hack?”

“No, it is nice out now. Let us walk,” the other girl said.

So they strolled along the busy, noon-time streets of Washington together. The smoke of war hung heavily over the city. The streets were filled with officers and men in uniform and several times heavy-artillery pieces came by on giant wagons which blocked the streets and caused a loud uproar.

Fanny had never felt so close to the war that raged on. Once Washington had nearly been captured by the Confederates and there were rumors to the effect that this was their master plan. To capture Washington and hold the government hostage. It was a daring plan and might succeed even yet. Once the seat of government was captured it would be easy to set terms to end the war.

Nancy gave a shudder as a wagon load of forlorn soldiers, guns in hand, rolled by. She said, “This dreadful war! It gets closer to us each day.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said. “We see only the best side of it.”

“Not many miles from here men are locking in battle and being killed by the thousands,” the other actress said.

“How much longer can it last?”

“President Lincoln sees no early end to it.”

Fanny worried, “I hope it may soon be over. If things get worse we might have to close the theatre.”

“Easily,” the smaller actress agreed. “But then we will soon be moving on to New York in any event.”

“We shan’t leave the war behind there.”

“No,” Nancy agreed. “But at least you won’t feel you are hearing the echoes of battle and smelling the powder smoke.”

“Washington is so vulnerable,” Fanny said. And she was also thinking of the spies that must be active in the city. John Wilkes Booth had become increasingly popular and yet she had this proof today that he was passing information to the enemy. She was positive the hunchback was a Southern spy.

They sat in an area of the restaurant reserved for ladies. Several of the patrons recognized Fanny as she entered with the other girl. There were whispers behind hands from one to another. She had become used to this popularity and enjoyed it.

Nancy’s eyes were bright as she leaned across the table to her and bubbled, “They know you! I would give anything to be that popular one day.”

“Perhaps you will be,” Fanny said with a smile.

“I wonder,” she said. “My role is insignificant in
Hamlet.
But then it is largely a male play.”

Fanny nodded. “And isn’t John good in it.”

“He is excellent in all that he does,” the other girl said. “You make a wonderful staring couple.”

“He is a fine actor.”

“And he appears to have ceased much of his drinking and late hours,” Nancy added.

“He has,” she agreed. “I think it is because he knows he is growing as an actor.” She also thought it might be because he didn’t wish to risk betraying his Southern loyalty when in his cups. Sober he could pretend to at least be neutral about the war.

Fanny ordered a light lunch for them. As they ate it Nancy asked her, “Have you ever been to a military hospital?”

“No,” she said. “I suppose there are many of them.”

“New ones are appearing all the time,” Nancy said. “All the regular hospitals have been largely taken over by the military.”

“I can well imagine,” she said with a frown. “Each day I read the lists of casualties in the newspapers. So many wounded and dead in each twenty-four hours.”

“It is terrifying,” Nancy agreed. “I have been to one of the hospitals lately to see a young actor with whom I worked in New York. He has lost his eyes.”

“I’m so sorry,” she sympathized.

Nancy’s pretty face was clouded now. “He’s a nice, young man. I’m so sorry for him. He keeps worrying about whether he can find parts on the stage again. I don’t know what to say to him.”

“I fear there are precious few roles open to a blind man,” Fanny said. “Perhaps the ghost of Hamlet’s father in the play we’re doing tonight. And even he moves about the stage a little.”

“I keep trying to avoid the subject,” the girl worried.

“I understand.”

“Yet he always comes back to it. I’m supposed to see him soon again,” she went on. And then with an uneasy glance in her direction, she asked, “Would you go there with me for a brief visit after we finish our luncheon?”

Fanny was caught by surprise. She didn’t know quite what to say. But there was such a silent pleading in the girl’s pretty face that she could not refuse.

She said, “Of course I’ll go with you. It is time I saw more of the grim side of this war. I have been trying to avoid it. Not thinking about it more than I had to.”

The girl was at once grateful. “I do appreciate it “ she said warmly. “Tom will be glad to see an actress as famous as you. His name is Tom Miller.”

“And he was an actor?”

“A ·pretty good one,” Nancy said with some pride. “His dad was in the theatre and he began when he was little more than a lad.”

“You played in companies together?”

“Two or three,” the girl said. “Then when he enlisted he said he’d write to me and I promised I’d answer his letters.”

Fanny said, “And then this happened.”

The girl sighed. “It’s a shame! He’s still young. All his life ahead of him. To be blind!”

“Is he bitter?”

“No,” she said. “He’s accepted it very well. But he does worry about going back to the theatre.”

“Little wonder,” Fanny sighed. “It is difficult to find work when one is in full health.”

“I know,” Nancy agreed. “But I try to cheer him up.”

“Perhaps we can take him some treats,” Fanny suggested. “We can stop somewhere along the way and buy him some fruit.”

“That would be nice,” the other girl agreed.

When they finished luncheon they went to a green grocer’s and Fanny picked out some oranges and grapes. Then she and the blonde girl took a hack out to the army hospital where the young actor was a patient. It was on the outskirts of the city and took nearly half an hour.

Fanny decided it would be wise to have the carriage wait for them. So she paid the driver and told him to remain outside. The hospital was a gray, frame building which had been hastily erected with the inflow of wounded. Visitors and medical staff were constantly arriving and leaving, keeping the grounds occupied with various vehicles.

Inside, there was a strong smell of disinfectant in the lobby. Tired-looking nurses manned the information desk and moved about doing other duties. Doctors m long white coats and with stethoscopes around their necks were constantly on the go. Also the hallways were filled with bandaged ambulatory patients, and some others in wheelchairs. There were so those on their way to or from the operating room wheeled on stretchers by orderlies.

“The place always depresses me,” Nancy said.

Fanny suggested, “Why don’t you go see your friend first. Then come get me after you’d had a few minutes talk. He might not feel like meeting a stranger today.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Nancy said. “But if that is what you’d like me to do.”

“I think it might be best,” she said. “I’ll wait here by the information desk.”

“I won’t be long,” Nancy promised and she burned off own one of the hallways, the bag of fruit clutched m her small hand.

Fanny tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible and at the same time observe the activity going on around her. She heard someone complain that the hospital was overcrowded and was sure this was likely so.

Suddenly a voice at her elbow said, “Good afternoon Mrs. Cornish!”

She turned quickly and found herself facing the pleasant Major Furlong whom she’d met at a party. She gasped, “I didn’t expect to find you here!”

“Nor I to find you,” he said.

She saw that he was wearing the long white coat of a doctor. She hadn’t realized that he was in this branch of the service. She said awkwardly, “I assumed you were in the artillery or infantry of something like that!”

He smiled. “No. I’m a major in the Medical Corps. And while it may not seem glamorous, I promise you we do a useful work.”

“I’m sure of that. This hospital seems to be crammed.”

“It is,” he agreed, glancing around. “Have you come to help us? We’re enlisting all the volunteers we can get our hands on.”

“Sorry, no,” she said. “I’m here with an actress from our company who is visiting an injured friend.”

“Perhaps later on,” Major Furlong said with a sad smile.

“I would like to help,” she told him. “But it is very likely that we will soon be leaving Washington. Mr. Barnum is going ahead with plans for a New York season.”

“I wish you well,” Major Furlong said. “I dare not plan more than a few days ahead. This place is constantly overcrowded.”

“And the wounded still keep coming?”

He nodded. “The madness goes on.”

“Are you permanently stationed here?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I was wounded at Bull Run. I thought the war was at an end then. It seemed all too likely the troops in gray would overrun Washington. But we kept them back.”

“What is it like in the front lines?” she wanted to know.

“Grim,” the Medical Major said. “Imagine a long line of men huddled close to the ground, a glaring sun rising to beat down on them. They glance over a rim of earth that separates them from the enemy. To keep your head up a second too long is to win a bullet. And it’s almost certain death to go to the rear to have a wound dressed, get food, fill a canteen with dirty water or, you’ll forgive me, madam, answer a call of nature!”

“Is it any more bearable at night?”

“At night the front comes alive,” he said. “The men take shovels and picks and axes and work to make their trenches stronger. Where there are trees they slash them down, put the slashed branches out for a defense with branches pointed upward, and use the logs to make solid breastworks. They dig the trenches deep enough for men to stand erect in

them without being shot. And they make zig-zag alleyways through the earth to the rear, so they may go to and from with some hope of not being shot.”

“What number of casualties are there?” she asked. “Or do you know?”

“We have close to two thousand a day coming in to all our hospitals,” the Major said. “There must be many more.”

“Incredible carnage!” she gasped. “We must do something. I shall contact Mr. Barnum and ask if we cannot have a special performance or a series of performances to purchase small luxuries for the patients.”

Major Furlong showed pleasure on his bearded face. “I commend you for your kindness, Mrs. Cornish. It is a good idea. And there is much to be done.”