The Remarkable Life and Times of Eliza Rose (20 page)

‘Madam,’ he said to Nell in a low voice, ‘the king requests your company in his chamber tonight.’

Nell’s eyes gleamed and she raised her eyebrows at Eliza. ‘You must take the carriage home on your own, Eliza, and then send it back to me here after,’ she whispered.

Eliza thanked her excitedly. To travel on her own in the carriage! That almost made up for not being asked to sing.

As Nell followed Chiffinch out of the room, Eliza was disconcerted to be approached by Valentine Howard, who asked if she required transport home. Their paths hadn’t crossed all evening and she was about to reply graciously that she didn’t, thank-you-kindly, when Henry Monteagle lurched towards them.

He looked at Eliza disparagingly. ‘I do believe that’s one of the orange girls!’ he said. ‘Good God, Val, don’t you care who you lay with? ’Tis certain she’ll have the pox.’

Valentine Howard glanced at his friend, looking as if he was about to say something in reply, but Eliza gave him no chance. Sweeping by, she inclined the merest nod in his direction and gave him an aloof, ‘Goodnight to you, sires.’

A swell of laughter broke out in her wake. ‘Snubbed by an orange girl, eh, Val?’ Henry Monteagle jeered. ‘She ought to pay for that.’

But Eliza didn’t wait to hear if there was any response.

Chapter Eighteen

As they sat together in the tiring room of the theatre, Eliza glanced at Jemima’s slim white hands: dainty hands which had never washed a dish, peeled a vegetable or cleared ashes from a fire. A narrow gold band on the left hand said that she was a married woman but, Eliza thought, for the amount of times she had seen William Wilkes since the marriage ceremony, she might just as well have not been.

Eliza looked around them. ‘’Tis dreadful tedious without Nell,’ she said, sighing, and Jemima nodded and added a sigh of her own.

The theatre was quiet apart from cleaners and a handful of women seamstresses working in the costume department, for there was no play running at present.
Secret Love
had been a week-long success, but now most of the theatre company had gone off to provide entertainment for the king and his court whilst they took the waters in Tunbridge Wells. The queen, apparently, had been behind this excursion, for the waters were said to be beneficial in the conceiving of a child.

‘Shall we take a stroll?’ Eliza asked, looking now at Jemima’s pale, drawn face. ‘I am sure some air would do you good.’

Jemima’s hand went to her stomach, embracing the swelling there.

‘Do you feel … all right?’ Eliza asked tentatively.

The hand was quickly removed. ‘Of course!’ Jemima said with a semblance of brightness. ‘I’m perfectly well.’

‘Then shall we walk?’

‘But where?’

Eliza shrugged. ‘To see the wild animals in the Tower? Or to see the lunatics at Bedlam?’

Jemima shuddered.

‘Shall we shop, then?’ she asked, and then, remembering that she only had a few coins for food and they had to last until Nell came back, added, ‘Or at least look in the windows? Shall we go to the Bridge and see the new shops?’

Jemima shook her head. ‘’Tis too far off. I don’t wish to walk that far and I have no money for a sedan.’

‘Then let’s go to Covent Garden and see the shows. There’s Punch and Judy and some clowns and a performing bear – and I did hear there’s a curious tin dog that can bark at you.’

Jemima nodded and, managing a smile, went to get her cloak. Eliza glanced at her as she moved across the room: her bulge had dropped considerably now, which meant, Eliza knew, that the child’s head must have engaged. Was Jemima aware that the birth was quite close? And where was darling William, anyway? Had he gone to Tunbridge Wells with the rest of the court? Suppose she had to send for him in an emergency – how would anyone find him?

‘Has Mrs Trott spoken to you about … about
anything?
’ Eliza asked when they were walking through Covent Garden, for Nell, before she’d gone away, had asked the seamstress with whom Jemima lodged to speak to her in the hopes that Jemima might own her condition.

Jemima shook her head, seeming to be interested in some act they were passing with clowns and a bear on a rope.

‘Are you sure?’ Eliza persisted.

‘Indeed I am.’ Jemima pursed her lips. ‘I don’t like Mrs Trott,’ she said. ‘She’s always asking questions and is too interested in one’s business.’

‘She’s only trying to help,’ Eliza began, but Jemima had moved off again and now stood before a wooden stall and was reading of a number of troublesome ailments which a quack’s medicines purported to cure.

She stood looking at these for some time, and then took Eliza’s arm and, leading her a short distance away, spoke to her in a low voice. ‘It says … says that there is an elixir which cures female troubles and brings down a woman’s monthly courses,’ she said, her face flushed with embarrassment.

Eliza nodded, puzzled as to what the other girl was getting at.

‘Do you think you could purchase some of it for me?’

‘To … to bring down your courses?’ Eliza asked.

Jemima gave a slight nod.

Eliza stared at her, startled. ‘But Jemima, this is for … where …’ She paused and started again. ‘This is to be used where your courses are merely late, when you haven’t seen them for a month or two. Not … not …’ She motioned to Jemima’s belly with her hand. ‘Not
when you are so far with child.’

‘Don’t say that!’ Jemima said, and she gave a little cry of distress and began walking away, her cheeks pink.

They continued through Covent Garden and down past the maypole in the Strand in silence, with Eliza now seriously worried at Jemima’s inability to comprehend what was happening to her. Could she really not know she was about to have a child?

Further down the Strand, towards Whitehall, were the houses of several notable astrologers, and on these were displayed posters and hangings depicting signs of the zodiac, pentangles and various other magical symbols. The largest of these houses bore a bill saying that the practitioner was the seventh son of a seventh son and could tell the questor which part of the country was best suited for him to live in, if he or she would be happily married or whether their spouse was unfaithful.

Eliza’s attention was caught by a sign at another door saying that Doctor Cornelius, the necromancer within, could raise the wind, call the spirits down and cause the face of one who was missing to be seen in a glass sphere.

‘Cause the face of one who is missing to be seen in a glass sphere …’ she repeated to Jemima. ‘Do you think these things are true? Can magicians really do these things?’

Jemima shrugged that she didn’t know.

Just imagine, Eliza pondered, if the face of her real father could be seen. If she could know who he was, how happy she’d be! Maybe it was also possible that such a powerful necromancer would be able to divine
his name …

As she read the words over, a serving woman came out of the house and curtsied to the two girls.

‘Good day, ladies,’ she said. ‘Do you seek an interview with Doctor Cornelius?’

Eliza took a step backwards, stammering that she didn’t know.

‘He’s my master and is both wise and skilled,’ said the woman. She lowered her voice. ‘He has divined many curious things by looking in his glass.’ Eliza didn’t speak and she continued, ‘He can find out if your lover is faithful, ladies, or tell you the best way to seek riches, or divine the meaning of dreams.’

Eliza bit her lip. ‘It says … says that he can see someone’s face in a glass sphere.’

‘Oh, he’s most skilled at that!’ the woman cried. ‘He can show you the face of your true love, or that of a friend far away, and tell you if they’re dead or alive. Doctor Cornelius is a true seer!’ She glanced at Jemima. ‘He can tell you of the sex of your forthcoming child.’

Jemima gave a little cry and pulled her cloak around her.

‘I don’t have much money,’ Eliza said, feeling the few coins in her pocket.

‘You can give what you have now, and pay the rest when what the doctor predicts has come true,’ the woman said. ‘That’s how sure he is of his skills!’

As Eliza, yearning to go inside, hesitated, Jemima touched her lightly on the arm. ‘I’m going to walk back now,’ she said, ‘but you stay if you wish and see the magician.’

The woman nodded. ‘Speak to him now!’ she said,
taking Eliza’s arm. ‘Just walk up the stairs and take a seat outside his consulting room.’

Eliza was won over. ‘Will you be all right walking back on your own?’ she asked Jemima.

‘Of course.’ She gave Eliza a reproachful look. ‘I am perfectly well, you know.’

She went off and Eliza, forgetting for the moment about Jemima and nervous and excited on her own account, climbed the stairs to Doctor Cornelius’s consulting room.

There was a young woman already waiting on a bench at the top of the stairs and she smiled at Eliza. ‘It won’t be long to wait,’ she said. ‘I’m next, but I’ve just one question and shall be in and out again in a moment.’

Eliza sat down. ‘You’ve been here before?’

‘Oh yes!’ The girl nodded vigorously. ‘If ever I’m in doubt about anything I always come to Doctor Cornelius.’

‘And he serves you well?’ Eliza asked, glancing at the girl’s gown and shoes as she spoke and guessing her to be of the middling sort.

‘He’s most skilled!’ the girl said earnestly. ‘I hardly need to ask a question before he has divined the answer.’

‘And – if you will excuse my being curious – what sort of things have you asked him?’

‘Oh, if I should choose one beau over another, or if I should obey my father as to certain things or how soon I should recover from an illness.’

‘And have you ever asked him to look in his glass to see the face and form of someone?’

‘I have!’ the girl said. ‘I had a sweetheart who was a
sailor, and as I hadn’t heard from him for months, I thought him dead. I had Doctor Cornelius look into his glass and he saw him, clear as anything, on an island in the South Seas!’

Eliza gasped.

‘’Tis true! And six months later he was home again. Though our romance didn’t last long, for he’d met a native woman there and later went back to her.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Eliza said.

‘’Twas no matter!’ the girl said. ‘I soon forgot him and found a better. But tell me, are you here to see your sweetheart in the glass?’

Eliza shook her head. ‘No. I hope to have news of my father.’

‘Why is that, then?’

‘Because the man I thought was my father is not,’ Eliza said somewhat sadly. ‘And now I long to know who my real father is.’

‘Can’t you ask your mother?’

Eliza shook her head. ‘She’s been dead this long while. And I’ve written to my aunt to ask, but she hasn’t replied.’

‘Well, it’s a pity if you have no father,’ the girl said, ‘for they’re a great asset to a girl, especially if they’re wealthy and can give her a large marriage settlement.’

‘I don’t mind so much about the settlement,’ Eliza said, ‘I just want to know who he is.’

‘Come in!’ a strong voice called from behind a curtained door, and the woman got up. ‘I really won’t be long,’ she said, smiling at Eliza.

She reappeared just a few moments after. ‘I hope you find what you seek,’ she said before clattering down the stairs.

Eliza was summoned a moment later and nervously opened the door to see an elderly man with grey, frizzled hair sitting at a small card table. There were some strange objects in front of him: half a large rock containing purple crystals within, a dried lizard-like creature, some ancient papers bearing magical symbols, a skull and a bundle of herbs tied with red ribbon. Eliza, following a gesture from him, sat down in the chair opposite and surveyed all these things nervously, then got out the three coins from her pocket and placed them on the table.

‘I’m afraid this is all the money I have at present.’

Doctor Cornelius didn’t reply to this, just studied her face carefully for some time. After withstanding this scrutiny for several moments and nervously seeking to break the silence she blurted out, ‘My name is Eliza and –’

The doctor raised his hand. ‘I know this,’ he said. ‘I am all-seeing.’

Eliza lapsed into an embarrassed silence, and another few moments passed before the doctor said in a ponderous voice, ‘Your name is Eliza and you seek your father.’

Eliza felt a shiver of excitement and fear run through her. ‘That’s right.’

‘You seek your father to determine who he is,’ he continued and, on Eliza nodding agreement to this, turned and took a large glass globe from the shelf behind him. ‘I will now command his image to appear.’

Placing the globe on the table, he hunched over and peered into it. Eliza moved to the edge of her seat, her body taut, straining to see whatever
he
was going to see.

‘I see your mother here in the glass,’ he said after a moment. ‘She has you, a babe wrapped in a shawl, with her.’

Eliza couldn’t speak for a moment because of the lump in her throat. ‘Is it really my mother?’ she asked. ‘Is she small and plump?’

Doctor Cornelius nodded. ‘Although I cannot see her features clearly because she wears a shroud and has a veil across her face. She’s not of this world.’

‘No, she isn’t,’ Eliza confirmed sadly.

‘And the man you once thought was your father is not!’ He held up his hand again to prevent Eliza speaking, and another moment went by. ‘I now see your real father,’ he said. ‘He is come to stand behind your mother.’

‘Oh!’ Eliza’s eyes filled with sudden tears. ‘Who is he? What does he look like? Is he dead too?’

The doctor lifted a candle over the globe. ‘He doesn’t wear a shroud, so he is still in this world,’ he intoned. ‘He’s tall and black-haired. He speaks his name. It is …’

He paused again for a long, long moment, and Eliza became quite tense with anxiety and apprehension, fearing that she might faint or scream or gibber like a madwoman if the strain went on for much longer.

‘His name …’ he said, then, ‘but ah … he’s disappeared! Clouds have crossed his image and he’s gone.’

Eliza gave a sob of disappointment. ‘But where’s he gone? Won’t he come back?’