The Remarkable Life and Times of Eliza Rose

by Mary Hooper

  ‘Possibly not since you were seated on a rock in the ocean,’ Valentine Howard murmured.

  Eliza, choosing to ignore this remark, turned away from him. ‘But of course, Nell. I’ll do my best …’

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘I wish I could have stayed to see you,’ Jemima said in the tiring room of the theatre the following day, ‘for I’m sure that you looked very fine singing before the king.’

  Eliza glowed as she thought of it. She’d been a little off-key sometimes, she was sure, and once or twice could barely manage the complicated roundels which sought to twist her tongue, but by and large she’d been pleased at her performance. Even the drunken wits had seemed to appreciate her voice.

  Of course, she knew she’d only been secondary, an accompaniment to Nell’s dancing.

  ‘Nell was magnificent!’ she told Jemima. ‘Everyone was cheering and bravoing her as she whirled around. Why, she had the king clapping and whooping like a schoolboy. “Nelly!” he kept shouting – for that’s what he calls her – “Nelly, dance and never stop!”’

  ‘And after?’ Jemima asked meaningfully.

  ‘After … she went back to Whitehall Palace with him!’

  The two girls exchanged conspiratorial smiles.

  ‘She’s got what she longed for, then,’ Jemima said.

  ‘It seems like it. But I’ve not told you the most exciting news, Jemima, for when the king commended my voice, he also gave me leave to attend singing classes with his daughter. He said she has a music teacher newly arrived from France, and he thought she and I would sound very pretty harmonising together.’

  ‘That’s excellent!’ Jemima said. ‘For the king’s daughter will be sure to have the best teacher – and besides, you’ll have to go to the palace and see all the finery and fashions!’ She thought for a moment. ‘I wonder which daughter he referred to.’

  ‘Is there more than one?’

  Jemima nodded. ‘There’s Catherine Fitzcharles – she was born of Catherine Pegge. And Barbara Castlemaine has a child a year by him as regular as clockwork. I believe that at least two of those are girls.’

  ‘A child a year!’ Eliza said. ‘So Nell will never be his one and only.’

  ‘She won’t,’ Jemima said. ‘Even the queen doesn’t have exclusive rights to the king. But I suppose if you set your sights on Charles II for your lover, then that’s what you must expect.’

  She smiled at Eliza somewhat sadly. She looked paler than ever, Eliza thought, her complexion almost matching the white-blondness of her hair.

  ‘And how was my darling William after I left?’ she enquired after a moment.

  ‘He was …’ Eliza bit her lip. It had been William, she’d discovered, who’d been performing so athletically with the girl in the tent. ‘He wasn’t much with the others,’ she said with diplomacy. ‘Indeed, I hardly saw anything of him.’

  Jemima sighed. ‘I must be patient, for we’ll be together soon for the rest of our lives. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.’

  They fell into silence for a while, each busy with their own thoughts, then Eliza said, ‘I’ve a favour to ask you. I want to write to someone and I don’t know enough of my letters to do so. Will you help me?’

  ‘Of course,’ Jemima said. ‘And teach you to write too, if you like, for I’ve much time on my hands.’ She smiled wanly. ‘Is it a love letter?’

  ‘No, indeed not!’ Eliza said. ‘I don’t have a sweetheart here or at home. In Somersetshire, I mean,’ she corrected, for she wasn’t sure where home was any longer. She hesitated. ‘Do you remember that I told you about my father disowning me?’ As Jemima nodded, she continued, ‘Well, I’ve decided to write to my aunt – my mother’s sister. If anyone knows the truth about this, it’ll be her.’

  Some paper, a quill and some ink being sent for, Eliza – with Jemima’s help – wrote the following:

  Lewkenor’s Lane, London

  My Dear Aunt Thomasina,

  You will be surprised to see from my address that I am in London. To be brief, I came here to find my father, who is at present working on the rebuilding of churches following the Great Fire of four years ago.

  I came to find him due to the fact that my stepmother told me I was no longer welcome at the house and requested that I leave. Be assured that I didn’t do anything to cause this rift between us, but do believe that I have always acted as a loving and dutiful daughter.

  On finding my father here, I was much cast down to hear him say that it had been he who had told my stepmother to send me away. He also said that I was a cuckoo in his nest and that he wasn’t my father. You can imagine that this was a great shock to me.

  Here is a delicate matter, Aunt. As my dear mother’s sister, it is possible that you know the identity of my real father. If so, I beg you to let me know his name, be he dead or alive, so that I may satisfy myself as to my rightful heredity. Without knowing this, I feel at a loss as to who I am.

  If you feel you can answer this question I would be grateful for your reply to the above address. I send my greetings to my uncle and my cousins and remain your affectionate niece,

  Eliza Rose

  ‘I’m sure she’ll tell you if she knows,’ Jemima said reassuringly. ‘Your own mother would wish you to know, surely – and your aunt is the closest you can get to her on this earth.’

  Eliza nodded and sighed. ‘I hope you’re right.’

  Jemima stood up. ‘I’ve a letter of my own to send to William,’ she said, ‘so I’ll take yours down to the agent with it.’ She yawned. ‘I need a walk, for I’m feeling very slothful and dull.’

  She took up the hooded cloak she habitually wore when going out, and swung it around her. As she did so, Eliza’s eyes were on a level with her stomach, and what she saw surprised her very much. Gasping, she looked up at Jemima, but she was fastening the tie at her neck and didn’t see.

  Eliza, embarrassed, looked away. She’d seen too many women with stomachs protruding like that not to know what it was. Of course, she thought, that was why Jemima had gone to change in private the previous evening, and why she usually kept her shape hidden under loose smocks. She was with child, and judging by the size of her, the pregnancy was considerably advanced.

  ‘Here she is … here she is!’ A murmur ran through the girls in the tiring room as, very late that afternoon, Nell came in. She was dressed in the same young gallant’s garb she’d worn the evening before, the only difference being that around her neck she was now wearing a gold chain upon which hung a man’s ring set with a massive ruby.

  Against the dark velvet this ruby showed up very well, but in case anyone hadn’t noticed it, Nell began casually swinging it backwards and forwards on its chain.

  She sat down in front of a make-up mirror and studied her reflection with interest. ‘Do I look different?’ she mused, moving a candle nearer to the glass. ‘Am I changed?’ Then, pretending not to notice all the curious and interested eyes upon her, she asked Eliza to send out for a pigeon pie and some cordial, saying she was fair famished.

  Eliza gave a coin to Thomas, the boy who ran errands for them, then sat down beside Nell, looking at her expectantly. Jemima did likewise.

  Nell looked around, waiting until the eye of everyone in the tiring room was cast in her direction. ‘Well, it is official,’ she said then. ‘I am now the king’s whore.’

  There was a sharp intake of breath from those around her, and several girls looked over towards where Mary Davis was pretending to learn some lines from a play script.

  Nell went on, ‘I say whore, for I won’t presume to say mistress after just one calling. However,’ she swung the ruby along the chain, ‘I think I may say that His Majesty was very pleased with my performance.’

  There was a pause before Mary got to her feet and approached Nell. Eliza waited nervously, thinking she was going to unleash a torrent of fury on their heads, but she merely said, ‘Was that your first time at Whitehall, then, Mistress Gwyn?’

&nbs
p; Nell nodded.

  ‘It’s very beautiful there, isn’t it?’ confirmed Mary. She patted her neckbone, as if to draw attention to the gold locket, and, smiling sweetly at Nell, drifted towards the door. ‘I am often there,’ she said before she went out.

  Eliza longed to know more about Nell and the king. There was, though, much to ask, and she wouldn’t have known where to start or what words to use. It was just too delicate a matter. It did seem that Nell had achieved what she’d set out to do, however, and Eliza was happy for her. How Nell would manage to order things thereafter with regards to the queen, and Barbara Castlemaine and Mary Davis and whoever else the king might choose to sleep with, Eliza couldn’t begin to think. How difficult being someone’s mistress must be. And even worse to be just one of a number of mistresses.

  But Eliza felt she couldn’t worry about Nell at the moment, for all her concern was centred on Jemima. She’d twice tried to say something to the girl about her condition, but each time Jemima had pretended not to know what she was talking about. Eliza deliberated whether to tell Nell or not, and couldn’t decide what to do for the best. It was Jemima’s secret, after all, and it was obvious that she didn’t want even Eliza to know. Perhaps she hoped to be on the high seas before she gave birth …

  Nell spent several nights at the palace during the week that followed. She’d receive a message from the king late in the afternoon, then travel to Whitehall by carriage under cover of darkness and be met by Chiffinch in a certain courtyard. She told Eliza that behind a locked door in this courtyard was the secret staircase which she’d climb to spend the night in the king’s private apartments.

  She also told Eliza that the king had promised her an apartment of her own, perhaps near to Whitehall Palace, so that he’d easily be able to visit her. Eliza wasn’t sure if this new housing arrangement would extend to her, and didn’t like to ask for fear that it wouldn’t. She’d found things rather dull lately, for Nell wasn’t around much and there was no play currently at the King’s Theatre, nor any rehearsals to attend. She was resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t hear from Aunt Thomasina for several weeks, but hoped daily that she might have word from the singing master at Whitehall about the promised lessons. How she’d have loved to have proper tuition to develop her voice! Sadly, no such message arrived, so Eliza spent her time doing odd jobs at the theatre, practising her writing, or attending to Nell’s washing and cleaning. She tried not to think too much about Valentine Howard, for it seemed to her that he knew the effect he had on her and enjoyed seeing her discomposed. Besides, what girl in her right mind would spend time thinking about one of the king’s gang of wits? It was more certain than rain that they were all the same …

  On Sunday, Nell came back to Lewkenor’s Lane proposing an outing. For a moment, Eliza thought she meant them to go to church and was very surprised, for Nell always had a hundred different reasons why they couldn’t go to Sunday service: they had too much mending, she had an appointment, she’d no clean smocks, she’d promised to call on someone.

  But it wasn’t a church service she was suggesting.

  ‘You asked me about Susan and her carbuncle, did you not?’ she said to Eliza. ‘You suggested that one of the quack doctors might be able to do something for it.’

  Eliza nodded.

  ‘Well, we are going today to see this surgery performed!’

  ‘On little Susan? Today?’ Eliza gasped, thinking of how scared the child must be.

  Nell nodded.

  ‘But … is it in a doctor’s house or will it be performed at home?’

  ‘Neither,’ Nell said. ‘The quack who’s doing it is Doctor Daniel and he works outside the coffee house by the Angel and Crown.’

  This, to Eliza, didn’t sound very ordered or safe, but not knowing how these things were usually carried out, she didn’t comment further.

  Nell, with her new-found status as king’s mistress, had hired a glossy pink-painted coach pulled by two white horses, and this was employed to take the two girls to the Angel and Crown. It was an enjoyable ride for, far from pulling the curtains across and travelling incognito as did most of the well-to-do, Nell sat full in the window, waving gaily and calling out to those passers-by who recognised her. Eliza waved at people too and enjoyed the trip immensely, for it was the first time she’d been in a private carriage and this one was very grand, the interior being padded with fine upholstery and filled with embroidered cushions.

  The two girls arrived by the coffee house at midday to see that a broad stage had been erected on the pavement outside. A crowd of perhaps a hundred persons had gathered and Doctor Daniel, in sombre black suit, cloak and battered top hat, was walking amongst them inviting them to throw money into a bowl.

  A board to one side of him read:

  See the Amazing Doctor Daniel perform a miracle!

  A child whose mother was cursed by a witch and

  thus was born grossly disfigured will be cured this day!

  On stage, sitting on a kitchen chair, sat Susan, smiling to the crowd with her strange little twisted face.

  ‘Isn’t she frightened?’ Eliza asked, looking at Susan in surprise. ‘She’ll be having her cheek cut most horribly, surely?’

  ‘Oh, he may not use the knife,’ Nell said rather carelessly, looking around her to see who was there.

  ‘But what will he do, then? Is he going to rub a salve on it, or make her drink a special cordial or something?’

  Nell smiled and raised her eyebrows. ‘You’ll have to wait and see.’ She patted her side. ‘Take care that no one steals your pocket in this crowd,’ she added.

  Nell, Eliza thought, wasn’t taking the matter at all seriously. ‘And is the child’s mother here ready to dress the wound and carry her home?’ she asked, looking for Rose.

  ‘Oh, no – we’ll take Susan home in the carriage,’ Nell said.

  Eliza looked at her in dismay, visualising tears and upsets and maybe blood all over the pristine embroidered cushions, but Nell said no more.

  Doctor Daniel, on regaining the platform, removed his top hat and bowed low to his audience. As he did so, they – unlike those at the theatre, Eliza thought – fell to a respectful silence. The doctor moved to stand behind Susan and placed one hand on her head.

  ‘Cursed by a malevolent witch, this child has been hideously disfigured from the moment she was born! I will now attempt – with necromancy and my incredible medical skills – to lift the spell and cure her. Those of you in the audience who suffer likewise, are hare-shotten or have other disfigurements, may book a private audience with me afterwards at a cost of one shilling.’

  There was a murmur from several of the audience.

  ‘You need not be hasty, my friends!’ the doctor said. ‘See first what can be achieved at my hands, and then judge whether you wish to avail yourself of my services.’

  Doctor Daniel now moved to stand before Susan and covered them both with a vast black cloak. He screamed, ‘Curse, begone!’ and the cloak fluttered, as if he was passing his hands across the girl’s face. Then he stood motionless for several moments while the audience waited, rapt with anticipation.

  When he whisked the cloak away and staggered to one side of the stage, seemingly exhausted, a new Susan was revealed, smiling at the audience with a perfectly formed face. There was absolutely no trace of the carbuncle.

  The crowd gasped and Eliza’s own mouth dropped in amazement. She hadn’t really thought that Doctor Daniel would be able to do it. And certainly not instantly. She’d thought – as was usual with these things – that he’d send Susan home with some salve, saying that she must be patient and that it would work within a few weeks.

  This, though, was beyond all expectation.

  ‘That is excellent!’ Eliza gasped to Nell. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it! How does he do such things?’

  Nell shrugged, smiling. ‘He said by necromancy and sympathetic magic, did he not?’

  ‘You may come and inspect this child at your
leisure,’ Doctor Daniel boomed, ‘and, finding no trace of her former affliction, I will leave it to your discretion as to how much you think my performance is worth.’

  He stood beside Susan, holding out the bowl again, and the audience began to file past, shaking their heads in wonder and dropping in a coin or two.

  ‘It is a miracle!’ Eliza said in the carriage going home, staring at Susan as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. ‘It is the most wonderful cure I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Susan said pertly.

  ‘Don’t you? Have you yet seen yourself in a mirror? Why, your face is very prettily shaped now. There’s no trace at all of the growth.’ To Eliza’s bewilderment Nell and Susan just exchanged amused glances. ‘Your Aunt Nell must look to her laurels,’ she went on, ‘for I believe you’ll be a great beauty when you’re grown!’

  Nell began laughing.

  ‘What?’ Eliza asked. ‘’Tis true!’

  ‘Will you show her, Susan?’ Nell said.

  Susan turned away, hiding her face for a moment. When she looked back at them, her cheek was once again disfigured by the monstrous carbuncle.

  ‘No!’ Eliza cried out in disbelief. ‘’Tis horrible! It cannot be.’

  Nell and Susan laughed so hard they could barely speak.

  ‘You’re right, it cannot be,’ Nell said eventually, through giggles. ‘’Tis but a trick – a stuck-on plaister. Ma had it made for her.’

  ‘’Tis for me to go a-begging with,’ Susan explained. ‘And then, every few months, I arrange with one of the quack doctors that he should cure me, and we go half and half on the day’s takings.’

  Eliza was speechless, but, reflecting on the matter later, decided that it was probably no worse than the subterfuges she’d used in prison to beg money, and that, indeed, in London one had to make one’s way however one could.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Now that Eliza had noticed Jemima’s stomach, she couldn’t stop herself from sneaking a glance at it at every opportunity. Even though Jemima always laced herself tightly into her gown and wore a loose jacket or smock, the bulge of her belly was quite discernible. She was with child, Eliza was certain of it. Either that or she had some malignant disease which had caused her to swell up.