"Remember you thought it were Jack that had taken that watch and set you up for the pinch? Well, I think you were right. This morning poor Nan was taken off by the b.u.ms to Newgate. They said one of her gents claimed she'd took his gold snuffbox. She swore she didn't, but they were having none of it, and Jack was standing by all the while, looking like the cat that ate the canary bird."

"What knavery!" cried Nell.

"Aye," said Jane. "But I ran after the gent and told him about Jack and the time before. He said that if we could prove it weren't Nan that took his money, he'd withdraw the charge."

"But how will you do that?" Rose asked.

"Me and Emily have got a plan." Jane's eyes shone with excitement. "One of her regulars who's an alright sort will help us. He'll stand and chat with Emily near Jack tonight, flash his watch, let on that he's more drunk than he really is, and drop the watch in his pocket so Jack can't miss it. If the watch turns up missing, he'll go and send the bailiffs round."

"It sounds a dangerous game, Jane," Nell said. "You're as good as take a bear by the tooth."

"But what else can we do?" Jane asked. "Madam won't help, of course. She'll stand by him no matter what he's done. And if this works, we've got him. The biter bit, do you see?"

"Oh, Lord, have a care, Jane," Rose worried. "That Jack is a right bad 'un. He'd stop at nothing, him."

"Do this for me," Nell said. "Will you come round tomorrow and let us know what happened?"

"I will," Jane agreed. "Right on this spot I'll be tomorrow same time, and tell you we've sent the villain away."

But Jane was nowhere to be seen the next afternoon. Nell and Rose waited for nearly an hour, long past when all the actors, scenekeepers, and others of the playhouse had gone and the stage door was locked. Each time a woman pa.s.sed on the street they looked up hopefully, but no Jane appeared.

"What now?" Nell asked.

"It looks bad, doesn't it?" Rose said. "Let's go to Madam Ross's. We can go in the taproom, same as anyone else, as if we're only there to wet our whistles, and see what we can learn."

Ned was at the bar when they entered, and from his face it was apparent that there was awful news.

"What's amiss, Ned?" Rose whispered. He looked around and answered in a low voice.

"I'm sorry to tell you, but poor Em was found dead in her bed this morning," he said, his eyes reddening with tears. "Strangled, by the look of it."

"Dear G.o.d, no!" Rose cried. "Ned, where's Jane? Where's Jack?"

"Jane?" He looked at them in confusion. "Why, she went out but a bit ago, saying she needed some air to calm her down. And now that I think on it, Jack went out, too, almost on her heels."

"We've got to find Jane!" Nell cried. "It was Jack! He killed Emily, and now he's after Jane! Help us, Ned!"

THE SUMMER EVENING WAS LONG, BUT EVEN SO, THE LIGHT WAS fading, and Nell despaired of finding Jane before nightfall. She sank to her haunches and leaned her back against a brick wall still warm from the sun, trying to catch her breath and think. Jane could be anywhere. Maybe Ned or Rose had found her, and she was safe, but she could just as easily be lying dead. Nell felt the tightness in her chest that presaged her fall into panic. Don't think like that, she told herself. It's just as like that Jane is with some friend, or sitting down by the river. But she felt cold with fear and decided she must press on. She was a little west of Covent Garden and decided to go up to Long Acre and make her way back to Lewkenor's Lane. If she hadn't found Jane before dark fell, she'd go back to Madam Ross's and see if there was any news.

Nell suddenly recalled that Jane was friendly with one of the barmen at the Lamb and Flag. Perhaps she'd gone there for a visit. She headed for Rose Street, the short and winding pa.s.sage where the alehouse lay. She had always disliked the blind curve of the little street, with brick walls rising on either side. One man at each end easily turned it into a trap, and it was a favorite haunt of footpads.

She entered the street, and joyfully saw Jane ahead. And then everything seemed to happen in a flash. Jack stepped from the door of the alehouse, clapped a hand over Jane's mouth, and dragged her a few feet. She had been taken completely by surprise, and Nell saw the blind terror in her eyes as Jack shoved her against the wall and wrenched her head back. Nell saw the knife in his hand as he drew it back, saw the blade plunge into Jane's bared throat, saw the shower of blood.

She cried out as Jane slumped to the ground in a widening pool of crimson. Jack turned and saw her. For a second that seemed to last a century, his eyes held hers as he hefted the knife in his hand. Nell felt rooted to the spot. Then Jack moved swiftly toward her, and she turned and ran, not making a sound, so profound was her terror. She raced for her life, not knowing where she was headed, as long as it was away from Jack and certain death.

It was dark now, and Nell scrambled her way toward Covent Garden. Perhaps even now there would be boys finishing a game of football, or costermongers packing up the last of their goods. She stole a glance over her shoulder. She could see Jack's shape, but she had put some distance between them. And then she heard a crash and a curse. He had fallen over something. She had precious seconds to make her escape, and willed herself to run faster, but she knew she couldn't run much longer.

The Church of St. Paul's Covent Garden rose before her. She sprinted into the black emptiness of its portico and threw herself to the ground, flattening herself against the wall of the church. She heard Jack's heavy footsteps. Too late to do anything but stay where she was and pray that he would not think to look there. She covered her face with her arm, held her breath, and willed her thudding heart to be silent. She heard Jack run past, stop, return to the front of the church. He had surely seen her. And then, miraculously, with an exhalation of fury, he left.

Nell lay motionless. Church bells rang the hour of nine. Ten. Finally she dared to move, barely able to stand, her body stiff and painful from lying so long on the cold stone. She did not dare go anywhere near Lewkenor's Lane and instead made her way south to the Strand. There were people abroad there, but still she looked over her shoulder fearfully until she reached the Cat and Fiddle and the safety of her room.

THE NEXT DAY, EVEN IN THE CROWDED PLAYHOUSE, NELL FELT SHE could not stop shaking. The image of Jane's terrified eyes haunted her, and she could not shake the feeling that Jack could be nearby, watching her and waiting. Rose had sought out Harry Killigrew and begged for his help, and he met them in the greenroom after the performance had done. The word of the murders had spread, and other members of the company cl.u.s.tered near to hear the news.

"I went to Madam Ross's with a couple of bailiffs," Harry reported. "Ned says Jack never went back last night and if Madam knows where he is, she isn't saying. The watch will be looking for him, but unless they catch him, Nell, the best I can say is you should watch your back."

"And we'll be watching, too, Nell," Clun a.s.sured her. "You're safe here with us."

"Don't go anywhere on your own, will you?" Rose asked anxiously. "Will you promise me that?"

Nell was happy to promise. She felt terrified at the thought of finding herself alone and face-to-face with Jack, and for weeks, she left the Cat and Fiddle only to go to the playhouse, always in Rose's company and always keeping to the well-traveled Drury Lane, and made sure she was never abroad when it was dark. Only when two months had gone by, and Harry's inquiries confirmed that Jack had disappeared, did she begin to feel less fearful.

CHAPTER TEN.

NELL HAD NEVER HEARD AN AUDIENCE LAUGH SO LOUDLY. WALTER Clun had set the house on a roar again. His performance as Subtle in The Alchemist had packed the theater though the audience was sweltering in the heat of the August afternoon. Nell looked around the pit. Orange Moll was using her ap.r.o.n to wipe tears of laughter from her eyes. Sir Charles Sedley's guffaws had turned into a cough and Henry Savile was striking him on the back. Dorset was pounding his walking stick on the floor in approval. The crowded galleries shook.

I want to do that, Nell thought. I want to make them love me like that.

AFTER THE PERFORMANCE, NELL SPOTTED CLUN IN THE GREENROOM, toweling off his face as he spoke with Kate Corey.

"Truly the best show ever, Wat," Kate said, kissing Clun's ruddy cheek. "Ain't life grand sometimes?"

"It is, Kate, it is. And the best thing is-we get to do it all again tomorrow." Kate's hearty chuckle floated behind her as she left, and Nell judged she had better speak to Wat now while he was alone for a moment.

"Will you teach me to act?"

Wat raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Nell was afraid he was going to tell her not to be silly, and to run along. But he gave her an appraising look.

"Why do you ask me?"

"Because you can do what I want to do," Nell said. "You can make people laugh."

"I'm not the only one can make folks laugh," Clun said.

"No, but you do it better than anyone. You know how to make them laugh, and you know what you have to do differently if what you did at first doesn't work. I've watched you. I want you to show me. Please."

Wat threw the towel over his shoulder and sat. "Can you give me any of the lines from the play today? Say, where Doll Common says-"

" ''Sdeath, you abominable pair of stinkards!' " Nell cried. " 'Leave off your barking and grow one again, or by the light that shines, I'll cut your throats!'"

"That's Kate to the life!" Wat chortled.

"I pay her close mind," Nell said. "And I know all of that scene."

"That's well and good," Wat said. "A talent for mimicry will help, but there's more to it than that. You've a strong voice and great energy for such a little mite, and those are good things, too, for an actor."

"So will you teach me?" Nell repeated, her eyes pleading.

"Aye, we'll have a go," Wat smiled. "I'll tell you what. I've no rehearsal tomorrow. Come at eleven, and we'll see what we can do in an hour."

NELL WAS SO EXCITED SHE COULD SCARCELY KEEP FROM DANCING HER way back to the Cat and Fiddle, and she kept having to stop and wait for Rose's slower pace.

"He said yes! He said yes!" she cried again.

"I'm happy for you, Nelly, if it's what you want. But have a care and don't get your hopes too high."

"Why?" Nell was suddenly brought to earth. "Do you not think I can be an actress?"

"I think you have the makings to be as good as any I've seen," Rose said. "But many things fall out between the cup and the lip, and I'd not have you disappointed should things not come about as you want." She looked at Nell, now walking instead of dancing, and hugged her little sister to her.

"Wat would not have said yes did he not think you showed promise. It's a great compliment to you that he'd take his time to teach you." Nell's step was jaunty again, and Rose smiled to see it. "Do you really know that whole scene of Doll Common's?"

NELL BREEZED INTO THE GREENROOM IN HIGH SPIRITS THE NEXT morning but knew from the moment she entered that something terrible had happened. Kate Corey was sobbing in John Lacy's arms, and tears streaked Lacy's face as well. It was rare that Tom Killigrew was at the playhouse early, but he stood with Mohun and Hart, and when they looked up at Nell's approach their faces were stricken. Her heart stopped in her throat.

"What is it? What's happened?" she cried.

"Wat Clun," said Hart, his voice breaking. "He's murdered."

THE PLAY WAS LONG OVER, BUT THE ACTORS OF THE KING'S COMPANY remained in the greenroom, unwilling to be alone in their grief. Outside thunder shattered the sky and lightning flashed, and the downpour of rain mirrored the fall of tears.

"On his way home. Accosted by footpads, it would seem. Bound and robbed." Lacy spoke the words again, as if the repet.i.tion would help to give them sense.

"If his wound was not so great, I cannot see how he died," Kate sobbed.

"With the struggling, they said," replied Mohun, his face gray. "So that he bled to death."

Nell thought of Lacy's warning to Wat about showing his money so carelessly among strangers, and wished she could go back and make him heed. What a senseless loss, to die over a few pounds. Was that the price of a life, then?

THE RAIN WAS STILL LASHING DOWN WHEN HART AND NELL ARRIVED before the door of her lodgings, but rather than hurry off as he usually did, Hart stood silently, his head bowed. Nell thought again of Wat's great bulk struggling against his bonds and him dying alone and helpless in a ditch.

"A mighty heart he had," Hart said, and he began to weep, great wrenching sobs. Nell pulled him to her, murmuring love and comfort against his chest, noting how slender he felt in her arms. In all the times he had walked her home that summer, he had never tried to bed her, never asked to come in, never asked her into his lodgings in Henrietta Street nearby, and she had been afraid to wonder about the reasons or to tell him how she felt about him. But tonight was different.

"My Hart," she said. "My heart. Come."

IT WAS COLD IN NELL'S ROOM, AND BED WAS THE ONLY PLACE TO KEEP warm. Hart stood in his shirt and breeches, the moonlight falling silvery across his pale skin. Nell went to him. She had been with so many men, but tonight all felt new. He kissed her softly, and unfastened her bodice and skirt. They fell to the floor in a soft pool around her feet. His eyes on hers, he lifted her shift and pulled it off, then kissed her again, and his hands were warm and gentle on her skin as he drew her with him into bed, his dark hair falling over her face as he kissed her throat.

Despite how she had burned for him, she felt shy. But under his touch, she caught fire. She had never been with a man who cared for her pleasure as well as his own. For all the countless men who had spent inside her, she had never come off herself. But tonight she did, her heart and soul seeming to coalesce in a molten pool in the pit of her belly.

After, Hart held her. His tears had stopped and soon his breathing told her he was asleep. Wat's face came again into Nell's mind. But despite the horror of his death, with her head upon Hart's chest and his arms encircling her, Nell felt safe as she had never felt before.

THE SHOW WENT ON THE NEXT DAY, AS IT MUST IF THE PLAYHOUSE was to survive. One of Clun's murderers had been apprehended, an Irishman who refused to give up the names of his accomplices. But the news was little comfort. Wat was gone, and his absence seemed to echo throughout the playhouse.

"He was going to teach me," Nell said to Hart, watching over his shoulder in the mirror as he wiped the makeup from his face.

John Lacy was nearby, brushing the lint from his coat. "If Wat was going to teach you, then we shall have to do it instead, eh, Charlie?"

"Certainly," said Hart. "And if you work hard, I'll put you on in Thomaso. It's a comedy of Killigrew's, in two parts. There's just the role for you, a saucy young doxy. Just a few scenes, so you can get your feet wet."

"I cannot read," Nell blurted, ashamed.

"No more did I think you could," Hart said. "I'll read your words to you, and you can learn them by repeating them back until you have them down. And for the rest"-he waved his arm to indicate all else that his twenty years upon the stage had taught him-"Lacy and I can teach you."

" '' TIS THE HUMOR OF MOST MEN, THEY LOVE DIFFICULTY AND RICHES. Slight them, they are yours forever,' " Nell recited.

"Again," said Hart. "From the gut, and think of your voice bouncing off the back wall of the theater. Remember what a racket you're fighting against onstage. Just use your orange-selling voice." That helped, and Nell was proud to get Hart's smile of approval when she repeated the line.

She ran through her whole first speech again, trying to remember everything at once-to address her lines to the actors onstage and yet keep her face forward so the audience could see her well; to keep her feet planted firm and stand straight; to speak her words clearly and loudly without shouting.

"Good," said Hart. "Good. You would have done Wat proud."

NELL WAS NERVOUS ON THE MORNING OF THE FIRST REHEARSAL FOR Thomaso. The stage door keeper, Eddie Gibbs, greeted her as usual, but today she felt different. Today she was entering the playhouse as an actress. She paused a moment outside the greenroom door, her heart pumping in her throat. Much of the cast had already a.s.sembled around the big table, and Nell felt curious and appraising glances as she entered. Killigrew was using the play as an opportunity to try the talents of several new girls, and among the established members of the company were the newcomers Elizabeth Weaver, Betty Hall, Betsy Knepp, and the sisters Frances and Elizabeth Davenport, eyeing each other and Anne Marshall, who was playing the lead.

Nell smiled at the group, wondering if the new girls all knew that Hart was her lover, and whether they were predisposed to resent her for it, or whether they perhaps regarded her as safely out of the running for the bigger fish they might be angling for. Hester Davenport, formerly of the Duke's Company, had just given birth to a son by the Earl of Oxford, with whom she was living in luxury as a wife in all but name.

Nell was grateful to see Kate Corey and slipped into the empty seat next to her.

"You'll be fine," Kate whispered to her. "And just you stick with me if any of these cats start to hiss."

Nell looked at the actresses and thought of the girls at Madam Ross's jealously guarding their regulars. She was glad that Hart had drilled her in her part so well, and that she had repeated the words to herself in bed each night before she fell asleep so that they now came to her without thinking. When it came to rehearsals, she would not have to worry about her lines and would only have to learn her movements.

Killigrew had written Thomaso during the long closure of the theaters, and it had not yet been performed, so everyone was new to their parts. Killigrew read the script aloud to the a.s.sembled cast. He took on each of the characters as he read the play, to Nell's delight, and she remembered that he had been an actor himself in the old days. Hart had told her that the boy Killigrew had gotten his start in the theater by going on as a little devil at the Red Bull so that he could see the other plays free. As he read the lines of the mountebank Lopus, she thought she could picture him as a mischievous round-faced lad dressed up with tail and horns. The company laughed heartily at his performance, and Nell yearned to begin rehearsals in earnest.

When Killigrew had done reading, the prompter handed around the sides-each actor's lines and cues, copied from the precious fair copy that would be kept at the theater and turned into a promptbook. Killigrew appointed rehearsal times for the rest of the week, and the work for the day was over.

Nell was to be at the rehearsal the next morning, and she was so elated at being finally counted among the company's actresses that she didn't even mind selling oranges during the afternoon's performance of The General, a tragedy that she found dull. Dorset and Sedley were there, apparently enjoying the play more by making sport of it than by watching it, and she bantered happily with them during the interval.

"What a bacon-faced fool that general is," Sedley said. " 'My rival do but possess her,' says he. Why, pox, what is there more to be had of a woman than the possessing her?" Though Nell's interest in Dorset had dimmed to no more than a slight flicker since Hart had become her lover, Sedley's remark reminded her that she had promised herself not to put herself too much in Dorset's company, so she gave a fullthroated cry of "Oranges! Fine oranges!" and turned her back on the laughing duo.

WHEN THE DAY OF THE FIRST PERFORMANCE OF THOMASO CAME, IT seemed very strange to Nell to listen to the buzz and laughter of the audience from the women's tiring room instead of being in the thick of things with her basket of oranges. But it was a feeling she could happily get used to, she thought. She thanked the tire-woman, Rachel Brown, for lacing her bodice, and checked her reflection in the mirror. She loved the gold-colored dress that she wore as Paulina, and turned this way and that to admire it. Its skirt fell in heavy folds, and she felt like she stood in the center of some great blooming flower.

"Here, a little more red to your cheeks," Kate Corey said, helping her. "Just so. Now don't forget to p.i.s.s afore you go on. That was the mistake I made the first day I went onstage. Oliver's skull is right back there."

"Oliver's skull?"

Kate indicated the chamber pot tucked behind a screen, and Nell giggled in delight at the thought that Cromwell's hated name had come to mean a lowly p.i.s.spot.

Nell's first scene was the second scene of the play, and when she and Betty Hall made their entrance as the courtesans Paulina and Saretta, in their wildly colorful gowns and accoutrements, she was electrified by the feeling of all eyes turned upon her.

" 'Would the army were drawn into garrison,'" Betty lamented. " 'I long for some fresh lovers to dress our house.' "

Their wry bantering commentary on the foibles of men was well calculated to get the crowd in a laughing mood at the start of the play, and by a few lines into the scene, describing ladies whose beauty was made up of cosmetics and accessories, Nell could feel that the audience was primed and with her.

" 'Death,' " she trilled. " 'They'll make love to petticoats! One that never goes to bed all, nor sleeps in a whole skin, one whose teeth, eyes, and hair rest all night in a box, and her chamber lies strewed with her loose members, high shoes, false back and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, while he hugs a dismembered carca.s.s!' " The audience howled, and Nell felt the scene was over entirely too soon.