"Ellen, I have spoken to Hart," he said abruptly.

I waited for him to continue. Hart no longer criticised me openly but was perpetually going to Tom with his complaints: my posture, my singing, my untidy hair.

"I had to a.s.sure him that you were not ... unwell." Tom said, pulling me from my reverie.

"Unwell!" I said, startled. "Why would I be unwell?" I quickly touched the wood of my painted dressing table. I had mercifully escaped the most recent bout of company cold and fever.

"Perhaps not unwell," Tom hedged. "More pregnant..."

"Pregnant! By who?"

"By 'whom,' "Tom corrected. "Well, no one, naturally, and I told him as much, but he knows something is afoot and is worried for you."

"Nothing is afoot," I said flatly. "Nothing at all."

Later-tiring rooms Before the performance tonight I heard Hart's unmistakeable growl in the hallway outside.

"This oil is dripping all over the wall! Did you not see it?" he bellowed at Laurie, our lamplighter. "Clean it up, now!"

I slipped outside, pulling my silk wrapper closely around me. I had been waiting all day to catch Hart alone. I had to rea.s.sure him, to thank him.

"Hart ... I-"

He rounded on me, swiftly redirecting all his irritation at me. "You what?" He scowled, his voice loaded with sarcasm and latent mistrust, all yesterday's tenderness absent.

I slipped back into the tiring room without a word. A difficult man, I thought sadly, and one I no longer understand.

When Men Fall in Love with Their Wives

May 12-Theatre Royal (The Maiden Queen) Dryden, Aphra, and Buckhurst were in the house tonight. Dryden was checking on Queen Queen-he is perpetually tweaking his scripts and driving the actors mad. Buckhurst did not come back to the tiring rooms, as his presence still infuriates Hart. Then again, my my presence still infuriates Hart. Everything seems to infuriate Hart. We discreetly joined them in the foyer, where Buckhurst was lurking with Dryden behind a large potted plant. presence still infuriates Hart. Everything seems to infuriate Hart. We discreetly joined them in the foyer, where Buckhurst was lurking with Dryden behind a large potted plant.

"We hear you were sent for, my dear," said Dryden, adjusting his complicated hat in the long mirror (ostrich feathers and and ruffled velvet bows). He is slightly built but insists on following the fashion of long wigs and hats, giving him a top-heavy look. ruffled velvet bows). He is slightly built but insists on following the fashion of long wigs and hats, giving him a top-heavy look.

"Yes, but only once-is that true?" asked Buckhurst, elegant in a pale grey ensemble, with a touch of malice. Aphra shot him a dirty look.

So be it. "Yes, it is true. You may as well know, I was terribly dull and will never be sent for again." There, I've said it.

"Dull? You?" squeaked Dryden, surprised. His genuine reaction heartened me, and I gratefully squeezed his arm. You?" squeaked Dryden, surprised. His genuine reaction heartened me, and I gratefully squeezed his arm.

"Yes, dull," Well, dull with one small incidence of fireworks, I thought privately.

"Oh my," said Aphra thoughtfully. "How to recover from dull?"

Exactly.

Note-Buckhurst just returned from Newmarket, brought us all the court news, and, after my anxious enquiries, told me that Johnny is sober but subdued. Alc.o.c.k, on the other hand, is perpetually drunk, and Johnny encourages him. I did not ask about him him.

Friday, May 15-Theatre Royal (The Sea Voyage) Outrageous news: Buckingham brought his mistress, the Countess of Shrewsbury, a dreadful bullish sort of woman, home with him.

"When his wife objected that the two women could hardly share a roof," Teddy recounted, aghast, "Buckingham told her he entirely understood and therefore had already ordered her a coach to take her to her father's."

"Booted out of her own own home?" asked Nick, agog. home?" asked Nick, agog.

"The house her father paid for, no less," said Teddy.

"Dangerous world for women," I said softly, to no one.

May 18, 1668-Theatre Royal Lovely talk with Johnny this evening; he is back to dark wigs, thank goodness. He returned with the king this morning. Everyone is in town for the debut of Sedley's The Mulberry Garden The Mulberry Garden-still too wordy and stiff. He showed me the draft of a letter he is writing to his wife, who is tucked away at his country home of Adderbury. He takes refuge in the overdone style of the time, but his true sentiment shows through. He does love her, but will not change to content her. He says he is "endeavouring to get away from this place I am so weary of...," "endeavouring to get away from this place I am so weary of...," but he is not endeavouring terribly hard, I must say. but he is not endeavouring terribly hard, I must say.

May 21-Theatre Royal I am supposed to be making up for this afternoon and I find I cannot sit still. Nothing is wrong, exactly, but things feel just out of place, out of reach, and too loosely knit for me to feel true peace. I am enjoying the stage, but when I let myself look too far ahead, I feel a snaking unease. How will all this end? And who, if anyone, will it end with? I feel I am painting the scenery when I do not know the play. What does the puzzle look like? When will I feel the click of my life piecing together?

May (hot!) "Everyone is falling in love with their wives, it is quite a la mode a la mode at the moment," Johnny said, lazily fanning himself with my peac.o.c.k-blue hat (new-I at the moment," Johnny said, lazily fanning himself with my peac.o.c.k-blue hat (new-I love love it). We were lying in the gra.s.s in the Foxhall Gardens after a splendid picnic of olives, bread, cold meats, grapes, and cheese spread out over a pink-checked cloth. it). We were lying in the gra.s.s in the Foxhall Gardens after a splendid picnic of olives, bread, cold meats, grapes, and cheese spread out over a pink-checked cloth.

"Everyone?" I asked cagily.

"Well, not everyone everyone. Buckingham has wreaked havoc in his domestic affairs, and I never seem to see mine, although I am fond, but the king is certainly spending time with the queen," he said, watching me out of the corner of his eye. Trying to gauge my reaction, no doubt.

Later I will not be so small as to feel jealousy. He is her husband, and it is her right. I hear of the joy his attention brings her and know her love to be profound and unselfish-that is what people say, anyway. I am glad for the una.s.suming queen-or so I keep telling myself. I have met this man less than a dozen times, and, king or no king, he should not loom so large in my irresponsible heart. No king No king-in fact, I do wish he were no king but an ordinary man, who might notice an ordinary girl.

May-Theatre Royal "And when the little b.u.t.terball came out to dance, the queen just up and left," Teddy clucked. "Brava Caterina Regina!"

We had just finished our rehearsal and were lying on the stage, exhausted. Lacy had drilled us for hours, learning the steps for his new dance for the end of Act II. We were discussing the queen's daring snub.

"The Great Snub of '68. That is what they will call it in years to come. And I was there there, petals!" Teddy said with self-important glee. "Brilliant! Ah, to be a part of history."

"Bold move," Lizzie said, approving. "And how unlike her. She normally seems such a mouse."

"Poor woman," I said, propping myself up on my elbow. "It can't be easy to applaud your husband's mistress."

"Moll Davis is hardly a mistress, mistress," Nick interjected. "She is more of a hobby, like tennis. You know, something you pick up, and then when you get the knack of it, you drop. She will not be around long enough to be called a mistress."

Can an actress be more than a hobby to a great man? To a king king?

May 30-Theatre Royal (still hot) Philaster with Hart-a Beaumont and Fletcher play we both love, although the heavy costumes were stifling in this heat. At least on that we can agree. I play Bellario, a part with wit and verve. The audience were wild for us, and the takings were huge; so little was needed-set, costumes, props, even playbills-as we have done it so many times before. I have finally asked Tom Killigrew to be my banker-unconventional, but I trust him, and I honestly do not know how to handle financial matters. He has explained various trusts he has established in order to keep my money safe-and even increasing. When I told Rose, she shook her head in disapproval. with Hart-a Beaumont and Fletcher play we both love, although the heavy costumes were stifling in this heat. At least on that we can agree. I play Bellario, a part with wit and verve. The audience were wild for us, and the takings were huge; so little was needed-set, costumes, props, even playbills-as we have done it so many times before. I have finally asked Tom Killigrew to be my banker-unconventional, but I trust him, and I honestly do not know how to handle financial matters. He has explained various trusts he has established in order to keep my money safe-and even increasing. When I told Rose, she shook her head in disapproval.

"How can you trust them-men?"

"He is good to me and is my friend, and I do trust him. Surely you trust John?"

"It is he who must trust me," she said severely, surprising me. "He gives over his wages, and I I make the financial decisions. As you know," she continued briskly, "I have managed my finances since I was quite young." make the financial decisions. As you know," she continued briskly, "I have managed my finances since I was quite young."

"Oh, Rose."

Note-Tom raised my wage to the promised fifty shillings per week!

June 1, 1668-Will's Coffee-house All the talk was of Dryden's new poem.

"It really is smashing, smashing, Dryden," said Teddy, bandying about his new Dryden," said Teddy, bandying about his new mot du jour mot du jour.

"'Annus Mirabilis-Year of Wonders' ... well, it certainly was that, what with the plague and fire and all," said Buckhurst, leaning his neat blond head back and closing his eyes. He was a bit hung over and p.r.o.ne to stating the obvious.

"I thought it was exciting. You found just the right note," I encouraged. Dryden looked at me, clearly pleased. I know how much sincere praise means to him-well, any praise, I suppose.

"And now Tom has taken you on for three plays a year-smashing," exclaimed Teddy.

"Yes," said Dryden, covered in daffodil-yellow ruffles and lapping up the compliments like a milk-fed cat. "I am leaving for the country almost immediately to finish my latest, Evening Love. Evening Love." He looked at me fondly and quickly added, "I intend for Nelly to star, naturally."

"His success will go well for you, Nell," Buckhurst said with sincerity.

Yes, I thought. It is is good for me. good for me. Everything Everything is good for me. Why, then, am I not more is good for me. Why, then, am I not more happy happy?

Summer Ellen

When I Become Enmeshed in the Bedroom Plot

June 15, 1668WhitehallNelly,Please come and see me at once-today. The court is moving, and I am departing London on Thursday. Come directly to my rooms at Whitehall near the Holbein Gate. You will be expected. Wait for me there.

George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham Tuesday, June 15 After receiving Buckingham's brief note, I went directly to Whitehall, taking the time only to change into my new pale green visiting gown (perfect with sky-grey slippers and a slim grey hat). I had never been to his rooms and had some difficulty finding them in that rambling labyrinth of a palace. I finally found them, surprisingly tucked behind the new tennis court, but they were as luxurious as I would expect for the king's closest childhood companion. I was quickly ushered into an inner chamber and told to wait. And wait wait. And wait wait.

Eventually, Buckingham returned, clearly fresh off the tennis court. Without preamble, he addressed me. "So he sent for you, did he?" Then beckoned for his man, Geoffrey, to come and help him out of his tennis ensemble.

Startled, I tried to gather my thoughts. "I ... uh ... yes." Geoffrey brought a laver and basin of soapy water and, pulling off Buckingham's soiled shirt, began to sponge him off. My status as an actress exempts me from the common decencies accorded other women-it has its advantages and, at that moment, disadvantages. I rolled my eyes as a soap bubble landed on my hat.

Buckingham, unperturbed, continued, "And you bungled it-is that fair to say?" Geoffrey produced a clean shirt, and I waited for Buckingham's head to pop through before I replied.

"Yes, I bungled it," I repeated flatly. "I was nervous and tongue-tied and dull. And then when I did speak, I said exactly the wrong thing. It was awful."

Buckingham was concentrating on dressing and did not seem particularly moved by my disaster. I sat on the chaise longue of striped silk-blue and silver, very pretty-and waited for my old friend to finish.

Buckingham closed his eyes as Geoffrey sprayed a great cloud of scent-Eau de Ca.s.sis? Too much, I thought as I began to cough. Thus perfumed and dressed in a fresh shirt, long cornflower-blue waistcoat, white hose, and matching blue ruffled breeches with satin pink bows, Buckingham turned to face me. "Yes, I heard about that. You asked about the wife. A mistake. He Too much, I thought as I began to cough. Thus perfumed and dressed in a fresh shirt, long cornflower-blue waistcoat, white hose, and matching blue ruffled breeches with satin pink bows, Buckingham turned to face me. "Yes, I heard about that. You asked about the wife. A mistake. He was was disappointed with you. But it is not irredeemable, I think." He paused for a moment to look over the heavily curled wigs Geoffrey had laid out before him. "Which one? The honey or the copper?" disappointed with you. But it is not irredeemable, I think." He paused for a moment to look over the heavily curled wigs Geoffrey had laid out before him. "Which one? The honey or the copper?"

"The blond," I said, still struggling for breath through the fog of scent. "The copper would look utterly ridiculous on a man of your colouring." The blond one looked absurd as well, given that George is naturally dark, but I did not say as much. I think he goes to great lengths to distinguish himself from the famously dark-locked king. Buckingham made a face at my disparaging remark but, nevertheless, reached for the blond wig.

"And so-what do you plan to do about it?" he asked, securing the wig on his head. He has quite a large head, and the voluminously long curly wig only served to accentuate it, but I did not say so.

"Do about it?" I asked, confused. I understood the situation to be at a dead end. about it?" I asked, confused. I understood the situation to be at a dead end.

"Yes, do do about it," he replied with a touch of impatience. "You want to wind up in his bed, don't you? It is certainly a rung up from Buckhurst-who, I gather, was disappointing." I coloured. Was there about it," he replied with a touch of impatience. "You want to wind up in his bed, don't you? It is certainly a rung up from Buckhurst-who, I gather, was disappointing." I coloured. Was there anything anything he did not know? he did not know?

"I may have spent most of that summer drunk on the music room floor, Nelly, but I am not entirely without deductive faculties. Anyway, you are better off. You never really liked Bucky all that much, did you?"

"I do like the king king very much," I ventured, in an effort to turn the conversation. very much," I ventured, in an effort to turn the conversation.

"Like him? What's that got to do with it? He's the king. You don't have to like him." George turned back to his reflection in the long gla.s.s.

Side-stepping his last remark with what grace I could muster, I returned to his original question. "There is nothing to do do about it. He did not care for me. I was home by one a.m., and know for a fact that he spent the night in Castlemaine's bed." about it. He did not care for me. I was home by one a.m., and know for a fact that he spent the night in Castlemaine's bed."

"And how do you know that?" asked Buckingham, sitting on the bed. He had moved on to footwear and was perusing the selection laid out before him.

"She told told me," I said, painfully reliving that awful moment at the theatre. me," I said, painfully reliving that awful moment at the theatre.

"She told you?" He looked up from his shoes. "Castlemaine? And you believed her, didn't you, my gullible goat?" told you?" He looked up from his shoes. "Castlemaine? And you believed her, didn't you, my gullible goat?"

"Of course-why shouldn't I?" I said, cringing at my schoolgirlish question.

"He has not shared her bed in months-just ask your gallant Mr. Hart."

I flushed. Even now, Hart's affair with Castlemaine was difficult for me to fathom.

Seeing my reaction, Buckingham chuckled aloud. "Nell, you must learn not to exhibit everything everything upon your pretty face." upon your pretty face."

"Why would she say that if it were untrue?" I countered, sounding naive, even to my own ears.

"Well"-he reached for a shiny pair of powder-blue court shoes with low heels-"it chases you away, which is-to be fair-not difficult to do, and reminds you of her position as maitresse en t.i.tre, maitresse en t.i.tre, which you seem only too eager to recognise. No, I think the pink laced court shoes-don't you?" which you seem only too eager to recognise. No, I think the pink laced court shoes-don't you?"

"No, I don't," I said, removing the pink pair. "Too much going on. Keep to the blue. Restraint Restraint-you should try it. Why shouldn't I recognise her as such? That is what she is, what she has always been."

"Yes, but things are changing now for my darling wicked cousin. Her bright, whorish light is going out. The end of an era," he intoned in a mock funereal voice. "Basically, the king is losing interest; she is getting older, and her graspyness is showing through-bound to happen eventually. I'm just surprised it didn't happen sooner. She has always had enormous nerve. She is demanding a new t.i.tle now. Anyway, the game is afoot."

I thought Buckingham looked entirely too pleased at the thought of his cousin's fall from favour. "Game?" I asked, handing him his jacket of embroidered silver-blue velvet with deep-gold-b.u.t.toned cuffs.

"Game," he said, pulling on his hat. "And I choose you."

"Me?"

"You are perfect," he continued. "Froth and fun and smarts and heart-the perfect antidote to Castlemaine's domineering reign. And," he said, holding up his hand to forestall my protests, "you will not always be dull. Just think think about it. It is all I require." With that astonishingly frank remark and one last glance in the mirror, he left the room. about it. It is all I require." With that astonishingly frank remark and one last glance in the mirror, he left the room.

I am thinking.

Wednesday, June 16-Drury Lane And thinking. And thinking.

June 16, 1668WhitehallNelly,I received your note and will be waiting for you in my rooms at eleven this evening. Give your name as the Widow Elizabeth Hibbert. Avoid being recognised.

Buckingham June 16, 1668-Drury Lane Wearing a dark wine moire moire gown, leather mask, and matching dark veil (hot!), I set out by coach for Whitehall. I was quickly admitted with my false name and shown once again to Buckingham's rooms-only this time I was led up a back staircase I had not previously noticed. He was waiting for me in his small salon. "Well, have you decided?" he asked abruptly. gown, leather mask, and matching dark veil (hot!), I set out by coach for Whitehall. I was quickly admitted with my false name and shown once again to Buckingham's rooms-only this time I was led up a back staircase I had not previously noticed. He was waiting for me in his small salon. "Well, have you decided?" he asked abruptly.

"Why am I disguised?" I asked, throwing off the itchy veil and removing the leather mask.