She shook her head. “You know it will never be that easy.”
“I know. But it offers a chance for adventure, which fascinates me. I need someone to pose as my daughter, and you are the ideal person.”
“What names would you suggest we use?” Enid asked Standish.
“It would be better if you used your own name,” Sir Harry told her. “And Kemble could temporarily take your father’s name. I’m sure there would be no objection on the part of your parent, considering the reason.”
“He is in the country,” Enid said. “He need not even know about it.”
Kemble put his arm around her. “I won’t try to make the danger seem less than it probably is. But you have already known some danger here in London. And you will remain in danger as long as you stay here.”
“That is only too true,” she agreed, the memory of Andrew’s cruelty still fresh in her mind.
Sir Harry rose from his chair. “I must go now. I shall not ask for an answer until tomorrow. I regret I cannot wait any longer than that. If you are not able to come to a conclusion, I shall have to look, regrettably, elsewhere. I feel you are the two best suited to serve us.”
Kemble brought Sir Harry his cape and hat. “We shall give you a proper answer tomorrow,” he promised.
“You know where to reach me,” Sir Harry said, tossing the cape over his ample girth. “Send a messenger to my office. If you decide to throw your lot in with me, I shall arrange another meeting.” He bowed to Enid. “I thank you, Lady Blair. You understand that all I have told you is of the utmost confidence.”
“Of course,” she murmured tautly. “I understand completely.”
“Very well. I shall be on my way now.”
Kemble went to see him out. Enid moved to the window and glanced down at the waiting carriage, whose ebony wood frame and ornate brass fittings glowed in the pale morning light. The driver wore a splendid maroon and gold livery, and the horse stamping its hooves between the shafts of the vehicle was perfectly groomed and had the best of harnesses. Sir Harry emerged onto the street and was helped into the carriage.
As the driver resumed his seat and drove off, Enid let her eyes wander across the road, where they rested on two men in shabby clothing who were standing there. One of them came to the curb and raised a hand. An ordinary carriage with a poorly dressed driver appeared, and the two men bundled themselves into the coach and were driven off in the same direction as Sir Harry. Enid realized at once that these men were his bodyguards; they had waited across the road until he left Kemble’s flat and were now following him.
The door opened behind her; Kemble was back again. He came over to her and asked, “Well, what do you think?”
She gave a rueful smile. “I think there are great rogues in high places!”
“Without a doubt. But it takes a kind of rogue to oversee such cloak-and-dagger operations.”
Enid moved a few steps away and then turned to the actor. “You know that anyone he manipulates is expendable if it suits his purpose. You and I count for nothing but mere conveniences to him. He does not see us as human beings.”
“Come, now, aren’t you being too hard on him?”
“I think not. He knows we are vulnerable—I because of Armand and my actual fear of London since Andrew treated me so violently. And he has surmised that you are bored with your success and ready for some sort of adventure to take you out of yourself.”
“You may be right in both instances. But does that matter? It is his profession to judge people, to seek out their weaknesses and use them to his advantage.”
She gave Kemble a frosty smile. “With all the information he has about us, I’m positive that he knows we have been lovers.”
“So?”
“It would be convenient for us to travel together. What a wonderful excuse for us to continue our affair!”
Kemble eyed her in bewilderment. “But you have told me that cannot be. That while Armand lives, you will not offer me your favors.”
“And I meant it,” she said sharply. “And if we can accept Sir Harry’s word, we know that Armand is still alive, though captive.”
“I think he told us the truth.”
“So if we should be mad enough to go through with this, you must keep your place with me. I will not tolerate any nonsense, John.”
He sighed. “Have it your way.”
“There is also another hazard,” she went on. “One that Sir Harry did not seem to consider.”
“What do you mean?”
“Louis Esmond knows who I am—he has recognized me.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Kemble admitted. “I should have. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t blame you. But it is a fact. He knows me.”
“There is no reason why you should run into him, if you are lucky,” the actor said quickly. “The French, hopefully, are still unaware that the exchange of the lads took place and that the prince is at large.”
“I wonder. Sir Harry made the situation sound as good as he dared. But I think he truly misled us. This is a shaky enterprise that has crashed on the rocks of disaster. He hopes that we may be able to piece together the wreckage.”
“I say let’s do it!” Kemble urged. “It will take me a week to turn the company over to my sister and be free. What about you?”
“I have only Susie to consider. She has counted on my staying with her. She has been in a depressed mood ever since Gustav left, and she fears he may never come back.”
“She need not be alone. I’ll have Jenny live with her while I’m gone, and I’ll close up this place!”
Enid could not hold back her smile. “You have an answer for everything, John.”
He closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. “I love you, and yet I may never be able to share the future with you. Let us join in this one great experience together. We may wind up with our names linked in the history books.”
She laughed up at him. “I knew that line of Sir Harry’s appealed to you. Very well, I’ll do it.”
He kissed her gently on the lips and murmured, “That was as close to being fatherly as I can manage at the moment.”
“You will have to do better than that,” she chided with good humor. “I find it hard to picture you with white hair and a wrinkled face!”
“Then you have missed me in one of my greatest performances as the mad King Lear!”
Enid moved out of his embrace, saying, “I must leave before Jenny returns, or you may regret it. How do you manage her so easily? She seems to do your bidding, yet she asks nothing of you.”
Kemble shrugged. “I fancy she is in love with me.”
Enid slipped on her cloak and went to the door. “You know, you might do worse.”
“And I could also do better,” he replied.
From his expression and his tone of voice, Enid knew he was referring to her, but she chose to ignore this remark and merely smiled at him in farewell.
Once on the street, she decided to walk back to the studio. But a few minutes later she began to regret her decision. The streets of London had taken on a menacing air for her. Even though the night of her kidnapping was long past, she had grown increasingly more nervous when she was out by herself. She was trembling now at the sound of rough, loud voices nearby, and she hesitated at the curb to let the great wagons roll noisily by.
Her unsettled state of mind made her wonder whether she was really fit for the role Sir Harry had in mind. Perhaps a while ago she would have been all right. On the night that she and Gustav had rescued Armand from the warehouse, she had not wanted for courage. She had handled both sword and pistol with skill and accomplishment. Neither had she hesitated to take whatever risk was necessary.
But that had been a different matter entirely. Then she had been eager to help Armand directly. Now she was being asked to take on a formidable task with only a vague promise that she could seek out Armand when her other duties were completed. This mission gave her considerable pause. She was fond of Kemble, and having him at her side would help, but she did not know whether she could stand up to the rigors of the assignment.
She looked about her and saw more than the familiar parade of well-dressed gentlemen and ladies. She saw the pinched faces of the poor as they lounged in dark doorways or scurried about on some errands. She knew now that this London that had so attracted her in earlier days was more than a city where lords and their ladies indulged themselves in all sorts of luxuries and debaucheries. This was a place in which the snobbish one hundred or so families that dominated the city’s social life paid no heed to what was going on around them. They ignored those who had left the rural areas and now lived, many of them, in degrading poverty in hovels. Thieves, prostitutes, pimps, pickpockets, and murderers abounded. Did those families care? It seemed appropriate that King George III, who was at the very top of the social hierarchy, should roam about his palace in a purple bathrobe, talking to himself endlessly, though he was both deaf and almost blind.
When Enid entered the studio at last, Susie was there waiting for her. The actress hurried over to her nervously, crying, “You are so late! I was half out of my mind with worry!”
“I walked back,” Enid said, taking off her cloak and bonnet.
“You know how I worry when I’m alone,” Susie moaned.
Enid smiled at her reassuringly. “You’re behaving like a child. You never used to be like this.”
“So many terrible things have happened. I was at the window before, and I saw a wicked-looking man standing across the street and staring up here.”
“You probably imagined it.”
“No, I’m sure I didn’t. He watched for a long while and then he vanished. I’m afraid word has gone around that we are alone in the studio. And with your flat empty, the whole building is almost deserted.”
“You mustn’t dwell on such things,” Enid said, quelling her own surge of fear.
“What did Kemble want?” Susie asked as she sat down near the window.
Enid knew she could not tell Susie the truth. Sir Harry had sworn her to secrecy. So she put Susie off by saying, “He talked a lot about new plays and perhaps turning the company over to his sister and taking a holiday.”
Susie frowned. “He has spoken of that before. I hope he doesn’t. Mrs. Siddons is a skinflint and a hard person to act with. I worked with her in the past.”
A knock sounded at the door. Susie answered it and then handed Enid an envelope. “It is a message for you.”
Enid took the letter and at once recognized her father’s stylish handwriting. She quickly tore open the envelope and read the enclosure. It consisted of just a few words: “I’m staying overnight at the Whyte Hart Inn at Charing Cross Road. Urgent that I talk with you.”
Susie watched her with anxious eyes. “What is it?” she asked.
“My father is in the city,” Enid explained. “He wants me to visit him.”
“I shall be at the theater, so I won’t mind. Why don’t you meet me there after you see your father? We can walk home together.”
“I’ll go to Drury Lane as soon as I leave the Whyte Hart Inn,” Enid promised.
She changed her clothes and then set out for Charing Cross Road, which she reached on foot within ten minutes. The Whyte Hart Inn was a large establishment whose wide courtyard was bustling with people and with the arrival and departure of stagecoaches.
Enid made inquiries of the landlord and was directed to a front room on the second floor. “First on the left as you reach the landing,” was his exact instruction. She found the right door and knocked on it, and a moment later her father stood before her.
He looked older than when she had last seen him, and he was leaning on his cane as usual. His lined face broke into a broad smile at the sight of her, and he cried, “My dear girl! I’ve been waiting for you!”
She embraced him and then sat down on a plain chair near the small hearth. Lord Alfred lowered himself onto the edge of the divan that would also serve as his bed.
“I didn’t expect to see you here in the city,” she said. “My solicitors have indicated they would like a meeting with me,” he explained.
“Oh?”
“Some business affairs to attend to, and the matter of your annulment, of course.”
“Are they making any headway?”
He shook his head. “Very little, I must admit. You know that scoundrel Andrew is off somewhere, hiding.”
“Yes, I did hear about that.” She was hoping her father hadn’t learned the scandalous reason for Andrew’s disappearance.
Apparently he hadn’t, for he said, “It’s a bad business, and now it has come to a halt. And on top of that, the villain has taken to writing threatening letters.”
Enid was shocked. “Threatening letters?”
Her father sighed. “He sent them to me in care of my solicitors. I read them today. He had sent three at different intervals. They didn’t make pleasant reading, I can tell you that!”
“What did he say?”
Lord Alfred hesitated before replying, “They were mostly threats of what he intended to do to you. I needn’t go into the details.”
Enid got up and came to sit beside him.
“I’m sorry you’ve been bothered in this way. Andrew is truly despicable.”
“Don’t think about me. You’re the one I’m concerned about. Do you think it’s safe for you to remain in London?”
“I may be leaving shortly, as a matter of fact. I wanted to tell you about it. Mr. Kemble is taking a tour and has asked me to join him.”
Jumping to conclusions that weren’t warranted, Lord Alfred said, “Oh, a theatrical tour of the provinces! Very good. Best thing possible to get you away from London and moving about.”
Enid decided to leave him with this idea. “I may not write you for a while, but you know I’ll be all right.”
“I’m relieved to hear of your plans. Away from London, you won’t be so liable to suffer from that vile Andrew.”
“I feel that way, too,” she agreed. “How is Mother? Is she well?”
“She is well and worries about you,” he said with a sad smile. “I worry about you, too. How is your Frenchman?”
“Armand is still in France, working at helping other noblemen escape.” She refrained from mentioning his imprisonment.
“Dangerous, from all I’ve read. Hope he watches out for himself.”
“I’m sure he will,” she murmured, trying not to show her concern.