The ballerinas twittered with pleased outrage at this impertinence and scurried off to their cabins. I suddenly remembered that I should think of myself as one of them. With a sigh, wondering what I had let myself in for embarking on this adventure for Mr Sheridan so far from my natural habitat, I took one last look at the twinkling lights of Dover at the foot of the great white cliffs and dutifully followed Madame Beaufort.
It was then that my torment began. Leaving Frank with his footman, Joseph, up in the bracing fresh air of the deck, I found myself closeted with three dancers called Mimi, Colette and Belle. I’d never much liked them at Drury Lane and closer acquaintance did little to improve on this impression. They greeted my arrival in their cabin as an unwanted intrusion on their gang. The spare bunk had already been covered in clothes and they made no effort to move them.
‘Why, girls, it’s the little cat,’ simpered Mimi, preening her blonde curls in a tiny hand-mirror. ‘Mr Sheridan’s old favourite.’
‘Thought you were too good for us, did you, travelling with that young lord of yours?’ asked Colette with a bitter twist to her lips.
‘Pleased to meet you too, ladies,’ I said, ignoring these slights. It was useless to explain to these creatures the idea of a friendship with someone so far above my social status. You can’t live behind stage as long as I have without experiencing the petty jealousies and spite of some performers.
‘I can’t understand what that young gentleman sees in her, can you, girls?’ asked Belle, as if I wasn’t there. ‘She’s such a queer little thing and he so handsome. And as for thinking that she’ll make it as a dancer! Madame Beaufort has gone quite mad.’
‘No, it’s not madness,’ replied Mimi. ‘Old Sheridan must have paid her to take his discarded pet out of the way. And who can blame him now she’s made herself notorious with those stories she wrote? She’s become an embarrassment.’ Mimi pulled out a little magazine from her trunk. ‘Queen of the London Underworld – I mean, who does she think she’s fooling?’
‘Queen of the chamberpots more like,’ added Colette.
So I was to be punished for making myself famous, was I? I suppose I could look on it as the penalty for falling for Mr Tweadle’s cheat. I only wished that I had as many piquant French words to hand as I had English so I could answer back in style. Perhaps if I hadn’t been feeling so green, I would have tried. But as it was, I saved my breath and attempted to quell my growing nausea.
There was a creaking overhead and the sound of feet running across the ceiling: we were getting under way. I contemplated returning to the deck for some fresh air and the diversion of watching the sailors hoist sail, but my assigned role required me to act as if I were part of the troupe. Instead I took revenge on my three companions by climbing into the bunk and spreading out regardless of the clothes.
‘That’s my best pelisse!’ protested Mimi, pulling a violet cloak from under me.
The ship gave a lurch as she left the protection of the harbour and was hit broadside by the wind. The pelisse gave an ugly ripping sound.
‘Look what you’ve done!’ Mimi held up the torn sleeve, for all the world acting as if it were my fault that a storm was blowing.
I was about to reply but was prevented by a strange feeling in my stomach. Opening my mouth, it wasn’t insults that poured out, but something far more offensive. Mimi screamed and jumped back. Belle and Colette fled to the other side of the tiny cabin.
‘Clean it up, you disgusting thing!’ screeched Mimi.
As if I could in my current state! I rolled over, not to repair the damage but to add to it.
‘I want another cabin! I’m not staying in here with her!’ Mimi stormed out, crying for Madame Beaufort, closely followed by her two friends.
I didn’t care. They could call me all the names under the sun, shout and scream at me. I just wanted to die as the ship bucked and reared like an unbroken horse. Why, oh why, had I thought Mr Sheridan’s idea of sending me to France a good one? It was the stupidest thing ever! I was going to be useless! I couldn’t even travel without collapsing in a helpless smelly heap! My dejection was so complete that I didn’t notice Joseph enter ten minutes later, armed with bucket and mop to cleanse the cabin, nor Frank place a cool cloth on my head. He told me later he’d given up his berth to the fugitives from mine, though they were soon retching with the rest of the troupe as the storm worsened. They should have stayed with me for I had the best nurses in Frank and Joseph, neither of whom – curse their iron constitutions – showed the least discomfort in the heavy seas.
The crossing to France, which had appeared such a small thing in Mr Sheridan’s study as I had examined a map, now took on an epic stature as our little ship battled its way to Calais. When my stomach was so empty I could be ill no more, I dozed, drifting in and out of nightmares in which our ship foundered on rocks or broke apart, casting us all on the waves.
‘Kill me, Frank. I just want it to end,’ I groaned some hours later.
‘Don’t be silly, Cat, you don’t mean that,’ he chided.
I looked across to find him reading by the light of the swinging lantern. Reading! How could he? It was the story Mimi had brandished at me earlier. I crumpled flat on my back.
‘You know, this really is capital stuff. I hadn’t realized what an attractive fellow I am till I read it in your own words!’
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ I muttered wretchedly. ‘It’s fiction, remember.’
‘You must be feeling better,’ declared Frank, ‘if you are up to insulting me.’