The Darling Strumpet (39 page)
Read The Darling Strumpet Online
Authors: Gillian Bagwell
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #General
A flock of courtiers scattered like chickens, and Nell caught sight of Louise, her mouth a little O of shock; of Barbara, her eyebrows arching in surprise; and of Charles, roaring with laughter. The wagon tore past the palace and out into the park, the wagoner pulling hard on the reins to turn the team and slow them.
“Let them run!” Nell cried, laughing. “I don’t know when I’ve had such fun in my life.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
T
EST ACT?” NELL ASKED BUCKINGHAM. “WHAT IS A TEST ACT? AND why is Charles and everyone so troubled at it?”
EST ACT?” NELL ASKED BUCKINGHAM. “WHAT IS A TEST ACT? AND why is Charles and everyone so troubled at it?”
They were walking in St. James’s Park, with Jemmy and Charlie and their nurses straggling behind.
“Oh, Nell,” Buckingham groaned. “Do you pay no mind to the business of the kingdom?”
“Not if I can help it,” Nell retorted. She turned to ensure that they were not too far outstripping the boys and their attendants. “But Charles was in such a taking last night, going on about Lord Shaftesbury and Parliament as if they were devils from hell itself, that he alarmed me extremely. So do please tell me only as much as I need to know to understand his ravings.”
“Very well,” Buckingham agreed. “Parliament is most discontent that the king has declared war on the Dutch once more and is thus become further allied with France.”
“They fear war with France?” Nell asked.
“They fear France’s power and influence, and even more they fear and hate the Roman Catholic church, and anything that smacks of popery. The king tested their patience with his Declaration of Indulgence, allowing his Papist subjects the freedom of their conscience, and now they have put forth the Test Act, which demands that every officeholder under the crown must acknowledge the Church of England and take the sacrament under it, and deny the doctrine of transubstantiation, or lose their position.”
“But the queen is a Papist, and Barbara, and Louise,” Nell said, bewildered. “And there are many Papists holding offices. The Duke of York himself.”
“And there you have it in a nutshell,” Buckingham said. “The Duke of York himself, who is like to become king, if God do not grant His Majesty a child. And that is what strikes terror and rage into the heart of Shaftesbury and many others, and why they are now grown so fretful.”
He was about to go on, but a wail set up from behind them, and Nell turned and dashed back to kiss Charlie, who had fallen and scraped his knee.
“You’ll have to tell me more another time, George,” she cried. “I have matters of real importance to attend to, as you can see.”
Over the next months Nell heard far more than she cared to about the king’s skirmishes with Parliament.
“I have only just managed to exempt the queen’s household from the Test Act,” Charles spat, “but I cannot save James from his own idiocy.” The Duke of York was forced to resign as Lord High Admiral, and the temper of neither king nor Parliament was improved when the duke chose as his new bride the Catholic princess Mary of Modena.
By the end of the year, Charles’s battle with Parliament had reached a new pitch of ferocity.
“They defy me at every turn and deny me the money I must needs have, so I have prorogued the whoreson villains,” he announced to Nell one night in bed.
“What does that mean?” she asked anxiously. “Prorogued?”
“It means, dear heart,” he said, taking her wineglass out of her hand and putting it on the table beside the bed, “that I have sent the dogs home until I shall fetch them back.”
“And is the hurly-burly now at an end?” she asked, taking hold of his cock and stroking it, but intent on an answer.
“I fear me no,” Charles replied. “When I dismissed that coxcomb Shaftesbury as Lord Chancellor, he dared to say, ‘It is only laying down my gown and girding my sword,’ the pompous fool. The battle is just beginning.”
He pulled Nell under him and positioned himself between her legs, but his cock flopped soft against her thighs and he sighed.
“There is nowhere they do not trouble me,” he said, attempting to make a joke of it. But as Nell caressed him with mouth and hands, she reflected that it was not the first time in recent months he had failed to rise, or risen only to fall.
A FEW DAYS INTO THE NEW YEAR OF 1674, A GRIM-FACED BUCKINGHAM called on Nell. He stood again as soon as he had taken a seat, and paced, leaving his coffee to grow cold. “The dogs are baying for my blood,” he said finally. “And truly, I know not what to do.”
“Which dogs?” Nell asked. “Not Parliament again?”
“It will come to that, too,” Buckingham said. “As soon as His Majesty had left the House of Lords today, Anna Maria’s brother-in-law rose to accuse me on behalf of her son, naming again the death of Lord Shrewsbury.”
“But that was years ago!” Nell cried.
“Yes, years ago,” Buckingham said. “Years in which I have lived with her though yet I have a wife.”
“And which of them can claim to be without sin?” Nell scoffed.
“None of them.” Buckingham sank into a chair and stared at her in despair. “But it’s a pretext, do you see. They have begged the Lords to take action against me, and my enemies are sure to take the occasion to act.”
“What harm can they cause you? Surely not much?”
Buckingham shook his head.
“There are still ecclesiastical laws against adultery. The House can fine me for all I have. Send me to the Tower with no chance of being let out. Excommunicate me, so that I could not take communion, and so lose my offices. The bastards have got me in a net.”
A FEW DAYS LATER, BUCKINGHAM WAS BACK, AND NELL WAS APPALLED and frightened at the pass he had come to in just a few days. His face was wet with tears.
“Oh, Nell, what am I to do?” he cried again. “I have met their charges with humble repentance, and it has got me nowhere. Now they accuse me of everything from encouraging popery to attempting the sin of buggery. I would laugh were it not so serious. They have demanded that I be removed from all the employments I hold under His Majesty, and that I be barred from his presence and councils forever.”
“But you have been like a brother to Charles since his birth! Surely he—”
Buckingham cut her off with a wave of his hand. “The king cannot or will not help me in this. They have left me nowhere to turn. Anna Maria is frighted out of her head. She is making ready to go to a nunnery, and I will then see my love no more.”
A week later, Buckingham’s destruction was complete.
“The great axe has fallen,” he announced to Nell, his face haggard and drawn. “The king has dismissed me from all my places. Anna Maria is gone. None at court will speak to me now, for men ruined by their prince and in disgrace are like places struck with lightning—it’s counted unlawful to approach them. I have no will to live, nor even a place to live did I want to.”
“Then you shall lodge with me,” Nell said. “And we will dare the lightning together. For you have been my true friend, and I am yours, whatever storms may come.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
N
ELL LOOKED AROUND THE PACKED HOUSE AT THE NEW THEATRE Royal. The air was electric with excitement. It had been three years since she had been onstage, and she felt a pang of regret that she sat here, among the audience. She thought of the bustle backstage, the camaraderie and last-minute good wishes, and longed to be a part of it. She wished that it was she, not Michael Mohun, who would speak Dryden’s new prologue written especially for this first performance in the new theater.
ELL LOOKED AROUND THE PACKED HOUSE AT THE NEW THEATRE Royal. The air was electric with excitement. It had been three years since she had been onstage, and she felt a pang of regret that she sat here, among the audience. She thought of the bustle backstage, the camaraderie and last-minute good wishes, and longed to be a part of it. She wished that it was she, not Michael Mohun, who would speak Dryden’s new prologue written especially for this first performance in the new theater.
Beggars’ Bush
. Nell laughed to herself, recalling that night so long ago at Madam Ross’s when Hart had joked that the audience had been waiting since years before the king’s return to find out how the play came out. The blustery gray day at the Red Bull came back to her with intense clarity. She recalled waiting eagerly with Rose for the play to begin, remembered the hazelnuts they ate, the cracked shells carpeting the pit, Wat’s florid face contorted in a leering grin, the shouts of laughter at his performance as King of the Beggars. Dear Wat Clun. Did his spirit hover somewhere here, wishing he could once more put corporeal feet upon the stage and give voice before an audience?
. Nell laughed to herself, recalling that night so long ago at Madam Ross’s when Hart had joked that the audience had been waiting since years before the king’s return to find out how the play came out. The blustery gray day at the Red Bull came back to her with intense clarity. She recalled waiting eagerly with Rose for the play to begin, remembered the hazelnuts they ate, the cracked shells carpeting the pit, Wat’s florid face contorted in a leering grin, the shouts of laughter at his performance as King of the Beggars. Dear Wat Clun. Did his spirit hover somewhere here, wishing he could once more put corporeal feet upon the stage and give voice before an audience?
Lacy had taken over Wat’s role, and Hart, Nicholas Burt, Robert Shatterell, and William Cartwright were still playing their old roles, but many of the faces were new to the company since Nell had left the stage.
The performance over, Nell was loath to leave. She was with Charles in the royal box, along with the queen, Louise, Monmouth, and the Duke and Duchess of York. All those gentry coves, she thought. And me, Nell Gwynn. She had a sudden wave of revolt, almost of revulsion. How had she so lost herself that she sat here, on the wrong side of the curtain? Her spirit ached to belong once more to the tribe gathered in the greenroom, and she started to her feet and threaded her way outward through the bodies.
“I’m going to go around and say hello,” she paused to tell Charles. “But I’ll see you for supper, I hope?”
Four or five of the scenekeepers were gathered at the stage door, laughing and chaffing.
“Evening, lads,” Nell cried. “Good work today! A good start in the new house.” They snatched off their hats and stood aside to let her pass, their easy grins replaced with formal smiles.
“Thank you, madam,” said Willie Taimes with a nervous nod. “Wishing your ladyship good health.”
Nell had a sudden memory of him, laughing down at her and joking backstage a few years ago. What show had it been? Oh, yes,
Secret Love
, because he had been bawdily appreciative of her legs in her rhinegraves breeches. And look at him now. He looked as if he expected her to cry “Off with his head!”
Secret Love
, because he had been bawdily appreciative of her legs in her rhinegraves breeches. And look at him now. He looked as if he expected her to cry “Off with his head!”
The greenroom rang with laughter and voices. So many actors she didn’t know, Nell thought. Cardell Goodman, Joe Haines, and many whose names she could not even call to mind. And the women—only Beck Marshall and Kate Corey were left from the old days, and they must be upstairs.
“Well done, all!” The chatter stopped as faces turned to her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Nelly,” said Marmaduke Watson. “Much appreciated, I’m sure.” He even bowed.
It was all wrong, Nell thought, all wrong. I’m not a lady, she wanted to shout, I’m one of you. Don’t you know me? Don’t you remember how we played together? But she had not played with most of those gathered here. Hart, Mohun, and Lacy would be upstairs in the tiring room, she knew, but she was suddenly weary and disheartened. What if they, too, looked at her as though she were a stranger? It was more than she could bear, and she turned back to the stage door, the chatter resuming in her wake.
Nell’s coach waited in Bridges Street, her coachman seated on the box. He lifted his head as Nell approached and jumped down to open the door, and she saw that his lip was split and bloody, one of his eyes was blackened, and the front of his coat was torn and streaked with blood and dirt.
“Why, John, whatever has happened to you?” she cried.
“I had a fight, madam.” He jutted his square chin, defying her to question him further.
“A fight? What happened?”
“Well, you see, madam, there was other coachmen waiting, like, for their ladies and gentlemen. And the coachman to the Earl of Shaftesbury—a poxy bastard he is—the coachman, madam, not the earl, begging your pardon—he called me a whore’s coachman. So there you have it.”
Other books
Educating Emma by Kat Austen
Descent Into Darkness by H. A. Kotys
Devil's Lair by David Wisehart
Guardian Angel by Davis, John
Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 by Ceci Giltenan
Walking on Water by Madeleine L'engle
Lust by Noire
The Burning Sky by Jack Ludlow
All Fall Down by Astrotomato
The Casting Couch by Amarinda Jones
