The emaciated man in the black dress of an Anglican priest fairly spat at her. “I have no mercy for whores! You are blood guilty!” And saying this he drew a pail out from behind him and hurled its contents at her. Then he turned and ran off just as an aroused Silas Hodder came out the stage door to aid her.
“He’s gone!” she said in a faint voice.
The old stage door man gazed at her in consternation. “What did he do to you, Fanny? You’re all splashed with blood!”
She collapsed at this point and when she came to again she was on the floor inside, near the stage door. Sir Alan, Hilda, Silas Hodder and some other members of the company were gathered around her in an anxious state.
Sir Alan knelt by her. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She rose up from the floor on her elbow. “I think so!” Then she saw her blood-stained clothing. “The blood?”
“Is happily not yours,” the actor said. “Someone hurled animal blood of some kind on you. If it’s another trick of Tobias Wall to harrass us I shall make him pay dearly. The police shall hear of this!”
She shook her head in protest. “Don’t call the police! You mustn’t!”
“Why not?” Sir Alan asked in surprise.
“Wall shouldn’t be allowed to get away with such things,” Silas Hodder agreed.
Fanny struggled to her feet with the help of one of the actors. She said, “This had nothing to do with Tobias Wall. I know who it was and why it happened.”
“You do?” Sir Alan was amazed.
“Yes,” she said, unhappily. “I’m not hurt. So please just forget it happened.”
The distinguished actor asked, “Is this enemy of yours apt to attack you again?”
“I think not,” she said, though she was far from convinced.
He still showed reluctance to let the matter drop. “I do not like it at all,” he said.
Hilda and she shared a dressing room and the elderly actress helped her remove the blood-stained clothes. As Fanny sat pale and ill-looking before her dressing mirror, the old actress hovered about her worriedly.
“Do you feel able to go on tonight?” Hilda asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Better to use your understudy than have you collapse on the stage!”
“I won’t collapse,” Fanny said. “I will manage.
The lined face of the character woman studied her. “You said you knew it wasn’t anyone hired by Tobias Wall. Why were you so certain?”
She glanced up at the old actress. “I knew who it was. It was his brother!”
“George Palmer’s brother?” Hilda gasped.
“Yes,” she said. “He’s always been a little mad and he has always hated me!”
“He came here to frighten you from seeing the Marquis,” Hilda said.
“He’s been watching me coming and going from the apartment. I suspected it but I haven’t had a chance to tell George.”
Hilda said grimly, “You must tell him now. I’d say his reverend brother is mad!”
“I’ll tell him tonight,” she said. “I’m meeting George at his flat after the show.”
“Not tonight!” Hilda lamented.
“I promised to be there. George would worry.”
“Send him a message. That brother of his might be there waiting to attack you again,” Hilda warned her.
Fanny gave a deep sigh. “I think not. In any event I must risk it.”
The elderly actress said, “Is it worth it?”
She looked up at the old woman’s troubled face. “I love him, Hilda. Everything else seems to fade in comparison.”
She slowly completed her make-up and changed into her costume. She was still in a nervous state but she bolstered her courage by thinking of her father and what he would expect of her in such a crisis. When she appeared in the wings to make her first entrance she could tell the other members of the company were tense and watching her every move.
Somehow she carried through her long role in the play without a slip. When the final curtain came down to enthusiastic applause Sir Alan Tredale came over to her and placed an arm around her.
“You did magnificently,” he said. “It was an example of complete control. You’re a true actress!”
“Thank you,” she said with a small smile. “You all helped me.”
“About that man,” the actor went on, “are you certain you don’t wish me to report the incident to the police?”
“Quite certain,” she said firmly.
It was fortunate that she had some extra clothing in her dressing room. She was able to find enough things to wear from among these items. Her ruined clothing had been thrown away by Silas Hodder.
The gaunt old stage door man summoned a carriage for her and helped her into it. “Take care, Fanny,” he said. “That madman is liable to strike again.”
It was a dark night and when she reached the neighborhood of the flat she was unable to tell whether anyone was lurking across the street watching her or not. She safely made her way up to George’s apartment and used her own key to let herself in. She found him seated in the study, his desk strewn with a mass of papers which he was going over in the soft glow of his desk lamp.
He rose from his work and came to take her in his arms. “A difficult night at the theatre?” he asked. “You look pale.”
She managed a small smile. “You might call it an … unusual one.”
He waved at the papers on his desk. “I have to be familiar with all these before the House sits tomorrow. I’ve been working on them for hours.”
“I shouldn’t have come!”
His weary face showed a smile. “I counted on your coming. I’m finished with these. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll get some brandy.”
When he returned with their brandies she settled in the big leather chair and told him what had happened. She ended with, “There is no question that it was your brother.”
George rose to pace up and down before her in anger. “So he is going to try and cause us trouble again.”
She said, “From his point of view we’re the ones in the wrong.”
He waved an impatient hand. “Kenneth has always been too ready to judge others while continuing with his own demented behaviour. I shall have to see him and lecture him.”
“Will he listen to you?”
“He’d better!” George said. “Or I’ll threaten to give Virginia grounds to divorce me before she drinks herself to death!”
“What good will that do?”
“He is terrified of a family scandal,” George said. “He hopes to become a bishop. He thinks bad family publicity would harm his chances.”
She sipped her brandy. Then she raised her eyes to meet his. “George, perhaps the time has come. I’ve never been happy about all this, though I’ve been weak enough to go along with you. Maybe we should end it before there is more tragedy!”
The handsome, weary-looking man came to stand before her. “If you leave me I won’t have the strength to go on. Things daily get worse at home. I’m under pressure in the House. If I did not have this refuge here with you I would break! I know it!”
Fanny stretched a hand out for him to take. “You managed before we came back together. I have an idea you are stronger than you realize.”
He took her hand in his and she felt his skin to be feverish. He said, “When we met that night I was at the end. I was planning to take my life. You have given me a new chance.”
She said, “We must not deceive ourselves. The truth is bound to come out. Sooner now, perhaps, with your brother in such a state. When it does, my career and yours are both apt to be ruined.”
“I’m willing to pay the price,” he said, firmly. “What about you?”
Fanny put aside her empty brandy glass and stood soberly facing him. “Would I be here otherwise?”
He drew her close to him. “Then nothing else matters.”
She pressed her cheek against his chest. She said, “Is Virginia’s health truly so bad?”
“Yes. The doctor has been to her twice in the past few weeks,” he said. “The last time he told me her liver has been ravaged by her steady intake of liquor. He warned her that unless she gave up alcohol she is doomed to die shortly.”
“And she has not stopped?”
“I’ve tried everything,” George said unhappily. “She bribes tradesmen to bring her supplies. And she has friends like Simon Frith who think it a joke to bring her liquor. Dora keeps a constant watch on her and she still manages to wind up drunk nearly every day.”
She sighed and drew back to gaze up at him. “How unhappy she must be to do this to herself!”
George reminded her, “Virginia was addicted to alcohol before I married her. When she realized she’d made a mistake in marrying me it didn’t make things better. I tried to be a good husband but she sensed I did not truly love her.”
“My father was a drinker,” she said. “But he managed to get over it before his death.”
“I cannot hope that will be the case with Virginia,” George said. “If she’s bound to do it I wish she would finish it quickly so we might be free to marry honorably.”
She shuddered. “Don’t say such a thing!”
“I cannot help it,” he said. “I hate this being so unfair to you!”
She studied his worn face; already he had aged prematurely. She said, “What about Dora?”
“She is my chief support, other than you,” he said. “She is wonderful with the children.”
Fanny asked him. “Does she know about me? That you are seeing me again?”
He hesitated, then in a low voice said, “Yes. I felt I had to tell her.”
“Why?” she asked in despair. “You are expecting too much from her. You know she also is in love with you!”
“Dora admits you are better for me,” he said. “She is glad I have you to turn to.”
“She is so fine,” Fanny said unhappily. “I would not wish to cause her pain!”
“Dora understands!”
She shook her head. “Knowing about us still has to be an added trial for her. I feel I should go to her and ask her pardon!”
“Because we are in love?”
“A love that has always been doomed,” she said. “Does it justify our causing a widening ripple of hurt to all around us?”
“You’re exaggerating the situation because of what Kenneth did tonight,” he said, closing his arms around her again. “I promise I will take care of him. In a few days you will have forgotten the whole business and feel much better about everything.”
“I hope so,” she sighed, with little conviction.
But despite her pessimism he proved to be right. She was busy rehearsing a new play at the theatre. This kept her mind occupied and the incident at the stage door gradually faded into oblivion. George made a speech against the conduct of the war in the House and the newspapers praised him highly and suggested that he was destined to play an important role in Her Majesty’s government in the future.
She and George continued to meet but because they were both so busy, they did not see each other as often as before. Fanny felt this was to the good. George had gone to see the Reverend Kenneth and frightened him into submission. He had told his brother that he was prepared to ask Virginia for a divorce if any more attacks were made on Fanny.
• • •
The new year of 1856 dawned with all seeming more hopeful. Fanny continued to receive letters regularly from Charles and with the ending of the war he was now expecting to be home in a matter of weeks. She found herself worrying about this and wondering what complications would ensue when Charles learned she had resumed her affair with George. For Charles still insisted he loved her and wanted to marry her.
Then there was a new and most unexpected development. There was a knock at the door of the flat Fanny shared with old Hilda Asquith one morning and when she went to the door and opened it she discovered the actor, David Cornish, standing there.
“David!” she gasped with delight. “How good to see you!”
He smiled and entered. “I wondered if I’d be welcome.” He was dressed smartly in a gray suit and looked elegant and prosperous.
“Of course you’re welcome!” Fanny cried. “Hilda will be so happy to see you. She’s out doing some shopping just now but she ought to be back soon.”
David smiled. “Good old Hilda! She’s still acting?”
“An important member of our company,” she said, her eyes bright with happiness. “Oh, David, you look so well!” And she threw her arms around him and kissed him.
His arms enfolded her and he kissed her warmly in return. Then she led him over to the settee where they sat facing each other.
Rather shyly, he said, “I was badly hurt when you ran off!”
“I know,” she said. “It pained me as well. But by now you must understand. I had to make a try at London!”
His good-looking face brightened. “And you have! No doubt of that! You’re a real star!”
“I have to thank Sir Alan for much of my success,” she said modestly. “And what about you? I have heard such grand reports of your tours in the provinces. They say you had to extend your stay in Birmingham by two weeks last season!”
David looked pleased at this. “True,” he said. “And in Liverpool we did an extra week.”
“You have conquered the provinces,” she said. “You are probably the biggest touring company in the country.”
“Perhaps,” the young actor said. “In any event, that’s over with.”
“Over with?”
“Yes. I’ve decided to produce in London this year. I want to make my name here just as you’ve done!”
Fanny was surprised but she also was pleased. She took his hands in hers and told him, “You will conquer London just as you have the provinces. I know it!”
“It’s a risk,” he said. “I must pick out the right plays and the best company possible. I’ve saved some money and I feel I should take the gamble.”
“So do I!”
He gave her a searching look. “You’re just as lovely as ever,” he said. “What has been happening in your life apart from the stage?”
She found herself blushing. She looked down and said quietly, “Not too much. And yourself? Are you engaged or married?”
“Neither,” he said.
She offered him a tiny smile. “Waiting for the right girl to come along.”
“She came along a while back,” David said. “Trouble is, she didn’t stay with me.”
“David!” she said with a tone of mild rebuke.
The young actor asked, “Are you still in love with that fellow you met so long ago? Is he still the only one you can think of?”
She sighed. “So many things have happened. The world has changed. We have changed. We can’t go back. It’s better not to talk about it.”