Exit The Actress_ A Novel Part 20

I stood in the shadows as Jerome knocked upon the great door. The Royal Apartments. His rooms-his bedchamber. The door swung inward. True, the bed was hung with richest velvet, and the carpet was thick and soft. Still just a room, I told myself. Nothing to fear. But a king's king's room. A deep breath. I stepped forward. room. A deep breath. I stepped forward.

He stood just inside, as if he had been waiting. "Ellen." He opened his arms, folding me into his protective embrace.

And then there were no more words.

Later, lying together in the great bed, I asked him my question. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"Ellen-"

"I know I am only an orange girl, an actress. Even Moll is better born-base born, it's true, but at least her father is-"

He quieted me with a kiss.

"And still she is reviled-"

"Hush now. I am not ashamed of you." He tilted my face up to his. "With your pure spirit, how could I ever be? It does not matter who your father was. You have a n.o.bility all your own. Unpolluted, untainted, and marvellously whole. I am so happy when I am with you."

"Then why-"

"To be my love is a public role. It will change you you forever. It will change everything for forever. It will change everything for you you. You will be exposed to scrutiny, criticism, intrigue, malice, and unhappiness. Men wanting power will court you. Women wanting to reach me will despise you. You will be plagued with insincerity, unable to trust anyone's motives. My wife considers you her friend, and she will distance herself from you. People will watch you, guessing, is she in favour, out of favour? Your life will no longer belong only to you. How could I have done that? To you, who are so free."

"And now?" I asked, holding my breath.

"And now you are are my love. It is for you to choose." my love. It is for you to choose."

Relieved, I nestled my head back onto his chest and slept soundly. Jerome arrived to take me back to my room at six-early, before the court rose.

"Hurry back before the gossips awake. I do not want to share you yet, if I can prevent it. Is that all right?" he asked tenderly. I nodded happily and reached up to kiss him. How had that seemed so impossible, unbridgeable, only a few hours ago? He neatly tucked my shawl around my shoulders and sweetly kissed me good-bye. I tiptoed away in my nightgown and slippers.

In the grey-pink light the whole world had changed. I felt flooded with fragile magic. Entering my room, I was surprised to find that everything was just as I had left it. The poppy-red gown I had worn to the picnic was still carelessly heaped on a chair, my velvet slippers still shunted beneath. A cup of cold chocolate was left on the windowsill, and a plate of toast lay on the desk. It felt like the room of a different girl.

This is happiness, I thought, watching the town come to sleepy life, through the sash window. I must remember this feeling.

August 23, 1668-Oxford-the Bear Inn, Bear Lane I keep vigil over our secret. If his name is mentioned, I quickly leave the room, terrified my powerful reaction might show upon my face. Now that it is our our secret, I want only to guard it. They carelessly bandy his name about, sending delicious ripples of feeling through me. How can others not see it? I am so lightly tethered to this earth; my joy is so great. secret, I want only to guard it. They carelessly bandy his name about, sending delicious ripples of feeling through me. How can others not see it? I am so lightly tethered to this earth; my joy is so great.

Later-the Bear Inn She did not notice any change in me, I tell myself. I was just the same.

Tonight: As we were sitting down to a game of ba.s.set after dessert, the queen unexpectedly rejoined the court. She had retired early with a headache but, after taking a tonic from her physician, decided to return to the gaming room. Changed into an ocean-blue satin gown with a simple but elegant neckline of seed pearls, she looked lovely in the candlelight. She pleasantly moved around the room, lightly resting her hand on her husband's shoulder, standing behind his chair as he played his cards. They seemed easy in each other's company, enjoying the familiar, genuine affection of a well-matched couple.

I quickly dropped her my deepest curtsey as she approached my chair, and she raised me up with a small sincere smile. "I see you have been lucky tonight," she laughed musically, gesturing to my pile of winnings.

"So far." I grimaced. "I will likely lose it all by the end."

"Ah, more likely you will lend it to your friends, and they they will lose it," she said kindly, her ripe accent rolling through her words like a tide. will lose it," she said kindly, her ripe accent rolling through her words like a tide.

"True." I laughed. I did have a tendency to lend away all my money rather than lose it myself.

"Be sure to save something for yourself, sweet Ellen," she said, gently patting my cheek and moving off to rejoin her husband.

Now alone, I wonder how I can do this to such a very, very good woman?

September-London Back in the theatre. I cannot concentrate on my scripts. I cannot stop daydreaming. I float through my rehearsals-dancing rehearsals, singing rehearsals, script rehearsals- "Ellen!" shouts Lacy. "Catch up!" They had moved on to one of the French dances-I was still moving through my exercise figures.

The season is all for me. I will star. I will shine. But I am not here. I am away. I am with him. Waiting. Waiting for it to be dark. Waiting for the carriage to come-softly, quietly pulling up at the far end of Bridges Street. Waiting for Jerome to meet me at the gate. Waiting for Mr. Chiffinch (the infamous, procuring Mr. Chiffinch-who is quite sweet, really, despite his infamy) to lead me up the small staircase through the doors to the King's Suite. And then he is there, and I come alive.

Note-Alive in both joy and shame. There can be no excuse for what I am doing. My only atonement is to remember that.

When My Heart Is Divided

LONDON GAZETTE.

Sunday, September 13, 1668 Most Deservedly Called London's Best and Brilliant Broadsheet The Social Notebook Volume 324 Ambrose Pink's social observations du jour Darlings, What daring! What pluck! It seems (from a very reliable source) that during their recent royal hunting excursion to Bagshot, the Duke of Buckingham attempted to place himself above Prince Rupert of the Rhine (Prince Rupert of royal blood, mind you). While stopping at an inn, on their way back to London, the duke discovered his own horses to be stored in a less-desirable location than Prince Rupert's. Without hesitation or consultation, the bold duke turned out the prince's horses and installed his own. Who knew such high drama could happen in a stable, my pets?

When dashing Prince Rupert complained to the king, His Majesty overruled in favour of the dastardly duke. It seems that Buckingham rules all. Be warned, my petals.

a bientot, Ever your eyes and ears, Ambrose Pink, Esq.

September 16, 1668-Theatre Royal A strange day: We performed the new Dryden, Ladies a la Mode, Ladies a la Mode, this afternoon to a half-empty house. It was terrible. Dryden had in truth done little but translate the play from the French, and the language felt patchy at best (his new post of Poet Laureate-he took over when Will Davenant died-has made him neglectful of his playhouse duties). We were ill rehea.r.s.ed, for which I must take my share of blame as I have not been working as I should. After the show, Tom strode onto the stage and delivered a scalding reproof, which was deserved but thoroughly unpleasant. The play shall be pulled and replaced with Rob Howard's this afternoon to a half-empty house. It was terrible. Dryden had in truth done little but translate the play from the French, and the language felt patchy at best (his new post of Poet Laureate-he took over when Will Davenant died-has made him neglectful of his playhouse duties). We were ill rehea.r.s.ed, for which I must take my share of blame as I have not been working as I should. After the show, Tom strode onto the stage and delivered a scalding reproof, which was deserved but thoroughly unpleasant. The play shall be pulled and replaced with Rob Howard's The Duke of Lerma The Duke of Lerma. Good-he is in need of a boost since his Sir Positive-At-All fiasco. I shall play Maria, a part I quite well remember and hardly need to study again-thankfully-because I have finally been invited to a late supper with Charles (it has been over a week since our last meeting), and I did not want our plans to be interrupted by an emergency rehearsal. Lacy took us through the great dance only once and then released us (to be back at eight in the morning-but no matter, freedom today!).

Spoke to Peg for a few minutes after rehearsal. She is angry at the high-handed behaviour of Buckingham (no surprise there) towards Rupert. Something to do with horses; I am afraid I wasn't really listening.

At the stage door Jerome was waiting (not in livery) with a note:

My little love,I am not yet returned to town and must see to a friend who is unwell. My thoughts are ever with you.

C.

Teddy, seeing my crestfallen face, gently steered me out the door into the street. "Ellen," he said, trying to gain my attention. My attention, still fixed upon Jerome-Jerome, who had not waited for my reply. He must have had instructions to return directly.

"Ellen," Teddy said again, this time taking me firmly by the shoulders. "I know. know. I have known throughout that you were entirely successful in Buckingham's royal bedroom adventure. You have been snuffled out, my sweet fox." (Teddy loves animal metaphors.) "I know, too, that you wish to keep it secret, and to that end"-he looked at me squarely-"you I have known throughout that you were entirely successful in Buckingham's royal bedroom adventure. You have been snuffled out, my sweet fox." (Teddy loves animal metaphors.) "I know, too, that you wish to keep it secret, and to that end"-he looked at me squarely-"you must must change your habits." I looked up into his face, ashamed at my duplicity. change your habits." I looked up into his face, ashamed at my duplicity.

"Oh, Teddy," I whispered. "How did you know?"

"Ellen, you really are the most diabolical liar. Everyone Everyone will soon know. It shows upon your pretty face when anyone mentions the king. What a silly girl you are, my sweet." will soon know. It shows upon your pretty face when anyone mentions the king. What a silly girl you are, my sweet."

I bristled under his criticism, however kindly meant. "Yes, I am his mistress. What of it? I am happy!"

"Happy, but in a dreadfully precarious position," Teddy said quietly. "That note, I would wager that it tells you that he is indisposed this evening and cannot meet you. Am I correct?"

"Yes, but-"

"Yes, because the d.u.c.h.ess of Richmond, Frances Stuart, la belle Stuart la belle Stuart herself, is ill. She has the small pox." herself, is ill. She has the small pox."

"Oh," I recoiled at the mention of the dreaded, disfiguring disease.

"It has not altered her appearance and her case was light, it is said, but the king has been ever attentive, even at the risk of his own health."

"He has seen seen her?" He had told me that he has business in Oxford with the architect Christopher Wren this past week. He had told me that since her elopement they have been estranged. her?" He had told me that he has business in Oxford with the architect Christopher Wren this past week. He had told me that since her elopement they have been estranged.

"He has not left her side since she fell ill, and even now, when she is out of danger, he clings to her."

Later Now away and alone, I think on what Teddy has said. I am the invisible mistress, the secret mistress, the wh.o.r.e. It is for my well-being, I can hear Charles argue-my well-being or his convenience? I did not believe he would forgo all others-not really, not forever-but I did think there would be an honesty between us, an accountability of sorts. That is not true. I had hoped that for now, now when we are so happy ... Well, I suppose it was only I who was so happy.

The truth: his heart still belongs to another. The clocks have chimed at midnight.

Friday, September 18, 1668 (grey and drizzly) Teddy and I went to Bartholomew's Fair this afternoon. We are rehearsing The Silent Woman, The Silent Woman, a comedy, in the mornings, but neither of us is cast in a comedy, in the mornings, but neither of us is cast in Rollo, Rollo, which we have on at the moment. The fair was lively, and the puppets and children and music and sweets were all diverting, but I find myself unable to fully enter my surroundings. I feel as though I am set apart by my thoughts and cannot engage with the world. Teddy understands and is patient with my ongoing strangeness. I am making a decision, I realised. Can I do this? Do I want to do this? It will mean giving my heart to a man who will not protect it. It is a dangerous game to play, for I will love. I will love with all of myself, and I will not gain entrance to all of his heart in return. My stubborn hope still flickers. Perhaps, perhaps. which we have on at the moment. The fair was lively, and the puppets and children and music and sweets were all diverting, but I find myself unable to fully enter my surroundings. I feel as though I am set apart by my thoughts and cannot engage with the world. Teddy understands and is patient with my ongoing strangeness. I am making a decision, I realised. Can I do this? Do I want to do this? It will mean giving my heart to a man who will not protect it. It is a dangerous game to play, for I will love. I will love with all of myself, and I will not gain entrance to all of his heart in return. My stubborn hope still flickers. Perhaps, perhaps.

"You will never be on equal footing," Teddy says in answer to my unspoken thoughts. "It is only your heart that will break."

"But, Frances-"

"Frances never capitulated. She just conceded the field. You cannot compete with that."

I do not want to compete. I want to love and be loved in return. But love requires honesty, and that is not where this path seems to lead.

Still thinking.

WHITEHALL, LONDONTO OUR SISTER, d.u.c.h.eSSE D'ORLeANS, THE THE M MADAME OF F FRANCEFROM H HIS M MAJESTY K KING C CHARLES II IISEPTEMBER 18, 1668 18, 1668 My dear sister, Frances has contracted small-pox. I think with horror upon my selfish wish for her beauty to fade-and now this, my G.o.d. I have been too harsh on her in the past. She wanted a simple life and was true to that simplicity. I cannot help but wish her well now. Guilt spurs me to her bedside. Do not fear, I take precautions not to touch her and am careful to breathe through a cloth mask. Pray for her, my dear one. Will you send one of Louis's famed physicians-Dr. Denis, if at all possible? I would feel better knowing that I had done all I can.

Keep safe, Charles Postscript: Thank you for the gloves, my dearest. They are as soft and lovely as they could possibly be. I will take them with me to Newmarket this month. Thank you for the gloves, my dearest. They are as soft and lovely as they could possibly be. I will take them with me to Newmarket this month.

When I Walk with Peg

Friday September 18, 1668-Official Notations for Privy Council Meeting on This Day to Be Entered into the Log-book Notations taken by Secretary of State Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington A successful motion this morning to reduce staff meals in His Majesty's residences today. Senior members of the household will be given two meals per day, and lesser servants shall be given none. This should reduce the court expenditures significantly.

Nothing further to report.

Secretary of State Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington Sat.u.r.day, September 19, 1668-Theatre Royal (The Silent Woman) A great success. Finally!

We played to a full house-this being the second night of the run and word having got out that this is a worthy comedy. The pit laughed hard.

Lizzie Knep was superb as Epicoene, the t.i.tle role. My part was smaller but well written, and my breeched dancing much antic.i.p.ated and well clapped. Even Ruby seemed excited after the show and leapt out of her backstage basket to lick me. I am returned. I am awake to my life. I am still undecided. The court is in Newmarket and then off to Audley End this month. I can think more clearly when I know he is not close by. I will do nothing. The answer will come-now off to supper with Aphra, Teddy, and Johnny.

Note-A brief message today from the king, congratulating me on my success. Inviting me to the races at Newmarket. I have not replied.

Sunday, September 20, 1668-Will's Coffee-house Such a lot of nonsense. I am losing patience with grown men everywhere. Today in the coffee-house: Dryden; his brother-in-law, Rob Howard; his wife, Beth; Aphra; and I were enjoying a leisurely Sunday repast after church. The discussion fell to Dryden's A Defence of an Essay A Defence of an Essay (his answer to Rob's (his answer to Rob's Essay of Poesy Essay of Poesy). I have made it a point to read neither, as they both seem quite silly and seem to inevitably lead to shouting and disagreements. The argument became heated, as Aphra tried to gently mediate. I finally caught the gist of the thing and was shocked.

"Rhyme? You are arguing like this over You are arguing like this over rhyme rhyme?"

"Rhyme in drama, drama, my dear. Quite another thing," Dryden said pompously. "It truly elevates the form." my dear. Quite another thing," Dryden said pompously. "It truly elevates the form."

"No, it muddies muddies it," countered Rob. "A true dramatist can keep it it," countered Rob. "A true dramatist can keep it pure pure."

I looked at Aphra, who rolled her eyes as if to say, Men Men. She is now trying to get her first play produced and is not remotely concerned about elevation elevation or or purity, purity, only revenue. Just then Johnny Rochester came in, fresh from Newmarket, and, depositing a kiss upon my head, dropped into the nearest armchair. Ruby excitedly began to scale his legs and climbed into his lap. only revenue. Just then Johnny Rochester came in, fresh from Newmarket, and, depositing a kiss upon my head, dropped into the nearest armchair. Ruby excitedly began to scale his legs and climbed into his lap.

"John," began Dryden officiously, "you will be able to arbitrate this matter."

"I doubt it," said Johnny, affectionately rubbing Ruby's soft, crumply ears.

"Well, regardless," Dryden plodded on, his heavy curls bobbing, "how do you feel about rhyme rhyme in drama? Don't you believe it to be an essential in drama? Don't you believe it to be an essential tool tool? An art, art, an an a.s.set a.s.set?" Dryden was warming to his theme. I looked towards Aphra with apprehension. Dryden can be tiresome in this mood. And Johnny never brings out the best in him, as Dryden is so eager, so desperate to impress him that he rapidly becomes unbearable.

"I think that it is second second-rate writers who worry about tools and arts and a.s.sets," Johnny said levelly, not looking up from Ruby. "First-rate writers write originally originally in their own forms and are guided by in their own forms and are guided by G.o.d G.o.d." I recognised this reckless, dangerous mood of Johnny's and was anxious to steer poor Dryden away.

"But my dear Lord Rochester ... look at Shakespeare, his use of-"

"That is right. Look Look at Shakespeare. He copied no one." I prudently held my tongue-in other moods I have heard Johnny refer to Shakespeare as an outright thief, unable to originate a plotline. "Unlike your pale, imitative dribblings. It is pathetic to think that we go to such trouble to enact them-or to watch them, for that matter. How truly bored must we be in our gilded, debauched age." at Shakespeare. He copied no one." I prudently held my tongue-in other moods I have heard Johnny refer to Shakespeare as an outright thief, unable to originate a plotline. "Unlike your pale, imitative dribblings. It is pathetic to think that we go to such trouble to enact them-or to watch them, for that matter. How truly bored must we be in our gilded, debauched age."

Dryden's round face flushed.

"Johnny," I said, placing my hand lightly on his arm, desperate to change the subject and knowing that Dryden would be mortally wounded by this lacerating criticism-he fairly worships Johnny. "Have you eaten, my dear? May I order you some seed cake? It is particularly lemony today."

"Well," Dryden said pompously, his blond curls bouncing again in righteous indignation, rising and putting on his ridiculous hat (another one), "I certainly don't see G.o.d's hand guiding you." one), "I certainly don't see G.o.d's hand guiding you."

"Ah, G.o.d." Johnny said thoughtfully. He looked up at Dryden for the first time. "G.o.d and I parted ways long ago."

Later How sad. Sometimes I truly feel that Johnny believes that. It is at the root of his wild ways: the unbridled freedom of an already condemned man. How lonely and afraid it must make him.

Note-I still have not replied.

Monday, September 28-Theatre Royal Ladies' Day today at the playhouses. All the profits go to us! Teddy made a guest appearance in his sugar-pink frock (didn't get paid but had great fun) and was cheered mightily. Lady Jemimah Sandwich blew him a kiss, and Lady Fenworth's powder-puff dog yipped. All the Wits turned out in support. Buckhurst cheered me particularly loudly and tossed a heavy bag of coins at my feet during my curtsey. Johnny brought me yellow roses tied in a black ribbon after the performance.

Note-I had half hoped, despite my injunction, the king would come. If I wish for something, I should learn to ask for it. But then, I wish to be whole and unharmed, singularly cherished and unhurt-a tricky thing with this man.

Tuesday, September 29, 1668-Michaelmas Day (warm and sunny) Peg stopped into the theatre after rehearsal (I am not on the rest of this week) and whisked me away for some afternoon shopping in Paternoster Row. "But I have lines to learn!" I wailed. And And a new prologue a new prologue and and new steps for Lacy's dance... new steps for Lacy's dance...

And, and, and. I keep my thoughts perpetually occupied with I keep my thoughts perpetually occupied with and. And and. And is my armour against the devouring unhappiness of wanting something I cannot have. Better to break my own heart now than to have it broken for me later, I tell myself again and again. is my armour against the devouring unhappiness of wanting something I cannot have. Better to break my own heart now than to have it broken for me later, I tell myself again and again.

"Get your hat. We're leaving." She would brook no refusal.

Shopping with Peg nowadays is a joyous experience, as she is on Rupert's seemingly unlimited budget. We strolled arm in arm and talked of this and that: the renovations for their sumptuous apartments at Windsor (they have moved into a suite of rooms in the Round Tower, and Rupert has proposed several ingenious alterations), her favourite spaniel's new litter (half-pug and half-spaniel-not what she expected and ugly as can be, but she adores them), plans for her new flower garden at Windsor. Walking past the great Westminster Abbey, I recognised this gnawing at my heart: envy.

In the dress-maker's shop: "How does the queen fare?" I asked, talking around my subject.

"Well enough, what with the circus she must contend with. Three amba.s.sadors-Venetian, Spanish, and French-all not speaking to one another, all feeling slighted. Ugh." She blew out her cheeks in an exasperated sigh, then held up a particularly lovely length of crimson silk. "What do you think?"

"Not for your colouring, Madame Hughes," clucked Madame Leonine. "Try the deeper blue, in the softer fabric. What do you think, Madame Gwyn?"