The Duchess of Drury Lane

Two




‘A treasure to be nurtured’

Thomas Ryder, our manager, owned both Crow Street and Smock Alley. He constantly complained that times were hard, and was struggling to make both pay. ‘Dublin doesn’t have the capacity for two successful theatres,’ he would moan whenever the moment came to pay our salaries. There was the odd week when we received no pay at all or ‘the ghost refused to walk’, as it was termed in the trade. ‘We need to attract greater audiences, if I could but think how to pull them in,’ he would say, holding his head in his hands in despair.

Mama would fall into a faint if I came home with nothing. ‘And what are we supposed to live on? How am I to buy bread, or send money to Blanche for Lucy? There are doctors to pay, medicine to buy.’ Lucy was failing, and this was a cause of great distress to poor Mama. We had to do all we could to save my little sister, no matter what the cost.

I kissed her soft cheek. ‘Do not fret, dearest Mama, I will find the money for Lucy.’

One of my fellow actors was a Richard Daly. He was tall and rather dashing, an elegant dandy who was always impeccably turned out, ruffled, beribboned and curled, pea-green being his favourite colour. He might even have been classed as handsome were it not for a cast in one eye, which was really rather off-putting when he looked at you. He was a member of the Fire-eaters’ Club and an avid duellist. It was said that his opponents could never be certain whether or not he was focused on them, which was apparently why Daly didn’t have a scratch on him. He generally wore a somewhat battered looking brooch pinned to his chest which was said once to have saved his life by taking the bullet.

I didn’t much care for the fellow myself, as there was an arrogance about him, and a flirtatious insincerity which I did not entirely trust. He was forever under my feet when I came off stage, would lurk in the wings so that I’d be obliged to squeeze past him as he made no effort to move.

‘When will you allow me to take you out to dine, or to walk by the river?’ he would whisper in my ear as I slithered by.

I might have said when I was old and grey and had lost all common sense, but instead I confined myself to a polite smile or a little giggle. He was, after all, an actor of some renown in the company who frequently played the lead, while I was a mere newcomer. He was forever bragging about his time studying at Trinity College, so was undoubtedly a gentleman. Rumour had it that he’d been obliged to turn to the stage having gambled away much of a personal fortune, although his skills in acting were not particularly well thought of. Nevertheless, he would readily dip into his ample pockets to help tide over his fellow cast members, particularly the young ladies of whom he was rather fond, so perhaps there was some good in him, I thought.

Today he offered to help me with my lines.

‘I thank you kindly, sir, but Mama does very well at that task. She was once an actress herself, if you recall.’

‘Ah, but we need to rehearse our love scene. It is vitally important that we get it right.’

I gave him a doubtful look, wary of this offer since I knew his reputation as a skirt-chaser. Yet I was badly in need of a small loan, not only to see us through the week but also for Mama to send money for Lucy’s treatment. ‘Perhaps we could quickly run through it this afternoon, before the evening performance,’ I agreed.

‘Gladly. What a delight you are, Dolly.’

‘Dora. Dolly is the name my family use. My stage name is Dora, or Miss Francis.’

‘Ah!’ His eyes glinted as his gaze roamed over me, allowing it to linger on my breasts as men so often did. ‘Excellent choice, Miss Francis,’ and he flourished a bow as if I were a courtly lady. ‘We will foregather at one o’clock precisely in the props room where we might hope to find some peace and quiet.’

I took my sister Hester with me. ‘Do not,’ I instructed her, ‘on any account leave me alone with this man. I do not trust him an inch.’

‘You’re a fool even to agree to this,’ she said, in her usual scolding way.

Hester had no time for men, a prejudice presumably caused by a neglectful father. And in this instance she may well have been right, as I could see at once that Daly was displeased by her presence. Giving him no time to object I handed Hester the script, announcing that she would act as prompt. ‘Now we can concentrate on the action without worrying about forgetting our lines.’

He frowned at me, but then of a sudden put back his head and laughed out loud. ‘Keep your chaperone if you must, dearest Dora, for now. But I am not fooled by your maidenly blushes. I am fully aware that you find me irresistible.’

‘Shall we begin?’ I said, deliberately cool.

Hester sat in the corner, barely glancing at the script she held in her hand as she watched open-mouthed the ‘love scene’ performed before her eyes. I do not care to recall the number of times he insisted we go through it, far more than was strictly necessary. And on every occasion came ‘the kiss’.

‘No, it still isn’t quite right, you must sink into my arms, lean back when I hold you. Like this.’

‘Like some fainting virgin?’ I caustically remarked.

‘Exactly. Is that not what you are?’ His good eye fixed me with a challenging glint, but I managed to slide from his arms with some of my dignity still intact.

‘I think that’s enough for now, don’t you? I feel confident we know this scene well enough, and I’m in need of a rest before the first performance. Thank you for sparing the time to help me.’ I was invariably polite, although fearful of seeming to encourage him, and pointedly avoided joining in his banter. ‘Before we go, there is just one matter I wish to discuss with you.’ I cast a quick glance across at Hester, who instantly jumped up to start tidying away the props that we’d used, deliberately keeping herself busy as we had agreed. ‘I wondered if I might ask a small favour.’

‘Your wish is my command,’ he simpered, taking my hand, the moistness of his lips leaving an imprint of his lingering kiss long after I had gently withdrawn it.

I quickly explained about Lucy and the need for money to pay for a physician and medical care. ‘I wouldn’t ask otherwise, but we have no way of raising the necessary funds, so a small loan would be most appreciated. Well, not too small. Physicians are expensive and times have been hard for Mama recently. Twenty or thirty pounds perhaps?’ I timorously suggested, thinking of the creditors whose accounts we also needed to settle. ‘I will, of course, pay back every penny, perhaps in regular instalments if that would be agreeable?’

He smiled. ‘I am so sorry to hear of your sister’s illness, and only too happy to help. We can discuss the exact terms later.’

Perhaps, I thought, Richard Daly was not so bad after all. But I had no wish to repeat that ‘love scene’ save on stage.

To my great relief, by the following year of 1779 I learned that Daly was engaged to Jane Barsanti, a leading actress of note whom he was to marry, which meant he’d be unlikely to trouble me again, or so I thought. She was a widow, her former husband, Lyster, having died. I guessed he’d left her sufficient funds to add to her attractions, certainly so far as Richard Daly was concerned.

Once she was his wife, he offered to take the Smock Alley lease off Ryder’s hands. Our poor beleaguered manager clearly had mixed feelings on the matter. While still struggling to maintain both theatres Ryder was nevertheless aware that with money behind him, Daly would prove a powerful rival. He therefore put up little resistance.

‘I am sorry to see it go, but have done all I can think of to make it pay,’ Ryder mourned. ‘I’ve engaged at considerable expense the finest that the London stage has to offer in such actors as Mrs Abington, Sheridan and the Barrys, all to no avail. You are welcome to it, Daly.’

‘He does not mean it,’ my mother whispered. ‘Poor Ryder fears Daly will bankrupt him, for it is true what he says, Dublin cannot sustain two theatres.’

Perhaps Mama was right in her surmise as Ryder made a sudden decision to put on a comic opera, as if in a last valiant effort to survive.

‘I intend to stage The Duenna, but we’ll switch all the characters, making men play the ladies’ parts, and vice versa. It will be a completely transvestite performance and we’ll call it The Governess. It will be a travesty and a delight.’

I was given a leading role, dressing as a man in the character of Lopez, and although I say it myself, I, like the show, was a great success. The audience loved it, and my part in it. Perhaps I radiated more charm than usual; my laughter certainly bubbled up straight from the heart, so much did I enjoy myself. I love playing these comic roles and dressing up as a boy. Certainly the men enjoyed a rare view of my legs in breeches. Whatever the reason, I attracted attention other than that of a satisfied audience. Richard Daly himself returned to see me perform, and apparently liked what he saw.

He cornered me, as was his wont, when I came off stage, but on this occasion followed me to the dressing room. I stood holding the door, deliberately not permitting him entrance. He smiled in that squinting, devil-may-care way he had. ‘You’re wasted here, Dora dear.’

‘I disagree. Thomas Ryder was the first to offer me a trial as a green girl, and is generous in giving me excellent parts. I have no complaints.’

‘And does he pay you well? Do you have the three guineas a week he promised?’

I looked away, not wishing to admit that despite his best efforts Ryder had been unable to keep his promise on wages. ‘We are hoping for good houses all week for this comic opera,’ I stoutly remarked, in the manager’s defence.

Daly sadly shook his head, making a little tutting sound. ‘It will not be enough, Dora. Crow Street is on its way out. You are a good actress, and I would welcome you at Smock Alley at any time. I intend to engage Sarah Siddons, John Kemble and other star names for future productions, and you could be part of that success.’

He pestered me time and again in the weeks and months following, which put me in a terrible quandary. My darling sister Lucy had sadly died, despite all our care of her, so there had also been the funeral to pay for. Ever since her death, Mama had slipped into a decline, and rarely ventured out of bed. I was deeply concerned over her state of health. Losing a husband and a child in one year had all been too much for her. I certainly needed to earn more money, painfully aware that I was falling behind with my repayments on the loan Daly had made me.

Yet I felt a loyalty to Ryder as he’d been the one to take me on and give me my first chance.

‘I can’t just walk away,’ I would say, still hesitant to commit, and wary of throwing in my lot with Daly.

Finally, he issued an ultimatum. ‘This is your last chance. You must decide now or find some other way to repay the loan.’

And so I went to tell Ryder about the offer, wishing to be open and honest with him. He gave me a measured, rather sad look. Then after a long moment of silence, came his reply.

‘Take the offer, Dora. Daly is right, the doors of Crow Street will be closed for ever by the end of the year. Sadly, I don’t have a rich wife to back my enthusiasms. I wish you every success in your career, and am glad to have been a part of its inception, but there is no future for you here. You must go to the Smock Alley.’

Only when I heard these words did I realize how very much I had longed for a different reply. There was something about Richard Daly that sent shivers down my spine, but I had no choice. I must accept his offer, or my family would starve.