'Why were you holding his horse?' he asked, astonished.
'Well, he asked me to, and before I could think what to say, he had disappeared, so I had to. Not that I enjoyed it, for it looked a very fierce animal! But Ben, it was those two gallants who were fighting in the theatre that did it!'
'Did what? How do they come into it?'
'They came out and began arguing again, and drew their swords and began to fight, and that was what frightened the horse, for he reared, and I did not remember anything else, but I had a great lump on my head, so I must have been hit somehow.'
'I knew no good would come of it!' Ben groaned.
'Well, I can see it is bad for you, losing your job, but you could not have liked working for my father. And William has decided he will not like to marry me, so that is good for me. The thing is, you have no money. You cannot go home, and that is my fault.'
'I shall manage. I can earn enough, holding horses, to pay for a ride on the carrier's cart,' Ben said, attempting cheerfulness.
'Yes, that was what I was about to suggest. Just fancy, this man offered me sixpence, only he never paid me. I suppose I could not ask him for it, for he did pay for the chair to bring me home, and gave me wine,' she said regretfully.
'Well, at that rate, I shall soon be rich! Now, Mistress Honour, you must go home, or you will be in trouble again.'
'I will not go home!' Honour declared fiercely. 'Father means to lock me up for a month, and then marry me off to someone worse than William! I cannot endure it, and I have thought of a plan. I am going to become an actress!'
*
Ben stared at her in amazement. 'You could not!' he gasped.
'Why not?' she asked coolly. 'They must want many actresses with the theatre so popular, and though I don't want to appear conceited, I am sure I am prettier than that girl who was the heroine in the play!'
He argued with her for a long time, but she was determined, and when he saw she would in no circumstances return to her father, he reluctantly agreed, and so they set off by devious ways for Drury Lane.
The main doors of the theatre were closed, and it was too early for the audience to be waiting, but when they explored further they found a small side door open, and cautiously stepped inside to find themselves in a gloomy passageway. There was no one about, and they hesitantly went forward, drawn on by the sound of raised voices some distance away.
Eventually they came into a vast area full, it seemed to them, of huge flat pieces of painted wood, which they somewhat incredulously recognised as the scenery used on the stage. Beyond this maze was the stage itself, and the voices came from here. The players were apparently rehearsing, and Honour crept forward, fascinated, to where she could watch two men arguing, struggling, until finally one of them fell to the ground, stabbed by his adversary. They went through the same motions again and again, in response to shouted instructions from somewhere to the front of the stage.
At last the unseen voice seemed satisfied, and sent the two men away. They approached Honour, and she stood up, nervously, and spoke to them.
'I pray you, sirs, can you tell me where I may find Mr Killigrew?'
'He's back there,' one of the men said incuriously, nodding at the stage. 'Go through.'
Taking a deep breath, Honour did so, followed by Ben. She found herself on what seemed a most enormous expanse of green baize, confronting a man who was walking towards her, and who raised his eyebrows resignedly when she asked if he was Mr Killigrew.
'Yes, lass, what can I do for you?' he asked slowly.
'If you please, sir, I want to become an actress!' Honour burst out.
Mr Killigrew laughed. 'Do you indeed?'
'Yes, I do, sir, and I am hoping you will give me a job,' Honour replied breathlessly.
'Well, you can always hope,' he said, not unkindly. 'Do you know how many young lasses come here wanting to be actresses? I'll hazard I turn away a hundred or more a week.'
'Oh! So many?' asked Honour in a small voice. She had not considered that her ambition might be shared by many other girls. 'Do you not take any?' she persisted.
'I've more than enough,' he replied.
'Then what must I do? Do you think the Duke's Company would consider me?'
'They're in just the same position. If I were you, I'd give up the idea, and go back home and settle down to some safe apprenticeship. Are you an apprentice? You haven't run away, have you?' he asked suspiciously.
'Of course I'm no apprentice girl,' Honour said, and turned away, despondent, to leave the theatre. Outside, she and Ben looked at one another in despair.
'What shall we do now?' Ben asked. 'You'll have to go home.'
'That is the last thing I will do!' Honour declared, and finding an upturned barrel, sat herself firmly upon it. 'There must be something else. If I were a boy I could enlist in the navy, but that's not possible. I know! I'll be an orange girl! I'll sell fruit to the audience!'
*
Chapter 4
Gervase watched Honour scramble through the window, and then, pensively, walked to the front of the house. He had refrained from asking her name so as not to cause her to distrust him, but he had no intention of permitting so enchanting a creature to disappear utterly from his life. He strolled along Cheapside, noting that the shop which must belong to Honour's father was prosperous, even wealthy. He paused to look at some buckles displayed on a small cart, and as he selected a pair drew the stall holder into conversation.
'Is that shop the one that belongs to Mr Endersley?' he asked idly.
'No, sir, I haven't heard of a Mr Endersley in Cheapside. That belongs to Mr Atwell, and highly respected he is. Might be Lord Mayor one day, so they say. A very warm man, I'm told.'
'Is he indeed. Fortunate for his heirs.'
The man shook his head dolefully. 'He's no sons, sir, only daughters. A great sorrow it must be to a man, even when he's so little to leave as I have, to have no sons!'
Gervase agreed, and moved away. He was not sure of his next step. Would it be better to attempt to make the acquaintance of this Mr Atwell as if by accident, or find someone who could introduce him? Yet in either case, how could he further the acquaintance? Would a city merchant, who apparently despised plays and the theatre, be willing to allow such an acquaintance to improve?
Suddenly making up his mind he strode further down the street and entered the shop of a goldsmith, a man with whom he had often dealt, and who could be trusted not to betray a confidence.
'Ah, greetings, my friend,' he said as the man came forward smiling.
'Mr Dunstone, 'tis a pleasure to see you, sir. What can I show you today?'
'I've come to seek information, Mr Wood, if you will be so kind.'
Mr Wood smiled, and ushered Gervase into a small room furnished with a table, littered with papers and illustrations of gold settings for jewels, and two chairs. He swept some of the papers aside and produced from a small cupboard a bottle of wine and glasses.
'Your health, Mr Dunstone. Now, in what way may I furnish you with information?'
Gervase sipped the wine, and smiled deprecatingly.
'I wish to obtain information regarding Mr Atwell, a mercer, of Cheapside. Do you know him?'
Mr Wood pursed his lips. 'I know of him,' he said slowly, 'but we do not meet much except on occasional business. Mr Atwell is a very proud man, and very righteous. He was a great supporter of the Protector, and much resented the King's return. Is that why you seek information?'
'No, nothing of that nature. I had not heard of him until today. This is confidential, Mr Wood, as I am sure you realise.'
'Indeed, and not a word of it shall escape me.'
'Well then, Mr Atwell has daughters, I believe?'
Mr Wood smiled comprehendingly. 'Three. The eldest is wed to one of our Company, and is much like her father. I do not think she can be the one you are interested in?'
'Who said I was interested in any of them, you rascal?'
Mr Wood smiled kn
owingly. 'What would you have me think? You courtiers are all the same, interested only in gaming and wenches! Sometimes I wish I had your opportunities, instead of being tied here to my shop. However, Mr Atwell's youngest daughter is but ten years old. The middle one – ' He paused, smiling, and Gervase grinned back.
'Yes, the middle one?'
'Honour, she is named. A vastly fetching wench, who has all the lads sighing for her. I've had to chide my own apprentice, and he's but fourteen, for not minding his work when he sees her pass by. She's a bright lass, but good. What would you with her?'
'No harm, you can be sure. I merely wish to become better acquainted with her, and her father. I hoped you might be able to advise me how, or arrange an introduction through one of your friends.'
Mr Wood nodded, his eyes shining. He was a romantically inclined soul. 'So that's the way of it! Yet I have heard it whispered Mistress Honour is soon to be betrothed.'
'Do you know the man?'
'Aye, a stiff, forbidding man, old before his time. Not the one for such a lass.'
'Then there is no time to be lost. How can I meet with him?'
'Let me see. I think the best way would be for you to meet at the house of one of Mr Atwell's friends. I will see whether I can arrange for one of them to invite the family to supper, and you also. It should not prove impossible, for one of his companions owes me a favour.'
'I am most grateful to you. Now I would purchase a locket, so what have you to show me?'
Mr Wood picked up one of the illustrations on the table.
'I have here a pretty design. See, it is shaped like a heart, and any initials you choose can be worked into the filigree.' He searched for another sheet. 'Look, here are some examples. The H is pretty, is it not?'
'Indeed. Can you have one made for me?'
'I will make it myself. It needs especial care. Come to see me in a few days and I will have news for you.'
*
Gervase thanked him and departed. He marvelled at himself that after so short and strange an acquaintance with Honour, he should be so certain she must be his, and spent the evening alone, thinking of her, and planning his next moves. It was not until he was about to blow out the candle beside his bed that he suddenly recalled her speaking of the unknown Robert, and the hope she had expressed that he would offer for her.
He spent a restless night, and his only comfort was the fact this apparent rival for Honour's affections had disappeared. Yet even that was scant comfort as he reflected girls often cherished romantic ideas about men who were at a distance from them.
In the morning, he was strolling in St James's Park when an older man, surprisingly like him, hailed him.
'Gervase, my boy! When did you arrive? How is your father?'
'Uncle Andrew! How do you do, sir? I came to London but yesterday, and left my father at Dunstone Hall fit and well.'
'Good, good. An opportune meeting, this. I was about to send for you. Had you heard the Dutch fleet was ready to sail? An agent sends us news of forty or more. It looks certain we shall be in a fight soon. How does the King take it?'
'I have not yet presented myself to him, Uncle. I have been somewhat busy since I arrived in town!'
'Busy? What in the world keeps you busy? Your wretched plays, I imagine. Why you should spend your time on such rubbish is beyond me. I suspect it's the women that are the main attraction, hey?' he laughed, digging his nephew in the ribs.
Gervase grinned at him affectionately.
'You may think it is a waste of time, but my plays entertain the King, and that enables me to discover for you what he is thinking!' he retorted. 'Not that you need to worry, for he tells you all himself at the Admiralty Board.'
'I sometimes think our Charles never tells anyone what he thinks,' the elder Mr Dunstone commented. 'However, you know the Dutch coast well, after spending most of your boyhood there. Come and look at the maps and tell me what you think they'll do. We have sent a flotilla to meet them, to protect our fishing, since most of them pretend to be fishing vessels.'
*
He bore Gervase off, and it was some time later that Gervase went to the King's House. He was walking idly along, thinking of a scene he was writing, when he saw the familiar, gold coloured hair, flowing loose now and curling delightfully instead of being scraped back as he had seen it yesterday. Honour was sitting on a barrel, arguing, it appeared, with a boy who stood before her. He looked most unhappy, and every time he attempted to argue back, Honour gave a quick shake of her head and continued with what she was saying.
Gervase drew near, unobserved by the youthful pair.
'I do not see why you should object! After all, what difference is there to selling in a shop? That is my father's trade, and why should I not follow in his footsteps in that at least?'
'It is very different, and well you know it,' he protested.
'I cannot see it, Ben, you are being foolish.'
'Look at that girl yesterday! Did you not see her behaviour with the men?'
'To be sure I did, and I was as disgusted as you are, but if you are saying I should behave the same, then you are insulting!'
'She has to behave so,' Ben said unhappily.
'Nonsense! I've no doubt she enjoys it, but I would not, and I need not behave so.'
Feeling it was time to take a hand, Gervase stepped forward.
'Good day, Mistress Honour. I had not expected the pleasure of seeing you back here so soon. I trust the bruise on your head does not pain too greatly?'
Honour gasped, and sprang up to face him, and after the first stare of amazement broke into a relieved smile.
'Oh, 'tis you! Sir, will you not tell Ben here he is being foolish? I want to get a job in the theatre, and he puts forward the most stupid objections!'
'A job? Why so? Surely you cannot need to earn your living?'
'But I do! I haven't a penny in the world, and neither has Ben! And when I suggest a way of earning money he pours scorn on the idea. He is foolish!'
Gervase smiled comfortingly at the acutely embarrassed Ben.
'Good day to you, Ben,' he said lightly. 'But Mistress Honour, what would your father say?'
She frowned. 'I care not! I will never go home again! Not even to see my mother!' Her voice broke on a sob, and she sniffed furiously.
Gervase looked at her in concern.
'I think you had better tell me all about it,' he said gently. 'Come, Mistress Betsy will give us some wine. Have you eaten today?'
Thus reminded, Honour remembered the meagre fare she had been given since the previous day, and shook her head.
'Only bread and water,' she said. 'Ben, have you had anything?'
'Aye, I broke my fast.'
'Then let us repair to Mistress Betsy's. She will be able to provide a meal.'
He turned, and Honour fell into step beside him, and after an astonished moment, Ben sprang after them and tugged at her sleeve.
'Mistress Honour!' he said, scandalised. 'You cannot go off with a strange man like this!' he whispered urgently, and Honour let out a peal of laughter.
'Why, he is not strange! He is the gentleman who rescued me yesterday! Though I do not think I heard your name,' she added, turning to Gervase. 'How do you know mine?'
'Oh, I heard it,' he answered easily. 'I am Gervase Dunstone, at your service, Mistress, and at yours too, Ben.'
Ben eyed him doubtfully, but there was little he could do if Honour persisted in accompanying the man, and so he nodded and walked beside them.
*
Soon they were seated at a large table, and Mistress Betsy Carter, exclaiming in delight at Mr Dunstone's return, was laying before them a fish stew and roasted chickens, as well as a round of beef, a huge joint of ham, and bread and cheese, apologising for the scanty fare, and saying what she would have prepared had Mr Dunstone but given her an hour's warning he meant to bring guests home today.
'Now, why have you run away from home?' Gervase demanded as soon as Honour had satisf
ied the first pangs of hunger.
She glanced up at him and smiled, confidingly.
'Father discovered what I had done, and he whipped me. Oh, it was not just that,' she added hastily, as she saw the look of anger in Gervase's face, and took it to be directed at her for being a disobedient daughter.
'What else?' he demanded curtly.
'He said I was to remain in my room, and not see anyone, not even my mother, for a month, and then he would have arranged a match for me, and I know it would have been a hateful one, and I could not bear it, truly I could not!'
'A match? But what of this William?' he asked, puzzled.
She giggled, unexpectedly. 'That was the only good part! He discovered all about it, for he was with Father when I got home, and he was so disgusted he said he would not marry me. Now I come to think of it, running away will make them even more disgusted, and even if Father caught me again, it's most unlikely he could persuade anyone to marry me, whatever size dowry he bribed them with!'
Gervase bit back the question he had been about to pose regarding the man Robert, and looked at Ben.
'What of you?' he asked quietly.
Ben shrugged. 'He thrashed me too, and told me he would not keep me, for I had broken all the agreements in the apprenticeship.'
'And Ben cannot go home since he has no money, which was my fault too, for he lives at Bristol. So you see, we must earn some money. I thought I could be an actress, and I went to see Mr Killigrew, but he would not listen. It seems there are too many girls wanting to be actresses.'
'And why were you arguing?'
Ben blushed, but Honour was not in the least discomposed.
'I suggested I could be an orange girl, and Ben was being silly!' she replied indignantly. 'Please, sir, do you know how I ought to go about it? Whom ought I to approach?'
Gervase considered her in amusement.
'Is that the only alternative?' he asked, smiling.
'Well, Ben can hold horses, but I cannot do that, unless I were to dress as a boy again,' she replied, 'and to tell you the truth, I do not think I would care to do so, for I am not used to horses!'
Player's Wench Page 5