justified—everyone knows what happened. Madame Ross kept her on, but appearances mean everything to Rose. A thieving whore is worse than an ordinary whore. Mother spoke truly when she pointed out that she could hardly be more thoroughly pardoned than by the king himself, yet the whole event greatly pains Rose. This morning I saw Jane Smedley, who commented on Rose’s recent
royal favour,
as she phrased it with a smirk. I do wish Mother wouldn’t tell people. Rose won’t speak of it to anyone—including me.
I have told no one of my conversation with the king. The conversation I hear over and over as I fall asleep.
Later—in our room
“Rose,” I began awkwardly as she dried her hair with a bath sheet. “Madam Ross said something strange that night.”
“Mmm?” Rose shook out her heavy hair and, sitting on her bed, began to pull her white comb through the tendrils in long strokes.
“She said I had refused to speak to her
before?
Rose?
Rose?”
Rose didn’t seem to hear me.
Wednesday, January 6, 1664—Twelfth Day (The Usurper)
Lacy brought me a tightly wound winter posy, and Hart brought me a new green silk hair ribbon.
“Ah! Our protégée! Just to stretch your theatre wings, mind you,” Lacy cautioned cheerily, holding the ribbon up to my skin. “Perfect for your complexion, my dear.”
“No reason to be nervous; save that for your
real
debut!” Hart said, gently tugging on my long curls.
“One for luck!” said Nick, firmly smacking my bottom.
“You’ll wrinkle me before I ever get out there,” I grumbled, smoothing my new skirts.
All this fuss just for me to stand at the back in the ballroom scene and deliver one line—it seemed excessive, but left me fizzing with excitement.
The flickering candles blur the faces of the audience. A wink from Teddy, who squeezes my hand behind my back. I swish my hips and say clearly, “My lady, there is a gentleman to see you without!”
And it is over.
“Brava!”
said Teddy.
“Well done!” said Nick.
“Magnifique!”
said Lacy.
“My clever mouse,” said Hart, dropping a quick kiss on my nose.
To: Mr. Thomas Killigrew
From: Mr. Charles Hart
Concerning Mistress Ellen Gwyn’s Progress as an Actress
Dear Tom,
She stands out. No question. Small and bold and neat as you like. With her fiery hair and pert little figure, she will make a brilliant foil to the current rash of dark, sloe-eyed favourites. She is fearless and quick, and she will thrive in this realm. We mustn’t waste her on nonsense roles. She must star, but it must be the right part. Best to keep her under my tutelage whilst we consider. Lacy agrees with me in this.
All best wishes,
Hart
January 8, 1664
Theatre Royal, Drury Lane
Hart,
Yes, I saw the performance as well. I left soon after Ellen’s scene. I agree that she deserves a proper debut. I will advise you as to my thoughts on her career at a later date. At present I am content for her to remain under your guidance, but really, Hart, she is quite young and, I find, quite singular. I do expect you to behave with some discretion and great care.
Yours, etc.…
Tom
Sunday January 10, 1664—Lord’s Day
Last night Hart took me to see
Henry VIII
at the Opera. (The play that
everyone
has been talking about.) All the talk is true, Betterton
was
ferociously regal as the king, and the procession with all the faces pressed against the windows and on the balconies
was
magnificent. During the interval a startlingly attractive man introduced to me as Johnny joined us in our box (I found out later from Teddy that this is the
infamous
Lord Johnny Wilmot, second Earl of Rochester). What I noticed most was his absolute equanimity of countenance. Whether dealing out his obviously scathing wit or delivering the most splendid compliment, his features remain uninvolved, as if he really cannot be bothered to muster expression.
“Watch out, he has made lechery his profession,” Teddy said seriously. “Well, lechery and drink, I
royal favour,
as she phrased it with a smirk. I do wish Mother wouldn’t tell people. Rose won’t speak of it to anyone—including me.
I have told no one of my conversation with the king. The conversation I hear over and over as I fall asleep.
Later—in our room
“Rose,” I began awkwardly as she dried her hair with a bath sheet. “Madam Ross said something strange that night.”
“Mmm?” Rose shook out her heavy hair and, sitting on her bed, began to pull her white comb through the tendrils in long strokes.
“She said I had refused to speak to her
before?
Rose?
Rose?”
Rose didn’t seem to hear me.
Wednesday, January 6, 1664—Twelfth Day (The Usurper)
Lacy brought me a tightly wound winter posy, and Hart brought me a new green silk hair ribbon.
“Ah! Our protégée! Just to stretch your theatre wings, mind you,” Lacy cautioned cheerily, holding the ribbon up to my skin. “Perfect for your complexion, my dear.”
“No reason to be nervous; save that for your
real
debut!” Hart said, gently tugging on my long curls.
“One for luck!” said Nick, firmly smacking my bottom.
“You’ll wrinkle me before I ever get out there,” I grumbled, smoothing my new skirts.
All this fuss just for me to stand at the back in the ballroom scene and deliver one line—it seemed excessive, but left me fizzing with excitement.
The flickering candles blur the faces of the audience. A wink from Teddy, who squeezes my hand behind my back. I swish my hips and say clearly, “My lady, there is a gentleman to see you without!”
And it is over.
“Brava!”
said Teddy.
“Well done!” said Nick.
“Magnifique!”
said Lacy.
“My clever mouse,” said Hart, dropping a quick kiss on my nose.
To: Mr. Thomas Killigrew
From: Mr. Charles Hart
Concerning Mistress Ellen Gwyn’s Progress as an Actress
Dear Tom,
She stands out. No question. Small and bold and neat as you like. With her fiery hair and pert little figure, she will make a brilliant foil to the current rash of dark, sloe-eyed favourites. She is fearless and quick, and she will thrive in this realm. We mustn’t waste her on nonsense roles. She must star, but it must be the right part. Best to keep her under my tutelage whilst we consider. Lacy agrees with me in this.
All best wishes,
Hart
January 8, 1664
Theatre Royal, Drury Lane
Hart,
Yes, I saw the performance as well. I left soon after Ellen’s scene. I agree that she deserves a proper debut. I will advise you as to my thoughts on her career at a later date. At present I am content for her to remain under your guidance, but really, Hart, she is quite young and, I find, quite singular. I do expect you to behave with some discretion and great care.
Yours, etc.…
Tom
Sunday January 10, 1664—Lord’s Day
Last night Hart took me to see
Henry VIII
at the Opera. (The play that
everyone
has been talking about.) All the talk is true, Betterton
was
ferociously regal as the king, and the procession with all the faces pressed against the windows and on the balconies
was
magnificent. During the interval a startlingly attractive man introduced to me as Johnny joined us in our box (I found out later from Teddy that this is the
infamous
Lord Johnny Wilmot, second Earl of Rochester). What I noticed most was his absolute equanimity of countenance. Whether dealing out his obviously scathing wit or delivering the most splendid compliment, his features remain uninvolved, as if he really cannot be bothered to muster expression.
“Watch out, he has made lechery his profession,” Teddy said seriously. “Well, lechery and drink, I
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