She and Lord Patrick often went on long walks together, accompanied by a few of the dogs. Rover was constantly at her side and the old man had a pet pug of which he was inordinately fond.
As winter came and their walks were of necessity curtailed, she and the old man would often sit in the study of the great house by a blazing log fire. The dogs would settle contentedly in the room around them, most of them sleeping and sighing contentedly as they dreamt. Alone with her, Lord Patrick Carter lost his shyness and she found him a wonderful story teller She encouraged him to talk and liked to hear his many tales of days gone by.
One winter night he told her, “I remember a story of the venerable old Thomas, Earl of Pembroke. He had many odd ideas and one day the oddest of all occurred to him. He decided that he would place glowing charcoals into the eyeballs of all the many statues at Wilton. He then called his family to see how much more life-like the statues had become with their new eyes! In the meantime, his son-in-law, a prankster, improved on the plan. When the charcoal burned out he used it to mark black hair over all the statues of the great so that they more than slightly resembled apes!”
Mary laughed. “I never tire of hearing your tales!”
This encouraged him to tell her another. With a wink, he said, “Lady Anne Foley had a great many male ‘friends.’ Too many to please her husband. And after one of her lyings-in she wrote him, “Dear Richard, I give you joy. I have just made you the father of a beautiful boy. Your loving wife, Anne. P.S. This is not a circular letter!’ The good Lord Glenbervie swears this to be true!”
Mary fondled the head of Rover who sat beside her chair. She said, “You have known so many people.”
“I’ve had many years in which to do it,” her elderly husband said with a smile. “Is our isolation here bothering you? Are you lonely?”
“Not a whit,” she declared. But it was not entirely true. There were times when she missed the theatre, times when she wondered about Howard Blake and his marriage and many moments when she worried about Jeffrey and what had become of him.
In February Lord Carter had an attack and Mary called in a physician. The verdict was that the old man had suffered a slight stroke. The physician bled him and after a week or two he seemed to regain most of his former strength.
It was then that he touched Mary’s heart by coming to her one day and saying, “I find myself worrying about you. More especially since my illness.”
“You must not worry,” she told him.
The old man sighed. “You are too much alone.”
“I have Rover,” she said with a smile. “And I read a great deal.”
“That’s not enough for a healthy, young girl,” Lord Patrick Carter said with a troubled look on his emaciated face. He paused, then said very gently, “If you should decide to take a lover I will offer no objection!”
She was startled to hear him speak so bluntly. “How can you suggest such a thing?”
“I must be honest,” he said. “I will accept anything for your happiness.”
“You will not have to accept that,” she promised him. “When you made me your wife I took on certain responsibilities. I do not plan to shun them. I will never bring shame to your house.”
“I would not consider it shameful,” he said. “I was selfish in marrying you.”
She touched his arm gently. “You came to me when I was badly perplexed and needed someone. I chose to be your wife and I will honor my vows till death do us part.”
“I do not deserve you,” the old man said humbly, tears brimming in his weary eyes.
In April he had another attack. This one paralyzed his left side and confined him to his bed. From then on he failed rapidly despite all the doctors could do. He still enjoyed his dogs and had them come into the room and remain with him but there were no more walks.
Mary was constantly at his bedside. When it became clear the old man could not live much longer, Peg and Hector joined her. They were both shocked by how the old man had failed. It came as no surprise when one hot July evening he quietly passed away, his hand in Mary’s.
She wept many tears for the old man whose wife she had been. That night the dogs whimpered and later in the moonlight howled out their grief for the staunch friend they had lost. In keeping with her late husband’s wishes she had the dogs brought to his grave side to see his casket lowered into the ground.
After the ceremony, as she sat black-clad and veiled in the drawing room Peg and Hector discussed the future with her.
“What are your plans?” Hector asked.
“I have none for the moment,” she said. “I need to recover from my grief.”
“We’d like you to return to the playhouse,” Peg said. “We’re doing a series of modern plays now. You would enjoy it.”
“Perhaps, later,” she said. “Not for a while.”
Hector stood with his hands clasped behind him, and asked. “What of this house and the dogs?”
“Patrick left me everything,” she said. “It was his wish that I keep the estate and see the dogs live out their natural lives under the best conditions. So I shall make certain this is done.”
Peg looked at her in her kindly fashion. “You became greatly devoted to him, didn’t you?”
“He was unique among men,” Mary said. “I do not think he knew the meaning of selfishness.”
Peg nodded. “The marriage was not a mistake for all that some criticized it.”
“I care nothing for whatever gossip there might be,” Mary said. “The marriage was a good one.”
Hector said, “When you
do
come to London it would not be seemly for a titled lady like yourself to live with us in our humble lodgings.”
“I’ve thought about that,” she said. “I have asked my estate agent to look for a suitable town house not too far from the West End. When I find one and move, I want you and Peg to come live with me rather than remaining by yourselves.”
The old actor lifted a protesting hand. “We couldn’t allow that!”
“Why not?” she asked. “I have more money than I shall ever need. I want friends and company. I want you.” In the end she persuaded them that they could be valuable to her.
Lord Patrick Carter had been dead nine months when Mary became impatient with life at the estate in Hampstead. The old man had been much more company for her than she’d realized. She found it awkward to entertain on her own and longed to return to London and the theatre.
By April her estate agent had found a suitable furnished house in Brattle Court not far from the Maiden Lane Theatre. She at once sent word to the Waddingtons to prepare to move in with her. She planned to take Rover to London with her as she and the dog had become inseparable. The rest of the dogs would continue their comfortable life on the estate with the master of the hounds to look after them.
It was her plan to keep the staff on at the estate and return to it for occasional holidays. This would give her a country place when she grew tired of London, though at the moment it seemed unlikely that she ever would.
Shortly before she left, her estate manager came to her with the news, “There’s a travelling circus broken down on the road by the estate entrance, My Lady. They have a few animals and the like. While they’re getting the wheel fixed on their main wagon I wondered if we might send down food for the circus people and their animals. They look as if they’ve not been doing well and I think the late master would approve.”
“By all means,” she told the manager. “Gather what you think will be suitable in a cart and I will accompany you and see that they take the gifts.”
The pony cart was filled with foodstuffs and the manager drove her down to the main road. The big circus wagon was still waiting for a new wheel as the circus people moved restlessly about. At the sight of the pony cart they gathered around it.
To her delight, when she asked for the owner of the circus it was none other than Mr. Pilkington who presented himself. The stout man looked much shabbier than the last time she’d seen him. With a bow, he removed his battered hat and said, “How nice to see you, dear lady. I fear we have fallen on evil times. After weeks of rain and little business our wagon has broken down. We are presently waiting for the wheelwright to return and replace the wheel.”
Mary said, “I have brought some food and other things for you and your animals.”
“You are too kind!” he said, pleased.
Mary said, “I remember your kindness to me once. My estate manager will dispense the things among you.”
She’d barely finished speaking when she saw a stout female figure hobbling towards her. It was Madame Goubert, the strong woman, who came rushing up to throw her arms around her. The old woman kissed her and wept.
“It’s good to know you’ve prospered, my girl,” the strong woman said. “It has been different for me! Bad times with the circus! And my legs are crippled with arthritis! My arms are as strong as ever but the weakness in my legs has ruined me as a strong woman! Pilkington keeps me on out of charity!”
“There’s no need for that,” Mary told the buxom, old woman. “I’m going to London shortly and I can use a good woman like you.”
The delight on the strong woman’s face was pathetic to see. “You can’t mean it!”
“I do!” Mary said happily, embracing the stout woman as best she could. We’ll return to London and conquer it together!”
The house in Brattle Court was small compared to the mansion which Mary had left. She brought along a small retinue of servants, including Madame Goubert, one of whose particular functions was to take care of Rover and exercise him. Mary also brought a small town carriage and a coachman and installed them in the coach house.
Peg and Hector Waddington joined her and were given an upper floor of the house to themselves. She was not as yet ready to return to acting but they promised her that as soon as she was there would be a play for her.
In a discussion in the elegant drawing room Hector told her, “I’m sure the following you had will remember you. The big thing this season is the contemporary comedy. I’ve found one in which there is not only a fine starring role for you but juicy parts for Peg and myself. It is called, “The Professor’s Wife”. I’m sure it will be a hit.”
“I’ll look forward to doing it,” she said. “Though I will miss the nightly bouquet of roses which Patrick so faithfully used to send me.”
“How long ago that seems!” Peg said with a small sigh.
Mary addressed herself to Hector Waddington and asked, “What about Jeffrey Hunt? Is there any chance of his returning to the company?”
The old actor and his wife exchanged a knowing glance. Then he said, “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” she said, suddenly upset. “Has anything happened to Jeffrey?”
“Nothing
bad
,” Peg hastened to tell her.
Hector frowned. “I don’t know whether to say that or not. It’s very strange!”
“
What
is?” Mary demanded, rising from her chair to face the veteran actor. “Pray don’t keep me in suspense!”
The old actor’s face showed concern. “I mean what has happened to him may not have been entirely for his own good. Jeffrey has inherited a fortune!”
“A fortune!” she gasped.
“Yes,” Peg spoke up. “From a wealthy uncle in Scotland, we are led to believe.”
“He has become a fashionable man-about-town, out-Brummels the banished Beau,” Hector Waddington continued. “He’s taken a town house in Berkeley Square and is forever holding parties, which even the Prince Regent and his Brighton syncophants attend.”
“I can’t believe it!” Mary said, astounded. She had been out of touch with London society for so long that she had heard nothing of this.
The elderly actress said, “He came to see us at the theatre not long ago! You should see him! Such elegant clothes — and he carries a quizzing glass! He’s a regular fop!”
“And all this as a result of a sudden inheritance,” she said thoughtfully.
“Yes,” Peg said, standing beside her husband. “He was pleasant enough to us but he’s just a little overbearing in his manner. And old Noel Hastings was with him. You should see that shabby old actor today!”
Hector chuckled. “I must say I was amused. He dresses and acts the part of a rich old nobleman. Of course he played many of them in his stage days. But he acts as if to the manner born. To see him delicately help himself from a golden snuff box is an entertainment in itself.”
Peg went on, “The two travel to Scotland regularly to look after the estate. But it is in London that Jeffrey is making his name.”
“Indeed,” the old actor said. “As soon as he arrives back in the city he sends out invitations to a soirée. We were invited to several.”
Mary’s voice was deliberately casual as she asked, “Has he ever spoken to you of me?”
The veteran actor nodded. “He knew of Lord Carter’s death and he asked us to convey his sympathy when we saw you.”
“And that is all?” she asked.
Peg gave her a knowing look. “Now that he is a wealthy man of affairs he does not seem particularly interested in his old friends. I don’t like it at all! His wealth has ruined him! Made him a self-centered dandy like those he once despised!”
Mary looked down and in a quiet voice, said, “I don’t suppose one can blame him. He did have a bad time for a while.”
“We would have helped him but he wouldn’t let us,” Hector complained.
“I know,” she said. She was thinking that in her own way she had deserted him. But he had rejected her first. Even when she’d asked him to marry her, he had refused because he was down on his luck. Now that he was rich he had no doubt lost interest in her. There would be far too many other young women pursuing such a catch, young women of the high birth and old established families.
Peg said, “He claims he will never act again.”
“That is too bad,” Mary said. “He’s a good actor and it’s wrong of him to give up his career.”
“Too impatient,” the veteran actor said. “Too easily defeated! When I think of the disappointments Peg and I went through to get where we are!”
Peg smiled at her husband, her loving face showing the signs of how beautiful she must once have been. Even now she was a striking woman. She suggested, “Our greatest luck came finding our dear Mary.”