Authors: Clarissa Ross
“He surely looks well fed,” she said.
“A glutton, I’m told,” Adam Burns said, “Not only for money but for food and women as well!”
“A common failing among the well-to-do, I fear,” David said.
“It may be,” Adam Burns said with a nod.
They went into the theatre and were ushered to seats about mid-way down on the right. The orchestra was playing a classical selection and playing it well. Ladies held up lorgnettes in white-gloved hands and sought out friends in the near-by seats. Adam Burns stood up several times and warmly greeted some of his wealthy friends as they came by.
Fanny sat there lost in wonder. She had been on the other side of the footlights for so long she’d forgotten what it was like to attend a play. Still, for all it being pleasant, she knew she would not wish to change it for the joy of appearing onstage.
Adam Burns held open his program and told her, “You will see all three brothers tonight. The sons of the late and unique Junius Brutus Booth! They rarely appear together.”
“But this is a great vehicle for them,” Fanny enthused.
“Yes,” the big man agreed. “Edwin will, of course, play Brutus.”
“The play is about to begin,” David, seated on her other side advised her. And it was true, the orchestra ceased their playing, the footlights showed brightly, and a hush fell over the crowded playhouse.
Fanny sat enthralled as the curtain rose and long after. She had seen productions of ‘Julius Caesar’ in London with many fine actors. But never had she witnessed a more vital performance than on this night. The scenery was shoddy in comparison to some of the London productions and the costumes ordinary. But it was the acting and the three principals which made the night a special one.
The tall stern-visaged Junius Booth, Jr. was a fine choice for Cassius, and Edwin Booth played Brutus with great emotion and sincerity, but it was the youngest of the three brothers, John Wilkes Booth, who most impressed her. He was the striking Mark Anthony. He was eloquent and impassioned, a handsome young man at the peak of his talents.
Between the acts as the orchestra played they went out to the lobby to stand for a moment. Adam Burns enjoyed a cigar and told her, “The three brothers are rarely in one city at the same time. Junius is best known in the Western part of the country, Edwin is the star in the East and John Wilkes seems to favor playing in the South.”
Fanny said, “I think he may even be superior to his brother Edwin in talent.”
David shook his head. “You are wrong, my dear. He is a more showy actor but not a better one.”
They returned to their seats for the rest of the play. At the end all three brothers came forward for a special ovation from the audience. Then each, in turn, stepped up front to receive applause. It was Edwin Booth who easily won out over the others though Fanny still clung to her belief that John Wilkes Booth had the promise of becoming even greater than his more famous brother.
Then it was back to the carriage and a journey through the gas-lit streets to the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Inside there was more music, a great display of food, and crowds thronging the huge ballroom. To their surprise they came face to face with the eminent Phineas T. Barnum who had a lady in a black gown on his arm.
The theatre impresario removed his ever-present huge cigar to smile and tell her, “You are more beautiful than ever tonight, Mrs. Cornish.”
She smiled and asked, “Did you enjoy the play?”
“Missed it,” the big man said. “Had to talk contract with a new midget. But I’m here for the party! I never miss a party!”
They were swept on by the crowd and so her conversation with Barnum was brought to an end. Adam Burns insisted they sample the excellent food and introduced them to other men of business who were on the committee.
Then a tall, grim-looking young man whom she recognized as Junius Booth, Jr. came through the clusters of people. Making his way to their corner of the room, he cut a distinguished figure. He came to Adam Burns and bowed, “Mr. Burns.”
Adam Burns introduced them and stepped aside as the actor discussed mutual problems with David and herself. He said, “You are lucky to go out under Barnum. He is a good manager not a rascal like so many of them.”
“We have considered ourselves fortunate,” she agreed. “You and your brothers gave us a fine evening. You were exactly right as Cassius.”
“I usually play Brutus,” the actor said. “But here in New York, my brother is a more of a favorite.”
Fanny nodded. “I liked him well as Brutus but it was the younger one of you, John Booth, whom I felt stole the evening as Mark Anthony.”
Junius Booth laughed. “Do not let John Wilkes hear that or he will become impossible to live with! He’s bad enough as it is!”
David, who had been speaking with someone else, now turned to the tall, gaunt man and complimented him, “As one actor to another, I know the problems. You were excellent!”
“Your good wife was good enough to inform me of the same thing,” the actor said, pleased. “And I understand you and this lovely lady are to head a company journeying to Philadelphia.”
“We leave the night after tomorrow,” David said. “It will be our first engagement in America.”
There was a rustle of excitement as another handsome figure came their way. This time it was the smaller, thinner Edwin Booth. The long dark hair and melancholy, classic features were almost as enticing off stage as behind the footlights. He was quiet in his manner as he bowed to her.
“I cannot allow brother Junius to keep the only beauty of the evening all to himself,” Edwin Booth said. “May l ask why we have not met before?”
“Because this charming lady and her husband have been gracing the stages of London,” Junius Booth told his smaller brother. And then he introduced them.
Edwin Booth’s smouldering eyes studied her and he said, “I should have known that you are an actress. Such grace is rarely combined in voice and movement in any outside the theatre. I am your humble slave, my dear lady.”
“We are in debt to you for your playing,” she said, in turn.
“You need not fear Junius or I,” Edwin Booth told her. “We may offer you the finest compliments but we offer no danger. We are both happily married men with children. But you must beware of my knave of a younger brother, John!”
She brightened. “I thought him excellent!”
“He thinks the same of himself,” Edwin Booth said with a wry smile. “And he is single and loves the ladies! Do not say you weren’t warned!”
Others came crowding around Edwin Booth, some wishing his autograph on their programs and others anxious to pay tribute to him. In a moment he was lost to their corner to the big ballroom.
Junius Booth had also moved on.
David turned to her with a smile. “Well, are you enjoying it all?”
“l am!” she said. “I’m sure I’m going to love it here!”
“And so am I,” David agreed, looking as happy as she had ever seen him. “We will conquer this new world together.”
Adam Burns returned beaming and leading a newcomer with him. It took Fanny only a moment to recognize the man in the well-styled evening dress as John Wilkes Booth. He was taller than Edwin and better looking. His eyes were hypnotic and he was fully as magnificent off stage as on it.
“This is the man you admired so,” Adam Burns said. “l give you Mr. John Wilkes Booth.”
The handsome actor took her hand and kissed it. Then he lifted those strange eyes to meet hers and smiled as he said, “I have heard about you just now from my brother, Edwin, Mrs. Cornish. I’m delighted to meet you and your husband.”
“The pleasure is ours,” she said. “Such a fine Mark Anthony! “
“We much enjoyed you and your brothers,” David said.
John Wilkes Booth glanced about him imperiously. “A goodly crowd! It is the first time we three brothers have appeared in a play and I vow it will be the last. I’m finished with playing second fiddle to Ned! No more of that! I mean to come into my rights as my father’s most talented son!”
“You were all good,” David said. “I felt Edwin was the best but my wife preferred you.”
The handsome actor showed his pleasure. He told David, “Then you will not mind if I take this astute wife of yours aside and discuss the thespian’s art with her.”
Before she could make any excuse he had gently led her a distance away from her husband and Adam Burns. Then he faced her with great intensity.
“I have fallen in love with you,” he said.
She opened her eyes wide. “I was told you were a Devil with the women, Mr. Booth. But this surpasses anything I have encountered. We only met a moment ago.”
“What matter?” the handsome actor asked soberly. “l know my feelings. Is love something which must be aged like wine before it matures? No!”
She stared up into those brilliant eyes again and found herself unsure of what to say. She knew she should in no way believe what he’d said, and yet somehow she did.
Chapter 3
Before they went down to breakfast the next morning Mrs. Larkins knocked at the door of their room. When Fanny opened it the landlady presented her with a huge bouquet of red roses. “They are for you, Mrs. Cornish,” the woman said. “They just came by messenger.”
“I can’t imagine who sent them,” she said, amazement on her lovely face. She thanked the landlady and placing the bouquet on the dresser went about opening the envelope with it.
“Hurry!” David told her. “I want to know who sent these flowers. The bouquet is so large it overwhelms our poor room!”
She read the card and sighed. With a resigned look for her husband, she read aloud: “Remember my words, John Wilkes Booth.”
David looked surprised. “Remember his words? What the devil is he talking about?”
Fanny made a despairing gesture. “Who can say?” she replied lamely, though she knew full well what the romantic John Booth meant. “He talked wildly of many things. He is a strange, temperamental person. But the flowers are lovely!”
David signed. “I’m not at all sorry we’re leaving for Philadelphia tomorrow night. That fellow could turn out to be a nuisance.”
“Never!” she laughed. “I can handle him.” And she went about finding a vase for the flowers and placing some water from the commode pitcher in it. Then she busily arranged them.
David stood across the room from her studying her speculatively. “I wonder,” he said.
“I’m not a naive child,” she told him as she arranged the flowers.
“And he is no ordinary man,” David warned her. “I heard some things about him at the party last night. He is wildly temperamental, destructive of his talents at times, has many radical political ideas and thinks he is the finest actor in all Christendom!”
She laughed. “Well, he could he right in that. He is a good actor.”
“The brother is better and will go further,” David said. “But even he is neurotic and drinking too much, they say. He has a sick wife whom he adores living near Boston. They claim he needs her presence to keep him in line.”
“A dark-starred family,” she said, satisfied with the flowers. “What about the older brother, Junius?”
“He seems the most even-balanced of the three,” her husband said. “He has played largely in the West and is said, to be a better business manager than an actor. Though he was surely competent enough last night.”
“Competent without brilliance,” she said. “John Wilkes has bravado and brilliance.”
“Edwin Booth has more,” her husband said. “He has a great depth the other two lack.”
The went down to breakfast and then to the rehearsal hall. Most of the morning was spent discussing travel arrangements and accommodation in Philadelphia. David paid the company for their rehearsal time and advanced their train fare for the next evening. The night train was less expensive so they would take it.
Peter Cortez, dressed as elegantly as ever, sought her out to ask, “I wonder if you know you made a conquest last night?”
She blushed. “What do you mean?”
“John Wilkes Booth is raving about your beauty,” Peter said with a wry smile. “Don’t tell me you didn’t encourage him or that you aren’t enjoying it!”
“Did I encourage you?”
“I’m not a Booth.”
“I don’t know what he said but we had only a brief meeting. I cannot imagine anything could be made of it.”
Peter said, “He went on to a saloon I frequent after the party. I told him I was going to Philadelphia to play in a company headed by you and David. That started him!”
“Really?”
“I’ve never heard him go on so.”
“No doubt he had too much to drink.”
“He did that, but I think you really impressed him. And why not, you’ve made me your devoted slave!”
Fanny laughed. “There is little of the slave about you. Much more of the master!”
“At any rate Booth had to leave this morning for the South. He is starring in Richmond. His reputation is big down there. So you won’t see him again for a while.”
“That doesn’t matter to me one way or the other,” she said sincerely. It was true. She had liked the flamboyant John but at the moment she had no interest in any man but her husband. She was totally devoted to David and their joint careers. She did not think she would ever want more.
Fanny knew that familiar feeling of melancholy again. She was standing in the shelter of the New York Station railway platform. Rain beat down on the roof and drenched everything and everyone. The storm had started in the late afternoon and was at full peak now. The actors gathered on the platform with the other late night travellers, looking cold and miserable.
David had gone to the baggage master to talk about the group handling of their luggage. Old Lester Loft with a long scarf wrapped about his neck sat on his battered suitcase, his head bent and his eyes closed. Then Nancy Ray came running in, her cloak streaming rivulets of rain and her pretty face wet.
The golden-haired girl came up to her and said, “Such a dreadful night to start out! I hope it isn’t a bad omen.”
Fanny gave the girl a worried look. ““Don’t say such things.”
“It isn’t pleasant!” Nancy insisted.
“I know,” Fanny said bleakly, wishing David would return. She disliked being parted from him under these conditions. She couldn’t understand why she had so suddenly come to depend on him so much more than in the past. She did not wish to be dependent on anyone. It bothered her.
The next to arrive was Peter Cortez wearing a wide-brimmed rubber hat and black rubber raincoat. He put down his bags and told them, “The storm can’t touch me. I used this outfit in California. It can really rain out there! This is a mere drizzlel”
She was about to make a reply but this became useless as the train came up to the platform with a great hissing of steam and clamor of the engines. Soot filled the air as the train slid to a stop and a mustached conductor stepped down from the first passenger car followed by a brakeman. Many of the forlorn gathering on the dank wooden platform made their way to one or other of the passenger cars and got aboard.
David came hurrying back in the light coat which also served as a raincoat. He took her by the arm and shouted above the noise, “We are in the first car.” And he led her to the steps of that ear.
Most of the others in the company also boarded that car. The train was a local and would make stops along the way. Thus the journey to Philadelphia would take about three hours.
Peter Cortez and Nancy Ray took the seat opposite Fanny and David. Peter curled his lip and said, “Bloody milk train! Stopping in every little town! A wonder Barnum didn’t send us in a cattle car!”
David smiled grimly. “On a night like this is wouldn’t make much difference.”
“I know what I’m going to do,” the pert Nancy said. “I’m going to sleep.” And she curled up on the seat and snuggled against Peter, clasping his arm in her hands and leaning against his shoulder.
Peter rolled his eyes. “Will no one protect me from this vixen?” But he made no show of moving her and relaxed himself.
David was frowning at a statement which P.T. Barnum had given him. He told Fanny, “There are some omissions in this list of scenery.”
“Perhaps the missing sets will turn up at the theatre,” she said, to encourage him.
“We’ll be in trouble if they don’t,” he sighed. And glancing at Nancy he turned to her and suggested, “Why don’t you try to sleep a little?”
“I think I will,” she said. “I hope it won’t be raining when we get to Philadelphia.”
Peter Cortez opened his eyes to inform her in a superior drawl, “Dear girl, it is always raining in Philadelphia. Has no one warned you?”
She laughed and leaned back and closed her eyes. She knew she should be happy. She and David were on their way to open their first engagement in America. It ought to be a time of anticipation and excitement. But once again that strange shadow of depression had reached out to overwhelm her. She felt grim despair and didn’t know why.
The train started with a jerking motion and then moved along, gradually gathering speed. The pounding of the wheels on the rails and the slight motion of the car helped send her into a light sleep. She slept until some time later when the train stopped suddenly and wakened her. It woke up all the others, who began complaining.
David consulted his pocket watch. “Another hour should see us in,” he said.
Nancy Ray looked indignant. “I’m cold and hungry.”
Peter Cortez shook his head and stared gloomily out the train window into the dark, wet night. “Why did I pick this profession?” he wanted to know.
The train started off again with another jerk. She sat back and stared out the window in the same dismal contemplation as Peter. The conductor came strolling through the car, a weary look on his round mustached face. David and Nancy had already closed their eyes again, so she followed suit. After a few minutes she slept again.
A pandemonium of crashing sounds and frantic screaming woke her up! At the same time she was hurled forward and surrounded by darkness! In the next instant she was thrown in a different direction and something heavy struck her or fell on her. In a brief flash of recognition the thought that the train had been wrecked streaked across her mind. Then it was only darkness!
Voices were shouting around her! There was pounding and men cursing impatiently! Yellow showed somewhere, flames licking the dark night! But it didn’t matter she was too far away to care! A frightened face was thrust into hers. The face of the mustached conductor, bloodied now and his official cap gone!
“She’s alive!” he screamed in a needlessly loud voice.
She stared up at him and was ready to reprimand him but couldn’t form the words. Her lips would not move and no sound would come out. She wondered why David was allowing all this senseless nonsense to go on. Then she was movedonto a litter of some sort and men were carrying her away from the flames and the screaming. She lapsed into blackness again.
The next time she opened her eyes she was in a bed in a tiny white-walled room. She reached up and touched her aching temple and found there was a bandage around her head. And her body ached in every muscle.
A matronly nurse appeared in the doorway of her room and seeing her with her eyes opened, the nurse smiled and said, “How fortunate!”
“A drink,” she said in a low, weak voice.
“There’s a pitcher here,” the nurse said. And she came in and poured out some water in a glass. Then she went to her and raised her up a little and placed the glass to her parched lips. “You’ve come around! We were worried you mightn’t.”
She drank a little of the water and then finding it too much effort wanted to lay back. The nurse eased her onto the pillow. The nurse said, “You are lucky. Aside from your head injury and general bruises you seem to have no other injuries.”
She tried to take this in, wondering why she should be injured and in a hospital bed. She asked, “What happened?”
“A dreadful train wreck,” the nurse said frowning. “They aren’t half careful enough. Only the fact there weren’t many passengers in your train and the other was a freight prevented it from being a terrible disaster. As it was, seven were killed and nearly two dozen injured.”
“Where am I?”
“In a hospital in Philadelphia,” the nurse said. “Now you mustn’t try to talk too much. You’re being well looked after and it will be all right.”
She stared up at the nurse pathetically. “The others? My husband?”
“Most of them escaped with only minor injuries,” the nurse said. “Now you rest a while.”
She didn’t want to rest; she wanted to ask more questions. Insist that the woman summon David and bring him to her. But she could not make the effort. Somehow she slipped off again into a state of semi-stupor.
Nurses came and went. She was fed warm broth which they assured her would make her feel better. One nurse even smiled at her tenderly and helped comb out her matted hair. Fanny was grateful to her but too tired to thank her.
Morning came again and she was more alert. She wondered what day it was and how many days she’d been in the hospital. And where was David? Why hadn’t he or some of the others come to see her?
The matronly nurse came in and gave her some gruel for breakfast. Then she had a cup of strong tea. The nurse watched over her and said, “I have a surprise for you! You have a visitor!”
“Oh?” She raised herself a little and the headache and dizziness returned. But she fought these feelings as she asked, “My husband?”
“You’ll see!” the nurse told her and left.
Fanny’s heart began to beat faster and she watched the doorway. Suddenly a familiar figure loomed in it but it wasn’t her husband, it was the big Phineas T. Barnum.
The big man came in awkwardly and seated himself on a chair by her bedside and took one of her hands in his. For once he didn’t have the inevitable cigar in his mouth. He said. “Thank God, you are alive!”
She said, “The wreck! David!”
“I know, I know,” he consoled her. “There is to be an investigation. Someone made an error in the schedule of the freight train. They sent it out on the same track on which the passenger train from New York was proceeding. Sent it to meet the other train in a head-on collision!”