The Duchess of Drury Lane (20 page)

‘Look at him, sailing boats in the bath as if he were a boy still,’ I laughed. ‘But then he had such a stark childhood himself he fully intends to provide all the love and happiness to his own children that he never received.’

‘He is clearly a good man, Doll, to be showing such kindness and consideration to these children who are not his own. I too promise to care for them as you would yourself.’

Tears sprang to my eyes as I thought of how many times in the past I had sacrificed spending time with my darling children simply in order to earn a living for us all. A part of me longed to devote myself to motherhood, and yet I dare not relinquish my independence in order to do so. Everything might be fine right now, but who knew what lay ahead on the stony path of life? I shook away any sense of regret and thanked God for a loving, generous-hearted sister. Despite her failings, her criticisms and petty jealousies and sharp tongue, Hester was always on my side. ‘Dodee and Lucy are too young to notice the change in their lives, but how has Fanny taken to the idea?’

Hester pulled a wry face. ‘You know little Fan, she ever has an opinion on everything, and feels deeply affronted to be left out of what she deems to be an exciting change in your life.’

My heart sank. Had Richard Ford kept his word, my girls would not now be in this delicate situation. Hearing her name mentioned, Fanny left the game of soldiers which was now engaging them, and came to lean against me, putting on her most wheedling tone.

‘Mama, may I come and live with you and the Duke at Clarence House? You told me that Richard Ford was not my real papa, that he is far away across the sea, so can I have the Duke, instead? I like him, he’s funny and kind.’

‘Now that you are a big girl, are you too big for a cuddle?’ I asked, and with a little smile she shook her head. I lifted her on to my lap and gave her a hug, as my own mother would do with me whenever I was upset. ‘I was hoping that you would help Aunt Hester to look after the two little ones here. You can understand what a great responsibility that is for her, and they will need a big sister to look up to and show them how things should be done.’

Fanny thought about this quite seriously for a moment. ‘Lucy can be very difficult when she is hungry and cross. And Dodee had a shocking tantrum the other day, but I was able to calm her with a kiss.’

‘Well, there you are then, you are needed here, to help Hester. And I shall call in every day, of course, to see you all, and play with you.’

‘Every single day?’

‘Every single day.’

‘And you’ll read us a story or sing us a song before you go to the theatre?’

‘I will, sweetheart. And you can come and stay at Clarence House sometimes, for little holidays. How would that be?’

‘Ooh, that would be lovely.’ Satisfied, she wrapped her arms about my neck and kissed me, then ran back to the game. I turned to Hester with a small sigh of relief. ‘She will be fine now. Has Richard asked to have the children, or visited perhaps?’

‘He came to see Dodee and Lucy, but refused to see Fanny, which again upset her.’

‘Does that man have no heart?’

‘I should say not. He is too relieved to be free of the expense of raising them, more than ready to leave it all to you and the Duke.’

‘We will change their names back to Jordan, I think. I certainly have no wish for them to bear Ford’s any longer. So long as we keep further scandalous comments out of the press, all will be well.’

‘Too late,
The Times
had great fun at the end of October. Listen, I kept it for you.’ She pulled a cutting from her sewing bag and began to read. “A certain Duke held a private party, and the names of the guests were Priscilla Tomboy, Miss Prue, Master Pickle, Miss Viola, Signora Hypolita, a country girl, a Virgin unmasked and Miss Hoyden. Although the porter swears he only admitted one lady!” What think you of that?’

She giggled, and even I, the subject of this pillory, could not resist a smile at the wit. ‘They have at least advertised all my best roles.’

‘They did miss out Harry Wildaire in
The Constant Couple
. Not as good as Farquhar’s other plays,
The
Recruiting Officer
or
Beaux’ Stratagem
admittedly, but you always play that part well, I think. I particularly enjoy your expression of complete shock and embarrassment when you discover that Angelica is not the prostitute you were led to believe.’

I shared her laughter, my own bubbling up as it so often did on stage. ‘The Duke enjoys seeing me in all my cross-dressing roles.’

She was suddenly serious. ‘What of the King, what does he think of all this?’

‘Apparently, His Majesty is entirely sympathetic. He appreciates that as the Duke is unlikely to reach the throne, and yet cannot choose a wife freely because of the Royal Marriages Act, he deserves a comfortable domestic life. He wishes us both well and many years of happiness.’ I clutched her arm as I tried to restrain a fresh onslaught of giggles. ‘When William wrote to tell me this, he said that the King’s response went something like this . . .’ and I perfectly mimicked the King’s tone of voice, or how I imagined it would sound. ‘. . . You keep an actress, keep an actress, they say.

‘“Yes, Sire,”’ William replied.

‘“Ah, how much do you give her, eh?”

‘“A thousand a year, Sire.”

‘“A thousand? A thousand? Too much, too much! Five hundred quite enough, quite enough!”’

Hester was bent double with laughter by this time, but then sobered quickly. ‘We really shouldn’t mock the King. And what did you say?’

‘I tore a strip from the bottom of a playbill where it says: “No money returned after the rising of the curtain”, and sent it back to William. He says he laughed till he cried.’

Hester hugged me close. ‘Oh, Doll, you seem so much happier, so relaxed.’

I felt as if I were glowing with happiness as I looked again at where the Duke was now crawling about the drawing room on his hands and knees, firing miniature brass cannons at my little daughters, who, in fits of giggles and excitement, were happily firing back. It was a magical, family scene, and I loved him for it.

‘I am the happiest woman in the world. It took me no more than a matter of days for the affection I felt for him to turn to love. He is the dearest man.’

‘Let us hope this time you are lucky, and it lasts.’

‘Amen to that, sister dear.’

There were still arrangements to be made, as William and I had had little time thus far even to discuss the fine details of our coming life together. ‘I fear that I find myself in need of a carriage,’ I was obliged to say to him one day, hating to be put in a position that I had to ask anything more of him. ‘Since the one I shared with Mr Ford I have left to his use entirely.’

‘Whatever possessed you to be so generous with the cad?’

‘I wished not to deprive him, and to make our break as civilized as possible.’

‘What a delightful Little Pickle you are.’ He kissed me and stroked my cheek. ‘Then you shall have a new one, all of your own. What colour shall you choose?’

I looked up at him, wide-eyed with delighted surprise. ‘There is really no need. I thought I could perhaps borrow yours from time to time.’

‘There is every need, you must have your own independence, and security,’ he assured me. ‘How shall you style it?’

‘Your kindness and attention to detail is both exciting and flattering. What love you must have for me.’

‘I love you with all my heart and soul, and shall never tire of telling you so.’

‘And you must know how dearly I love you.’

‘Then do me the honour of accepting my gift and decide upon the colour.’

I couldn’t help myself, I just gave that delicious surge of laughter that ripples up right from the heart of me when I’m happy. ‘Very well, it shall be yellow. The interior of my own carriage was dark green turned up with buff and bound with silver, so perhaps it could be the same. And if it is not improper, an anchor on the panels. I love everything that has the least reference to you.’

He considered the matter in mock seriousness. ‘It might well be mistaken for a passing ship,’ he teased. ‘I think we will keep to a plainer style.’ And we kissed again, as lovers do, William loving the warm pressure of my soft full breasts against his hard chest, and me the sensation of melting in his arms, both of us dreaming of all the joys which lay in store for our shared life together.

The Duke was ill. He’d been forced to take to his bed with a feverish cold and was confined to quarters, as he described it. He was no doubt lying there fretting about all that still needed to be done, while I was staying, temporarily, at the house in Somerset Street until I’d found a new home for the dear children. Mr Ford, as I now referred to him, remained at the house in Richmond, with the apparent intention of relinquishing the lease once he too had found alternative accommodation.

Oh, but the Duke claimed daily in his letters to me that he’d never been so passionately in love. I was his darling Dora who had given meaning to his life, brought a new purpose to it, and he was so very anxious to do everything right by me.

And having banned me from his side in case I too should fall ill, we had to be content with exchanging letters several times a day. In these he poured out his love for me, how his anxieties were increasing with every hour we were apart in case I should tire of him and change my mind. I did what I could to reassure him but he worried too whenever he thought of me unprotected, with Mr Ford still protesting loudly about being publicly humiliated and embarrassed. As if the arrogant fellow hadn’t had ample opportunity to do right by me in the past. After all, he was not bound by the Royal Marriages Act.

The Duke would write to me at length on practical matters, discussing the settlement on the children which Coutts and his lawyers were arranging. I had signed over to my sister all my savings in the form of a trust fund for the children, but there was much still to decide.

‘The house I am now in I must let, for many reasons,’ I wrote. ‘First, it is too far from the theatre. Second, I have gone through so many cruel scenes in it that there is a constant gloom hangs over my mind whenever I am in it.’

He would write back the most supportive, fondest letters, always signed with love, and I would respond in kind, as well as gently scolding him not to venture out as he might suffer a relapse.

‘If I may judge of your love by my own, I am sure I may with truth say never two people loved so well. It is impossible to tell you how happy, how more than happy your dear enchanting professions of love make me.’

There was much more in this vein, and the Duke at last confessed himself content, that he was the most fortunate of men. As one wit wrote:

She’s in truth the best feather you have in your cap.

How you got her, to me, I must own, is a wonder!

When I think of your natural aptness to blunder.

The Duke and I both giggled at the wit, and he did not disagree with the sentiment. Then the lampoons started.

Eighteen

‘Her Grace bearing her new dignities . . .’

The Duke was shocked and appalled by the vilification to which I was subjected by the press. There were pointed references to my wantonness in taking a royal lover, to my preferring the superior attractions of a Royal Lodge to the domestic bliss I apparently enjoyed with Richard Ford.

‘That is as inaccurate as it is outrageous!’ he roared, helpless in his sick room.

But the clamorous press continued long after he’d made a full recovery, becoming so intrusive that it quite affected my own heath and I missed several performances.

The
Bon Ton
displayed a frontispiece of the Duke kneeling upon one knee while I was sitting on the other, my arm about his neck and his arm around my waist. He was cooling me with a fan, and I was giving him a roguish smile. The Duke thought it in the lowest taste possible as it made me look like a common harlot, which infuriated him beyond measure.

There was one cartoon of me in bed, sitting up proudly declaring my prowess, his jacket casually hung upon a chair at the foot. In another the satirists dared to show me with my breasts bared, and in the cruellest of all by James Gillray a male figure in striped sailor trousers was depicted climbing through the crack in a chamber pot, my dainty slippers peeping out below the pot. Vulgar was to put too fine a word on it. Walking past the print shops in town became an absolute nightmare for the Duke.

But if the cartoons were bad, the comments were worse.

A favourite comic actress, if Goody Rumour can be trusted, had thought proper to put herself under the protection of a distinguished sailor who dropped anchor before her last summer at Richmond.

There were many such. ‘Public jordan open to all parties,’ wrote one cruel wit, again using the chamber pot connotation, while another accused Little Pickle of receiving her weekly salary from the Treasurer.

‘Damn me, if they aren’t bringing politics into it now.’

To add insult to injury, this little ditty began to circulate:

As Jordan’s high and mighty squire

Her playhouse profits deigns to skim;

Some folks audaciously inquire

If he keeps her or she keeps him.

William valiantly dismissed this as a joke he must live with, but it was one in the
Morning Post
which caused me the greatest distress:

To be mistress of the King’s son Little Pickle thinks respectable, and so away go all tender ties to children!

‘As if I would abandon my own children for any man, even if you are the son of a king. It is unspeakably cruel. I believe Mr Ford’s friends and relatives are responsible for these cruel calumnies. They are saying that I callously and unnaturally deserted my children for grandeur. I beg you, William, to intercede and make them put a stop to this mischief.’

The Duke wrote at once to his lawyer, William Adam, who in turn corresponded with the
Morning Post
expressing his concern at the severity of the attacks, insisting the paper desist as the accusations were entirely false and damaging to the good lady’s health.