The Darling Strumpet (40 page)
Read The Darling Strumpet Online
Authors: Gillian Bagwell
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #General
Nell laughed, her black mood lifted.
“But John, I am a whore! No need to fight because someone says what is only the truth.”
John stared at her, swelling with indignation, and drew a deep breath.
“Well, madam,” he roared, “you may not mind being called a whore, but I’ll be damned if I’ll be called a whore’s coachman!”
THE LONGTIME RIVALRY BETWEEN THE KING’S COMPANY AND THE Duke’s continued. The Duke’s Company had recently moved into the elegant new Dorset Gardens Theatre, on the riverfront just to the east of Blackfriars, and had been filling the playhouse for days with Thomas Shadwell’s new adaptation of
The Tempest
, with singing, dancing, and spectacular stage effects.
The Tempest
, with singing, dancing, and spectacular stage effects.
Nell was seeing the production for the third time, this time with Aphra, who regarded the Duke’s Playhouse as her home, as it had produced her first three plays to great success. The final curtain fell to cheers and ringing applause and Nell looked down at the crowd in the pit, on their feet and heading for the exits.
“A miracle what the show does with scenery and machinery,” she commented. “No wonder Killigrew is worried. Again.”
“We’re worried, too,” Aphra said. “Opera, that’s all the rage now. We make our little effort, as you see, but the French and Italians are taking over the stage.”
“Not like the old days,” Nell agreed. “Come, will you not join me for a mouthful of something?”
Nell and Aphra drew admiring glances and calls of greeting as they made their way out of the theater.
“Mistress Nell!” The voice was urgent. Not another fight, Nell hoped.
“Nell!” The voice was familiar but Nell could not at first place the figure who moved toward them. His coat was shabby and his step hesitant. He pulled his hat off as he approached, and Nell saw with a shock that it was her old lover Robbie Duncan. He stared at her for a second and then bowed, hat still in hand.
“Robbie!”
“Aye, it’s me.” He stood uncertainly as the theater crowd swirled around them on the street. “I’m sorry to disturb you, especially as you’re in company, but I don’t know where else to turn.” Nell saw that he was on the brink of tears.
“Excuse me for a moment, Aphra. Come here with me, Robbie.” She pulled him out of the center of the crowd. “What’s happened to you?”
“The Great Fire is what began the troubles,” Robbie said. “We lost the warehouse with all our stores—my father and brothers and me, you know. All we had, up in flames. And nought has gone right since then. The cloth trade has fallen on hard times, and I cannot seem to put a foot right.”
“Do you need money?” She reached for the purse that dangled at her waist, but Robbie waved her off.
“I’m no beggar, Nell. What I need is work. A new trade so that I can keep myself. And I wondered if you might put in a word for me somewhere. If you’re willing, that is.”
“Of course I’m willing!” Nell cried. “You took me out of harm’s way and saved me from Jack. It’s the least that I can do. Can you come see me tomorrow afternoon? I live in Pall Mall, a brick house near—”
“I know your house,” Robbie said. “I’ll come. Thank you, Nell. You’ve as good a heart as always.”
THE SUN SHONE FULL ON THE SUNDIAL IN THE PRIVY GARDEN. Charles squinted at it and then at the watch in his hand, snapping the watch case shut in satisfaction.
“Saved you, did he?” he mused. “Then certainly we shall do something for him. Would he do well with a commission in the Guards, do you think?”
“Oh, yes!” cried Nell. “That would be perfect. You are so good to help him.”
“Not at all,” Charles said. “My father always taught me never to abandon the protection of my friends under any pretension whatsoever. You are doing right by doing what you can for this Robbie, and for his protection of you when you needed it, I am determined to do all that I can for him.”
He walked on, Nell’s arm crooked in his, and stopped to examine the white blooms on a rosebush. His shaggy black dog Gypsy, half greyhound and half spaniel, raced ahead, leaping and snapping at a grasshopper.
“I know I told you I couldn’t give you a title,” he said, and Nell’s heart skipped. “But there is something I can do in that line. Would you like to be a maid of honor to the queen?” Nell stopped short and almost laughed.
“Will she have me?”
“Oh, yes. She quite likes you, you know.”
“That’s very generous of her.”
“She’s a kind and loving soul,” Charles said. “Like you.”
“Thank you.” Nell squeezed his arm, feeling that the sun suddenly shone more brightly on her.
“And I think we can stretch your allowance a bit, as well. Five thousand pounds a year?”
CHARLES WAS BETTER THAN HIS WORD, AND OVER THE NEXT FEW months Nell received not only her usual support but occasional showers of additional money.
“But, Nell, can you afford it?” Rose cried when Nell insisted on buying her three pairs of new shoes.
“Yes! Charles has been so generous, he keeps giving me more beyond my allowance! It is such a relief not to feel the constant worry, and there are so many needs crying out. Charlie really is of an age that he needs a tutor, and Dorset recommends his friend Sir Fleetwood Sheppard as learned and honest.”
“A tutor!” Rose marveled.
“Yes,” Nell said proudly. “He’ll learn Latin and Greek and all that is proper to a gentleman.”
“Who would have thought,” Rose mused, “when you and I were little kinchins scrabbling in the cinders and hauling barrels of oysters, that your boy would be a great gentleman?”
“And I’m going to get a sedan chair of my own,” Nell said. “It will save on money, really, for now I have to pay the cost of hiring chair men to carry me. And I’m going to make some little improvements to the bedchamber, too. If I cannot have an apartment in the palace like Louise, I can at least create a little royal nest of my own for Charles to come to.”
THE FRENCH SILVER SMITH JOHN COQUES PRESENTED NELL WITH A bill of seventeen hundred pounds for his contribution to the little improvements to the bedchamber. Nell could scarce believe how much she had spent—she felt faint when she thought of the amount. But as she stood and admired the newly luxurious room, she decided it was worth it. The bed alone was something the likes of which no one had ever seen. Two thousand, two hundred, and sixty-five ounces of sterling silver had gone into the making of it. The figure of the king’s head alone weighed eleven pounds. An exquisite representation of the rope dancer Jacob Hall—Barbara’s latest lover, according to rumor—balanced on a delicate strand of silver rope. Four fat and winged cherubs supported the posts, which were surmounted by four great crowns. Angels flew across the enormous headboard, and under them was a scene of Roman slaves dancing.
To go with the silver bed were silver andirons for the fireplace, silver candelabra, silver side tables. But it was the bed that took Nell’s breath away. She traced a finger along the scrolls of a cockleshell on the headboard. Its elaborate carving evoked the frontispiece above the stage of the first Theatre Royal beneath which she had played so many performances, and the rich red curtains were like the playhouse curtains.
“This bed is your stage,” Rochester had said. And finally she had a stage worthy of her role as king’s lover. The wall facing the bed was mirrored from floor to ceiling. And that is our audience, she thought. Only ourselves. So you can watch yourself as you enjoy me, see my face, my bubbies bobbling when you are taking me from behind, see me open and wet when I kneel between your legs to worship you, to make you happy as only I can. To keep part of you my own, no matter who else may come.
WHEN THE SEDAN CHAIR WAS DELIVERED THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Nell could not restrain herself from an outing. Only to visit Rose, which seemed a little silly, but she knew that Rose would enjoy seeing the chair and would not laugh at her for her extravagance.
“Oh, Nell, it’s splendid!” Rose cried, running her hand over the soft quilted leather of the interior. “All these little gold nail heads in such intricate patterns!” She climbed in to try the padded seat. “Most comfortable. Much better than you muddying your skirts with walking, and surely much better to have your own chair than to have to wait for a hired one to arrive.”
“Take a ride,” Nell urged. “Tom, take Mrs. Cassells down the road and back.”
Rose leaned out the window and waved, grinning, as the chair men lifted the chair and set off. “Imagine me in a sedan chair!” she called back, laughing.
Nell was expecting Charles to supper and did not tarry for a long visit, but took her chair home when Rose came back from her jaunt. She was admiring the cunning way the gilded leather curtains could be hooked into place to cover the windows or held back to provide a view, when her heart dropped into a cold pit.
Jack was standing before her house. He stood side on to her, looking at the house, but there was no mistaking him. The way he held his shoulders, the tilt of his head as he regarded the second-story windows, the fall of his hair—they were burned into her memory. He turned and his eyes met hers. The briefest moment of surprise flitted across his face before he smiled. A cool, malevolent smile. Nell shouted to Tom as she threw the door of the chair open, but Jack turned and ran, and he was gone almost before her feet were on the cobblestones.
“Did you see that man?” she cried. “See that he does not come near the door!” The chair men set off the way Jack had gone as she ran for the house and pounded up the stairs to the nursery. The nursemaid, Meg, looked up in alarm as Nell dashed through the door. Charlie and Jemmy were safely at play on the floor, arranging small soldiers in battle.
“You fair gave me a start, madam!” Meg cried.
“I’m sorry,” Nell gasped. “I saw …” She did not want to frighten the boys. “I missed my honey lambs so much I had to run to kiss them.”
“HE LOOKED STRAIGHT AT ME, INSOLENT AS YOU PLEASE,” NELL TOLD Charles over supper. “Oh, Charles, he knows the house. Surely he must know about the boys.”
“I’ll post every soldier in England around the house before I’ll let him harm you,” Charles promised. “My men are out there now with your lads. But I’d feel better knowing you had someone closer to hand when I’m not here. What do you think of asking Rose’s man to be here nights to keep close watch? We can kill two birds with one stone. I’ll pay him enough to keep him from mischief on the roads.”
“That would be wonderful,” Nell agreed. “I’ll ask Rose if they’ll move in. I’ve plenty of room, and I’d be happy having her company as well as feeling safer with Johnny here.”
NELL WAS HAVING A RESTLESS NIGHT. EXHAUSTED THOUGH SHE WAS, she could not sleep. Worries about Jemmy, about money, about Charles crowded her thoughts. And always at the back of her mind now lurked Jack, though she felt infinitely safer knowing that Rose and John Cassells slept close by. She listened to the church bells toll midnight, then one. Finally, finally, she drifted off. In her dreams, she was being stalked by a large cat. It crept out of the shadows and slunk toward her, its chest close to the floor, its huge paws stealthy in their silence. It crouched, gathering itself to spring. And suddenly Nell was wide awake. She was pinned to her bed by the weight of someone kneeling astride her, and a heavy hand clamped over her nose and mouth kept her silent. It was Jack.
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