Mary’s lifeless hands dropped the newssheet. In a strangled voice she said to the old actor, “Poor old Noel Hastings is dead!”
“Without question,” Hector Waddington said. “and Jeffrey could not leave him there. Someone might have recognized the old man. He had to whisk the body away!”
“What a risk he took doing it!”
“He had no choice!”
She said, “Now he is quite alone!”
Hector nodded. “And how long will it be before one of his victims puts a bullet through him?”
“Perhaps he will give up now,” she suggested.
“You know he won’t,” the old man warned her, and Mary feared he was right.
The company opened in the romping “She Stoops To Conquer” and Mary lost herself in the excellent role of the Squire’s daughter mistaken for a serving girl. The audience loved the play and once again May Waddington became the darling of London. She took many curtain calls every night. It seemed that she had reached the peak of her stage career.
It was in the midst of all this success that tragedy was to strike her. She was preparing for the performance one night when the stage manager knocked on her dressing room door.
“What is it?” she asked.
From the other side of the door the stage manager said, “Gentleman here wishes to see you. I told him the curtain goes up in fifteen minutes but he claims it is urgent.”
Her immediate thought was of Jeffrey. If he were in trouble and had come to her himself the stage manager would have recognized him. But perhaps he had not dared show himself and so had sent someone else.
She put on a dressing gown and went to the door. She told the stage manager, “I’ll see whoever it is for five minutes. No longer!”
“Yes, Miss Waddington,” he said. He vanished and a moment later a distraught Howard Blake came along the hall and entered her dressing room.
Mary was astonished, as he was the last person she’d thought to see. She exclaimed, “Howard! What are you doing here?”
His face was chalk-white. He said, “Nell! She’s dead!”
“What?”
“Killed herself,” he went on tautly. “Took poison. Her maid found her in our bedroom!”
“How horrible! She was surely mad!”
Howard nodded. “That is not all!”
“No?”
“Before she died she sent her father a letter telling of her intention. He received it too late to prevent her death.”
“And?”
Howard swallowed hard. “This is what I must warn you of. In the note she claimed I’d been unfaithful and she cited you.”
“Oh, no!” Mary gasped.
“You said she was mad and indeed she was,” Howard told her.
“What can we do?”
“Nothing, for the moment,” Howard said. “I’m going to try and reason with her father. If I’m successful I may be able to make him destroy the letter and that will be the end of it.”
“And if you don’t succeed?”
Howard spread his hands. “That is why I had to warn you. The word will spread like wildfire. It would create a fearful scandal!”
“Would people believe it? Take the word of a mad woman seriously?” she asked.
He said, “Only a few realize she was mad. The general opinion would be bound to be sympathetic.”
From outside the door came the stage manager’s voice, “Ten minutes, Miss Waddington!”
“I have no more time!” she said breathlessly.
“I will go,” Howard said. “I oughtn’t to have come here. It is dangerous for you. But I had to let you know and I couldn’t trust anyone else.”
“Yes, yes,” she said. “Now, go!”
He hesitated at the door. “I love you, May. I always will!” And then he went out.
Somehow she managed to complete making up and go on with the performance. As soon as the curtain fell she hurried home with the Waddingtons and went straight to her room. She did not want to tell them yet of this dire happening. But she walked the floor of her bedroom most of the night.
In the morning she sent out a maid for a copy of the morning journal. When it was brought to her she sought out the story of Nell Blake’s death. It was on the front page under a heading: “Takes Own Life!” She read on quickly and was relieved to see there was no mention of a suicide letter. Just a hint that the lady was in ill health and unhappy because of it.
She prayed that Howard had persuaded Nell’s father to disregard the letter as the ramblings of a mad woman and to destroy it. But in the early afternoon she had a visitor. The visitor was none other than Howard’s older brother, Sir Edward Blake.
The maid showed the arrogant Sir Edward into Mary’s private apartments. Sir Edward stood there as coldly handsome as ever. He seemed to have aged not at all.
Glancing around, he said, “I assume we have complete privacy?”
“Yes,” she said tensely, afraid to think what his presence in her house might mean.
“You have a fine establishment here,” he said with a cold smile.
“Thank you.”
His cruel eyes fixed on her. “You no doubt are wondering why I am here?”
“Yes,” she said, steeling herself for whatever was to come. “Yes, I am.”
Sir Edward Blake did not seem to be in a hurry to get to the point. He smiled at Mary in his familiar arrogant fashion, a foppish figure in his pale yellow waistcoat, lace-ruffled shirt and skin tight breeches. He produced a golden snuff box from the pocket of his beige vest and daintily touched some to his noctrils. After casually returning the snuff box to his pocket he glanced around the room.
“I consider Blake House one of London’s finest mansions,” he said. “But this far surpasses it. You are most fortunate.”
She eyed him warily. “You have yet to tell me why you have done me the — honor — of visiting me.”
“True,” he agreed. Then he said, “You have heard of the unfortunate demise of my sister-in-law, Nell?”
“Yes,” she said. “I have.”
His eyes mocked her. “And I assume you also know that she took her own life?”
“I was told that.”
Sir Edward said, “Before her suicide she wrote a letter to her father. In it she declared her intention to take her life and gave as the reason that you were having an affair with her husband.”
“That simply was not true!” Mary said quietly.
The man whom she had come to hate shrugged. “Nell had a lively imagination. She’d been told you and Howard were friends some time ago. It did not take much for her to see the popular actress, May Waddington, as her rival.”
Mary knew he was trying to frighten her. She said firmly, “It is general knowledge she was a neurotic woman given to fantasies.”
“Some say so.”
“You know it is true!” she said sharply.
“My unhappy brother gave me the task of seeing his late wife’s father and trying to arrange for the destruction of the letter. Nell’s father had refused to see him so he had no other choice but turn to me.”
“And?”
Sir Edward smiled coldly. “Naturally I was happy to take on the task. Not only for my brother’s sake but to help you out of an unfortunate predicament.”
“I do not deserve such kindness,” she said with irony.
“Do not say that,” he protested. “I found Nell’s father badly upset and seeking vengeance. I think I have made some headway with him. It is my hope that after I have another talk with him he will relent and return the letter to me. There will be no scandal, nothing for you or Howard to worry about.”
“Is this what you have come here to tell me?”
“Not quite all,” the Sir Edward said with an icy smile on his dissipated yet still handsome face.
“Please go on.”
“I find myself in a strange situation,” he said. “I have always had the highest regard for you. A deep interest in you, yet you have chosen to turn your back on me.”
She said, “I think you imagine that, Sir Edward.”
“On the contrary,” he said. “I know it to be true. Yet you have always shown a warm regard for my brother, Howard.”
“I would prefer not to discuss that,” she said stiffly.
He nodded. “I’m sure you would. But I’m afraid we must. I’ll be very frank with you. I finally know who you are, Lady Carter.”
She rose from her chair. “What are you saying?”
“I’ve finally recognized you, Miss May Waddington,” Sir Edward said. “And I know from some investigations I’ve made that you are merely a foster-daughter of the Waddingtons and your real name is Mary Scott, a former kitchen girl in my parents’ house!”
Mary felt her cheeks burn as anger and fear billowed up within her. “If you remember all that you must also remember your cruel treatment of me!”
He made a gesture to indicate his regret. “True,” he said. “And I can understand that you must hate me. But if it will make up for my behaviour in any way, let me tell you that in all these years I have never forgotten you.”
“That is touching,” she said with sarcasm. “I’m sure there are dozens of other poor girls whom you must remember in the same way!”
“Do not be hard on me,” he said. “I still have very warm feelings for you. That is why I am here. To offer you safety from scandal and to open a future for us!”
“There can be no future for us,” she hissed.
“Hear me out,” he said. “I know I can get the incriminating letter back and end any threat of scandal for you and Howard. In return I ask that you become my — friend again.”
She listened with growing horror and disgust. “Are you telling me you’ll destroy the letter if I agree to become your mistress?”
He spread his hands. “Isn’t that stating it rather too crudely?”
She pressed him. “But it is what you mean!”
He smiled in his evil fashion once again. “Perhaps it is best that we have a full understanding. Yes, that is what I would ask from you.”
Mary said, “Thank you, no! I can accept any scandal the letter may cause me rather than the dishonor that is the alternative.”
He looked briefly disappointed. Then he said, “You have always been inclined to quick judgements. I shall give you time to consider this. Say, three or four days. You can send me a message if you have a change of heart. If I don’t hear from you by that time I shall see the letter reaches the press. And I shall also spread the news of your humble beginnings in London.”
“Do what you like,” she said hotly. “I was only shamed once and that was by you.”
Sir Edward gazed at her with a sour smile. “I don’t really understand why I want you. Say it’s a whim. I shall enjoy telling Howard what a slut you were when you worked in our kitchen!”
“Get out!” she cried, angry tears brimming in her eyes.
“Willingly,” he said. “And don’t forget! You have four days at the most. Then I shall titillate London society with some truly scandalous details about you!”
With that he left the room. She slumped down into her chair and sobbed. She was still there when a concerned Hector Waddington came into the room. The old actor crossed to her and touched her on the shoulder.
“What is it, dear child?” he wanted to know.
She fought back her tears and brokenly gave him an account of Sir Edward’s visit and his threats. Finishing with, “He intends to use the letter to ruin Howard and me!”
Hector stood by her, deeply troubled. “Why would Howard Blake entrust such a delicate mission to a man like his brother?”
“Because his father-in-law would not talk to him,” she said. “And Howard has no knowledge of what went on between Edward and me. That I was ever employed at Blake House. I have kept it from him over the years. That’s why I did not dare think of marriage with him! That, and the fact that Jeffrey has always had first place in my heart.”
“Jeffrey!” Hector said bitterly. “The Crimson Mask has enough problems of his own!”
“There’s nothing to be done,” she said. “Edward will go ahead with his malicious attack. We can only hope that people will not believe the story.”
The old actor sighed. “I fear the public tucks into such a scandal as they do a fine slab of roast beef!”
She said, “I must warn Howard that his brother has betrayed him.”
“True,” the old actor agreed.
“You must send a message to him. I dare not meet him anywhere, but let him come to the theatre.”
She at once sat down and penned a brief note to Howard and had Hector send it by messenger. In the note she told Howard that she must see him and talk to him about the suicide note. She asked him to come to the theatre after the performance.
Too agitated to rest, she went out for a stroll in the garden for a few minutes before leaving for the theatre. While she was there Grant Curtis came to see her.
The young man said, “I fear I have neglected you. My parents are at home so I have not had much free time.”
“I have not seen you in some time,” she agreed.
He studied her with his keen brown eyes. “You look wan. Have you been ill?”
“I’ve suffered a headache,” she said.
“And you have to act tonight?”
“Yes.”
He smiled ruefully. “You have too much allegiance to the theatre.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “The theatre is terribly important to me.”
Grant Curtis then said, “You’ve heard about Howard Blake’s wife?”
“Yes,” she said, grimly. “I have heard.”
“Unfortunate,” the young man sighed. “Howard is a good sort. He deserved better.”
“I know.”
“There’s been a lot of scandal around the town lately.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Some of it concerning your friend, Jeffrey Hunt.” He said with a look of meaning.
She was at once concerned. “What sort of scandal?”
“They say he’s lost most of his money,” Grant confided. “At least that was the story I heard in my club a few nights ago.”
“I doubt if it’s true,” she said.
“There’s been gossip and mystery about him from the start,” the young man went on. “And now his constant companion, the older man, has vanished.”
“Noel Hastings?” she ventured, knowing only too well that the old actor had lost his life while holding up a stagecoach with Jeffrey.
“Yes, that was his name,” the young man said, unaware that she knew a great deal more about it than he did. “The story goes that the older man took care of his finances for him and that he absconded with the most of Jeffrey’s fortune.”
“I much doubt that,” Mary replied with spirit.