The Diamond of Drury Lane

by Julia Golding

  I stopped. I could hear the confused babble of many voices and a door opening and closing. It appeared I had arrived just as the duke’s guests had taken it into their heads to depart. Pushing the door open a crack, I saw a large party of gentlemen fetching their cloaks from the two footmen on duty. There was Mr Sheridan reaching for his hat and cane and, yes, there was Marchmont senior accompanied by the Earl of Ranworth. If only Mr Sheridan would look in my direction. How I could do with his assistance! I wished I could tell him how much danger his ‘diamond’ was in! But to break from my hiding place would be to reveal my unauthorised presence in the house and attract far too many questions from the host. I watched despondently as Mr Sheridan resolutely looked the other way, bade the duke goodnight and left.

  So, no way up those stairs while the duke was still about. I backed down the steps to the corridor and paused for thought. Where were the back stairs? I wondered. There had to be some for the servants to pass unseen about the house. As if in answer to my question, a maid emerged from the scullery carrying a jug of steaming water. I hid behind a row of aprons hanging from pegs along a wall. The maid walked straight past me and took a passageway on the left. I crept after her. She then took a sharp right and disappeared. I followed, discovering that she had indeed led me to the stairs. I had to be quick: this narrow flight offered no hiding places. I’d have to be up and off them before she headed back down.

  She carried her burden up three flights, pausing only to straighten her cap when she reached a landing. She then knocked on the door of the room closest to the stair and entered.

  ‘Put it over there, please, Mary.’ It was Lady Elizabeth! Feeling a wave of relief, I remembered to dart behind a linen chest just in time.

  Mary’s feet could be heard getting further away as she went down the stairs. I had a final look up and down the corridor . . . all clear.

  Tap, tap! I knocked softly on Lady Elizabeth’s door.

  ‘Come!’ she called.

  I opened the door and saw her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. She looked beautiful, like a mermaid rising out of a silver pool: her hair was strewn with pearls and her silk dress was the colour of bluebells.

  ‘Cat!’ she exclaimed, dropping her brush on to the table with a clatter. ‘Whatever has happened to you?’

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass. My hair was in a hopeless tumble and half my skirt was missing, displaying grubby white petticoats beneath.

  ‘Ah,’ I said gesturing to my dress ruefully. ‘I had a merry meeting with my friend Billy Boil.’

  She got up, moved swiftly across the thick rose-coloured carpet and pulled me inside the room. She took a quick look at the silent corridor before she closed the door and turned the key.

  ‘Oh, Cat, are you all right?’ she said. ‘Have a seat. Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Forget about that, Lady Elizabeth . . . ’

  She held her finger to my lips. ‘Lizzie, Cat. Remember!’

  ‘Lizzie, then. What I’ve come to tell you, Lizzie, is that Johnny’s here. He didn’t come off quite so well in his encounter with our friend so we’ve brought him here. He’s in the stable with Pedro.’

  Lady Elizabeth now ran to the window and peered out into the yard.

  ‘Is he all right?’ she asked anxiously.

  I nodded.

  ‘He’ll be safe there for the moment,’ she told me. ‘It’s quiet now. It is very fortunate you did not arrive half an hour earlier: we had all the carriages lined up in the yard. They’ve only just gone round to the front of the house.’

  ‘Will you help us?’ I asked anxiously.

  ‘Of course. Stay where you are. Don’t answer the door unless you hear four taps. I’ll fetch Frank.’ She picked a candle up from her dressing table. ‘Father sent him to bed an hour ago, but if I know him he’ll be spying on the guests as they leave, giving their carriages marks out of ten or some such fancy of his.’

  She slipped out and I locked the door behind her. It would not do for a maid to find me in here alone. I sat at the dressing table and stared at myself in the mirror. I did not have the luxury of my own glass at home, though there were plenty in the dressing rooms for the actors. A solemn face looked back out at me. My red curls were matted with dirt. My freckled nose was smudged, my bodice torn where the skirt had departed from it at the waist, my hands red raw with marks of hard work and blows. Compared to the vision with white skin and chestnut locks that had just sat there, I was a complete troll. It was a depressing comparison.

  Four taps on the door. I quickly opened it to find myself almost knocked down by the arrival of Lord Francis.

  ‘Cat!’ he exclaimed, giving me a relieved hug before remembering himself and giving me a formal bow at arm’s length. ‘Lizzie’s told me what happened. I’m so pleased to see you in one piece. When our gang gets to hear about this, Shepherd’ll wish he had never been born!’

  Our gang? Since when had Lord Francis been enrolled among Syd’s followers? But I had forgotten . . . he was a boy, wasn’t he? That was sufficient to earn Syd’s approbation.

  ‘Now, you sit down and let Lizzie look after you. I’ll fetch the others,’ he said, taking charge.

  To be honest, it was a relief to relinquish responsibility for seeing Johnny to safety. This was Lord Francis’s home: it was right that he should deal with the ticklish matter of smuggling a wanted man inside it. He led me back to the dressing-table, gave me a pat on the arm and left.

  Minutes later Lady Elizabeth returned. She slopped some hot water into a porcelain bowl decorated with pink roses and carried it over to me.

  ‘Here, you can clean yourself up with this,’ she said, passing me a linen towel.

  It was worse somehow with her standing there watching me. I went hot with embarrassment, feeling common and dirty. A girl like me should not be sullying her bedchamber with my presence. I was distressed to find a tear had trickled out of the corner of my eye and dripped in the bowl in front of me.

  ‘What’s the matter, Cat?’ Lady Elizabeth asked, coming to kneel beside me.

  ‘I’m not fit to be here,’ I said despairingly, dropping the linen cloth into the now grey water. ‘I should go.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ she said, getting up and going to a closet on the far side of the room. ‘You won’t feel like that when you’ve put this on tomorrow. I’ve grown out of it but it should fit you.’ On the bed she laid the loveliest emerald silk dress that I had ever seen. ‘Green never was my colour, but it will suit you.’

  ‘I can’t take it,’ I protested.

  ‘Of course you can,’ she said, smiling. ‘Now, you get yourself into bed. You must be exhausted.’

  ‘Bed?’

  I looked round the room. The only bed I could see was Lady Elizabeth’s four-poster, hung with muslin curtains and covered with a white satin counterpane.

  ‘My bed, of course,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘There’s plenty of room for both of us. You get in; I’ll just go and check on the boys to see they have arrived safely.’

  She left, closing the door softly behind her. I stood irresolute for a moment in the middle of the carpet and then made my decision. I was used to sleeping on the unyielding surface of the old couch in the Sparrow’s Nest. I had no need of the luxuries Lady Elizabeth had so kindly offered me. Finding a spare blanket in the chest under the window, I curled up on the floor behind the screen and, despite my determination to stay awake to hear her news when she returned, I must have dropped off to sleep.

  I was woken the next morning by hushed voices at the door to the chamber.

  ‘No, Mary, I really do not require your assistance to dress this morning, but I would like you to prepare a bath for me next door.’

  The door clicked to and a bare foot appeared around the corner of the screen.

  ‘I am sorry to have woken you, Cat. I had to send her away or she would have discovered you. Did you sleep well?’

  I nodded, noticing for the first time that my cheek was cushioned on a
feather pillow. I sat up and stretched.

  ‘I thought you had gone when I came back,’ laughed Lady Elizabeth. ‘You did give me a fright.’

  ‘Johnny and Pedro . . . are they safe?’ I asked anxiously, throwing off my blanket.

  ‘Yes, quite safe. Pedro went back to his master’s house once Johnny was smuggled into Francis’s room. He wanted to find out how it all ended at the theatre last night. He said he’d come back and tell us this morning.’

  That was good. There would be uproar when Caleb was discovered and Johnny and I were found to be gone. I hoped the old man was all right but I dreaded to think what construction would be put on the whole affair. Would they be worried for me or blame me? Probably the latter if Mrs Reid had anything to do with it.

  ‘I did wonder if you would like a bath,’ Lady Elizabeth asked delicately. ‘I’ve arranged for one to be put in the dressing room next door and will propose that Lord Jonathan take a dip, but I thought I’d give you first refusal.’

  A bath? What a luxury! I could not remember the last time I had had one, as normally I had to make do with a basin of hot water once a day.

  ‘That would be wonderful.’

  ‘Good. Then would you be so kind as to help me into my clothes and I will go and tell Francis what I’ve planned.’

  Dressing a lady was a far more complicated affair than I had imagined. I did my job as lady’s maid very inexpertly, buttoning garments and lacing stays. Not surprisingly, Lady Elizabeth would not let me near her hair but dressed it herself in the mirror. She took a final look, straightening her rumpled skirt.

  ‘That’ll have to do. When you’re ready, go through there.’ She pointed to a door in the corner of the room. ‘The bath should be waiting for you. I’ll make sure Mary is out of the way, but remember to lock yourself in.’

  I gave her a few minutes to fulfil her promise about the maid then quietly opened the door into the dressing room. The window was veiled with a curtain, filtering the morning light. In the centre of the wooden floor stood the very same bath I had seen down in the scullery only a few days ago. It was now filled to the brim with steaming water. A pile of linen towels stood waiting on an ebony rack. To me, so unused to such an excess of comforts, it was like stepping into the heart of a temple dedicated to cleanliness, the steam rising like incense to the gods of soap and water. I locked both doors as instructed and stripped to my skin. I knew it was immodest of me to take a bath without keeping on my shift but I had only one and besides, who was there to note my behaviour? Then the wonderful moment of truth came: I stepped in and submerged myself completely under the water.

  I allowed myself some fifteen minutes of indulgence and then towelled off quickly. The bath water looked far less enticing now it was filled with soap bubbles, but Johnny would just have to put up with it. As a lord, I assumed he had the frequent pleasure of taking a plunge so today it was just his hard luck that I got there first.

  Lady Elizabeth was waiting for me when I came back into her bedroom wrapped in a large white towel, clutching my pitiful bundle of clothes.

  ‘I’ll go and tell Lord Jonathan he can go in now. I’ve put some clothes for you behind the screen,’ she informed me.

  She had laid out a complete change of clothes: a bright white shift, petticoats, and the emerald green dress I had refused the night before. This morning my rejection of her bounty evaporated like mist under the newly risen sun, and to honour my scrubbed state, I succumbed to temptation, putting each garment on with due reverence. But the greatest wonder were the silk stockings: they slid up my legs so that I hardly knew they were there, so different from the scratchy woollen stockings I normally wore.

  ‘Shall I help you do up the back of your dress?’

  Lady Elizabeth had returned.

  ‘Please.’ I emerged from behind the screen and displayed my new finery for her approval, arms held wide.

  ‘I told you it would suit you,’ she said, guiding me to the dressing table. ‘As I have forced you to be my maid this morning, it is now my turn to do you the same service.’

  I definitely got the better part of the bargain. Lady Elizabeth brushed and fastened up my damp hair to look like something out of a fashion plate. I had never seen myself so smart. I looked almost like a highborn lady.

  ‘Now I will need your help with Lord Jonathan,’ she said, giving my curls a final tweak. ‘He will be here in a moment.’

  ‘Help? What kind of help?’ My play time was over and I was businesslike once more, remembering we were far from safe.

  ‘With the disguise.’ Lady Elizabeth moved to the closet on the far side of the room and pulled out a pile of clothes she had prepared. ‘Frank has secured a berth for Lord Jonathan on a ship leaving for America. It will sail as soon as the wind is favourable. He’s arranging to bring round the carriage so that we can take Lord Jonathan to the docks this morning. He can hide on board until the packet sails. All that remains is to ensure that he is not recognised on the way there.’

  She threw the clothes on to the bed. I could now see that they consisted of a large red velvet gown, stays, a shift and other items of female apparel. A black wig crouched amongst them like a cat curled up before the fire.

  ‘You’re going to dress him as a woman?’ I asked, wondering if I was allowed to giggle.

  ‘Of course,’ she said with a smile. ‘What better disguise could there be? I did promise to dress him so that even his own mother would not recognise him. Though my mother might, for it is one of her gowns I’ve borrowed.’

  ‘Does Johnny know yet?’

  She shook her head.

  At that moment, there was a tap on the dressing room door.

  ‘Come!’ said Lady Elizabeth.

  Johnny stepped into the room wrapped in a dressing gown, admittedly looking far better than he had last night but nothing surely could disguise that puffy black eye and cut lip?

  ‘What are you smiling at?’ he asked, looking from one of us to the other.

  ‘Nothing,’ Lady Elizabeth said brightly. ‘Now, go behind the screen and put on the things I give you.’

  Obediently, he did as he was bidden. I had never heard Johnny swear before a lady but that changed when the shift was handed over the top of the screen.

  ‘Dammit, what’s all this?’ he spluttered in outrage.

  ‘Your disguise,’ said Lady Elizabeth calmly. ‘Now stop making a fuss and get yourself dressed.’

  ‘I can’t wear this!’ he exclaimed, jiggling the stays over the top of the screen. ‘It’s bad enough that I’ve been beaten black and blue around my ribs without squeezing into this infernal contraption.’

  ‘Stop complaining,’ she told him in a firm, no-nonsense voice. ‘Half the population wear them all the time: I’m only asking you to put it on for a few hours.’

  The grumbles ceased and Johnny finally emerged wearing the dress. In my opinion, the disguise was not convincing: he looked like a man in a gown. Anyone would see at a glance that he was an impostor.

  Lady Elizabeth, however, was not down-hearted. She hadn’t finished with him yet.

  ‘Sit by the glass here,’ she ordered.

  Johnny shuffled over, tripping on his skirts.

  ‘Pull the strings tighter, Cat,’ she said, gesturing to the laces dangling from the back of his dress. ‘Then do up the buttons.’

  As instructed I began to pull.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ she said. Diving into a drawer in the tallboy by the screen she pulled out a pair of woollen stockings.

  ‘I think you can guess where to put these,’ she said, blushing scarlet as she handed them to Johnny. With a few furtive gropes down the front of his dress, he suddenly began to take on a much more womanly form.

  ‘Ow!’ Johnny cried as I resumed pulling on the strings. ‘I don’t know how you ladies stand for all this.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ agreed Lady Elizabeth, now approaching his face with a large powder puff. ‘Pure madness.’

  As I buttoned Johnny’s d
ress up at the back, Lady Elizabeth placed the wig on his head, adorning it with a lace cap and bonnet.

  ‘There!’ She stepped back, hands on hips.

  The transformation was uncanny. Gone was handsome Johnny; in his place was an ugly matron with her face plastered in white powder.

  ‘As long as he doesn’t move or speak, we might get away with this,’ I mused.

  ‘I’ll ring for some breakfast,’ said Lady Elizabeth enthusiastically. ‘We’ll try it out on one of the servants. I’ll tell them you are my dressmaker come for a fitting.’

  In response to the summons, a maid appeared at the door.

  ‘Jenny, is Papa in the breakfast room?’

  Jenny nodded.

  ‘Can you tell him that I can’t come down as the dressmaker has arrived. I’ll take my breakfast up here.’

  Jenny’s eyes slid to Johnny, who was busying himself with a sewing bag Lady Elizabeth had thrust in his hands a moment before. Lady Elizabeth took her to the door and said in an undertone, ‘I would be most obliged if you would not stare at the lady’s eye, Jenny. Her husband is a nasty piece of work . . . he beats her. She has been in floods of tears this morning telling me about it.’

  Jenny’s face now registered pity for the unfortunate seamstress.

  ‘Of course, your ladyship.’

  ‘In fact, would you bring up some tea for us all . . . to help settle her nerves?’

  Jenny bobbed a curtsey and left.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Johnny anxiously. It was most unnerving to hear his deep voice issuing from the bonnet. ‘Was she fooled?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Lady Elizabeth, taking a seat by the window. ‘Women are always the hardest to deceive, but if she had thought you were a man, she would have run from the room screaming.’