The Duchess of Drury Lane (16 page)

The Prince, I’d discovered, had a habit of peppering his sentences with oaths, and often took the Lord’s name in vain. I gave him the kind of silent reproving glance which warned him that such language was not appropriate before a lady. He was instantly contrite.

‘Pardon my French, ma’am. I was forgetting myself. Too used to the company of rough sailors, don’t you know.’

I inclined my head by way of acceptance of his apology, which I thought quite charming, and found myself wondering what colour his hair was beneath the wig. Fair perhaps? His eyes were a delightful blue.

‘To continue with my tale, we exchanged a few strong words which naturally ended in a fight, a drunken brawl to be precise, and were marched off by the watchmen.’

‘Did that teach you a lesson?’

He grinned. ‘Afraid it was but the start of a slippery slope during those rebellious boyhood years. Times best forgotten. It was all the King’s idea that I go into the navy. As heir, my brother George, who is the epitome of charm and wit, naturally had to be educated for kingship. Frederick joined the army. I was selected to go to sea. Not that I had any real objection. I looked forward to a more adventurous life rather than one confined with middle-aged tutors. We’d endured a somewhat stark and over-disciplined childhood under a parsimonious father, so I was well used to hardship and regular beatings. To be fair the King did personally arrange for me to enter the navy, insisting I be treated like any other boy, which I greatly appreciated. I started as a midshipman in the normal way.’

‘Goodness, I naturally assumed that royal princes led a charmed life of luxury,’ I said, rather startled by this account. I could picture him as a skinny, fair-haired boy, coping alone on a great big ship. It must have been far more unnerving than he was willing to admit.

‘Anything but. Our routine, set by our nurses and tutors, was a strict one. We were required to copy out endless pages of the Old Testament in our best copperplate handwriting. We also learned Latin, mathematics, French and German. All dreadfully boring, I can tell you, but then George is far brighter than me. I much preferred working on our model farm, where we were expected to grow our own vegetables. I had my toy soldiers and brass guns to play with, of course.’ He laughed. ‘And Papa did show affection in his bluff way. He would often get down on his knees and play with us when we were young, but not Mama. We were never allowed to sit when the Queen was present.’

‘My mother was also quite strict,’ I said, intrigued by this insight into royal life. ‘In the nicest possible way, you understand. She had very firm ideas on etiquette and manners, and educated us herself, since she couldn’t afford to send us to school, not the girls anyway. But my family was not quite as low-brow and poverty-stricken as the newspapers claim.’ Here I paused to adjust this remark. ‘At least not until after Papa left, and later died. My father was a gentleman, if weak and rather foolish.’

I told him how my being taken on at Crow Street had saved the family from starvation. And he regaled me with more tales of his first year in the navy, his stamina having at least earned him his father’s approval.

‘Damned if he wasn’t far less approving when he discovered that I had picked up the sailor’s bad habits of swearing and drinking and so on. I will not offend your ears further, Mrs Jordan, with the reality of life at sea, except to say that seeking pleasure when on land is a necessary compensation for the hardship.’

‘I imagine it must be.’

‘The King then sent me to Germany at seventeen to learn better manners from my cousins. I was desperately bored and lonely there. It’s a damnable country where there was little to do but smoke and play twopenny whist.’

He went on to speak of his time with Horatio Nelson in the West Indies, and I spoke of my move to Yorkshire, without dwelling too much upon the reason for it, and ultimate arrival at Drury Lane. He was so open and frank that there seemed little we couldn’t say to each other, quite the sweetest and most understanding man I had ever met. Interesting to talk to, and genuinely interested in me.

But I sensed loneliness at the heart of him, and was beginning to see that we might have much in common. I had the urge to put my arms about him to give him a comforting hug, but it wouldn’t be in the least bit motherly, so I decided it was time to leave as my thoughts were turning in quite an unseemly direction.

We met frequently after that, and he often regaled me with some of his seafaring yarns. ‘If you loved the navy so much, why did you leave?’

‘I’d served nearly fourteen years but in the end thought it all dashed pointless, with no hope of a proper profession for me, a king’s son.’

‘It must have felt strange at first, to be on dry land again,’ I sympathized, noting a sadness in his eyes.

‘Indeed it was. I’ve been rather at a loss since I left the sea. It’s hard to adjust to becoming a landlubber again, and even though I was glad to leave at the time I still miss the sway of the decks beneath my feet. I also felt rather distanced from the family following my long absence. No longer felt I
belonged
! And the King and Queen were somewhat cold and disappointed in me. Is it wrong to wish to be better appreciated by one’s family?’

‘I wonder if one ever is,’ I said with some feeling, thinking of Hester’s constant moans and criticisms.

‘The only person I can talk to is George. We were ever united from childhood, right through our boyhood years. I rather expected to come home and find him acting as regent, although I was heartily glad to see the King fully recovered. I was very sorry for His Majesty, very sorry indeed – no man loves the King better than I, of that you may be assured. I was horribly agitated when I first saw him, so shocked I could barely stand. I felt for the Queen too, I did faith. But the pair of them are so against George, and by association, against me too.’

‘Why, for goodness sake?’

‘The King sees us as rivals to his power, hovering in the background waiting for his death, or the return of his madness. There was great trouble while I was away. Pitt was for the King, supported by the Queen and the princesses, who of course can do nothing more than grumble over their embroidery. Fox hurried back from Italy when George tried to bring in the regency, but Pitt opposed him, naturally fearing a fall from power for the Tories. Pitt’s plan was to form a committee, rather than a single regency. As if at twenty-eight George wasn’t old enough to rule alone, were my father to be incapable. Then Fox blundered by saying it was George’s
right
, as heir to the throne.’

‘Why was that wrong?’

‘It gave Pitt the chance to prate on about it being a constitutional government and did he not really mean “claim”? George, of course, was already irritated with Fox for having denied before all the House his marriage to Mrs Fitzherbert.’

‘Ah, yes, I remember Mama saying something on the subject of the Royal Marriages Act, as Sheridan was often absent from the Lane at the time. But would not the King, and the Queen for that matter, object, if they thought it a true marriage?’

‘Maria is the love of his life, but yes, it is perhaps too soon for my brother to do battle with the King over his marital status. In the end, however, the regency crisis was largely academic as before the conflict could be resolved the King thankfully recovered. Unfortunately, the dispute has left the Queen with a deeper grudge against George. In addition to her disapproval of his wild parties, his drinking and gambling, she claims he was seeking to gain power at her expense, and would have replaced Pitt with Fox.’

‘And would he?’

‘Possibly. I’m always filled with admiration at my brother’s clever machinations. But George blames Pitt entirely for setting the Queen against him, and it will happen again, of course. The King’s recovery is but temporary. There is no cure for whatever ails him.’

‘That is so sad,’ I said, strangely moved by his tale, as I could see how very much it troubled him, losing the affection of both his parents.

He sighed, rubbed a finger over the bridge of his nose. ‘Ah, politics, what a bore! At least the King finally came round and granted me a title. After I’d objected to being ignored, of course,’ he chortled. ‘I had to threaten to stand as an MP for the constituency of Totnes in Devon. He was so appalled at the prospect of his son appealing to the voters that I won that battle, although he did have the final word. “I well know it is another vote added to the Opposition,” he said. And we both laughed at the joke.

‘His Majesty also gave me a house in Richmond, which I sadly was obliged to leave due to a fire. I now occupy Ivy Lodge, in the centre of town.’

‘Ah yes, not far from where the Sheridans live,’ I said with a smile, remembering my sister’s gossip. ‘Sheridan is acquainted with your brother the Prince, I believe, and often absent from home. How very convenient.’ I was amused to see a flush creep up his throat.

‘It is not for the reason you imagine, or that rumour claims,’ he said, most earnestly, and I almost laughed out loud.

‘I cannot think to what you refer, but having often been the victim of the scandalmongers myself, I never pay any attention to rumour, I do assure you.’ I quite enjoyed teasing him, privately marvelling at how much he wished to impress me.

He took my hand then and kissed it, most tenderly, turning it over to kiss the inside of my wrist. Was it because he was a royal prince that a delicious quiver of excitement sped up my arm? He was undoubtedly an attractive man. ‘You are so easy to talk to. I feel as if I have known you for ever, Dora. May I call you Dora? And you must call me William. I do so hate formality, don’t you? Can we meet again tomorrow, and the day after that?’

I laughed. ‘I am performing tomorrow, and for many nights following. During the day I shall be tied up with rehearsals.’

‘Next week then? I shall watch your performances every night, and wait for you here each day in the hope you will come again.’

‘You must not do that.’

‘Why not? Would your husband object? We are only friends who enjoy talking together, are we not?’

I hesitated, wondering if I should confess that Richard was not my husband, that I was in fact still single. I also worried over what Richard would say if I told him I was meeting with the Duke of Clarence, and knew upon the instant that I wouldn’t tell him, would say nothing in either case. And so I agreed to meet William again, naming the day and time so that he didn’t wait around unnecessarily. I really couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse his request, even as I sternly reminded myself that he was simply another admirer, one of many such. And flattering as it was to be pursued by a prince, he was not to be taken seriously.

The Duke kept his word and every evening I would see him smiling at me from the royal box, his laugh booming out as he applauded madly at the end of every scene. Seeing him there, so evidently enjoying himself, quite lifted my performance. I found I wanted to please him, to entertain him and make him happy, hear his jolly laughter. It was as if I was acting only for him.

Afterwards he would come backstage and offer to take me to supper. The first time this happened put Sheridan into quite a tizzy. Since the regency crisis had died down, he’d seemed to be more often at the theatre, perhaps keen to make money to pay off his mounting debts. He came rushing to my dressing room in a fever of excitement.

‘His Highness the Duke of Clarence wishes to send his felicitations and to take you to dine, Dora. I shall bring him through and introduce him. Tidy yourself quickly and make ready to receive him.’

I was still in my robe when the Duke entered, my face bare of make-up. Nevertheless I swept low into a deep curtsey, a skill I had acquired long since for some of the parts I played.

He instantly took my hand to raise me up. ‘Nay, Mrs Jordan, did we not agree to have no formality between friends?’

I could see Sheridan glance from one to the other of us, a startled expression on his face. ‘You have already met Mrs Jordan, Sir?’

‘I have indeed. We are neighbours, are we not, Dora?’

At this, Sheridan had the diplomacy to withdraw, suddenly discovering he had urgent business elsewhere. I apologized for the lack of seating.

‘My part of the dressing room is rather cramped, not set up for visitors. And I apologize too for my dishabille.’

‘No need, as always you look quite charming. May I hope to take you to supper when you are dressed?’

I shook my head, softening my refusal with a gentle smile. ‘I must hurry home to my family. If you remember, I am a contented woman with a man who loves me.’

‘Does he love you, I wonder? Are you truly married to him, Dora? Rumour has it that is not the case, or am I drawing the wrong conclusions?’

I sank on to my dressing stool, hands clasped tightly in my lap. ‘I certainly expected to be by now. Unfortunately, Richard’s father does not approve of his liaison with an actress. But we are still hoping to win him round.’

‘And how long have you been together?’

I hesitated only slightly before admitting the truth. ‘Very nearly five years.’

He drew in a sharp breath. ‘It seems to me that if a man has not plucked up the courage to defy his father in all that time, the chances are slim that he will do so in the future.’ Then, taking me quite by surprise, he came to sit beside me on the stool, where Hester usually sat when we were in a huddle over gossip. ‘I could not offer you marriage either, Dora, although I already adore you beyond words. I hope we can at least be friends? Even good friends.’

I was on my feet in a second. ‘Sir, I must respectfully beg you to leave. I am a respectable woman, a mother of three daughters, and must hurry home to see them.’

‘Of course.’ He took my hand and kissed it, his mouth tender, lingering over the moment. ‘Forgive me if I have been in any way impertinent. I did not mean to be. Perhaps one day I may meet your delightful daughters, who I’m sure will be as beautiful as their mother.’

And on that note, he left me. I collapsed back on to my stool, hands to my burning cheeks, a shivering wreck of tumultuous emotion.