Every August the Duke would go to Brighton, and he would often take the three older boys with him where they could enjoy the sea bathing. I was touring in Kent, dreaming every night of my new son, now known as Molpuss, the most melancholy and dissatisfied woman in Margate. As it turned out it was just as well the children were not with me, as I had a scare of my own while on my way to Canterbury from Margate, quite late one Sunday evening. I rarely slept well when I was away from home so it seemed to make sense to save time by setting out after the show, which turned out to be a bad mistake.
Thomas was with me, of course, and my maid. Turner was driving the coach. Thankfully Lloyd was with me also, and it was he who first noticed that something was amiss. The summer night was warm and wet, and we were all tired. I cushioned my head on the squabs, the sound of the wheels swishing in the mud soon lulling me to sleep. After a time, Lloyd shook me gently awake.
‘I have no wish to alarm you, madam, but I fear we are being followed by what appear to be two black-coated highwaymen. They have been behind us for some miles, ever since we left Sittingbourne.’
I felt my heart quake a little, but moments later came the sound of galloping hooves as one of the horses approached the carriage. The brigand must have set about the post boy as I heard Turner call out to him to leave the lad alone. His bravery won him a beating, and I cried out in fear as Lloyd attempted to calm me and the poor maid, who was by now in hysterics. The second highwayman brought the carriage to a halt while the first again struck Turner, this time across his face so that he fell from where he sat atop the leading horse. I saw my valiant driver at once scramble to his feet, determined to protect us. Thomas too attempted to retaliate and was likewise struck for his pains.
‘Leave us be, we are nought but poor strolling players,’ shouted Lloyd.
They must have seen that we had nothing of value, or else thought themselves out-numbered, for the pair suddenly turned tail and rode off. I collapsed with relief, and it was some time before I could stop shaking. We drove the last three miles to Canterbury at top speed and I vowed never to travel at night again, no matter what hours it might save me.
As if this were not bad enough, I then experienced a further disaster when at Margate a week later my gown caught fire, with flames up to the waist, while playing in The Country Girl.
‘Notwithstanding all these disasters,’ I wrote to the Duke, ‘I shall come home safe to you and the dear children.’
Twenty-Three
‘I am perfectly satisfied with Mrs Jordan . . .’
By 1803 the older boys were at school at Sunbury, George being almost ten and Henry a year younger. The Duke’s son William was in the navy, and I gave birth to another daughter, Augusta, in November. The year following Fanny came to me demanding a home of her own. ‘I am twenty-two years old,’ she reminded me, ‘and surely deserve my own establishment. I refuse to live any longer with Aunt Hester. Her temper grows shorter by the day and I will take no more of it.’
‘It is true that while we were at Trelethyn we found it so much more peaceful to be without her,’ Lucy added.
I had been quietly reading my copy of Lyrical Ballads, very much a favourite since my friend Coleridge sent it to me some months ago, proving my faith in the young man’s talent had not been misplaced. Now I took off my spectacles and set it down with a sigh, for I had to agree. Sadly, my sister had allowed herself to become overwhelmed by bitterness and envy, the very worst kind of spinster, and nothing I did could alter that fact.
‘If she has led you the life she did me for many years, I do not wonder at your resolution.’
‘Why do you always pander to Fanny’s demands?’ the Duke said when I told him that I intended to buy them a house in Golden Square.
‘Because there is no one else to provide for her, and she feels very much the odd one out. Dodee and Lucy did at least know that Ford loved them, although he neglects them now he has a new family.’
‘She is using you,’ he snapped. He too was sometimes short of temper and could roar like a bull if the mood took him, but I only smiled, privately wondering why he never thought to apply that charge to his own demands upon my money.
In fact all three girls moved in together. Mrs Sinclair, an aunt on my father’s side who had been with them in Wales, was to act as companion. Hester would remain for the moment at Gifford Lodge.
‘I may move to Trelethyn permanently,’ she sulkily remarked, when these plans were made known to her. ‘I certainly have no wish to be a burden to you.’
‘You are never that, dearest. How would I have managed without you?’ It could be said that my entire family was a burden to me, but I preferred not to think of them in those terms. The responsibility for their comfort and security was surely mine, and I was glad to be in a position to help, if perhaps they stretched my finances more than they might appreciate. ‘It is simply that my girls are growing up. Even Lucy is fifteen now, and Dodee seventeen. How did the years pass so quickly?’
I did not tell Hester that I had taken out a mortgage on Gifford Lodge some time ago, the interest paid quarterly out of my allowance.
‘If the money could be £700 instead of £550 it would serve me still more, as I have no prospect of any immediate assistance from Drury Lane,’ I had written to Coutts at the time. More recently I had felt obliged to lend dear Billy a further £450 to pay the upholsterer. Balancing my books took up an unreasonable amount of my time and energy. And soon I would again have to stop work as this latest baby was almost due.
The Duke sat holding my hand as I lay thrashing in my bed, sweating with fever. It had come upon me within twenty-four hours of giving birth and, increasingly anxious, he kept on stroking and patting my hand, murmuring loving words, praying for the fever to abate, as was I in my muddled state. The house was silent, the only sound that of my own small gasping breaths. The door knocker had been tied up, straw laid upon the courtyard outside, or so I was told, the floors covered with cloths so that nothing could disturb me. The entire household crept about holding their breaths as I lay close to death.
The fever had begun on the Saturday evening and as the hours slipped slowly by, the night seemed endless. Cold cloths were constantly wrung out to ease my aching head, but did nothing to ease my pain, and William became increasingly fearful.
‘You must try to rally, my darling. How would I manage without my Little Pickle?’
By Monday morning I was barely sensible but vaguely aware of the doctor’s presence, for I could discern some conversation about a fine healthy son, but the mother needing to be bloodied and blistered to balance the humours.
I knew full well that the cure was often worse than the affliction, but clearly there was no alternative. Child-bed fever was notoriously dangerous and I knew my life was in danger, before even the doctor leaned close to whisper that he would do his very best for me.
‘I cannot abide the thought of her being cut,’ I heard the Duke say.
‘I will not cut her, your Grace, but use only leeches.’
My beloved’s face held a horrified fascination as the worms were put on my pale, milk-white skin. I cried out, wanting to rip them off to stop their biting jaws, but that would have been folly. I must trust the doctor. I saw agony in my Billy’s eyes, as if he were sharing my pain, and I loved him for that. A tear formed and slid down my cheek.
‘Do they hurt her?’ he asked the doctor, his voice coming as if from a far distance, seeping through the heat that pounded in my skull.
‘Not excessively so, but they will hopefully help to bring down the fever.’
‘Is she aware of what is happening to her? Can she even hear me?’
‘I very much doubt it.’
I can, I cried silently, my fevered mind filled with images of a young girl fleeing from the stage on her first night, of the malicious jealousy of her rivals, and her adoring public running after her carriage to catch a glimpse of her. That must be me, I thought, and I saw the leering grin of Daly as he ravaged m
e, the faces of my dear children, and that of my beloved Billy. Was he real or a dream? I felt the grip of his hand on mine and knew instinctively that he was with me still, giving me strength.
‘She generally has little difficulty with child bearing, save for one or two occasions,’ the Duke was saying. ‘I need not inform you that with nine children a mother is absolutely necessary, not forgetting an intercourse of uninterrupted happiness for more than thirteen years.’
I could have cried at those words, realizing just how very much he loved me.
When Doctor Nixon was satisfied that sufficient blood had been drawn off, he gently turned me on to my stomach, heated some cups and set them at intervals upon my bare back. As they cooled, a vacuum formed which raised blisters. These were then pricked to let out the foulness within. The pain was so horrendous I wasn’t sure how much longer I could tolerate it.
‘They must be kept open, the scum periodically drawn off,’ he informed Miss Sketchley, who was acting as my nurse. ‘She must have someone with her day and night, kept cool and rested. I will call again tomorrow.’
‘For more of the same?’ asked William in some distress, remembering my whimpers during the cupping.
There was pity in the doctor’s face as he looked upon the Duke. ‘If necessary. But Mrs Jordan is healthy and strong, and, as you say, has largely dealt with childbirth easily in the past. I see no reason why she should not make a full recovery.’
I could think of a thousand reasons, all of them related to the terrible pain that consumed me. Why did they not simply let me die?
And yet, miraculously, I did not die. When Nixon called the following morning he expressed his delight to find me much improved.
‘My head aches as if a clapper bell were ringing in it,’ I complained, and the doctor smiled and patted my hand.
‘It will pass, your strong constitution is serving you well.’
‘And my baby, is he well?’ I asked, tense with anxiety.
‘He is hale and hearty, as will be his mother ere long.’ He leaned closer to whisper in my ear. ‘Although she may consider making this one her last.’
I gazed at him, wide-eyed. ‘If only I knew how, doctor.’
And as my child was put into my arms I quite forgot the pain in my head, the difficulties of the birth, and even the fever and the painful suck of the leeches. Here was my son, and here was my dear Billy beside me, as always.
‘I think we shall call this one Augustus,’ the Duke decreed, ‘since the last one was Augusta,’ and he beamed at me in that jolly way he had.
‘As you wish, my dear,’ I agreed, as always.
‘I’ve been put in charge of the Teddington Volunteers,’ the Duke complained to the Prince when he came to supper at Bushy one evening. The two brothers had discussed how long Pitt was likely to remain in power, considering that his second term of office was not going so well as the first. Now they were back to their favourite topic of war and the escalation of further trouble with France. ‘Stab me if they aren’t a confounded nuisance. Surely there are more important matters upon which to spend my time and energy?’
‘No doubt you did too good a job with the local yeomanry. And what does Mrs Jordan think?’ the Prince enquired, turning to me where I sat at the head of the table.
I smiled. ‘That if he cannot make them serviceable then let them go to the devil.’
The Prince of Wales roared with laughter. ‘You ever have a way with words.’
‘She has indeed,’ William agreed with a grin.
‘I’m delighted to see that you have made such a good recovery, dear lady, from your recent lying in.’
‘Thank you, I shall be returning to the stage by the first week of May.’
‘Then I shall raise a glass to your continued success. I’m quite sure you will be wonderfully received, as ever.’
William frowned. ‘Did I tell you that I am having a new portrait of her done by Beechey? He always captures her well, I think, only this time I want a more sedate, regal look.’
‘Quite right. As mistress of Bushy Park rather than simply your mistress, eh?’ the Prince said, casting me such a teasing glance that I blushed and hastily excused myself.
‘Forgive me if I retire, Sir, but I am still not quite myself.’
The Prince rose, bowing over my hand as he kissed it and bid me good night. He was ever kind to me. But once outside the supper room I stood with my back to the door, listening, curious to know where this conversation was leading and why my Billy was frowning so.
‘I have also commissioned a young painter, a George Harlow, to paint the children,’ the Duke went on. ‘The fellow has done one or two sketches already for me to see. I think he’ll do rather well by them. I particularly like the one of Freddles, Eliza and three-year-old Molpuss, or Lolly as we tend to call him now. I want the boy to be painted holding a crimson banner with the royal coat of arms emblazoned upon it. What think you of that?’
‘Very patriotic,’ the Prince drily remarked.
‘I may be prejudiced but I think them most handsome, charming children.’
‘Of course you are prejudiced, and why not, for goodness sake? I too confess young George is a great favourite of mine, as you well know. Would I’d been blessed with such a fine boy, although I adore my darling Charlotte. And they are indeed most handsome, and exceeding well-mannered children, as is our entire family. But can you afford all this extravagance? What of your debts, brother?’
‘The day will come when Parliament will be obliged to clear our debts,’ was William’s response, carefully avoiding answering the question.
‘You take the words from my mouth. You could always choose to marry, then Pitt would be obliged to settle them as he did mine. Did I not once suggest the daughter of the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel as a wife?’
My heart seemed to turn over and I pressed myself close against the door, anxious to hear my Billy’s reply.
‘I am perfectly satisfied with Mrs Jordan, and nothing has changed since then except that she has given me five more children.’
I closed my eyes on a breath of relief, a small smile playing at my lips. How this man did love me.
‘But she is not your wife, and never can be,’ the Prince gently reminded him. ‘Although I can see that having almost lost the love of your life, you may wish it to be otherwise.’
‘But would the King allow it? Would Parliament agree? Could I legitimize my children? I rather think George and Sophy are beginning to suffer from the irregularity of their parents’ position.’
‘So what do you intend to do about that?’ his brother softly enquired.
Silence followed this remark, lasting for some moments, and then the Duke said: ‘What think you of the recent proclamation of Napoleon as King of Italy? Will he attempt to invade Britain?’
Whereupon I hurried away, deeply puzzled and slightly unnerved. They said eavesdroppers never did hear good of themselves, yet the Duke had declared his love for me in no uncertain terms. But was that enough to keep me safe?
I was staring at him in a state somewhere between disappointment and shock. ‘Leave the stage? But you have never asked such a thing of me before, why would you do so now?’
‘With nine children I think it perhaps time you devoted your attention entirely to them. You have said yourself that other actresses have done so, Elizabeth Farren for instance. Mrs Siddons even has now retired.’
‘I shall believe that when I see it. Siddons has carried out her very last performance four times to my certain knowledge.’ I felt quite sick inside. How could I give up what made me who I am? Never again to experience the joy of stepping on stage, which was like home to me: not as Bushy is, but as vitally important to my wellbeing. And there were more practical considerations. William had given me no reason to suppose that he would grow tired of me but I must always keep in mind that I was not, and never could be, his wife, as that overheard conversation with the Prince illustrated only too clearly. Therefore, much as I loved
my children, it was essential that I hold on to my independence and an income.
‘It is not seemly for a mother of so many children to work.’ His tone carried that note of stubborn authority which the Duke always adopted when he wanted his own way.
‘It is quite unfair of you to ask this of me, William. Did we not agree that if I retired the public would soon forget me?’ I said, feeling the need to remind him of our arrangement from the start.
‘The situation has changed.’
‘In what way?’
‘You are more famous now. You could return at any time to the stage and they would welcome you with open arms.’
‘I would be finished!’ I protested. Unfortunately, the Duke could be most desperately obstinate.
‘Are you refusing to obey me?’ he challenged, his temper quickly rising as it did on occasion.
‘A wife promises to obey, William. I am not a wife so have taken no such vow.’
A crimson flush crept up his throat and his jaw tightened. ‘Is that meant as some sort of criticism? Because if so . . .’
‘No, dearest Billy, it is not at all. I knew from the start how things would be, but you ask too great a sacrifice.’ Keeping my tone reasonable and a smile firmly fixed in place, I put out my hands, anxious to placate him. ‘As you know I have responsibilities that I cannot simply abandon. My girls, my public. You always said that my being absent during the week when performing in London was not a problem, nor even when I was on tour, because you were often attending the Lords or various committees and charities with which you’re involved.’
He scowled, looking rather like a sullen schoolboy caught out in a lie. ‘Perhaps I would now prefer you to be less in the public eye.’
The Duchess of Drury Lane Page 21