Exit The Actress_ A Novel Part 13

Nick is cast opposite, so Teddy has the week off as well. We have been running about like truant children, gaming and dancing and dicing. Hart disapproves, naturally. I try my best to keep it from him, but he hears about it anyway; it is not the servants but the gossip sheets that give me away. d.a.m.n Ambrose Pink, whoever he may be. The theatre is a hotbed of gossip. Hart's temper is growing, and I fear I shall never make him happy. If I am honest, I will admit that I have less and less of a heart to try.

Independent Ellen

When My Heart Is Troubled

Tuesday, December 18, 1666-Theatre Royal (snow!) Back in the harness. We are doing The English Monsieur The English Monsieur again-and are receiving a wonderful response. London is so ready to laugh after all she has been through this twelvemonth. Parties every night and dancing to dawn, followed by a light cooked breakfast in the morning. again-and are receiving a wonderful response. London is so ready to laugh after all she has been through this twelvemonth. Parties every night and dancing to dawn, followed by a light cooked breakfast in the morning.

"You cannot keep up this pace, Ellen," Johnny Rochester told me this morning, yawning. We had not yet been to bed. "Eventually, you will have to go home."

I want to dance and dance and never go back to Maiden Lane, I thought ungratefully.

Note-Castlemaine spoke to me at Lady Jemimah's this evening-strangely, I keep finding myself on the most extraordinary guest lists. "You brighten a room," Teddy says. "Having you there pulls an evening together." Odd, as I feel as though I stand out terribly in such company. Anyway, Castlemaine was determined to ensnare me in yet another of her inane conversations about toilette. I find her rapid shifts in tone and volume baffling-shrill and sing-songy when she speaks to women, and then throaty and husky when she speaks to men. I suppose she thinks the throatiness is alluring, but it just sounds like she needs to take a cough mixture. Shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, I looked to Teddy for rescue, but he was too busy admiring her shoes. Teddy loathes men's shoes, not that his delicate, beribboned high-heeled confections look much like men's shoes.

For lack of imagination, I found myself answering truthfully and pointing out that, yes, yes, she wears too much lip paint and, she wears too much lip paint and, yes, yes, it does age her. She looked startled, not expecting that response, but if she does not want the answer, then she should learn not to ask the question. At least it ended the gruesome interview. it does age her. She looked startled, not expecting that response, but if she does not want the answer, then she should learn not to ask the question. At least it ended the gruesome interview.

Wednesday, December 19-Theatre Royal (still The English Monsieur) I am furious!

We were in the middle of the reconciliation scene when Hart (playing Wellbred) left the script entirely. I am quite accustomed to small adjustments everywhere, but when the time came for Hart to ask me to be his wife, he skipped the line completely. Thinking it an honest omission, I covered and proposed to him (most untraditionally-but then these are untraditional characters), and he declined declined! Dumbfounded, I responded tartly, "Well, that suits me, because as you well know I make a most suitable mistress." The audience roared, roundly enjoying the inside joke, but Hart flushed angry red and was most discomfited by my bold reply. How dare he! I will not be shamed by him!

Note-Tom was in the house and thought the script change was brilliant. Now we must perform it like this every night. Torture! I told him if that were the case he must raise my salary by twenty shillings, and he agreed!

WHITEHALL, L LONDONTO OUR SISTER, THE M MADAME OF F FRANCEFROM H HIS M MAJESTY K KING C CHARLES IIDECEMBER 23, 1666 23, 1666.

Happy Christmas, my dear sister, Spending the Christmas season at Whitehall, again. again. I had hoped to be at Windsor or Greenwich (the new palace is coming along splendidly!), but it was not to be. I am I had hoped to be at Windsor or Greenwich (the new palace is coming along splendidly!), but it was not to be. I am overseeing the rebuilding, and alas, that means I must be near the rebuilding, and what overseeing the rebuilding, and alas, that means I must be near the rebuilding, and what noisy noisy rebuilding it is. With all the talk of who might have started the fire-the Dutch, the Catholics, the Quakers-I have finally unmasked the culprit: the stonemasons. It must be! For they are profiting from this disaster like none other. rebuilding it is. With all the talk of who might have started the fire-the Dutch, the Catholics, the Quakers-I have finally unmasked the culprit: the stonemasons. It must be! For they are profiting from this disaster like none other.

I have finally come to understand the impossibility of implementing the modern city of my dreams. My Londoners are h.e.l.l-bent on re-creating the cramped, overcrowded city of the past. It would require too much organisation, and certainly too much compensation to build the wide-avenued stone city I desire. Instead of neat, pleasantly laid-out squares, with communal gardens for all to enjoy, they want to fence in their hard-won little patch of earth. I do understand it. Time was when I, too, wanted only a small patch of earth all my own. Do you often think of those lean, desperate years? They seem so very far away now. The only benefit was seeing you often, my dear. Kiss your children for me.

I am ever your, Charles December 25-Christmas (frost) Hart and I live like strangers. His anger grows apace with my success. I hardly recognise us-he is so tightly strung, and at this point I am uncaring of his discomfort. It is cruel, but I do feel as though I have tried every remedy to jolly him into mirth without success, so now I do my best to ignore it, which is a coa.r.s.e solution and naturally only makes it worse. Tonight, we are going to the Duke's House to see Macbeth Macbeth (bad luck to say, turn around three times and spit), our own house being closed for Christmas. I ordered a new lilac (bad luck to say, turn around three times and spit), our own house being closed for Christmas. I ordered a new lilac moire moire suit and a grey velvet coat especially, perfect with my new silver lace slippers. As I paid for it myself, Hart could not complain about the expense. Rose patterned the gown and Madame Leonine designed the coat, and I was pleased with all the results. Rose's skill is growing, and I am often directing ladies to her for similar designs. I am pleased, as dressmaking is a skill that improves with age, while her other profession... suit and a grey velvet coat especially, perfect with my new silver lace slippers. As I paid for it myself, Hart could not complain about the expense. Rose patterned the gown and Madame Leonine designed the coat, and I was pleased with all the results. Rose's skill is growing, and I am often directing ladies to her for similar designs. I am pleased, as dressmaking is a skill that improves with age, while her other profession...

It (I'm not saying it again) is a ferociously menacing play and hardly in the spirit of Christmas joy, but I held my tongue as I did not want Hart to change his mind and decide we should stay here. We almost never go out together anymore, and he refuses to entertain at home. I should be happy for us to spend time alone, but instead I find it wearing and miserable. In company Hart is attentive and solicitous of my well-being. As soon as we are alone, I am invisible and he is foul-tempered. Betsey has made up the white bedroom for me. (I'm not saying it again) is a ferociously menacing play and hardly in the spirit of Christmas joy, but I held my tongue as I did not want Hart to change his mind and decide we should stay here. We almost never go out together anymore, and he refuses to entertain at home. I should be happy for us to spend time alone, but instead I find it wearing and miserable. In company Hart is attentive and solicitous of my well-being. As soon as we are alone, I am invisible and he is foul-tempered. Betsey has made up the white bedroom for me.

December 29-Midnight "Ellen, are you awake?" Ruby poked her head out from under the covers at the sound of Hart's voice. He considers it ruinous to allow a dog to sleep in the bed, but I love her small st.u.r.dy warmth. I opened my eyes just enough to see him standing in the doorway holding a candle aloft, peering into my new room. It is smaller and quite cheery and looks over the garden. "I only thought if you are awake"-he continued awkwardly-"perhaps you two would like to come back to our room. Ellen, are are you awake?" you awake?"

I did not stir nor respond. I dread returning to his bedroom, with his heavy masculine furniture and oppressive presence. Ruby settled back down beside me, and eventually Hart closed the door. I listened to his retreating footsteps. How can I refuse him? But then, how can I consent? Comfortable or no, I must leave this house. If the baby had lived ... but she didn't.

ST. G GERMAIN, F FRANCETO K KING C CHARLES IIFROM L LE R ROI L LOUIS XIV.

The common loss we have had over the death of your sister's son, our nephew, the Duc de Valois, touches us both so closely that the only difference in our mutual grief is that mine began a few days sooner than yours.

Louis OXFORD, E ENGLANDJANUARY 1, 1667 1, 1667.

My Minette, Oh, my dear. I have just this minute had word-your son. I cannot bear to think of the pain this must cause your heart. I had to write to you, to tell you that I am thinking of you. There is nothing to say but that I will be praying for his soul and for yours.

Charles

When I Run Away

January 15, 1667-Drury Lane I have done it. Hart and I can no longer live under the same roof. I am returned to Drury Lane. The house feels small and shabby, but here I am, beholden to no one. I miss Betsey, Hugh, Cook, and the ease of Maiden Lane, but I could not endure the constant suspicion and jealousy. In the last weeks, Hart had taken to interrogating Hugh as to my whereabouts and searching my dressing room for imagined love notes-I have had to carry this journal with me always-insufferable. Hart sends sad letters now, begging for my return, but I can never go back. I could not breathe in that pretty prison, and in my heart I know that his suspicions were grounded in fact. I do want truer love than what we shared. All my protestations (ever more fervent) were dishonest. I care deeply for his happiness, but I care for him as my friend and guardian, not as a lover. I grew up in his bed and can thank him for all my present success and security, but I cannot offer him my heart in return. I wish that I could, but I have tried and I have failed.

We have told no one of our separation and painfully maintain our relationship in public. "The public is not prepared prepared for our dissolution," Hart says plaintively, asking for more time. "Please come back to me." for our dissolution," Hart says plaintively, asking for more time. "Please come back to me."

I do not care two figs for the public's concern over my private life, but these matters of appearance affect him deeply. It is the least I can do for him. Ruby misses Hart terribly and is confused in our new home.

Note-Johnny is trying to win his abducted heiress again. Let us hope he does not wind up in the Tower. I hope someone ends up finding a true love.

January 29, 1667 London To Mistress Elizabeth Malet, She yields, she yields-pale Envy said "Amen!"

The first of women to the last of men.

Marry me.

Ever yours, John Rochester February 2, 1667-Theatre Royal (my seventeenth birthday) Whispers: Everyone knows now, but no one speaks openly of our separation. Hart threw me a magnificent birthday party tonight. There was music and dancing and heaps of beautifully wrapped presents.

"I cannot accept them," I told him sadly.

"You must," he told me firmly.

"I won't." Ruby and I went home to Drury Lane.

February 7, 1667-Drury Lane (early) This morning, early, before rehearsals, Teddy hurtled in with a copy of the Gazette Gazette tucked under his arm. He was wearing his new ladybird-red waistcoat, and it suits him well, although his normally coiffed hair was disordered and his delicate cheeks splotched with colour. tucked under his arm. He was wearing his new ladybird-red waistcoat, and it suits him well, although his normally coiffed hair was disordered and his delicate cheeks splotched with colour.

"You must, must," he puffed ... He had been running, and he is not accustomed to running. "You must must ... read this," he panted, thrusting the news sheet at me. ... read this," he panted, thrusting the news sheet at me.

I scanned the page. "What?"

"Here! Here!" He jabbed the paper. "Look, it is Becka Becka!" And there was a brief but astonishing article: "Mrs. Rebecca Marshall, having been attacked with a t.u.r.d outside the Theatre Royal last night, is suing for 'protection and justice for the future.' "

"Becka...?" Disbelieving, for Becka was generally quite popular, I quickly scanned down the page. "In the face face?" Good G.o.d.

"And the hair hair!" Teddy gasped. "It is fantastic fantastic! It is genius genius!" gasped Teddy, who has never liked the Marshall sisters.

Later-Theatre Royal Teddy has not stopped giggling all day. I have caught cold and cannot stop sneezing.

Note-Two Dutch ships sunk, and one of ours fired. Absurd waste! After all we have lost recently, why do we risk more? As a country we should be united, peaceful, and constructive-not unheeding of our mistakes and bent on a course that has never suited us.

Later-Drury Lane My cold has gotten worse. Mother consulted Grandfather's volume of Culpeper's English Physician, English Physician, now worn with use. now worn with use.

"Wintergreen or willow tree juice, for fever," she said, turning the pages. "And lungwort for your cough. You could line your boots with tansy leaves, but we haven't got any. I'm sure Mr. Hart has-"

"No, Mother. I'll stop at the apothecary tomorrow."

"But Mr. Hart could-"

"No."

February 14-St. Valentine's Day We opened Flora's Vagaries Flora's Vagaries today. I play the jade Flora. She is strong-willed and fickle and constant only in her own self-interest. Yet she is loveable and full of mischief as well. She is parts of myself, I admit. today. I play the jade Flora. She is strong-willed and fickle and constant only in her own self-interest. Yet she is loveable and full of mischief as well. She is parts of myself, I admit.

The audience have made me their own. They seem to love my rougher edges and wilder ways. Is that really me? The edges of my self are getting fuzzy. They call out the name they have given me and cheer for me as the curtain comes down. It is an intoxicating thing to feel their love. It keeps me strong. It keeps me safe. No man can take this from me. Hart watches me from the wings. His expression unreadable.

Note-My cold has improved. Mother suggested blood-letting, but I believe it weakens rather than strengthens me-a lunatic opinion, as far as Mother is concerned.

When I Enjoy My Merry Mob

February 23-Theatre Royal (Flora's Vagaries) Johnny Rochester, Henry Savile, a hearty raw-boned sort of man whom Rochester obviously adores, and Lord Sedley came to the tiring rooms after the performance this evening: I was changing out of my Flora costume and into my new taffy-pink gown with the soft belled sleeves, ruinously expensive but so pretty, when they sauntered through the door, taking no notice of the other players in varying states of undress.

"Your dirty secret is out, my darling," Rochester teased, sitting down at my slim-legged dressing table. "You are a free woman, and all of London is waiting with bated breath to see who who you will choose." you will choose."

Sedley drew in a huge breath and held it to make his point. I ignored him. In the mirror I saw Kitty surrept.i.tiously tug down her bodice to catch their attention.

"Well, it cannot be you, you randy reprobate," I threw back at Rochester, hurrying to finish my laces.

"No, alas, I have entered that glorious temple of matrimonial bliss, never to emerge again," he said in saintly tones, eyes pointed heavenward. Johnny finally finally married Elizabeth Malet, his captive heiress-much to their mutual delight, it is said. married Elizabeth Malet, his captive heiress-much to their mutual delight, it is said.

I looked at my friend, and in truth he was glowing beneath his unruffled facade.

"Give him a month and he'll be on the prowl again," predicted Sedley, blowing out his cheeks and picking up various cosmetic pots, scattering powder hither and yon.

Ruby, snuggled in her basket on the floor, promptly sneezed.

"Do stop touching things you do not understand." I took the pot away from him. "I am so pleased for you, Johnny. It is like a fairy-tale," I said, tying the last of my laces and checking my face in the mirror-my cheeks were flushed pink, not enough powder, but heigh-ho. heigh-ho.

"Ah, fairy stories," said Savile. "Keep in mind that they are peopled with witches and dragons and trolls and mean big-footed stepsisters and evil queens-"

"And kings for that matter," added Sedley absently. "Actually, the kings are more often careless, rather than evil, come to think of it," he went on to no one in particular.

"In short, beware of romance and royalty," summed up Johnny, pinching my cheek and giving me a meaningful look-why? "We must eat," he continued lightly. "I am ravenous and I've heard reported that I tend to go into a killing rage when vexed by hunger." The rumours about Johnny are always astounding.

We left by the side door and headed for the Bear Tavern. They serve the best pidgeon pie in London. I choose to believe in fairy-tales, I thought, walking alongside the three greatest cynics of our age. Funny, I'll bet Johnny does, too.

April 1667-Will's Coffee-house (warm) Shocking gossip: La belle Stuart has run away from court and eloped with the Duke of Richmond! He is said to be handsome but somewhat simple (sounds an ideal match for her), has been widowed twice, and has an excellent income. The Earl of Clarendon supposedly helped her to arrange it. When the king confronted her, she challenged him that the duke could offer her the honourable state of matrimony-could he offer her such a thing? How could he deride her choice? The king is said to be in a terrible temper, and Castlemaine openly gloating. I hope it is a true romance. A fairy-tale, indeed! has run away from court and eloped with the Duke of Richmond! He is said to be handsome but somewhat simple (sounds an ideal match for her), has been widowed twice, and has an excellent income. The Earl of Clarendon supposedly helped her to arrange it. When the king confronted her, she challenged him that the duke could offer her the honourable state of matrimony-could he offer her such a thing? How could he deride her choice? The king is said to be in a terrible temper, and Castlemaine openly gloating. I hope it is a true romance. A fairy-tale, indeed!

May 24-Theatre Royal Dryden has written me a brilliant part. Florimel (not a name I care for, but heigh-ho heigh-ho) is a mad, mad girl. She is tricked with sparkle and wit and a carnival heart. It is a huge role, and I am never never off the stage. Daunting, but I refuse to be daunted. Unfortunately, it is only one of three plays we are putting on in the next fortnight. I have taken to memorizing scripts during meals, while I walk, and in the bath. off the stage. Daunting, but I refuse to be daunted. Unfortunately, it is only one of three plays we are putting on in the next fortnight. I have taken to memorizing scripts during meals, while I walk, and in the bath. Quel Quel glamour, as Teddy would say. Hart plays Celadon (a name I do quite care for), and together we are sparring lovers who (bless Dryden's tact) choose glamour, as Teddy would say. Hart plays Celadon (a name I do quite care for), and together we are sparring lovers who (bless Dryden's tact) choose not not to marry but instead remain mistress and gallant. It is getting easier to play opposite Hart, but I do not think I could bear to marry him to marry but instead remain mistress and gallant. It is getting easier to play opposite Hart, but I do not think I could bear to marry him again again onstage. onstage.

I spend part of the play disguised as a boy and in breeches. Quel Quel glamour, indeed. What freedom! What fun! I can dance and dance, loose-legged and free. I become a naughty forest elf in breeches, neither man nor woman, just a small wild spirit. No idea what comes over me. glamour, indeed. What freedom! What fun! I can dance and dance, loose-legged and free. I become a naughty forest elf in breeches, neither man nor woman, just a small wild spirit. No idea what comes over me.

Note-Johnny Rochester came to the tiring rooms this evening with Charles Sackville, Lord Buckhurst. He cut a carelessly elegant figure with his thickly waved blond hair (his own-very handsome); his silver-trimmed, sage-green coat, and the rows and rows of expensive lace at his wrists (expensive but dusty-he is not careful with his cuffs like other men, but then I suppose he can always afford new ones). Unlike most men who come back to the tiring rooms, he did not fixate on the women undressing, nor drown me in empty compliments. Everything he says is sharp and pointy and aimed to provoke-a wicked tongue (forked, no doubt-must remember to check).

TUNBRIDGE W WELLS, E ENGLANDTO OUR SISTER, THE D d.u.c.h.eSSE D' O ORLeANS, THE M MADAME OF F FRANCEFROM H HIS M MAJESTY K KING C CHARLES II Minette, You may think me ill-natured, but if you consider how hard it is to swallow an injury done by a person for whom I have such tenderness, you may begin to understand my distress. The resentment I bear towards her matches the depth of my affection. If you were as acquainted with the fantastical little gentleman called Cupid as I am, you would neither wonder nor take ill at any change in affairs in his keeping.

It is true that the idea of divorce has been much on my mind. Only Catherine's inevitable wretchedness at such a separation, and the satisfaction this course of action will bring to her detractors, has thus far stopped me. And yet I tell you, Frances may have been worth it. Her una.s.sailable virtue and her simple sweetness have driven me mad with wanting. I am sorry to be so blunt, but who else can I tell? If only she were to become ugly and undesirable and I could possess her without rivalry. The business has made me miserable.

All love as I am your, Charles May 30-Will's Coffee-house "Oh, my dear, astonishing news," Teddy announced over our usual coffee and toast. "He's done it." Teddy's breath was coming in brief, noisy bursts.

"Done what?" I asked absently. I was trying to read yesterday's smudged news sheet describing the queen happily frolicking at Tunbridge Wells in boy's clothes-she seems to also undergo a magical woodland transformation in breeches. How chic. Despite all the rumours, there seems to be no hint of divorce for the royal couple, although it is said he would have thrown over the queen and married Frances Stuart. Well, if he would would have done it, why have done it, why didn't didn't he? People are so confident of what they would have done once they no longer have the chance. I think he had a lucky escape, frankly. The queen's famed gentleness will only refine in time, whereas Frances's shrill sweetness will rot the teeth. She is such a pedantically predictable woman; his pa.s.sion is mystifying. I returned from my reverie to see Teddy nervously fidgeting with his breakfast. he? People are so confident of what they would have done once they no longer have the chance. I think he had a lucky escape, frankly. The queen's famed gentleness will only refine in time, whereas Frances's shrill sweetness will rot the teeth. She is such a pedantically predictable woman; his pa.s.sion is mystifying. I returned from my reverie to see Teddy nervously fidgeting with his breakfast.

"Yes, Teddy?" I prompted. "What has Hart done now?" Hart's behaviour had been so erratic of late and his temper increasingly short since I broke with him.

"Hart, your Hart, has been..." He crumbled his toast, unsure how to proceed.

"He is not my my Hart." I gritted my teeth against the inevitable pun. Hart." I gritted my teeth against the inevitable pun.

"Your erstwhile Hart? Well, he has been frequenting Castlemaine's bed, and now the newshounds have it." Teddy finally got in out all in one breath and then slumped in relief.

"Castlemaine?"

"Yes."

"The Castlemaine?" Castlemaine?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Do you mind, dearest?" Teddy delicately wiped his fingers on a napkin and took my hand with concern.

"Since when?"

Teddy shrugged as if to say, Does it matter when? Obviously, he has known for some time-therefore, their affair has been going on for some time. When...?

"No, no," I said automatically, collecting my thoughts. "But she-"

"Yes I know, just out of childbed. Tacky, really. Goodness, she has energy."

"I am pleased for him," I heard myself say, offering empty words, as if from a distance. Hart and Castlemaine? My Hart? His Castlemaine? Did I mind?

Later-Drury Lane I am startled, surely. But do I mind? I probe the thought like a bruise, searching for the answering pain. No, I do not believe I do. I feel free.

June 5-Theatre Royal I feel Hart's eyes upon me. Do I know? Have I heard? Do I care? The theatre is full of whispers. I am made stronger by his shame.

Later-Theatre Royal (after the show) Humming in the hallways, I keep encountering Hart. Tonight, I laughed aloud for no reason. Everyone turned to look.

June 5, 1667Farm Cottage, OxfordDearest Ellen,Great-Aunt Margaret is still weak but improving. Her foot stubbornly refuses to heal, but she is quite adept at manoeuvring on her crutch, and of course an absolute master at ordering people about, so I think she can manage without me for a few days. Your vague and infrequent letters have me worried. If they do not improve in volume and content, you shall have to suffer a visit from your old grandfather, who misses his granddaughter terribly.