Player's Wench

by Marina Oliver

  PLAYER'S WENCH

  BY

  MARINA OLIVER

  Honour Atwell is the despair of her father, a wealthy City merchant. She is too beautiful, too lively, too rebellious.

  She must be married as soon as possible to a suitably sober husband, but Honour prefers the romantic Robert Reade, who sails in his father's ships.

  She is fascinated by the newly opened Restoration Theatre, and determines to visit it.

  She persuades her father's apprentice to accompany her to Drury Lane, where she is enthralled by the play.

  Outside, however, disaster strikes. Rescued by the charismatic Gervase Dunstone, her life changes and she begins to realise her dream.

  Player's Wench

  By Marina Oliver

  Copyright © 2016 Marina Oliver

  Smashwords Edition

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Cover Design by Debbie Oliver

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Print edition first published 1979 by Robert Hale

  See details of other books by Marina Oliver at

  http:/www.marina-oliver.net.

  AUTHOR NOTE

  During the 1650s the theatre was officially banned, but new theatres were opened once King Charles II was restored to his throne.

  For the first time women performed on public stages, and were a great attraction to the gallants. Nell Gwynn, of course, is the most famous.

  New plays were written, especially comedies where shapely girls could don breeches and strut about the stage.

  PLAYER'S WENCH

  BY MARINA OLIVER

  Chapter 1

  'It must be so very exciting,' Honour said wistfully, gazing up at the tall dark man beside her. 'I do so wish I were a boy and could go to sea!'

  He laughed, throwing back his head and emitting a hearty guffaw, then briefly put his arm about her shoulders and hugged her to him.

  'I' faith, 'tis mighty tedious at times,' he replied, 'and I for one have no wish for you to change your sex. You're too enticing, my pretty one!'

  Honour blushed and lowered her eyes. 'It cannot be tedious,' she insisted. 'Indeed I would not find it so, travelling to all kinds of strange places, having fantastic adventures, fighting the wind and the sea.'

  'And the Barbary pirates?' he interposed. 'It would not be such an amusing adventure to be captured by them, and forced to slave in their galleys.'

  'No – o,' she admitted slowly, 'but surely our ships are too big and powerful to be captured by such pirates?'

  'In the usual way, yes, but they can be wrecked, and off a hostile coast that is unpleasant, with or without pirates. Have you ever seen our ships?'

  'Only in the river, and they look the most exciting vessels there.'

  'They are plaguey uncomfortable! Would you like it, being cooped up with a hundred or so fellows for weeks on end, no sight of land, and no fresh food to eat, and nothing to look forward to when you did reach port apart from endless work reloading the cargo?'

  'It cannot be so bad,' she protested.

  'You cannot come on a voyage, but I could show you over one of the ships. Could you come now?'

  'Oh, Robert, would you? I would indeed love to see one, but – I ought to take this home, that I was sent to buy. And Father would never give me permission to with you.'

  'Can you not slip out without his knowledge?'

  Honour shook her head doubtfully. 'I do not think so, but I would so like to see even a little of the ship.'

  'There is one moored beside the Tower, only a few minutes away, and the Captain is a very good fellow. He would let me take you on board. Why not come now? You can surely spare a half hour?'

  'They will scold me for being late,' she answered slowly.

  'Then shall I come and beg your father's permission? It must be soon, because I leave again in three days.'

  'So soon?' she asked, disappointment showing in her voice.

  'A short voyage this time, to the Baltic,' he answered. 'In fact, my father was proposing to come and visit yours before I go away again, for a very special purpose.'

  He put his finger under her chin and forced her to turn her face towards him, looking down into her eyes and smiling in a way that set her heart beating uncomfortably.

  'I – I did not think my father traded with yours a great deal,' she murmured, confused by her feelings.

  Robert laughed. 'No, they do not, but there is hope of more trade shortly,' he said with a laugh in his voice. 'Come, we waste time, will you not venture?'

  Honour suddenly made up her mind.

  'Indeed I will,' she declared, and he laughed in triumph and took her arm, swinging her round to guide her back towards the grey walls of the Tower that loomed, forbiddingly, close by.

  'Tell me all about the ships,' Honour demanded and Robert was laughingly attempting to describe some of the main features of the vessels when a disapproving voice from behind caused Honour to swing round, uttering a gasp of dismay.

  'And where might you be going, sister?' demanded a haughty girl some two years older than Honour. 'Good day to you, Mr Reade.'

  'Temperance!' Honour exclaimed. 'I did not expect to see you.'

  'That is obvious! Where were you going? You appear to have completed your marketing, so why are you not on your way home?'

  'I was going with Robert to see one of his ships!' Honour responded angrily.

  'Indeed? Have you our father's permission? I cannot think he would grant it! Why are you unescorted? He should have sent a maid with you.'

  'Oh, Temperance, you know full well we do not need a maid simply to come to market! Besides, they are all kept far too busy.'

  'That is to keep idle hands from mischief, and you prove the wisdom of the practice! Father has not given you permission, has he?'

  'I cannot think Mr Atwell would object to my taking Honour for a short stroll to view one of the ships, Mistress Malgrave,' Robert interposed smoothly, but Temperance was not mollified.

  'Indeed?' she replied coldly. 'Then you can have no knowledge of his idea of proper behaviour for his daughters. Come, Honour, since you lack adequate escort, I will myself see you home. Good day to you, Mr Reade.'

  Robert cast Honour a glance of amused resignation, and as Temperance turned her back on him, blew Honour a kiss. She coloured slightly, and began to follow her sister. When, at the end of the street, she glanced back over her shoulder, she was disappointed to find he had disappeared, but hugged to herself the hope she might see him again in the next few days, before he sailed. She began to speculate on whether his words about his father visiting hers could mean what she hoped. Was it possible, she asked herself, that Robert Reade, a man of five and twenty, who had caused many female hearts to flutter, was really attracted to her?

  *

  She knew she was pretty, for her father was ever bemoaning the fact, and saying it led her into vanity. He could do little about her enormous green eyes and delightful heart-shaped face, but he was strictly mindful she obeyed his injunction to drag her luxuriant dark golden curls away from her face, and tie them with the shortest,
narrowest piece of ribbon that would serve. He forced her to wear the plainest of gowns, as did all the women of his household, and he was resentfully puzzled when he realised they enhanced Honour's beauty rather than detracting from it. Even the absence of lace at her throat and wrists seemed to emphasise, by the severity it gave to her dress, the vivacity of her enchanting countenance.

  When Honour, much younger, had ventured to ask him why he was always complaining she was pretty, for she had thought it something most girls longed for, he had explained to her he considered it a trap for the unwary, a temptation to her to fall into the sin of vanity, and a snare for wicked men to encourage ungodly lusts.

  'But I heard you say to Mother that old Mr Johnston lusted after the widow Beeston,' the ten-year-old Honour had unwisely remarked, 'and she is not in the least pretty!'

  Six years later Honour understood much more than she had then, and could smile at the explosion of wrath that had seized her father at this innocent remark. But she still resented his strictures on what she could not help, and thought him unfair to accuse her of vanity, for she spent little time in front of her mirror, and only thought of her looks when he or another happened to comment on them.

  Her reflections on these matters were interrupted when Temperance proceeded to read her a lecture about her immodest behaviour in talking with Robert Reade, and wickedness in contemplating visiting one of the ships in his company.

  Honour bore it with tolerable composure, for she was well accustomed to receiving scolds from her elder sister, and knew the surest way to terminate them was to agree meekly with whatever Temperance said, and not seek to excuse or justify herself. That merely provoked Temperance into longer and more acrimonious discourses. Her self-possession was overthrown, however, when Temperance began to abuse Robert as a ne'er-do-well wastrel, with an evil reputation where women were concerned.

  'You know nought of him apart from spiteful gossip,' she declared. 'He is not a wastrel, indeed he works harder than do most men, for he goes on dangerous voyages, in the most dreadful conditions!'

  Temperance sniffed. 'I doubt he does much of use on them. And 'tis well known his father sends him to get him away from trouble here.'

  'You dislike him because he is merry and not pinch-nosed like your Thomas and all his friends!' Honour exclaimed.

  'I can see he has bewitched you,' her sister replied. 'I hope you are not fool enough to believe any of his promises, or you will soon find yourself disappointed.'

  'As to that, we shall see!' Honour replied.

  'We shall indeed, and also see what Father has to say of your wicked behaviour.'

  They went the rest of the way, down Lombard Street and into Cheapside, in silence, and when they reached the shop where Mr Atwell conducted his business as a mercer, Honour left her sister without a word to take her purchases to the kitchen. She busied herself there as she helped the cook prepare dinner, wondering rebelliously what tales her father was hearing, and what excuses she dare offer when she was called to account for her actions. She longed to be able to tell her father of Robert's implied promise, but judged it wiser to hold her peace. In the first place, she could not be absolutely sure he meant what she had thought, and even if he did her father would be angry to think she had dared to discuss it with Robert, for marriages were made by the parents of the couple involved, not by them.

  Temperance had departed to her own home by dinnertime, and Honour watched her father anxiously during the meal, wondering if by some wonderful chance her sister had failed to inform him of her transgressions. He seemed preoccupied, and announced he would be out for most of the afternoon. Honour was breathing a sigh of relief when he rose from the table, but then he turned to her, gave her a considering look, nodded, and curtly told her to come to the office where he interviewed his more important customers an hour before supper.

  She endured the afternoon as best she might, and presented herself at the appointed hour in some trepidation. Her father was seated behind a large oak table, littered with papers, and he looked up frowningly when she entered the room, and sighed.

  'Come here, child, and sit down. You must realise how distressed and mortified I am that a daughter of mine should behave in so disgraceful a fashion as you did this morning. What have you to say for yourself?'

  Honour seated herself on the edge of an uncomfortable chair, and glanced quickly at her father. He did not seem to be in such a rage as she had expected, and she thankfully put this down to the business which had taken him out that afternoon.

  'I did not mean any harm, Father,' she replied in a low voice. 'I merely wished to see one of the Merchant Adventurers' ships, and Robert Reade offered to take me. I had met him in the market, and he told me of the voyages, and offered to show me one of the ships, for he said it was not so adventurous as I had imagined.'

  'If he admits that, he has more sense than I would have thought,' Mr Atwell commented acidly. 'However, that is not the issue. You should not be talking alone with young men, especially young men with such bad reputations as Robert Reade!'

  'I have not heard aught against him,' Honour said, turning limpid innocent eyes towards her father's stern countenance. 'What is he supposed to have done?'

  'H'mph!' Mr Atwell muttered. 'I do not wish you to know,' he continued irritably. 'It is not seemly.'

  'I thought there could be no harm, since we have known the Reades all our lives,' Honour went on, smiling hopefully at her father.

  'That may be, but we do not always have the choice of our acquaintances,' Mr Atwell responded. 'However, I have made arrangements for you, since it seemed to me you need more to occupy your thoughts instead of permitting yourself to fall into mischief, if not worse. I have agreed to your betrothal to William Sutton, the son of my old friend John Sutton. They have suggested this match for some time now, and I was reluctant, for I hoped to do better for you, but now I think it would be wise to clinch the deal.'

  Honour gasped in dismay when he mentioned a betrothal, and as soon as he paused she broke into anxious speech.

  'But I do not know this man William Sutton,' she cried. 'I have heard you speak of his father, but I cannot recall ever meeting him.'

  'What is that to the point?' her father demanded. 'It can soon be remedied. In fact, I have asked the Suttons here to supper tomorrow night, so that you can meet William.'

  'Is – is there no one else?' she asked hesitantly, thinking of Robert's hint.

  Mr Atwell looked at her in some astonishment.

  'Naturally I have had several offers for you,' he replied. 'I have had to consider them all very carefully. Since God has seen fit to deny me sons to carry on my business when I am gone, I must make what provision I can through my daughters. Temperance made a useful match with Mr Malgrave. It is always wise to have connections with the goldsmiths, and I have you and Patience to bring me connections with other companies, and give me a son who will carry on my business. William is a second son, and as such cannot hope to control his father's affairs, but he belongs to the Merchant Taylors and that will be very useful. I'll not deny I had hoped for a match with a banker in Amsterdam, but since we appear to have many quarrels with the Dutch these last few years that prospect must be forgotten. Indeed it could not be since the complaint the clothiers made to the King, and Parliament's request that he provide redress against their actions. You must realise that as my daughter you are much sought after. John Sutton has many connections with the East India Company, and William will be well provided for through that and John's own business. I think I have done as well as could be expected for you, and I trust you will turn your thoughts away from unsuitable things and be a credit to me. Now you may go.'

  *

  Relieved to have avoided a scolding for her transgressions that morning, yet shattered by the news of this betrothal, Honour contrived to keep silence and escape from the room. She made her way at once to the small room that was her mother's sanctum, and went in. Mistress Atwell looked up from her sewing, and promptly
found an errand to occupy Patience, Honour's ten-year-old sister, for a considerable time, then bade Honour to sit on the cushion vacated by Patience.

  Honour sank down on to it, and laid her head on her mother's knee. She had never been frightened of her mother as she was sometimes of her father, for Mistress Atwell adored her children. She did her utmost to shield them from the strictures of her stern husband, braving his anger to comfort them when he treated them harshly, and often surreptitiously bringing them food when he banished them supperless to bed after some misdemeanour.

  'Did you know what he planned?' Honour asked, and her mother stroked her head gently.

  'I knew what he hoped, and he told me when he returned this afternoon that it was settled. Were you surprised at the news?'

  'I do not know William Sutton,' Honour said slowly. 'I know his older brother John a little, but he is much older than we are, and Temperance and I rarely met him.'

  'I understand William has been with an uncle in Norwich for some years,' her mother replied. 'His mother was an excellent woman, and always spoke well of him. It is a pity she is dead, for you would have liked her. You will meet the rest of the family tomorrow night.'

  Honour was silent for a while, then she suddenly turned to her mother, her lips trembling.

  'Father said he had received other offers. Has he – do you know if he has had one from – from Mr Reade?'

  Mistress Atwell's eyes narrowed in sudden comprehension, and she grasped the hand Honour raised towards her as if in supplication.

  'He has not discussed them all with me,' she said carefully. 'Were you hoping that he had?'

  Speechlessly Honour nodded, and her mother's hand gripped hers firmly.

  'Robert is attractive, is he not, my dear? Yet – I would not choose him for you even if I could.'

  'Why not, Mother?' Honour asked, puzzled. 'Temperance says spiteful things against him, but it is all gossip!'

  Mistress Atwell smiled and shook her head. 'It is not all gossip, my dear. There is usually something to start the gossip, and Robert has an unsavoury reputation with women. There was trouble long ago, when he was a mere boy and became entangled with a married woman, and there have been several times since when he has been the subject of scandal. Has he said aught to you, made any promises?'