Vintage Love (193 page)

Read Vintage Love Online

Authors: Clarissa Ross

Tags: #romance, #classic

Noel Hastings looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want a fuss made about it. It would do no good.”

She said, “I say there is more than that to it!”

His glance was frightened. “What have you guessed?”

“I’ve surmised that you and Jeffrey are involved in some illegal traffic! I am a friend to you both and will never betray you. For your own safety and for Jeffrey’s you would be wise to tell me the truth!”

“Jeffrey would never forgive me,” the former actor quavered.

“Never mind about that now,” she said. “Tell me the truth!”

The old man hesitated for a long while, then he asked her, “Have you heard anything about the Crimson Mask?”

Her eyes widened. “Of course! There have been stories in all the papers! And much talk at every London gathering! The Crimson Mask is the highwayman who has been plaguing stagecoaches on the northern route for the past several years!”

Noel Hastings nodded. “Jeffrey is the Crimson Mask and I am his associate!”

“No!” she gasped in horror at the statement which she realized now only confirmed the suspicions she had repressed for so long.

“We have been at it ever since Jeffrey’s company failed,” Noel Hastings said. “Last night we attacked a stage just outside London. They had an armed guard. I was hit right away and Jeffrey ordered me to ride away. I don’t know what happened to him. He may have been killed or wounded. I have no idea.”

Mary shook her head. “What a fool he is! Sooner or later he must have known he would be killed or captured and hanged! Why risk his life and yours in such a reckless manner?”

Noel Hastings’ lined face was grim. “He needed to make money. It appealed to his sense of the dramatic. I went along with the idea.”

“You should have tried to dissuade him from such an enterprise!” she said.

“He would not listen to me,” the old man said. “I didn’t want him facing the danger alone!”

“So Jeffrey is the Crimson Mask!”

“If he still lives. There was a lively exchange of shots going on when I rode away from the scene,” Noel Hastings said miserably.

Fear for Jeffrey’s safety replaced her shock. She said, “I shall have my carriage brought round at once. We’ll go to his house and see if he is there.”

It was another foggy London day and she was grateful for the thick mist which cloaked them in anonymity. Her heart was pounding with apprehension when they reached the door of Jeffrey’s town house. She could see by the taut face of the old actor that he was also on edge.

Mary hurried to the door with Noel Hastings following, slowed down by his injury. She rang the bell and after a moment Jeffrey’s butler opened the door. He gazed blankly at Mary but was delighted when he saw Noel Hastings standing at her side.

“The master has been worried about you, sir,” the butler told him.

“He is at home?” Mary enquired.

“Yes,” the butler said.

“Tell him we’re here,” Noel Hastings said escorting her inside. They went directly to the drawing room. He told her, “You can forget all about what I told you if you like.”

“No,” she said. “We must face him with the truth!” The old man sighed and went to stare out the window unhappily. He was still standing there when Jeffrey entered the room.

The first thing Jeffrey did was to close the doors to the hall so they might talk in privacy. Then he went straight over to Noel Hastings, ignoring her, and anxiously asked him, “Are you all right, old friend?”

Noel Hastings turned to face Jeffrey, poised and elegant in a jade-green dressing gown. The old man sighed, “I just had an arm wound. I panicked and went to Mary’s house. She looked after my arm and kept me for the night.”

Jeffrey listened grimly and then crossed to the middle of the room where he said to Mary with resignation, “I gather Noel has revealed everything about his accident and the cause of it.”

“Yes,” she said, facing him unflinchingly.

Jeffrey smiled, a humorless grimace. “No doubt you suspected it all along.”

“That you were the Crimson Mask? Hardly,” she said. “When Noel told me this morning I was terrified that you might have been killed or captured last night. So we rushed here!”

Jeffrey shook his head. “There was no need for panic. I managed things very well. In spite of the armed guard I carried out my mission.”

“And you were not hurt?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Unhappily the guard was killed. I lost my head when he shot and hit old Noel.”

A look of horror crossed her lovely face. “Murder! You will surely be hanged if you are captured!”

“I would be hanged in any case,” Jeffrey said with a shrug. “Now that you know about me what do you propose to do?”

Her eyes met his defiantly. “I will ask your vow that you give up this wicked business! That you return to the stage where you belong and abandon this life of crime!”

“Too late,” he said. “I have gone too far. There is no turning back.”

“Don’t be a fool!” she begged him.

“If you look at it calmly you’ll realize I have no choice. I have become used to this way of life. It suits me well.”

She asked him, “And when you stand on the gallows?”

He smiled. “All lives must end. I shall have had an interesting one, to say the least. And I’ll be remembered as one of the best hosts in London.”

“You would risk your neck for
that
?” she said, not able to believe it.

Jeffrey said, “There is much more to it than that. Life is always a complicated business. What I want to know now is if you plan to turn us in to the authorities?”

“You know I’ll never do that,” she said.

“Thank you,” Jeffrey said. “I have always felt as close to you as to any other human being. I shall continue to do so. I can not expect you to feel the same way, but if you ever need my help, do not hesitate to call on me.”

Mary said, “I no longer understand you. I feel I never really knew you!”

“Let it go at that then,” said Jeffrey wearily.

She hesitated, then she said, “I asked you once to marry me. Now I ask you again. I can give you respectability and security. Together we can make the future wipe out the past.”

“Thank you, Lady Carter,” he said using her title in a mocking fashion. “That is indeed generous of you. But I cannot risk it. Sooner or later someone is bound to recognize me and link me with the Crimson Mask. I will not have you involved.”

“Not even if I’m willing to take the risk?” she asked in desperation.

“I must refuse such generosity,” Jeffrey said in a more gentle voice. “Though I shall not soon forget it.”

She stood there frustrated and shaken. Near tears she glanced at the grim Noel Hastings standing by the window and then at Jeffrey in his rich green dressing gown.

In a taut voice, she said, “Then there is nothing more for me to say.”

“I fear not,” Jeffrey replied.

She started towards the closed doors. He quickly joined her and opened them for her to leave. He accompanied her to the front door. She gazed up at him sadly, her hand on his arm.

“So this is to be goodbye?” she said.

“I think not,” Jeffrey said. “I shall always be at your service if you need me.”

She entered her carriage and leaned back. Tears poured down her cheeks at the knowledge that, to all intents and purposes, Jeffrey was dead. There could no longer be any contact between them.

When she reached her house in Brattle Court the Waddingtons were waiting for her. The old actor and his wife were puzzled at the midnight arrival of Noel Hastings and Mary’s leaving so early in the morning with him.

Mary removed her bonnet and sat with them in the small parlor. She bade Hector to close all the doors and when the three of them were seated there in privacy she revealed what she had learned. She ended with, “I must bind you to silence, on your honor. I only told you because I know both of you are fond of Jeffrey and Noel and can be trusted.”

“I will not betray them,” Hector said heavily.

“Nor I,” Peg Waddington said through her tears. “It is a tragedy that someone with Jeffrey’s ability should throw away his life in such an unthinking manner!”

“I agree,” Mary said. “It is a pity
he
was not wounded last night. Perhaps that might have caused him to think seriously about giving up his life as a highwayman.”

Hector frowned. “Do you think that would have altered his course?”

“I hope so,” she said. “And I can only pray that some incident will cause him to repent and return to the theatre where he belongs. I cannot give up that hope.”

“I shall pray along with you,” Peg promised. “Perhaps he will come to his senses.”

Her husband’s face was bleak. He said, “More likely he’ll go on with his robbing until he is caught and his neck stretched.”

“And old Noel’s as well,” Peg said. “That old man began his criminal career late in life.”

“He is devoted to Jeffrey,” Mary said. “Just as we all are.”

Hector Waddington said, “You must keep away from him. There will be an almighty scandal when the truth comes out. All those who have enjoyed his hospitality, including the Prince Regent, will throw up their hands in horror and turn against him.”

“Such fantastic parties,” Peg observed. “And the money came from his highway robberies!”

A covenant was made among the three and they kept their silence. Several times in the weeks which followed Grant Curtis invited her to join him at soirées given by Jeffrey in his Berkeley Square mansion. Each time she made some excuse. Puzzled, Grant took her out to supper one evening following the play and expressed his curiosity about her refusals.

He studied her across the table and asked her, “I thought you and Jeffrey Hunt were good friends?”

“We were,” she said.

“Then why do you refuse to attend his entertainments?” Grant asked. “They grow more exotic each time! At the last soirée he had a genuine harem girl dancing for the assemblage! The Prince Regent decided to duplicate the event at Brighton and had Jeffrey introduce him to the lady.”

She smiled sadly. “I’m sure his parties are interesting. Jeffrey is a most … creative person.”

“Is it that you do not wish to attend them with me?” Grant Curtis asked.

“If that were true I would not be here with you tonight,” she said.

“Then what is the answer?”

She looked down at her plate. “I do not approve of the life Jeffrey is leading. I think his frivolity a waste of his abilities. I’d like to see him return to the theatre.”

“He’s fabulously wealthy,” Grant said, repeating the popular version of Jeffrey’s affairs. “I doubt he ever will.”

“I’m wealthy and I returned to the stage,” she said.

Grant smiled at her. “You are a very special person. I doubt that he has your character. But I’m glad in a way you are angry with him. That may mean you’ll think more seriously of my interest in you.”

She said, “I thought we’d decided to be good friends and no more.”

“I warned you. I shall keep trying to change that,” Grant Curtis said. And then he added, “Not that there aren’t plenty of other eligible bachelors in London interested in you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Indeed?”

“I could name a few,” he said. “Upon my honor, you don’t know the attraction you have for us poor males. The other night I met Sir Edward Blake at a gaming house.”

The mention of the name gave her chills. “Oh?”

He smiled. “Sir Edward knows we are neighbors and he at once began plying me with questions about you. He mentioned that you and his brother, Howard, had once been very close and that Howard’s wife is madly jealous of you.”

Mary said, “From all I have heard she is madly jealous of
any
female he happens to notice.”

“Unfortunate,” Grant agreed. “I knew Nell before she married Howard. We were all wary of her despite her wealth. She was strange even then. And the story is that she has grown worse.”

“I can well believe it,” Mary said acidly.

Grant went on, “However, it was in you that Sir Edward showed a tremendous interest. I vow he is obsessed with you. He kept talking about you and asking me a host of questions. As you may know he is a dangerous man where the fair sex are concerned. He has a thirst for women and has left a trail of broken hearts in his wake, from great ladies to barmaids!”

“I have heard of his reputation,” Mary said grimly. “And I can promise you that he will never have any luck in winning
this
Lady! I despise him and all men of his kind!”

Grant nodded in approval. “The fellow is a bounder despite his title.
He
ought to be suffering marriage with the demented Nell rather than Howard who is a rather nice chap.”

They had a pleasant supper and sat over glasses of wine for a while after. At her door he bestowed a kiss on her lips and asked her, “May I resume sending you a nightly bouquet of roses?”

She smiled ruefully and shook her head. “I accept such gifts only from a lover, not from a good friend.”

“Then I shall have to wait a little longer in the hope my status may be changed,” he bantered.

“Pray do not think of me in that connection,” she warned him.

Grant’s face fell. “You cannot allow too many years to pass before you marry again,” he said.

“Lady Carter may decide against a second marriage,” she told him. “At least that is how she feels at the moment.” And with that she went inside.

The company were busy at the theatre preparing a new version of Oliver Goldsmith’s, ‘She Stoops To Conquer’. It was to be a gala occasion with Mary playing the role of Miss Hardcastle and Hector Waddington in the role of her father. Peg was to play Mrs. Hardcastle, and the popular comedy was expected to draw full houses at the Maiden Lane.

One morning as they paused in rehearsal Hector came to her and called her to the side of the stage. He said, “I thought you’d best see this.”

She took the newspaper he proffered and read the account which he had indicated. It was under the heading: “Crimson Mask Robbery!” It went on to tell of still another stagecoach holdup on the great London road by the highwayman, The Crimson Mask. The dapper thief had taken a large amount of money from the passengers. One of them had drawn a pistol just as the highwayman and his assistant were about to ride away. His bullet had found its mark in the assistant’s heart and the Crimson Mask had recklessly risked being shot himself to lift the dead man’s body and ride off with it on his own mount. The Crimson Mask had escaped with the body of his presumably dead confederate.

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