The Remarkable Life and Times of Eliza Rose (29 page)

The child continued to regard her coldly.

‘Are you Anne?’ Eliza ventured as she rose.

‘No, I’m not!’ came the immediate and indignant reply. ‘I am Charlotte Fitzroy, Countess of Lichfield.’

Eliza thought swiftly; she was the third child of Barbara Castlemaine, then, so was about seven years old.

‘And I don’t have my singing lessons with just
anyone
. I won’t even have Anne or Mary in with me so I certainly won’t have you.’

‘Well, I … His Majesty … that is –’

‘Who are you, anyway?’

‘I’m Eliza. Eliza Rose.’

‘You have a funny voice. Where do you come from?’

‘Originally, I come from Somersetshire.’

‘You have a gown which is
very
out of fashion.’

Eliza didn’t reply.

‘And your hair is not in style,’ the child went on. ‘Since Louise de Keroualle joined the court we all have our hair done the French way.’

‘I’m afraid I’m not conversant with what hairstyles are being worn at court,’ Eliza said, trying to sound as polite as possible.

‘So if you’re not at court where
do
you come from?’

‘I’m with the King’s Theatre Company,’ Eliza replied.

‘
Mon Dieu!
’ The child took a step backwards. ‘You’re an actress?’

‘Not exactly,’ Eliza began. ‘Not at all!’ she amended, too late, for Charlotte had turned to clip-clop away on her silver leather mules.

Eliza resumed her place on the window seat, wondering what to do next. It appeared that the longed-for singing lessons were still to be denied her – how she hated being so dependent on the whims of others! Now, should she stay and wait for the music master, or make a dignified exit? If so, there was the ever-present problem of just how she was going to locate that exit. So perhaps she’d just sit on the window seat a little longer and enjoy the view.

Nell found her there half an hour later.

‘Do you know there are four music rooms in the palace!’ she said. ‘I’ve looked into each one of them for you, and this was the last. Have you had your lesson?’

Eliza, laughing a little, told her that she hadn’t, and also the reason why.

‘I presume that dear little Mistress Charlotte met the singing master on his way in and told him not to attend on me.’

‘She’s a spoilt miss – she knows full well that she’s the king’s favourite child.’ Nell frowned a little. ‘I hope my baby is a girl, for the king greatly favours his daughters. He hands out titles to them like sweetmeats.’

‘Does he really?’

‘Oh, yes, it’s the Countess of this, the Duchess of
that. He’s not nearly so generous with his boys.’

‘Doctor Deane said you were having a boy,’ Eliza reminded her.

Nell frowned. ‘But he’s not
always
right.’

‘No, I’m sure he’s not,’ Eliza said. He couldn’t have been right, for instance, when he’d told her that she was high-born. She knew that. It had just been a playact on the astrologer’s part to cause a stir and a sensation.

The attention of both Eliza and Nell was caught by a pretty scene outside the window, for the queen and several ladies-in-waiting had come into the garden and were playing with a ball, picking up their full skirts and running backwards and forwards to catch it across the cobbles.

‘The queen is a goodly sort,’ Nell said as they watched, ‘for she’s heard that I’m with child and sent me a cordial for morning sickness. Not that I’ve ever been sick,’ she added.

Eliza shook her head wonderingly; she’d never understand how the queen dealt so equably with the pregnancies of her husband’s mistresses. Staring at them now in the garden, she noticed two ladies-in-waiting she’d never seen before; girls who stood out from the others because they were dark-haired when everyone apart from the queen was a more-fashionable blonde.

‘Who are those two girls – the dark-haired beauties?’ she asked Nell.

Nell looked. ‘Henry Monteagle’s sisters,’ she said. ‘Recently come to court to try and find suitable husbands.’

‘Monteagle!’ Eliza said, rather shocked, for they
looked much too agreeable to be anything to do with him.

‘Coming to live at court is a good road to marriage,’ Nell said. ‘Girls put themselves on display for a year or two and nearly always find someone to wed.’

Eliza stared down at the two girls. ‘But they don’t look anything like him,’ she said. ‘He’s broad of hip while they’re narrow, and their colouring is very different – they’re dark-haired and of a pale complexion, and he’s fair-haired and florid.’

‘What you mean is,
he
is vile and
they
look perfectly nice!’ finished Nell.

‘Indeed!’ For certainly the girls looked sweet of expression and appeared good-tempered. ‘What are their names?’

Nell shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea.’

‘And how is it that someone as beastly as he could have such nice sisters?’

‘We can’t help our relations,’ Nell said and, as she raised her eyes to heaven, Eliza knew just who she was thinking of. ‘Besides, they may have had a different father.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Eliza said. She went on looking at the two girls, though she couldn’t have said why.

Eliza didn’t get a chance to speak to Valentine Howard until a week later when Nell, her dining room now furnished with silver plate and candelabra, her larders filled with game and her cellars replete with fine wines, decided to hold a small house-warming dinner for the king and a few favoured guests. In the normal way Eliza wouldn’t have expected to attend such an occasion, but a musician
was playing the harpsichord during supper and Nell had asked Eliza to go in and accompany him with a couple of songs after they’d eaten.

In the meantime, Eliza had had some of her money advanced and commissioned a goldsmith to make the king’s emerald into a pendant, which had been achieved simply by winding fine gold wire around the stone so that it looked as if it were covered by an elegant golden cage. Hanging from a green velvet ribbon and worn for the dinner party with Nell’s moss-green satin gown, it looked very fine.

On entering Nell’s dining room after the sweetmeats had been served, Eliza’s first fervent hope was that Henry Monteagle was not among the guests. Her second was that Valentine Howard was.

Rising from a deep curtsy towards the king, she was happy to find that both wishes had been fulfilled, for scanning quickly around she saw that Valentine Howard was there, also Monmouth, Rochester and several others of the gang of wits – but of Henry Monteagle there was no sign.

Eliza couldn’t follow sheet music nor knew the tunes of any of the newer ballads, so had already arranged with the harpsichord player that she’d sing two traditional airs. These were received with slightly drunken praise by the assembled guests and a request from the king that she should repeat them.

She did so and then curtsied again before making her exit. The men, she noticed, resumed their drinking and carousing before she’d even left the room.

After going downstairs and begging some supper from Mrs Pearce – for she’d been much too nervous about her singing to eat beforehand – Eliza was
making her way back to her room with some slices of cold roast goose when she met several of the party moving from the dining to the snooker room. One of these was Valentine Howard.

He stopped on seeing her and gave a short bow.

‘Are you well, madam?’ he asked.

‘I am, thank you, sire.’ Eliza bobbed him a curtsy, endeavouring to keep the roast goose on the plate.

‘And are you going to join us?’

‘
Mais non
.’ She coughed nervously. She was anxious to use French expressions, as did the aristocracy, but was not always sure of their correct pronunciation. ‘Though I hoped to see you in order to thank you for your kindness to me the other evening.’

‘Oh, it was nothing.’

Eliza nibbled at her lip. She thought that he spoke a little too carelessly, almost as if her ordeal had been of no consequence.

‘Indeed it was, sire, for I found myself in danger, and who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t come along when you had.’

He frowned at her. His brows met in the middle in the most devilishly intriguing way, Eliza thought, and his eyes were the brightest blue she’d ever seen, his eyelashes very long and thick.

‘But if you think such situations so dangerous,’ he asked, ‘why do you persist in getting yourself into them? If you have assignations with fellows like Monteagle, you must perceive, surely, the inherent danger?’

Eliza stared at him, almost too taken-aback to speak. ‘I did not … I
do
not …’

He nodded to the emerald. ‘Oh, and I suppose that
pretty bauble around your neck was obtained by being a mere lady’s maid, was it?’

‘No, it was not!’ Eliza said. ‘This pretty bauble, as you call it, was from the king.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘His Majesty seems to be a
very
busy man these days …’

Eliza was about to protest that she’d been given it for saving his life, but something stopped her. No, if he believed the worst of her, then so be it. She wouldn’t be the one to put him right. She was filled with a childish desire to stick out her tongue at him, but managed not to. Instead she pushed her nose into the air, said, ‘Your servant, sire!’ in as disdainful a manner as possible and, picking up her skirts with her free hand, ran up the stairs and away.

How dare he! What an
infuriating
fellow! What an infuriating, maddening, opinionated … and devastatingly attractive fellow.

The following evening Eliza was downstairs in the little room which Nell called her closet, sewing new buttons on to the scarlet dress. The bodice being lined with calico, however, it was difficult to insert the needle, and she had also lost her thimble, so more often than not it would stick halfway and then Eliza would have to drive it in with the tip of her finger, sometimes piercing the flesh as she did so. Each time this happened she’d curse Henry Monteagle – and then curse Valentine Howard. How
could
he? How could he think her a common whore? She’d never given him any cause to believe that!

But then, the last of the buttons sewn, she thought about it a little more: Valentine Howard had seen her
in Clink, he’d viewed her as a half-naked mermaid at the fair, he’d spoken to her when she’d been an orange girl and now she was Nell’s friend and companion. What would
any
man think? Maybe she had been too harsh on him …

Eliza did not see her friend until near eight o’clock that evening, for Nell had had a day which included shopping, a sitting with Lely, gown fittings, a play reading, a tea party and an appointment with a lace-maker who was to fashion her a sumptuous lying-in gown. When she eventually came in accompanied by a parcel-laden lackey, she was full of news.

‘Well, whatever do you think?!’ she said as she flung her cloak and feathered hat on to the settle and indicated that the parcels were to be dropped there, too.

Eliza, laughing, said she hadn’t the slightest idea.

She dismissed the lackey with a wave. ‘Well, why do you think it was that Monteagle wasn’t at my soirée last night?’

Eliza shrugged. She knew it wasn’t merely that Nell had been solicitous enough of her feelings not to have included him, because if the king had wished to bring Monteagle along then he certainly would have done.

‘He’s away? He has a new woman – a new
amour?
’ Eliza said a little self-consciously.

‘No! He’s been banned from court!’

Eliza gasped. ‘Such good news! But why?’

‘Because he’s challenged someone to a duel – and you know the king has banned duels.’

‘Who is it he’s challenged?’

‘Someone named Major Whitfield. Monteagle said he was insulted by him and so called him out. The king has told him to withdraw the challenge, or stay away from court – which is exactly what he’s doing. They think he means to go through with the duel, though.’ Nell flung herself down on the settle. ‘’Twill be pistols at dawn within the next few days, they say – and Val Howard is to be his second.’

‘Oh,’ Eliza said anxiously. ‘Is there any danger for a second?’

‘I think not.’ Nell gave Eliza a little sideways look and laughed. ‘I’m sure your Valentine will be quite safe.’

Eliza contemplated the happy thought of Monteagle being away from court for ever. ‘But what of his sisters?’ she asked suddenly. ‘How horrid for them to arrive at court just in time to hear that their brother is to fight a duel.’

Nell looked at her. ‘Well, why ever should you think of
them?
’

Eliza paused, thought about it again, and shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ She smiled and pointed to the packages strewn across the floor. ‘But what are all those interesting-looking parcels?’

Nell began counting them out, squeezing or sniffing them to try and detect their contents. ‘Twelve pairs of scented gloves,’ she said, ‘two pairs of silver leather slippers, some hair jewellery, two black bodices embroidered in red silk, three painted fans, a nightgown and wrapper of gold-spangled lace and some red and white striped silk undersmocks.’ She lifted the last brown-paper package. ‘And the most heavenly ribbons in silver-blue to trim the rocking cot
I’m having made.’

‘Blue?’ Eliza questioned. ‘So you
do
think it’ll be a boy?’

‘I’ll send to Doctor Deane to make quite sure. Which reminds me that I’ve found out Squintabella’s date of birth and want the doctor to cast her chart.’ Nell went cross-eyed, making Eliza laugh. ‘I want to know how long she’ll be at court.’

‘I’ll go tomorrow,’ Eliza promised, and she was about to gather her things together and wish Nell goodnight when they heard the bellman outside.

‘Eight of the clock!’ he called. ‘Highwayman taken in Tavern!’

The girls looked at each other.

‘I wonder which highwayman?’ Nell mused. ‘Not my sister’s husband, I hope, for I know she’d straight away move in here.’

‘And not …’ Eliza’s voice faltered and she put down her sewing. ‘Shall I run down and ask?’ she said. ‘I could catch him on the corner and find out more.’

‘Do that. Highwaymen are as common as crows and it’s probably someone we’ve never heard of, but ’twould set our minds at rest.’