The Duchess of Drury Lane Read Online Free PDF Page B

frustrating always to be the simple shepherdess.
    ‘You realize why Daly is reducing your parts,’ my sister warned me one day after a further disappointment. ‘It’s because you continue to resist him.’
    I looked at her askance. ‘He would surely not be so vindictive.’
    ‘Don’t be naïve, Doll. Richard Daly will allow nothing to stand in the way of his desire. And he wants you.’
    I ruefully admitted that she was most likely correct, and recklessly challenged him on the subject. ‘Why am I never given decent parts any more?’
    ‘All in good time,’ he said. ‘Such favours need to be earned.’
    ‘But you said I would be a part of Smock Alley’s success. What of the three guineas you promised me? Am I not working as hard as I can? Was not the theatre full on the nights I played the lead?’ I was learning to stand up for myself a little more, fighting for the facility to clear my debts and see my family secure.
    ‘Have you thought again of my offer? What price a kiss?’
    I scoffed at this nonsense. ‘If I am not allowed to play leading roles, how am I ever to gain the necessary experience?’
    He squinted darkly at me from beneath his tricorn hat, then leaned close to whisper in my ear, the gold tassels on his pea-green jacket brushing against my breasts. ‘I am not a man accustomed to spending my nights alone, so were you to be a touch more generous you would not find me ungrateful. I am quite certain you and I would do well together. When are you going to give in?’
    I turned on my heel and walked rapidly away, privately vowing never to mention the matter again, no matter how annoying it was to see others given preferment. I concentrated on improving my acting skills still further, resolute on learning my craft, on giving my utmost attention to every part, however insignificant it might seem.
    As Mrs Daly’s pregnancy advanced, like all actresses afraid of losing her favourite parts to rivals, she continued to appear on stage. But by November 1781 even the stalwart Jane Daly was forced to retire. Surely now, I thought, I would be granted better roles.
    One night Hester was waiting for me as I entered the dressing room. We’d been rehearsing all day, followed by two performances, and keeping up a level of concentration so that I didn’t miss the few lines I had was strangely tiring. I was eager to clean off my make-up and go home; the prospect of the warm soup Mama would have waiting for us was most appealing.
    ‘Mr Daly has sent for you,’ Hester told me, looking anxious, as she knew how fervently I avoided his presence.
    I groaned. ‘But it is almost midnight and I am bone weary. Whatever it is must wait for the morrow. Help me out of this gown, Hester, I ache for my bed.’
    Our lodgings were an easy walk from Smock Alley, and, as always, we hurried home arm in arm, giggling over whatever incidents had gone wrong on stage that night, as we so liked to do. There was always something, a door that had not opened when necessary, a knock not delivered on cue, or a blank moment when one of the older actors had forgotten a line and I had been obliged to cover it up by paraphrasing it for him. We were laughing over Benedick’s wig having fallen askew in the main production of Much Ado About Nothing , which had not at all been intended, when a smart phaeton drew up beside us.
    ‘Miss Francis, I believe I ordered you to my office.’
    I stared in dismay at my employer. ‘Mr Daly, it is late. I thought the morning would be soon enough.’
    ‘When I demand attendance from an employee I mean it to be at my convenience, not theirs . Pray, step aboard. Since you chose to disobey me, we must have our conversation here and now.’
    ‘But it is past midnight . . .’
    ‘Therefore my patience is thin. If you please . . .’
    My heart skipped a beat. Climbing into a phaeton with Richard Daly at past midnight was not a prospect I relished, but I could see no escape. ‘My sister . . .’ I began.
    ‘. . .