The Remarkable Life and Times of Eliza Rose (12 page)

‘No! Oh, no,’ Eliza said. ‘I know I’m much too young.’

‘Not so,’ Nell said, ‘for Anne Fitzroy, the king’s bastard daughter, is set to be wed when she’s thirteen.’ Then she added, ‘What I mean is, you surely don’t think of marrying so high?’

Eliza, embarrassed, didn’t know what to reply. Of course she didn’t. Or only in the most childish, make-believe way.

‘The nobility may bed us, and they may even kidnap us, as Rochester has just kidnapped Elizabeth Malet – but they will never marry us,’ said Nell.

‘No, indeed,’ Eliza said, pulling herself together. She brushed down the pleats of her skirt and tried to hide her discomfort. Of course she didn’t – wouldn’t – ever dare to think that Valentine Howard harboured the least interest in her. Even though he’d begun to fill her thoughts when she lay awake on hot nights, she knew that the interest must all be on her side.

‘Instead you must aim to become his mistress!’ Nell said brightly. ‘’Tis not beyond you. I can teach you some artful tricks …’

‘Indeed I would rather not,’ Eliza said quickly, ‘for I
couldn’t bear to be a mistress and see the man I loved marry someone else.’

‘How strangely you speak,’ Nell said, beginning to laugh. ‘’Tis certain you are from the country!’

The two girls continued through Covent Garden towards the theatre, walking carefully on their pattens for, after a heavy fall of rain, the cobbles were thick with muck and debris.

Fortesque’s musical had run its short course and the company had begun readings for another play. Nell, however, despite her many other undoubted skills, couldn’t read, so Eliza was accompanying her to the theatre to help her with her lines. She was happy to do this for, apart from being a small way of repaying Nell for her kindnesses, all the while there was no play being performed at the theatre she had no work selling oranges. Instead she ran errands for Nell and acted as her maid and companion, and enjoyed being employed like this very much. She’d even devised a way to tame Nell’s hair: dowsing it in sugar water and tying it into rag curls overnight meant that in the mornings it was a mass of glossy ringlets instead of a bird’s nest frizz, and Nell was very much taken with these hairdressing skills.

Life with her was much nicer than it had been with Old Ma Gwyn, for Nell didn’t take life seriously and was always telling amusing tales about the nobility or finding things to laugh about. It was true there wasn’t much space in her lodgings, but certainly the food was better. At Ma Gwyn’s Eliza had inevitably dined on the pottage that was always bubbling over the fire, or oysters that Rose hadn’t managed to sell, but Nell loved to eat and would send out for food from eating
houses and taverns: rabbit pies, lobsters, buttered asparagus, a dish of roasted pigeons or a chicken fricassée. Eliza noticed that often she didn’t have to pay for these things; innkeepers were pleased to have her custom. They knew her credit was good and that sooner or later one of her gentlemen admirers would settle her bill.

As they walked through Henrietta Street, Eliza noticed that a small crowd had gathered on the pavement outside a bootmaker’s shop and was endeavouring to see through the bowed glass window. She pointed this out to Nell, wondering what was going on.

‘Oh, ’tis the shop where the king buys his riding boots,’ Nell said, beaming. ‘Perhaps he’s inside. If he is I shall go and speak with him!’

She crossed the muddy lane and Eliza, vastly excited at the thought that she might meet the king of England, followed a pace behind, fervently wishing that she’d worn her best dress that day.

On seeing Nell, the people melted back from the doorway, for she was becoming increasingly well known – especially there, in the theatre area. Eliza heard two people say, ‘’Tis Nelly!’ and a woman reached out to touch her dress, as if it might bring her luck.

The tall man within the shop was having his feet measured by a harassed and excited shopkeeper. Hearing the stir outside, he turned, saw Nell and, flourishing his plumed hat, gave a low bow.

‘Mistress Nelly!’ he said, and he came up, bent low over her hand and kissed it.

‘Monsieur Duval!’ Nelly said, curtsying.

Eliza, close behind her, bobbed a curtsy too. She was disappointed that it wasn’t the king, but nonetheless quite excited at seeing the dandy highwayman again.

‘May I present Mistress Eliza Rose,’ Nell said, ‘my companion and also my reader – she’s helping me learn my lines.’

Claude Duval took Eliza’s hand and kissed it, looking deep into her eyes. ‘Your servant, Mam’selle,’ he said with the faintest trace of French accent, and so handsome and charming was he that Eliza knew immediately why so many girls had lost their hearts to him.

‘I’m to appear in a new play at the King’s Theatre next week,’ Nell went on. ‘You’ll come, won’t you, Claude?’

He smiled. ‘Will the nobility be there?’

Nell nodded. ‘They will.’

‘Then I won’t!’ He paused, smiling. ‘But maybe I shall see them on their way home from the theatre and relieve them of their spare jewels.’

He winked at both girls as he spoke and Nell laughed. ‘You, sire, are outrageous!’ she said. ‘And now tell me what brings you to the king’s own outfitters.’

Claude Duval smiled. ‘I was in need of a new pair of riding boots and thought that a place which was good enough for the king would be good enough for me.’

‘Please, sire!’ the shopkeeper said, for those outside were being slowly pushed into the shop and it was now half full of gawping onlookers. ‘May I have your other foot to measure?’

‘Of course. My apologies,’ Claude Duval said genially to the shopkeeper and, after bowing extravagantly once more to Nell and Eliza and kissing their hands, he returned to having his feet measured and they pushed their way out of the shop.

‘Such an excellent man!’ Nell sighed as they continued towards the theatre.

Eliza nodded, deep in thought. ‘I’ve been wondering about him – about Claude Duval,’ she said. ‘He has a great price on his head and everyone knows who he is, so why is it that no one turns him over to the constables?’

‘Because the people of London love him!’ Nell said immediately. ‘They love him for holding up the coaches of the nobles and stealing from them, and also because he’s gracious and mannerly when he takes their money. Even the gang of wits admire him – I know that he plays the occasional hand of cards with them. And did you hear the tale of the coach he stopped at Turnham Green?’

Eliza shook her head.

‘He stole four hundred golden guineas from the couple within – and then offered a hundred guineas back if the man would play the lute whilst Claude danced with his wife.’

‘And did the man allow it?’ Eliza asked, delighted.

Nell nodded. ‘He did. He played a coranto while Claude and the woman – who was very beautiful, apparently – danced together on the grass verge beside the coach. They say that she’s now quite lost her heart to him.’

The writer of the new play was a friend of Nell’s, a
dramatist named Aphra Behn, and the play was called
Secret Love
.

‘’Tis a handsome piece – a romance and a comedy,’ Nell said as they entered the theatre, ‘and what’s more, the playwright is female.’

‘A woman!’ Eliza said, much surprised. ‘Aphra Behn is a woman?’

Nell nodded. ‘And I think the first to write plays and books and have them published. The clergy are scandalised,’ she said, giggling with delight. ‘Just think: first women are allowed on the stage, then one of them produces a play. To their mind, the only thing a woman should produce is a child.’

Eliza was introduced to Aphra, who was a small, serious-looking woman. She had hardly a penny to her name, Nell told Eliza in a whisper, and was living entirely on borrowed money, but all that would change if her play was a success.

Nell was to act the role of a woman named Sophia. This was a part which called for Nell to disguise herself as a youth wearing short breeches and tights, a disguise calculated to please the men in the audience. While Eliza and Nell sat with the script at the side of the stage, other members of the cast were being put through their paces, several pastoral landscapes were being painted on the scenery boards behind them, and some people were singing accompanied by a lute. All was disordered, a pleasant muddle, and Eliza, looking around her, thought that she had seldom felt herself quite so content as on this day.

Into all the chaos a young man strode down through the seats and leapt up on stage. He was accompanied by what appeared to be a girl, though
she was so heavily cloaked and hooded that neither her face nor form could be seen, just some pale green kid leather shoes which protruded from under her cloak.

The youth looked dishevelled but was handsome, with dark eyes and high cheekbones. He appeared vaguely familiar to Eliza, but it was only after a few moments that she realised he was the third youth – the one who’d been with Valentine Howard and Henry Monteagle the first day she’d ever begged money in Clink. She didn’t fear that he’d recognise her, however, for he’d hardly glanced at her that first time and was brusque and impatient now, seemingly anxious to do what he’d come for and be on his way.

One of his arms supported the girl, while the other held his feathered hat. ‘Mistress Gwyn. Mistress Behn,’ he said, making bows in different directions towards the two most important women there.

‘William Wilkes!’ Nell said. ‘What brings you to the theatre so soon? You are – what? – some five days early for my next performance.’

‘I beg your indulgence, madam,’ William Wilkes said to Nell. ‘If we may speak in private …’

Eliza saw Aphra give Nell a weary look, and Nell smiled and shrugged. She beckoned the youth and the mysterious, cloaked person over to where she and Eliza were sitting, two chairs were called for and they sat down. The cloaked girl’s dress, Eliza noted, was of delicate watered silk, green to match her shoes, and there was a broad border of expensive lace around the hem.

‘You may speak in front of Eliza, my companion. She’s but recently arrived from Somersetshire and
knows nothing of intrigue,’ Nell said, but neither of the two figures even glanced at her.

William began to speak earnestly to Nell as, in the centre of the stage, Aphra clapped her hands for the rehearsals to continue.

‘Briefly, the case is this,’ he began. ‘I’ve formed a strong attachment in which my own family rejoice, but which my lady’s family think unsuitable. The consequence is we’ve been forbidden to see each other.’

‘Oh, how very romantic, William!’ Nell said, and Eliza looked at her curiously, thinking she’d heard an ironic tone in her voice.

‘Possibly. Although my lady’s father would rather run me through with a rapier than wish me the time of day. And so we’ve eloped and intend to hide out in London for a while and then buy our passage on a boat set for overseas.’

Eliza, thinking of the enormity of what the girl had done and how scared she must be, tried to see under her hood and give her a reassuring smile, but could make out no more than a few wispy fair curls and the tip of a delicate nose.

‘I fear my lady’s father and brother will pursue us,’ William went on, ‘so I wish to hide her away here in the theatre until the time is right for us to take passage. If her family come to seek me out, they’ll find me alone in my house and presume she’s gone elsewhere.’

‘I see,’ Nell said. She addressed the girl. ‘And do you wish this too – to be taken away from your family?’

The hood of the cloak nodded. Eliza heard a girl’s
voice say fervently, ‘Oh, with all my heart!’

‘And is marriage your intended aim?’ Nell asked William, somewhat sternly.

He nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘And you wish me to find her lodgings?’

‘I’ll give you a sum of money to cover her expenses; just keep her hidden while I work out what’s to be done for the best,’ William said. ‘She has an excellent speaking voice and can read and write, so maybe she may take some small part in a production and earn her keep.’ He looked down into the face of the girl and gave her an encouraging nod, and after a moment the girl raised a trembling white hand and pushed the hood back off her head, revealing a pretty face framed with silky blonde hair.

‘And your name is?’ Nell asked.

‘Lady Elizabeth Jemima –’ the girl began, but William interrupted hastily, ‘I think we may just call you Jemima here. ’Tis best.’ He bent and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I leave you in good hands, sweeting. Mistress Gwyn will see you want for nothing.’

‘Darling William!’ the girl said, and Eliza saw her eyes fill with tears. ‘Please don’t go.’

He took her hand and kissed it. ‘I must. I’ll return soon – and in the meantime keep close within the theatre and don’t go abroad much. The fewer people who see you, the better.’ He bowed to Nell. ‘Your servant, madam,’ he said, and then he was gone.

Jemima – as she was to be called – promptly burst into tears.

Nell sighed. ‘Take her into the tiring room, Eliza. I’ll come in a while.’

Amid the chairs and dressing tables, Jemima wept for
some time, until Eliza almost wept in sympathy. Then, her breath catching in her throat, she told Eliza her story – how she’d met William at church when he’d been visiting his family home, and how they’d fallen desperately in love, and how her father had forbidden her to see him because she was set to receive money and lands from her grandfather’s will and he thought that William was after her inheritance.

‘But indeed he isn’t!’ she said. ‘He says he’d love me just as much were I as poor as a rag-picker.’

Eliza listened, enthralled.

‘I’m sure he loves you for your sweet self alone,’ she said, and thought to herself how romantic it would be to have a man willing to leave his home and country for you …

‘He’s after her fortune for certain,’ Nell said when she and Eliza were on their way back from the theatre that evening.

‘Surely not,’ Eliza said, dismayed.

Nell nodded. ‘His father has gambled most of the Wilkes money away, and William’s drunk the rest. An heiress in the family is just what they need.’

‘But Jemima cannot suspect any of this. She truly loves him!’

‘And he truly loves her money! A marriage made in heaven, don’t you think?’