Exit The Actress_ A Novel Part 10

HAM H HOUSE, O OXFORDSHIRETO OUR SISTER, P PRINCESSE H HENRIETTE-ANNE, D d.u.c.h.eSSE D' O ORLeANSFROM H HIS M MAJESTY K KING C CHARLES IIJULY 20, 1665 20, 1665 What a brood you have, my dearest. Congratulations! Another beautiful princesse princesse for the House of Stuart. How brave you are! She will be a comfort to your ailing mother-inlaw, Queen Anne. Please tell the Monsieur and King Louis we pray for our beloved aunt. Take care, my sweetheart. Please, for my sake, take care. for the House of Stuart. How brave you are! She will be a comfort to your ailing mother-inlaw, Queen Anne. Please tell the Monsieur and King Louis we pray for our beloved aunt. Take care, my sweetheart. Please, for my sake, take care.

I am always your loving, Charles Note-Has the comet been seen in Paris? I have not yet seen it with the tail, although I stay up most nights watching the sky.

July 28, 1665Hampton CourtDear Ellen,Thank you for your sweet note. We gratefully accept your invitation to Hill House, but first I had to journey to town to check on the theatre, and thence on to Hampton Court to see my brother Henry, the king's chaplain. I am still with the court now, and we move on to Salisbury tomorrow. Is the middle of the next month convenient? Yes of course I will endeavour to bring my son, but Harry is ever with the court. I understand that Dryden and the Howards will also be returning to Surrey in August.The theatre is safe, but in truth London is in a sad state. Every street has boarded-up, marked houses, and the city is hot and still. Everyone breathes through beaked masks and chews tobacco to ward off the sickness. The numbers rose to above seventeen hundred this week, but I hear rumours through town that physicians are not even reporting the true numbers, in order to save families from the required forty-day quarantine within a plague house. Also, the poor are difficult to count, as are the Quakers, who will not have bells rung for their souls.It is pleasant and diverting here, but strange to enjoy such entertainments after the horrors I have just seen. I am called to billiards. I will be happily antic.i.p.ating your reply.

Yours, Tom Killigrew August 15-Hill House (still warm)Ring a ring a rosyPocket full of posyA tishoo, a tishooWe all fall down.

Children in the village are singing this gruesome song. Do they know what it means, I wonder? It has become custom to bless someone if he sneezes. Suspicion rules. We are all afraid.

Note-The Bill shows the London numbers rose above six thousand this week, but Hart says the true reports are closer to ten ten thousand. thousand.

September 1, 1665-Hill House (late afternoon) "Darling, the court has moved to Oxford," Hart said when he returned from his morning ride. Oxford-which is still mercifully uninfected. Please G.o.d, let it stay that way.

"Will we join them?" I asked, helping Hart out of his riding coat.

"Ah, but here, we can be alone," he said, hugging me close.

Note-Scandalous news from Oxford: Teddy writes that while la belle Stuart la belle Stuart still refuses the king, she does not refuse Lady Castlemaine. The two of them had a pretend marriage and then climbed into a marriage bed, for all to see. At the last moment, the king hopped in, replacing Castlemaine. still refuses the king, she does not refuse Lady Castlemaine. The two of them had a pretend marriage and then climbed into a marriage bed, for all to see. At the last moment, the king hopped in, replacing Castlemaine. La belle Stuart La belle Stuart claimed indecency and fled, better late than never. I am amazed at what lengths Castlemaine will travel to manipulate the king. All this while the country is ravaged by plague. claimed indecency and fled, better late than never. I am amazed at what lengths Castlemaine will travel to manipulate the king. All this while the country is ravaged by plague.

September 2 Terrible news. Rose writes that Mother is unable to live with Great-Aunt Margaret any longer and is returning to London. London! Unable to live-what she means is unable to drink drink. I despatched Hugh with an urgent note begging her to stay in Oxford or at the least to come here. Fretting. Fretting. Fretting.

COLOMBES, F FRANCETO MY BROTHER, K KING C CHARLES II OF E ENGLANDFROM P PRINCESS H HENRIETTE-ANNE, T THE M MADAME OF F FRANCE10 SEPTEMBRE 1665 1665.

My dear, The reports we receive are frightening. France has embargoed all ships bound for England, so I have little hope of this letter reaching you, and yet for my own peace of mind I must write it. I know that your nature, so opposite from its reputation, tends towards action rather than patience, but I beg you to take care. There is little that you can do but send out monies and medical supplies, and I am sure you are already doing both. Protect yourself, my dear. For all our sakes.

Mam arrived safely and is busy overseeing her renovations here at Colombes. Louis has agreed to the figure you suggested, but already I am quite sure she has spent twice that amount. I send my love to all your children and your dear queen. Tell them that I pray for their safety, as I pray for yours.

All love, Minette September 14 (still summer) She's done it! Rose writes that Mother has left for town.

Later-six p.m.

"I must go and fetch her!" I repeated for the tenth time. "She is my mother, I cannot just let her return to London! Everyone is dying in London!"

"Be reasonable," Hart said in his most patronising voice. "It is far too dangerous. I could never allow it." Sitting heavily in his armchair, he picked up his news sheet, signalling an end to the discussion.

Breathing deeply to collect my calm, I began to explain it to him again.

Even later-eight p.m. (a cool country rain beats on the roof) I slammed the door. Utterly childish, but when one is treated as a child, what options are there? Many options, I know, but I chose not to take them.

Everyone knows that the death toll is at least double what is reported in the Bills. Some say twenty thousand a week are dying of plague. No one can bear to turn in those they love, condemning them to die alone. Unable to stop myself, I imagine Mother bricked up in Drury Lane for forty days, waiting. And on the forty-first day?

They say the stench of the dead is overpowering. Farmers cannot coerce their cattle to enter the city; the poor creatures would rather be whipped to death than venture into such a place.

And Mother is there. Somehow I must get to town.

Midnight Hart knocked gently on my closet door.

"I would like a truce," he said, his large hands held out to me in supplication.

I remained where I was.

"I understand: she must be fetched. Regardless of how foolish she may be, she is your mother, and she is in danger."

"That is what I was telling-"

He held up his hands to cut me off: a commanding gesture that he uses to quiet the audience when he is about to make a great speech on the stage. I find it irritating. "I do not argue with that. I argue with your your going. We will send someone to collect her, and you will stay here." going. We will send someone to collect her, and you will stay here."

"When?" I challenged, pressing my advantage.

"Tomorrow. I have already asked Hugh to find someone."

One a.m.-my closet I left Hart's sleeping bulk and have come here to think. I know I should feel grat.i.tude, relief, and even tenderness towards him, but I feel curiously bereft, almost robbed of a fight I wanted to have. Why? Why should I wish for discord? It is unlike me. Not discord, I think: freedom.

September 16-early morning Daniel, one of the grooms, has gone to fetch her. I made him repeat the directions to Drury Lane twice before I let him leave. He will take Hart's beaky mask and collect Mother as well as his cousin near Charing Cross. He is strangely undaunted and seems ready for adventure. How foolish.

September 17 (sunny) Not back yet. I am waiting.

September 18 I was amazed and appalled when Daniel returned with his cousin Maybeth and her husband, George, but without my mother.

"Where is she?" I shrieked as Henry handed Maybeth down. Maybeth obviously enjoyed her excursion in a fine carriage very much and seemed utterly unbothered by the plague-it must run in their family.

"Oxford," Henry said, bewildered. "Farm Cottage, River Meadows, Oxford," he recited proudly. "See, I remembered."

"Ellen," Hart said warningly from behind me. I had not heard him come onto the drive. "Come inside."

"You sent her to Oxford!" I screeched, wheeling on him. "She ran away from Oxford!" I stormed past him into the house.

"Never in front of the servants, Ellen! How many times must I tell you?" Hart began without preamble. His huge frame looked even bigger in the pale green morning room (it is exquisite; the decorators have just finished it), his body overwhelming the delicate furnishings. I remained in the cushioned window-seat next to Ruby, who had been startled from her afternoon nap.

"You have lied to me for three days, and you want me me to hold my tongue in front of the servants?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice level. to hold my tongue in front of the servants?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice level.

"Not lied!" he thundered, slamming his hand onto the writing desk and sending scripts flying and a gla.s.s candlestick shattering to the ground.

One of a set. I will never be able to match it, I thought irrelevantly, looking at the mess.

"I never said she was to come here!" Hart said, stepping over the broken gla.s.s and loose papers. "You simply a.s.sumed."

"Ha," I snorted. "Not lying is not the same as telling the truth."

"She won't run again. I have seen to it." His meaty pink face took on an air of self-satisfied complacency. I wanted to reach through the thicket of his smug reserve and shake the puffy pride from his fat features.

"Meaning you gave her enough money so that she can drink herself silly and have no need to run away?" I threw the words at him like sharpened icicles. They hit their mark, and he crumpled into petulance. This was a dangerous course for me to take. Hart could not bear any slight to his pride, but this was the health of my family he was risking. I threw my rage onto the table and waited for his response.

"I did not have to do anything for her," he said brutally. "Or for you. You are not my wife. Be grateful I did as much as I did."

I did not respond, as there was nothing to say.

Later Supper in my closet tonight. It is true. I am not his wife. But then, do I wish to be? I know what I do not wish-to be out there, where death walks hungrily through the town.

Sunday, September 25, 1665 Church was awkward. He pretends nothing was said, and I pretend ... what do I pretend? I feel unravelled and adrift.

Wednesday (raining) "Ellen, would you please ask Cook for lemon cake instead of cinnamon?" Hart asked when he met me on the stairs. It was the "please" that caught my attention. "I think it might be the cinnamon that has been upsetting my stomach."

"Your stomach? Do you not feel well?" I asked, surprised out of my reserve, as Hart rarely admits to frailty of any kind.

"I have felt sincerely unwell of late," he said, taking my hands and bringing them to his lips. "Sickened from missing you."

I have relented. Peace: if not pa.s.sion, then peace.

September 30-Hill House A lovely day. Tom Killigrew sent a box of new scripts (not that we will get to perform any of them soon), and we spent the day reading the parts aloud. Hart particularly enjoyed my Julius Caesar, complete with a tablecloth toga and a walking stick sword. We are both trying.

When I Meet the Court

October 1, 1665 (still warm) I have become a pa.s.sionate gardener-well, student of the garden, anyway. It is lovely to spend afternoons in the quiet green. Hart takes my industry for contentment and is happier than ever.

Foley, Hart's man of all work, has been taking me after luncheon, and slowly, slowly, I am learning to tell the plants from one another-medicinal, flowering, fruiting, perennial, coniferous. Ruby is not impressed. She does not care for dirt. I work with Cook each morning, choosing the menus-although we often have surprise guests, so they tend to change. Still, it is something to do, something to ward off the devouring boredom of this house. Hart is all my safety, I keep reminding myself-trying to rein in my wandering heart.

Note-Our neighbour in Drury Lane, Mrs. Gresham, writes from Warwickshire that her husband has died, leaving her alone with the three children. He died when he went back to town to find work. He never returned to the country but suffered his quarantine and sad end alone. She does not know where he is buried, as the city has stopped keeping records. I send up a quick prayer of thanks for the safety of my own family.

Undated Rose writes that Mother has been drunk for three weeks. Heigh-ho Heigh-ho. Drunk but alive.

After supper-nine p.m.

Hart is called to Oxford to entertain the king! We leave tomorrow. What luck! Frantically packing.

Can't find: my violet embroidered dancing slippers, riding gloves, new dandelion-yellow hat with the grosgrain ribbon, veiled hat with the striped ribbon that needs replacing, my silver hairbrush, or my copy of Fitzherbert's Guide to Husbandry. Guide to Husbandry. Hart can't find his gold-tipped walking stick for town, Hart can't find his gold-tipped walking stick for town, his his silver hairbrush, his good riding boots, or Dryden's new ma.n.u.script-disaster: Dryden is travelling with us and will be so cross if it is left behind. Hart has asked Dryden particularly silver hairbrush, his good riding boots, or Dryden's new ma.n.u.script-disaster: Dryden is travelling with us and will be so cross if it is left behind. Hart has asked Dryden particularly not not to employ his new chicken-dung remedy for baldness during the journey. to employ his new chicken-dung remedy for baldness during the journey.

Later-after midnight Betsey had taken our brushes for polishing, my book was in the garden shed, and Dryden's script was under the armchair. Must remember to...

November 15, 1665-Oxford No idea what I was trying to remember. Life has finally finally settled down here. Betsey no longer gets lost on her way to the market. Hugh has found a man able to mend the coach wheel-the settled down here. Betsey no longer gets lost on her way to the market. Hugh has found a man able to mend the coach wheel-the new new coach wheel. Cook has ordered replacement pots from London, as these are not up to her standard, and Ruby has piddled on every tree in our garden-something Hart feels I should not allow: even his dog must show decorum. Some things can be taken to excess. coach wheel. Cook has ordered replacement pots from London, as these are not up to her standard, and Ruby has piddled on every tree in our garden-something Hart feels I should not allow: even his dog must show decorum. Some things can be taken to excess.

Hart has yet to do much entertaining as the king is mostly entertained by Lady Castlemaine, but is regardless away all day with the court. I find it lovely to be in the city of my birth. Hart has rented a large house on Long-wall Street, very near Magdalen College, with its even quadrangle of golden stone. The house is light and airy and has an enormous, gracefully weeping willow tree in the garden.

Grandfather remains in Farm Cottage by the river with Great-Aunt Margaret, who is bossy but good-hearted, but Rose and Mother have come to live with us here. I am quite strict and will not permit their ridiculous quarreling. Mother is difficult to manage, and I have taken to locking the pantry closets against her drinking, but I would rather her here than with Great-Aunt Margaret, who heartily and loudly disapproves of her. At least I know she will not try to return to London again. When she arrived in town, she pa.s.sed Jane Smedley's house and could hear her inside beating upon the red-crossed door, begging to be let out. Mother hurried past, unable to help. When next she pa.s.sed the house, it was silent, the door hung with black ribbon.

The news: Dr. Hodges, who bravely has stayed in London ministering to the sick, has introduced a new Virginian snake-root cure and is having some success! Hart has ordered some of the good doctor's anise-and-angelica-root lozenges from town, also said to be effective against plague.

I saw him. The king. He was standing at the edge of the duck pond, throwing crumbs: half for the ducks and half for the dogs. I did not notice him at first (he was wearing a great black curly wig), but then that swimmy, giddy feeling came over me when I recognised the long line of his back and the supple tilt of his head. Failing the courage to approach him, I stood in the shade and watched.

November 20, 1665-Oxford Teddy is called to the king and has arrived full of news. He tells of a drunken bagpiper who, mistaken for a dead plague victim, was placed on the burial cart. When he awoke and began to play his pipes, everyone began to scream, taking him for the devil himself! Teddy says that gra.s.s grows on Whitehall, there is so little traffic in the streets. I, on the other hand, have no news, as I spend all of my time with my family or cooped up in this house-safe but crushingly dull.

"I am far too low-born and unimportant to be presented at court," I told Teddy when he stopped by for lunch-luncheon at the court is too rowdy for his taste. The court seems all the more debauched in contrast to the sick and fearful citizenry.

"But you are a great actress now!" he argued, wiping the honey water from his lips. "Anyway, what else is there to do here?"

Not a lot.

Later Hart, on the other hand, has not not encouraged me to join the court. I try not to be resentful but find myself complaining to Teddy. Why should he want to keep me here? encouraged me to join the court. I try not to be resentful but find myself complaining to Teddy. Why should he want to keep me here?

"Well away from the eyes of the king and his cronies," says Teddy.

"Piffle," I say. The king is too wrapped up in Castlemaine, who is nearing her time, and la belle Stuart la belle Stuart to take any notice of me, to take any notice of me, great actress great actress or not. or not.

Teddy will brook no refusal and is taking me with him to court tomorrow!

November 21, 1665-Oxford A glorious day!

After Hart departed this morning, Teddy arrived with his box of paints and his magical trunk of shoes-shoes in all styles and sizes, of which he is a pa.s.sionate collector. "Shoes are everything, Ellen," he gravely instructs. "They ground and centre your ensemble. Now, we shall begin with the silver lace mules, although they might be a bit big. Perhaps the embroidered black? I bought them off Peg after her divine divine Desdemona two years ago. Pity Desdemona spends so much of that play in her nightie," he clucked, unpacking his goodies. Desdemona two years ago. Pity Desdemona spends so much of that play in her nightie," he clucked, unpacking his goodies.

We settled on an apple-green gown with a wide pink sash, slim black slippers ("to cut the sweetness," he says), and velvet ribbons woven through my curls instead of a hat. Teddy could not find a hat that suited.

"Ribbons give you a fresh look, in any case," he said thoughtfully. "Everyone will be wearing hats, and you will stand out." He stood back to appraise his work. "Perfect!" he declared, twirling me about, sending my dress out in swirls of frothy green.

"Make-up?" I asked, breathless, sitting down at my vanity table.

"No," he said, studying my reflection in the gla.s.s. "You look perfect as you are, with all that pinkness whipped into your cheeks."

Later-Longwall Street (late) They have such fun: games and entertainments and amus.e.m.e.nt all the day. The king (elegant in a soft grey surcoat) is relaxed and encourages an informal court. He also seems to wink at the lewd behaviour rampaging around him. He laughs at the bawdy jokes but, I noticed, does not make them himself and encourages outrageous flirting but does not join in. His manners are beautiful and his easy demeanour appears effortless, but I suspect is too consistent to be natural; I do not think anything is natural in this world. Castlemaine appeared tonight with a midnight-blue patch on her cheek depicting a galloping coach and four. Is there any part of her vast person she does not wish to decorate?

Blind man's bluff is la belle Stuart's la belle Stuart's favourite game and thus their most frequent entertainment. When it is announced, she claps her hands, widens her eyes in childish wonder, and exhales a soft breath of contentment. The men stand enraptured, the king among them. It is silly game, and as far as I can tell only a pretext for courtiers to grab one another in places they shouldn't-still, it is the favourite's favourite, and so they all pretend to be enchanted. favourite game and thus their most frequent entertainment. When it is announced, she claps her hands, widens her eyes in childish wonder, and exhales a soft breath of contentment. The men stand enraptured, the king among them. It is silly game, and as far as I can tell only a pretext for courtiers to grab one another in places they shouldn't-still, it is the favourite's favourite, and so they all pretend to be enchanted.

I kept to the edge of the lawn under a leafy horse-chestnut tree. All went well until Hart discovered me in the crowd, and his eyes bulged in anger.

"Ellen! How could you! When I told you ... And yet you still..." He was unable to finish his thoughts in his fury.

I tried to speak soothingly to quiet him, but it was useless. He would not stop. Instead, he rounded on Teddy.

"And you! You pansy! You brought her here! You knew I did not want it, and still you insisted. Just so you could play at dress-up!"

Teddy just shrugged. "She was bored. Why should you have all the fun?" Hart's face flushed with fresh rage, and he let out a steady stream of invectives. I was getting nervous. Hart was entirely capable of a public scene-he would never tolerate someone else creating one but was easily able to excuse his own. Teddy just wrinkled his nose at him as if he had smelled something distasteful but did not stoop to argue with him. Hart's voice grew loud, louder than he intended, and others were noticing, but he persisted, deaf to my warnings. Hearing the ruckus, the king ambled over, startling Hart.

"Ellen!" he said warmly, as I dropped him a pretty curtsey. "Hart, how can you keep such a treasure at home?" he went on, raising me up. Hart looked uncomfortable but forced a horribly mechanical laugh.

The king extended his arm and whirled me away for lawn games. I felt surprisingly comfortable and made the king laugh with my imitation of Henry Bennet's laboured, breathy voice that he uses when he visits the tiring rooms. Henry Bennet gets very excited in the tiring rooms. "A jewel!" the king declared, and I am commanded to return tomorrow. I shot Hart a triumphant look, but there was no pleasure in my victory as he only looked like a wounded bear.

Later He became a sulky bear the moment we arrived home. He ordered his supper to be brought to his closet and has refused to come out. In truth, I did not really mind. Teddy joined me for a cold chicken supper in the kitchen instead. A jewel. A jewel. A jewel. A jewel.

December 1-Oxford (raining) Tonight: Billiards with Elizabeth and Teddy. I won two games but got red chalk on my new ivory gown. Rose will be furious. I secretly watch the well-born ladies of the court: how they sit and speak and move and eat. Teddy caught me watching.

"I will never acquire such grace," I confided, missing my shot.