by Jean Plaidy
She was repelled by it and yet excited. She had welcomed the opportunity to let him know that although most women found him irresistible, she did not. She was relieved however when Daly announced to the company his intention to marry Mrs Lyster.
The wedding was celebrated by a party back stage, which Dorothy attended with the rest of the company. Mrs Daly was very proud of her swaggering squinting husband and, thought Dorothy, welcome to him.
The bridegroom had a word or two with her.
‘I’m disappointed in you,’ he told her. ‘I’d hoped to find you heart-broken.’
‘Although I condole with the bride,’ retorted Dorothy, ‘I can hardly be expected to break my heart for her.’
‘And what of the bridegroom?’
‘He’s a man who will know how to look after himself, I don’t doubt.’
‘True, Miss Francis. I know a wise woman like you would recognize in him a man who won’t be denied what he wants.’
‘I am sure Mrs Daly will be able to satisfy all his needs.’
With that Dorothy turned away. In spite of her mockery, he disturbed her.
Shortly after the wedding Ryder told her that he had had to relinquish the lease of the Smock Alley theatre.
‘What will that mean?’ asked Dorothy. ‘If someone else takes it they’ll set up in opposition to Crow Street.’
‘It means exactly that. But I can’t pay the rent just to stop someone else opening up.’
‘But two theatres can’t be filled. You know how hard it is to fill one.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m in debt to the tune of thousands of pounds and the owners have offered to waive the debt if I give up the lease. There’s nothing I can do but give it up. It may be that they’ll use the building for something other than the theatre. I can tell you this, it will be a great weight off my mind and off my pocket to be rid of the place.’
The deal went through and Ryder was more at ease than he had been for a long time. Richard Daly was strutting about the theatre as though he were premier actor, manager and owner of the place. He was clearly delighted with his marriage.
Dorothy heard the news through Ryder.
‘Who do you think has taken over Smock Alley? Richard Daly! And he’s going to open up in opposition.’
In the stalls every night sat a young soldier. There were many soldiers in Dublin who came regularly to the theatre but there was something persistent about this one and very soon the company was referring to him as Francis’s admirer.
He was very young – scarcely good-looking, but extremely earnest; and there was no doubt that he was in love.
Flowers and gifts were arriving back-stage for Dorothy and at length she consented to see the young man. She could not help being touched by his naîvety. On the first meeting he proposed marriage.
Very soon Dorothy took him to the family’s lodgings where Grace eagerly studied him. Dorothy was amused because her mother’s dearest wish to see her married was becoming more of an obsession. ‘You are doing well now,’ she would say, ‘but never forget that the life of an actress is a precarious one. The public can drop you as quickly as it takes you up. Look what a private income did for Mrs Lyster.’
‘It bought Richard Daly,’ mocked Dorothy.
‘I don’t mean that. He’ll doubtless run through her fortune for her.’
‘Not he. She’s too good a business woman and he too good a business man for that to happen.’
‘Dorothy, you must learn to be a business woman.’
‘Very well. I’ll start taking lessons.’
‘But best of all is a rich husband to take care of you,’ affirmed Grace. ‘We must find out more about Charles Doyne.’
Dear Charles, he was so young and so much in love! She was sure she could be quite happy married to him. He would never interfere with her career, and it would be pleasant to have a constant admirer. She had to admit that she was not deeply in love with the young man though she liked him well enough, and the more she compared him with Richard Daly the more she liked him. Though why she could compare him with that man seemed irrelevant. What was important was that he would be a docile husband, and there would be children. She had discovered in herself a great desire to have children. It was not that she was so fond of other people’s children; it was those of her own which she wanted. And one of her mother’s most constant fears was that – as in her own case – there might be children without marriage.
Grace was making inquiries. A cornet in the Second Regiment of Horse. A cornet! What did Dorothy think they were paid? The young man was of good family though, his father being Dean of Leighlin, but Grace knew how such families viewed the marriages of their sons with actresses. She must consider with extreme caution.
It was Grace who discovered that Doyne’s income was of the smallest and so was his pay; his family might be good but they were not wealthy and it was clear that the couple would get no support from them.
‘I can continue acting,’ pointed out Dorothy, ‘and we shall be much in the same position as before.’
‘There is the family to be supported and what if you started a family of your own? No, my dear, I see nothing but a life of drudgery. Consider this very carefully. Fortunately you are not in love with the young man.’
No, conceded Dorothy, that was true. And a rising actress did not accept marriage from an impecunious young man merely because she wanted legitimate children. Hester joined her voice to Grace’s and since Charles Doyne was too meek to be a persistent suitor and Dorothy herself could view the relationship from the most practical of viewpoints, she quietly told him that she could not accept his proposal.
Young Charles was desolate and when the company went on tour he made the most of his leave to follow it to Waterford in the hope that Dorothy would change her mind. But she was firm in her resolve and this was strengthened by the fact that the opening of Smock Alley had taken so much business from Ryder that he was forced to cut salaries.
‘Business,’ he said mournfully, ‘is bad. We’re playing to empty houses. Most of it’s going to Smock Alley.’
Ryder grudgingly accepted the fact that Daly was a good business man and with his wife’s money behind him a formidable rival.
It was clearly no time for an insecure actress with family responsibilities to consider marrying a young man who had little beyond his pay as a comet in a regiment of horse.
Dorothy was firm, and accepting defeat Charles Doyne began to look elsewhere for a wife.
Another cut in salary. Dorothy was getting worried. Grace said: ‘I don’t know how we’ll manage. The public is deserting Crow Street for Smock Alley every night. I’ve seen this sort of thing happen before. People like something new. And they say that Daly has engaged John Kemble.’
‘How will he be able to pay his salary?’ pondered Hester.
‘Daly was wise,’ replied Grace. ‘He married a woman who could not only help to fill his theatre by her own performances but could pay for those of others. He’s a very clever gentleman. He’ll go up and the more he rises the lower will Tom Ryder fall.’
‘It’s a gloomy prospect,’ agreed Dorothy. She hated playing to half empty houses almost as much as receiving a small salary, but it was no use complaining to Tom Ryder, for what could he do?
While they were discussing the state of affairs a young boy arrived with a note for Miss Dorothy Francis.
Grace, recognizing whence the boy came, could scarcely suppress her excitement.
Dorothy opened it and read that Richard Daly requested the favour of a visit from Miss Dorothy Francis to his office at the Smock Alley Theatre that afternoon as he had a proposition to put before her.
Grace and Hester could not hide their delight which was mostly relief. Here was a way out of their troubles for there could be no doubt what that note meant. One of the remaining draws at Crow Street was Dorothy Francis and Daly wanted her at Smock Alley.
Dorothy hesitated while her mother and sister looked at
her in astonishment.
‘Don’t you know what it means?’ demanded Hester.
‘Of course I know what it means.’
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’
‘Tom Ryder gave me my chance.’
‘He would be the first to say Go. Besides we can’t live on what he’s paying you.’
‘And then…’
‘Then what for Heaven’s sake?’
‘With Mrs Daly in the company what parts should I get?’
‘Nonsense. They’re in business. They’re going to give the parts to the actress the public wants to see in them. You’ve got to go and see him.’
‘I’ll see Tom first.’
Grace lifted her eyes to the ceiling. Sometimes she thought Dorothy’s heart would rule her head; but Hester thought Dorothy would make the right decision because always she considered her duty to her family before anything else.
Tom Ryder regarded her sadly.
‘You’ve got to go, Dorothy,’ he said. ‘Crow Street will be closing down if we go on like this. I said there wasn’t room for the two of us, didn’t I?’
‘I shall never forget what you did for me.’
‘All in a matter of business, my dear. And that’s what you must consider. If you don’t accept this offer now, there might not be another. The profession was never a bed of roses.’
So she saw that she must go. She had been hoping all the time that they would persuade her against this.
Daly! She could not get that sly lecherous face out of her mind. She had in a way enjoyed their encounters in Crow Street; it would be different in Smock Alley where he would be something more than a fellow performer.
In Smock Alley she would be to some extent in his power. On him she would depend for parts and salary.
It was a challenge, but a disturbing one.
Moreover, there was the family to consider.
Tragedy in Smock Alley
DALY RECEIVED HER with a mixture of effusiveness and mockery.
So she wanted to come to Smock Alley. He had thought she would. He would pay her three pounds a week as he was paying Kemble only five. What did she think of that?
‘It is what I expect,’ she told him.
‘Then I am delighted to satisfy your expectations. I hope you will satisfy mine.’
‘I have not quite decided whether I wish to come.’
‘Not for a chance to play opposite Kemble for three pounds a week?’
‘Ryder gave me my first chance.’
‘Don’t be an idiot, girl. This is the serious business of the theatre. There’s no room for sentiment.’
‘I happen not to agree.’
‘That’s what I like about you, Dorothy. You always make me convince you.’
‘You have never yet succeeded in convincing me on anything.’
‘That’s to come,’ he promised.
Mrs Daly appeared. He said: ‘My dear, Miss Francis wants to come to Smock Alley.’
‘Of course,’ said Mrs Daly. ‘Crow Street can’t hold out much longer.’
Mrs Daly was a satisfying presence. Daly was not so much in awe of her as of her money and she was wise enough to keep a firm hold on the purse strings which was the only way of keeping a firm hold on Daly.
It will be all right, Dorothy assured herself. There’s always Mrs Daly.
Grace was delighted. What a good move it had been over to Smock Alley! Dorothy was now getting her chance and her reputation had grown considerably.
True to his word Daly had given her some good parts.
Walpole’s successful Gothic novel, The Castle of Otranto, had been dramatized under the title of The Count of Narbonne and it was played with Kemble in the main part and Dorothy as Adelaide, Dublin flocked to see it and theatregoers were all talking of the brilliant young Miss Francis.
One evening when she came offstage flushed with triumph Daly sent for her to come to his office where she found him alone.
‘Well,’ he demanded. ‘Ryder didn’t know how to treat his actresses. It’s not the same with Daly. Grateful?’
‘Grateful indeed for a chance of a good part.’
He put a hand on her shoulder; it was a habit of his to lay his hands on female members of his company when he was near them. Dorothy tried to shrug him off without appearing to do so; but he smiled fully aware of her intentions.
‘You don’t show your gratitude,’ he complained.
‘I have thanked you. What more do you expect?’
‘A great deal more.’
‘What more can an actress give than to play a part well.’
‘There are many parts to be played, Dorothy my dear; and if you wish to succeed you must play them all with skill.’
‘I hope you have some good ones for me,’ she said lightly.
‘Excellent ones, my love. And because you are wise as well as devilishly attractive you will play them magnificently.’
‘I shall do my best; and now I will say good night.’
She had turned, but he was between her and the door.
‘I did not send for you to receive a mild “Thank you for giving me a good part, sir.” ’
‘Then what?’ she said.
He seized her by the shoulders. The strength of the man alarmed her.
‘Kiss me to start with,’ he said.
She turned her face away. ‘The prospect does not enchant me.’
She was bent backwards so violently that she cried out in pain. He laughed and forcibly kissed her lips.
She struggled and tried to grip his hair but she was powerless against him.
She gasped: ‘I hear footsteps. They sound like Mrs Daly’s.’
He held her, listening. Indeed there were footsteps. She was not sure that they were Mrs Daly’s; nor was he; and he could not afford to be unsure. She took her opportunity to throw him off and in a moment she had opened the door and was gone.
She was shaken. It was not unexpected. If it were not for the presence of Mrs Daly in the theatre she would be in real danger.
Her great chance to show her talents had come. Only in Smock Alley could she do so. If she left where could she go? There was nowhere else. To England? Could an actress – unknown in that country – hope to get a chance? She saw penury ahead; the entire family in acute poverty.
She was between that and the unwelcome attentions of Richard Daly. Never had her prospects as an actress been brighter; never had her reputation been in greater danger. In Smock Alley she could be seen by English managers, perhaps even London managers. She must stay in Smock Alley until she had enough fame to carry her elsewhere. And she could only do this if Daly permitted it. But what did keeping his good will entail?
She wanted to discuss this with Grace and Hester, but what was there to discuss? Grace would be terrified; it was the sort of situation which she had always feared, and what advice could she give? It was either leave and start again in the hope of getting employment – and where? – or remain and fight Daly.
There was no point in discussing it. It was a clear-cut case.
The brightest aspect of the affair was the presence of Mrs Daly. Dorothy staked her chances of victory on that lady.
In the office at the Smock Alley Theatre Mr and Mrs Daly were quarrelling.
‘I’ll not have you seducing every female member of the company,’ she declared.
‘Now, my dear, that is an exaggeration.’
‘All right. I’ll not have you seducing one member of the company.’
‘It is nothing. I must keep on friendly terms with the actresses. You know how temperamental they are. One has to flatter them all the time.’
‘You leave the flattering to me.’
‘My dearest, you are the cleverest woman in the world, but you are wrong in this case. I never give a thought to any woman but you.’
‘You’d do well to keep like that.’
He sighed. Without Mrs Daly he could really enjoy life. Business was tolerably good; Kemble was bringing th
em in and so was Dorothy. He had some good female parts to dispose of and, good business woman that Mrs Daly was, she had not always objected to their going to Dorothy, providing she herself had a better one – or at least as good. She had not put money into this venture to remain out of sight. The Smock Alley Theatre was to make money for them both and fame for herself. It was not asking too much, for even her greatest enemy would agree that she was a good actress.
She had continually to watch Richard; he simply could not leave women alone. Only the other day she had heard the mother of a young Italian Jewess demanding that he stop pressing his attentions on her daughter. ‘What do you want with my daughter?’ she had asked. ‘You have a fine wife of your own.’
It was humiliating and embarrassing; but in her opinion Richard was so attractive that most of the actresses must find him irresistible.
His power to dismiss them was certainly proving effective and it was whispered in the Green Room that there was scarcely a woman in the company who had not yielded to him. There was one, however, who constantly evaded his advances and this exasperated him beyond endurance. Did she think she was such a draw that she could afford to flout him? He was determined to show her that he would not be flouted; and as the days passed he could think of little but Dorothy and was determined to make her his mistress sooner or later.
He pretended to change his tactics, laughingly accepting her refusal to become his secret mistress. The relationship between them was to be manager and actress; and he hoped, he implied, one of friendship. He appreciated her talents, and whenever he could without alienating Mrs Daly he would give her the best parts.
Kemble was one of the greatest actors she had known and it was an education to play with him; it was not that she wanted spectacular parts as much as a chance to learn; Kemble was a good teacher. Delightedly she played Anne to his Richard Ill; she was given Maria in The School for Scandal – not as important a part as Lady Teazle but a good one nevertheless; she was Katharine in The Taming of the Shrew with Kemble a stimulating Petruchio. And she was happier than she had been for some time because she believed that Daly had at last accepted her persistent refusal to accept his advances. She was constantly hearing of the seduction of this and that small player and Mrs Daly’s jealousy. Let them, she thought. It has nothing to do with me. I’m becoming a great actress and one day I shall play comedy all the time and shall succeed in convincing managers that what the public like from me is a song and a dance.
