The Duchess of Drury Lane

Fifteen




‘a most charming man’

‘Are you telling me that all these afternoons walking in the deer park, you have been engaged in secret assignations with the Duke of Clarence?’

I gave my disgruntled sister a shamefaced smile, having finally confessed to my meetings with the Prince. ‘They weren’t intended to be such, I do assure you. We met quite by chance and started chatting while we were watching the deer. He says I am the most delightful person he has ever met, that I have captured his heart and—’

I was interrupted as Fanny came bouncing in, eager to help me prepare for the theatre, as always. Hester quickly shooed my daughter out, loudly protesting, and closed the door. ‘And what?’

‘I seem to have a new admirer.’

‘Has he captured your heart? Are you equally enamoured? Attracted? Besotted? Don’t tell me you have fallen in love yet again?’

‘Of course not, I hardly know the man, but he is sweet and kind. We are but good friends.’ I gave my attention to searching in my trinket box for suitable bracelets and rings to wear on stage, not wishing her to see the betraying flush I could feel creeping up my cheeks.

‘Friends!’ she scoffed, then snatching up the brush began to attack my hair with unnecessary vigour, taking out her temper on my recalcitrant curls. I made no protest, realizing it would only make her worse. ‘You do know he has a reputation for dalliance? What of his pursuit of Elizabeth Sheridan?’

‘A delightful lady, he says, but merely a passing fancy.’

‘There seem to have been any number of those.’

‘Nowhere near as many as rumour would have you believe, and mainly in his youth. He is a reformed character these days.’

She snorted her derision. ‘He doesn’t appear to have turned chaste from what I can see. What of that Polly Finch he once had staying with him?’

I found myself flushing. ‘I asked him about her and he claims that for a time he did nurse a foolish sentiment of settling down with her, but she was not that sort of girl.’

‘I dare say she wasn’t,’ Hester scathingly remarked. ‘Apparently the Duke bored her rigid by reading her his seafaring tales every night.’

‘He doesn’t bore me. I find him most agreeable. And a man must fill his time somehow. He has been rather at a loss since he left the sea.’

Hester tugged at a lock of hair with the brush, making me wince. ‘I’ve seen him in the Prince’s box every evening leering at you, and coming backstage afterwards to congratulate you on your performance, lingering in the hope of taking you to dine.’

‘An invitation I have steadfastly refused. Although where is the sin in taking supper with a pleasant companion? I find him both amusing and entertaining.’

‘He could never marry you. The King would be certain to object.’

‘The subject of marriage has never come up,’ I lied. ‘Although it is not so important for the Duke as it is for the Prince of Wales, since he is unlikely to occupy the throne.’

‘He doesn’t fancy a cow-faced German princess then.’

I giggled. ‘Apparently not, he prefers a woman of wit and beauty, and with a tender heart. But I doubt His Majesty expects him to live as a monk, for all he has been a faithful husband himself, or so we are led to believe. Rumour has it that the King entered a form of marriage himself before marrying the Queen, with a Quakeress called Hannah Lightfoot. But I do assure you, in our many meetings there has been no talk of marriage. Nor have I any wish to become his mistress.’

‘Have you not?’ She paused in her labours to study carefully my bland expression. ‘Does Richard know about this new admirer?’

Ignoring her question, I continued with my tale. ‘Last evening he was telling me how he used to put on performances of The Merry Wives of Windsor on board ship, would you believe? They’d make Falstaff fall into a coil of ropes and pelt him with rubbish. And one of the sailors would dress up as Mistress Quickly, William himself taking the Mistress Ford part.’ I laughed as I recalled his amusing tales. ‘We seem to have a great deal in common.’

‘Except he was acting as an amateur, not a professional.’

‘I mean in our shared love of the theatre.’

Hester’s expression was one of disbelief as she stuck pins in my hair with more energy than was quite called for. ‘I’m not so sure it’s the theatre he loves, more likely your shapely legs.’

‘Hester, please! We talk, that is all, about anything and everything. William talks as much as you and I, which is saying something,’ I teased.

‘William is it now? Not “the Duke”, or “His Highness”, then?’

‘He dislikes any formality, and is, as I say, a most cheerful and friendly person.’

‘I’m sure he is,’ she commented drily. ‘Have you not always said it would be folly to love a prince? Even if there do seem to be any number available, thanks to Queen Charlotte’s fecundity.’

I couldn’t help but feel affronted, and a little hurt by her disapproval. ‘What is it you want me to do, Hester? I love Richard, you know I do, and would gladly become his loyal wife tomorrow, were he to ask me. But I cannot wait for ever, and possibly in vain, for him to propose. Mama would certainly not wish that for me.’

‘I think you should make absolutely certain that Richard isn’t going to propose, before you take this “friendship” as you call it, any further. I do not want you laying yourself open to yet more hurt, Doll.’

My expression was bleak as I looked up at her, for she was saying only what I already knew in my heart. The door flew open and an outraged Fanny stood there, hands on her skinny hips, looking extremely cross.

‘May I come in now, Mama? If you do not make haste you are going to be late. When I am a famous actress I shall make a point of never keeping anyone waiting.’

‘Oh, how wise you are, darling Fan. And nor must I. Do come and help.’

She ran to me and I gathered my wilful daughter in my arms for a warm hug. Even at eight years of age she was already passionate about the theatre, and would no doubt follow in my footsteps, and Daly’s, by treading the boards. She was also bossy and moody, and prone to sudden impulses, quite the opposite of quiet, sensitive Dodee. I was constantly attempting to calm her down, but because of the circumstances of her conception, I loved Fanny all the more for her idiosyncrasies. With such a man for a father she deserved devotion from her mother. ‘You know that I would never do anything to hurt you, my darling girls. You are ever my first concern, and I want only what is best for you.’

Kissing my cheek, she wrapped her arms about my neck to give me an affectionate hug. ‘You always provide us with the best, Mama. You buy us pretty dresses and the most fashionable silk shirts and neckcloths for Papa. But I love you because you are funny and sweet, not because you buy us things, or are famous and can earn a lot of money at the theatre.’

‘I love Mama best,’ cried three-year-old Dodee, her small voice high with excitement as she too came bounding in to fling herself on my lap. ‘Me want pretty new frock like Fanny,’ and I laughed out loud.

‘What was that about not loving me for my money?’

‘But what of Ford?’ Hester whispered in my ear, as she finished tidying my hair. ‘Which does he love best? You, or the salary you bring home?’

I made no attempt to answer that question as I met her troubled gaze in the mirror. Making my children legitimate was my one and only desire, and her wise words had decided me. Before I made any decision about the Duke, I would speak again to Richard, and resolve this matter once and for all.

‘Would you believe the Duke of Clarence asked me out to supper after the show the other night?’ I announced to Richard a night or two later as we sat by the fire together. It was a cold evening in January and he was reading some legal documents, barely glancing up when I spoke. But then I was used to his inattention these days. ‘He is a most charming man, and really quite handsome,’ I added for good measure. I’d started on this conversation with all good intentions, meaning to ask Richard calmly and clearly for his final decision on our situation. Instead, I found myself attempting to arouse his jealousy. When he did not respond, I tried again. ‘We enjoyed a dish of oysters at the White Swan where he regaled me with stories of his adventures at sea.’

I was filled with guilt that I had succumbed and accepted his offer of supper, despite the fact I had made sure that other cast members were present and we were not alone.

Richard looked up, a vagueness in his gaze. ‘Who regaled you with what stories?’

I picked up my tapestry work, stifling a spurt of impatience. ‘The Duke of Clarence. He took several of us out to supper after the performance. John Bannister, Kemble, myself, Elizabeth Fallen and one or two others. He was telling us all about his days on board ship.’

‘You were not alone with him, I trust?’

‘Indeed not, I guard my reputation well. However, he is far more attentive than you these days, Richard. I wonder sometimes if you would even notice my absence, were I not to be here for any reason.’

‘Where else would you be but home with our children?’ he snapped. ‘But I cannot be listening to your chatter all day long, I have parliamentary business to attend to. And if you refuse to share my bed . . .’

He left that sentence hanging while I applied myself to my stitching, then tactfully changed the subject. ‘Tate Wilkinson has written to say he hopes to come on a visit in February. It will be good to see the old rogue again, don’t you think?’

‘He’s not staying here, I trust?’

I put down my stitching with a sigh. ‘No, Richard, he is staying at an hotel in Gray’s Inn Lane at the other side of town. But were I to wish for any of my friends to stay in my house, then I do not see why that would be a problem for you.’

‘I would not care to have the place filled with itinerant strolling players. Goodness knows what they might do to the place.’

‘How very fortunate then that you don’t pay for the upkeep of this property.’ I smiled, letting the silence settle for a moment around this pointed remark. Did he not realize how very pompous he had become? I wondered. ‘Don’t forget that I too am an itinerant strolling player.’

‘You talk absolute tosh at times, Dora. You are a famous actress,’ he corrected me.

‘Is that what first attracted you to me, my sudden fame? Is that why you love me, for the thirty guineas I bring home each week? If so, then why is your father not equally impressed? I am talented, reasonably attractive, rich, bringing good money to the theatre he once part-owned. I have given you two children, and once thought I made you happy. What more need I do to make myself acceptable as a wife?’

He groaned. ‘Not that again. I’m weary of it,’ and quickly gathering up his mass of books and papers, he muttered something I couldn’t quite catch, and abruptly left the room.

It was not an auspicious start to my quest to regulate my position.

Wilkinson’s visit was sadly blighted by the weather. It rarely stopped raining throughout the few days he was in London, to the extent that the Thames overflowed its banks and we suffered considerable flooding. Battling against the mud and rain did nothing for his bad leg, poor man, but he did manage after much tribulation to bribe a coachman to take him to the theatre, where he saw me in Twelfth Night and as Hypolita, looking rather splendid in my plumed hat and blue braided jacket, if I do say so myself.

After the performance we took supper together, as in the old days, and he at once began begging me to come north again. ‘You will do a tour in July, will you not, Dora? We miss you at Leeds, the audience often asks for you.’

‘Not the cast then?’

‘Some of them, of course, but as you know this is a competitive business. Nevertheless, be sure that you are loved and most needed, particularly by me,’ he said, grasping my hand with warm gratitude, so that I was moved to kiss his flabby jowls.

‘Not to mention your accountant,’ I teased. How could I resist such an invitation? This dear old man had given me a chance at the lowest point in my life, and for that alone I would ever hold him in deep affection.

‘It is good to see you looking so well and sprightly, Dora.’

‘Not increasing for once, you mean.’

He grinned. ‘That is a blessing too, of course.’

It was indeed, as things stood between myself and Richard. Loyalty and the five years we had spent together as man and wife in all but name did not seem enough to sustain our happiness now.

And in March the Duke of Clarence began his pursuit of me in earnest.

‘I have moved from Ivy Lodge,’ he announced one afternoon as we strolled in the park. ‘Which was far too small and useless for a family. I’ve bought Petersham Lodge, a comfortable house in its own grounds, not far from you, which I have renamed Clarence House. What think you of that, Dora? Will you join me in it, so that we can live merrily and happily together?’

I gazed at him wide-eyed, unable to find any words beyond murmuring his name, ‘William, but . . .’

He quickly stopped whatever protest I’d been about to make by putting his mouth to mine, kissing me as he never had before, stirring my senses and making my head spin with longing. I couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, I had been kissed with such passion. When he finally drew away, still clasping my hands in his, I saw how his eyes were alight with love. ‘Do not say anything right now. I would ask you here and now to be my wife, were it not for the Royal Marriages Act. And no one appreciates better than I the problems of loving a prince. But I couldn’t bear a refusal before you have even properly considered the idea.’

‘. . . I am a married woman . . .’ I finished what I’d been about to say, so used to keeping up the fiction of my status that the words came out almost of their own volition.

‘No, Dora, you are not. Richard Ford has had years to fulfil that promise, and has failed to do so. And you love me. I can see it in your eyes when you look so tenderly at me. I can feel it in the quiver of your hand when you rest it on my arm. And I’ve witnessed your unhappiness during these last months, know that you would not have taken supper with me, or talked with me so frankly, were you still in love with this man. You must also be aware by now how much I love you, Dora. I adore you, Little Pickle, and want nothing more than to make you happy for the rest of your life. What could I want more than to have you beside me as I make my way in the world?’

Despite my resolve not to allow this flattery to go to my head, I couldn’t seem to stop the bubble of excitement that rose in my chest at these words. Perhaps because what he said bore an element of truth in it. I already felt a great fondness for him which could easily grow into love.

‘You must allow me time to think. I am working so hard right now, and there are the children to consider.’ I could feel myself trembling with emotion. It was right, in a way, what I had said to my sister. Never, not for a moment, had I expected it to come to this, and I couldn’t for the life of me decide what my true feelings were.

‘I like children, and would gladly take them too. You need have no fears on that score. You must take what time you need to decide,’ he offered generously. ‘Meanwhile you must write to me every week, every day we are not together. I need always to know that you are well, dearest beloved. And when you are ready to come to me, I will be waiting.’