The Duchess of Drury Lane (24 page)

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Authors: Freda Lightfoot

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical

BOOK: The Duchess of Drury Lane
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Praise the lord, my darling Fanny slowly began to recover, as did little Dodee.

‘All thanks to your good nursing,’ Doctor Turton told me.

‘My daughter owes her life to your bark, doctor, whatever it may be.’

In March 1795, I gave birth to another child, this time a daughter. The Duke chose to name her Sophia after his sister, a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Within the month I was back at work, taking baby with me as I was still feeding her: a necessity as money had begun to be something of a problem.

As if I didn’t have enough to contend with, the Duke and I were sitting peacefully at home at Clarence House one afternoon when we heard a great commotion at the door.

‘What on earth is going on?’ he cried, jumping up.

At that moment a footman appeared, looking somewhat harassed. ‘I tried to send him away, but the fellow says he is Mrs Jordan’s brother, Your Highness.’

And there stood George, looking very much the worse for drink, his clothes in a most disgusting state. I was utterly mortified. ‘George, what on earth are you doing here, and in such a condition?’

The Duke very tactfully left the room while I drew George on to the couch beside me. I recoiled a little as he stank strongly of gin. ‘Please bring coffee, and a bowl of hot water,’ I asked the footman.

‘My lovely Maria has left me,’ George cried, his words slurred. Never had I seen him so inebriated, as he’d rarely touched a drop of drink in his life. ‘She says we have drifted apart and has taken up residence with Caulfield, the comedian.’ And my poor brother began to sob.

‘Oh, George, I am truly sorry.’ It was quite common in our profession for actors working in different parts of the country to see each other but rarely, and marriages frequently broke down as a result. ‘Is there no hope?’

He shook his head in despair. ‘None. She has turned me out of the house, so I have nowhere even to live. She says I am useless, which is certainly true. I am not the actor she is, or you are, Dolly,’ he mourned, maudlin in his self-pity.

‘You do not have to be, George. You need only be yourself. Our mother once told me the very same thing when I was feeling low.’

‘I cannot. Without her, I am finished. I shall never act again.’

‘Nonsense, you will recover. We all must after heartbreak.’

I was devastated to hear this news, as the last thing I wanted was to take my brother in. But despite my sisterly scolding, copious amounts of coffee, and helping him to clean the vomit from his clothes, it was clear he was a broken man. I had no alternative but to send him to Cousin Blanche in Trelethyn to recover, and agree to give him an allowance of fifty pounds a year. What else could I do? He was ever weak, like his father, yet he is my dear brother.

I apologized profusely to the Duke, but unlike Ford, when he learned of my generosity, he uttered not one word of condemnation.

Oh, but it was an extra burden I could have done without.

‘It is the most vexing thing, but I am to be obliged to marry,’ The Prince of Wales mourned to us one day. ‘Parliament has agreed to pay off my debts, which confound it have now topped six hundred thousand pounds, so long as I agree to marry a German princess.’

‘But I thought you were married already, to Mrs Fitzherbert?’ William said, looking puzzled. I never took part in these brotherly discussions as it did not seem to be my place. I sat silent, my head bowed over my embroidery, an occupation that kept my fingers busy when waiting backstage, or as now when I wished not to appear to be listening.

‘My marriage to Maria is not considered to be legal, since I never received the King’s permission. I am to be sold off to Caroline of Brunswick. How I shall face another woman in my bed after my darling Maria, I cannot imagine.’

William laughed out loud. ‘But you never were faithful to your darling Maria. What of Lady Jersey? Is she not your mistress also?’

‘But Maria is the wife of my heart and soul.’

‘I understand,’ William softly agreed. ‘As Mrs Jordan is to me,’ and he cast me a fond look which I smilingly returned.

‘I am told that Caroline is very like our dear sister Mary. If so, then she will be all I could wish for in a wife.’

The Duke naturally attended his brother’s wedding on the eighth of April, 1795, and witnessed George’s revulsion at sight of his bride, who turned out to be not at all like Mary. I, of course, was not present, but he told me that the poor girl had been trussed up in a most unflattering gown at Lady Jersey’s instigation. She was presented to the Prince almost the moment she stepped ashore without even being allowed time for proper ablutions, over which the Prince was most fastidious. She was also loud and somewhat vulgar, certainly in her husband’s opinion. He went to her bed drunk and left it swearing never to return.

The wedding celebrations continued with a ball, and I was not invited to that either, which was only to be expected, this being a family occasion, but hurtful all the same. William, however, was unaware that I watched the proceedings from the gallery where the band was playing.

I found it excruciatingly painful to witness how closely he paid attention to the court ladies. I fear he rather enjoyed himself dancing with all the young beauties in their enchanting gowns, no doubt telling them his seafaring yarns, and basking in their enticing little smiles.

‘You were flirting with that woman,’ I accused him later, eyes hot with tears.

He looked quite shocked. ‘Dearest, I did no such thing.’

‘I saw you with my own eyes. While I was considered unworthy of attending such a magnificent event, thereby being humiliated before everyone, you can put yourself about as you choose.’

He looked rather annoyed by this charge, although I was quite certain he’d thoroughly enjoyed the attention. ‘How could you be humiliated when you were not even present?’ he said.

‘Because I am your
wife
, in all but name. I am beginning to think that perhaps this was all a terrible mistake and we should separate.’

He looked utterly mortified. ‘Why would you wish such a terrible thing? Do I not love you with all my heart and soul?’ I could see him struggling to damp down his quick temper, but I was too far gone in my own to care that he felt hurt by my accusation.

‘Oh, I dare say you do, just as the Prince of Wales loves Mrs Fitzherbert. But yet you are both free spirits and can love more than one woman without fear or favour, it seems,’ and I burst into tears.

William instantly drew me into his arms. ‘Never could I love any woman more than I love you, Little Pickle. You are my
life
, my
All
.’

I looked up into his blue eyes, warm with love, and was filled with shame. How could I have doubted him, even for a moment? ‘Oh, and I love you too, dearest Billy.’

He beamed. ‘Well, there you are then. Are we not the happiest, most devoted couple? Do we not have a domestic bliss that most would envy? Dora, my love, you have nothing to fear from anyone, I swear it on my honour.’ And somehow his sincerity was so genuine, so heartfelt, that I was convinced, and all ill feeling between us was dispelled with a night of passionate lovemaking.

Fortunately for the Prince of Wales, Caroline of Brunswick almost instantly fell pregnant, so he was further spared her bed. But I sensed that William felt sorry that his brother did not share our good fortune on the domestic front. That summer George came to Clarence House to bemoan the misery of his marriage and stayed for two long weeks.

‘I refuse to live with that woman,’ he declared over his fourth glass of claret.

‘But you must,’ William chided him. ‘If this child is a girl you will have to try again for a boy.’

George grimaced in horror. ‘Never!’

I made a great fuss of him, sitting at the head of the table and playing the perfect hostess, even though I was feeling far from well myself, having suffered a miscarriage in July, no doubt caused by pressure of work and one or two falls and sprains onstage. In January of the following year I sadly suffered yet another. By then Caroline was safely delivered of a girl, christened Charlotte after her grandmother. George was delighted and declared himself most satisfied. Three months later the Prince and Princess of Wales separated.

The Duke celebrated his brother’s success, even if the new Princess Charlotte did put him one step further from the throne.

To my complete horror, Daly suddenly presented himself at my dressing room one night at Drury Lane, turning up at my door like the proverbial bad penny. It took all my strength and resolve to see him, but I was curious to know what he wanted from me. I feared it might concern Fanny, and I was right, at least partially.

He stood before me with that squint-eyed look and my stomach curdled with loathing. ‘I have come to see my daughter. It was naughty of you to run away like that without even telling me about her. But I shall forgive you, Dolly, as I always do whenever you make a mistake.’

Anger rose hot and fierce in my breast; even the mere sight of him filled me with loathing. ‘The biggest mistake I ever made was to trust
you
. Fanny is
my
daughter and no concern of yours. And my name is Dora.’

He held out his hands in a familiar placatory gesture. ‘You cannot deny the child a father.’

‘She has no need of a father. She has a doting mother and an adoring aunt, not to mention the Duke to protect her.’

‘I can offer you one hundred guineas a week if you would come back to Dublin and perform at the theatre. What do you say to that?’

I laughed out loud. ‘So that is what this is all about! You wish to cash in on my fame. Either you are desperate, or a liar, or maybe both, but were you to offer me ten times that sum I would not come. Get out of my dressing room this minute. I also recommend you leave the country before I have you arrested for what you did to me.’

‘You would never dare,’ he scoffed, and straightening my spine I took a step closer, so that he did not mistake my sincerity.

‘Do not test me too much, Daly. If you come anywhere near Fanny you will live to regret it. The Duke is a powerful man with friends who could make life extremely difficult for you. Go home to Ireland in one piece, while you still can.’

He swore loudly, spun on his heel and strode away. I found that I had to sit down as I was actually shaking. But the bluff, for that is exactly what it was, had worked. At last, I thought, Daly is gone from my life for good, and from dear Fanny’s.

There were times during the long, cold winter that followed when I would think of that offer of one hundred guineas as Sheridan continued to struggle with his finances and paid me only in dribs and drabs. But never would I trust Daly again, so I dismissed him from my mind, proud that I had found the courage to stand up to him at last. But at times I felt worn out by the struggle to fit everything in, to constantly move from house to house, being at Somerset Street when in town, then home to Richmond at the weekends, minding my children and keeping the Duke happy.

Yet we were happy, deliciously so. Busy but content. Sheridan naturally disapproved of my frequent pregnancies, for all I kept on working, often to the very week I went into labour.

This season I was playing Nell in
The Devil to Pay
, and even Ophelia, would you believe? And my fame continued to blossom. Admirers would come to my dressing room simply to talk to me. I became friendly with a young Cambridge undergraduate by the name of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who fancied himself as a poet and playwright, and sought my critical appraisal of his work. Seeing that he had merit, I gave him every encouragement, as I am rather fond of poetry myself.

There were others too who came to me for support and advice: a William Hazlitt, and a young clerk by the name of Charles Lamb who liked my rendition of Shakespeare.

In the months that followed exhaustion would often get the better of me, and I sometimes longed for a more settled life and a home in one place, able to devote myself entirely to my family. But then I would remind myself what a very fortunate woman I was to have such a beautiful family and also a wonderful career which brought me so much pleasure, and not a little in the way of financial reward.

On one occasion I was offered twenty guineas for three more nights, which is hard to resist, particularly if the house is a good one. And with a rapidly growing family, money was ever a cause of concern. Yet I was careful not to trespass upon the Duke’s good will too much. I always made a point, if I was to be away longer than intended, of seeking his agreement before I accepted.

Twenty-One

‘Mrs Jordan never has been to me the least cause of expense’

‘Would you believe the King has offered me a post as ranger of Bushy Park?’ William said to me at the end of a particularly tiring week. I smiled at him fondly, thinking this would be a new enthusiasm, which always did his spirits good, particularly since he still had been given no proper role in the war. ‘I am delighted for you, my love. What does that involve, exactly?’

‘Dearest, you do not understand. Seeing how cramped we are here at Clarence House, particularly when the older girls come to stay, and how contented you and I are together, the King has offered us a fine new home.’ He was grinning from ear to ear, and I found a broad smile of delight breaking out on my own face.

‘Oh, how very kind of His Majesty. What kind of home?’

‘It is a beautiful mansion in Teddington, set in more than a thousand acres. It’s part of the Hampton Court estate, on the opposite side of the bank from Richmond. No more than two hours by coach from St James’s, and would not lengthen your own journey to Drury Lane.’

‘Oh, my love, can this be true?’

‘The King seems to think that I have presented myself well, serving as an example of domestic decorum by comparison with the way George has behaved with Mrs Fitzherbert, Lady Jersey and the Princess Caroline. Better one established mistress than two unsuitable wives, eh?’ he said with a laugh.

It didn’t seem appropriate for me to comment so I kept on smiling, waiting for more.

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