Player's Wench

by Marina Oliver

He laughed. 'I do apologise if Satan frightened you. No, I do not think you should hold horses for a living. Besides, you look so much more charming as a girl! I think I could help you, but not to become an orange girl! It would be much better if you returned home. I will come with you and beg clemency from your father, for both of you, and try to explain there is no harm in the theatre.'

  'No! Oh, sir, he would never listen to you, and he would be even more angry with us for having returned here! I will not go back! I shall run away if you make me!'

  'Foolish one, I cannot make you! But you cannot know what it means to be separated from your family! You love your mother, and your sister too, I have no doubt, and probably your father, though he is harsh towards you.'

  'I do not care! I will never go back to being in his power. Now I have escaped and will do what I want to, not have him dispose of me how he wills, and no thought given to my feelings on the matter. I will not be forced to wed some horrible man! I would prefer anything to that.'

  'Very well. You may later change your mind, but I will help you. I have several friends in the theatre, and though I cannot promise to make you an actress there are many other ways in which you could work in the theatre. Not as an orange girl, though! I share Ben's view that such a job is not for you.'

  'What else is there?' she asked doubtfully.

  'Can you sew? There is always a deal of sewing to be done, making and mending the costumes, and then helping the women to dress, and doing their hair. Once you are in the theatre, there might be opportunities for you to take small parts, if you wished it still.'

  Honour was staring at him with shining eyes, her hands clasped in front of her.

  'Oh, sir, that would be wonderful!' she whispered.

  *

  She looked so delectable he was tempted to risk everything and ask her there and then to marry him, but the memory of Robert, and the thought that she must not be hurried stopped him. Instead, he turned to Ben and asked if he too wished to be employed in the theatre.

  Ben nodded eagerly. 'I do not wish to act, sir,' he said quickly, 'for I know well I could not speak in front of so large a crowd, but I like making things, I could perhaps help to make the scenery, and paint it! I never really wanted to be a mercer, but my father wished it, for they are the most powerful company!'

  'Indeed they are, and you must take care, Honour, that you are not discovered. I think you had best change your name, for then you will not be recognised. For Ben it does not matter, since his name will not be mentioned outside the theatre, but if you do take parts, you will become well known.'

  Honour smiled at the thought. 'I will change Honour too, for I have never liked it! It has always seemed an impossible name to live up to!'

  'Well, if you want a fitting name, I'll tell you what to choose. When first I saw your hair, it reminded me of deep golden honey. Why not call yourself Honey? It is appropriate, and unusual, and sufficiently like Honour for there to be no forgetting!'

  'Honey? Yes, I like that!' Honour exclaimed, and they fell to discussing a suitable surname for her to adopt. Thinking of the astonishment his uncle would feel if he could know what his nephew planned, Gervase suggested Andrew as a suitable name, with the same initial as Atwell, and they were satisfied.

  'But where are we to live?' Ben, the more practical of the pair asked.

  'Mother Betsy has a couple of spare rooms, and will be pleased to let you have them, I know. And you will be safe with her, she will care for you well.'

  'We cannot stay here!' Ben objected, suddenly suspicious, but Gervase coldly remarked he did not see why not.

  'I prefer you to be with someone I can trust to look after you, since I am in some way going to be responsible for you, and will myself be away for long spells.'

  They looked at him, Ben puzzled, and Honey, as he now thought of her, in slight apprehension.

  'We cannot pay for the rooms,' Ben persisted.

  'You cannot for the moment pay for any rooms,' Gervase reminded him. 'I will attend to that, and you may repay me when you receive your wages.'

  'But we do not yet have jobs!' Ben was determined, it seemed, to voice all possible objections.

  'There will be no problems over that. Come, if you have finished eating, we will see Mistress Carter and arrange about the rooms, and then I will take you to see Tom Killigrew.'

  *

  Mistress Carter was only too pleased to give her favourite lodger's friends her spare rooms, her only doubt being her fear they would despise such small rooms. Ben was relieved to find they were in fact much smaller and less well furnished than Mr Dunstone's first floor apartment, and situated at the top of the house, under the eaves. He still had many vague suspicions, but hesitated to voice them, for Mr Dunstone treated Honey much as he did Ben himself, and seemed to be much older. Besides, what else could they possibly do? To leave his protection would very likely land them in a worse predicament. Resolving to protect Honey from some only half-formed suspicions, Ben tried to dismiss his fears, an easy task once they were again in the theatre.

  Gervase said they had time to waste until Tom Killigrew would be free, so they might as well see the performance again, and he hired a box. This was far superior to the pit, and Honey, gleefully donning the mask Gervase produced for her, looked about her in tremulous excitement.

  He seemed to know many people, who came up to talk to him over the front of the box, and to whom he presented his young friends. By the time the play started Honey was accustomed to her new name, far more attractive to her than her real one, and she was responding shyly to some of the gallantries offered her by the men, who complimented Gervase on having discovered a new beauty.

  'Though how they can tell whether I am beautiful or not when I have on a mask is beyond me,' she said to him when they were for a moment alone. 'I suspect they say it without meaning, which may be pleasant, but is not complimentary!'

  He laughed, and did not attempt to persuade her it was not the hidden beauty of her face they praised, but the glorious golden hair, the bright eyes, the trim figure, and the vivacious air she had.

  The performance had barely started when there was a loud crack of thunder which momentarily drowned the actors' voices, and a flash of lightning that lit up the whole auditorium, dimming the candles that hung from the glass roof. Then the rain came down, and added its sound to the noise inside. Soon Honey noticed there were trickles of rain coming from the roof, and in a while the people in the pit were becoming uncomfortable.

  'How glad I am we are not in the pit today!' she exclaimed. 'Does it always let in the rain?'

  'When there is a downpour like this,' Gervase replied, laughing at her expression of disgust. 'We have had many thunderstorms this year, and the past few days have been so hot, one could have been expected.'

  'Yes, indeed,' Honey said, and retreated into a private world, remembering the becalmed ship that should have been taking Robert to the Baltic, and the mystery of his journey elsewhere. She sighed slightly. How would she know now when he was back, and how in the world could she get in touch with him again? Could there ever be a marriage? Surely, after what she had done, her father would disown her, and deep in her heart she feared Robert would not take her without the dowry and the connections her father could give.

  She sighed, and Gervase wondered, watching her intently, what was troubling her. Did she regret her decision? Ought he not to try again, before it was too late, to persuade her to return home and face her father?

  In one of the intervals, he broached the subject, but she turned such an astonished look on him, exclaiming she had thought all was settled, that he quickly excused himself, saying he thought only to mention it, and reassuring her he did intend to procure them employment as he had promised. Then he was himself thoughtful, wondering what had made her pensive.

  To distract her thoughts and his own, he beckoned the red-haired orange girl to them, and bought oranges. She replied gaily to his question of whether she had any dry ones left, and th
en glanced at Honey. She stared, frowning slightly, and then looked at Ben, and back to Honey.

  'Were you not here yesterday?' she asked suddenly. 'I could swear I have seen you before, and yet, I am not sure.'

  'Some chance resemblance, Nell!' Gervase interrupted, and she shook her head, frowned again, and then laughed.

  'I do not usually forget people!'

  She moved away to attend to another customer, and Honey breathed a sigh of relief. She did not really wish her exploit to become common knowledge. She would enjoy wearing breeches on the stage, she told herself, if she had the opportunity, but somehow to wear them in any other situation seemed something to keep to herself.

  *

  Chapter 5

  The play ended, a nervous Honey was taken backstage to meet once more Tom Killigrew. She and Ben soon found themselves back at Gervase's room, not quite believing they had been hired to work backstage at the King's House. For the meantime they were both to do a variety of simple tasks, as Gervase had suggested, and within a very short time they found themselves at home in the backstage world. Every day Gervase disappeared, and they did not discover where, for he never talked of his own affairs and Honey did not care to question him. Ben was indifferent, being too absorbed in his new life, and merely smiled abstractedly when Gervase sometimes appeared in the green room at the close of a performance, or when they encountered him at their lodgings.

  After a week he casually informed them he would be leaving London on the following day and might not be back for several weeks. Honey drew in her breath and looked at him apprehensively. Without realising it she had assumed he would always be there in the background, a safe protector, and the thought of being alone but for Ben disconcerted her.

  As he saw the look of mute appeal, Gervase felt his firm resolutions about his behaviour towards Honey wavering. He had decided he must win her trust before displaying his feelings, which deepened for her every day, and so he deliberately behaved towards her in a cool and casual manner. Sternly he reminded himself of Robert, afraid that if he betrayed his love he might frighten her, and also of the task he had been given by his uncle which was to take him to Holland.

  During the King's exile Sir James Dunstone, his father, had lived at The Hague, and Gervase had spent his growing years sailing amongst the islands to the south, coming to know them and their people intimately. Now his uncle wished him to discover what he could of Dutch plans against England, to supplement the reports received from the regular agents.

  Honey recovered from her surprise, and said she trusted he would have a good journey. Gravely he thanked her, and changed the subject by asking what plays were being planned for the next few weeks. Honey followed his lead, and since all of the plays were new to her, he was able to explain something about them, and the coming separation was not again mentioned.

  *

  The next few months passed quickly. Honey and Ben were busy with their tasks at the theatre, and though Honey badly missed her mother and Patience, she was able to tell herself that one day she would see them again. Her conscience was eased slightly when she had persuaded Ben to deliver a letter to Mistress Atwell, through one of his apprentice friends, telling her she was well and happy, but dared not return home for fear of being pushed by her father into an unwelcome marriage. Proudly she announced she was earning her living, had decent lodgings, and begged her mother not to worry.

  Gervase's absence was far harder to bear. In a few days he had made so deep an impression on Honey that to be without him seemed most odd and unnatural. In many idle moments she found herself wondering where he was, what he was doing, and when he would return, and planning to surprise him by having achieved her ambition of acting on the stage.

  The actors were a friendly crowd, although it took Ben and Honey some time to become accustomed to their frequent and sudden explosions of wrath and unexpected quarrels. These excitements were soon over, however, and actors who had one minute seemed ready to murder one another would the next be falling into each other's arms, helpless with laughter at their own or someone else's folly, and drinking one another's healths. Some enmities went deeper, when they were caused by jealousy over the parts given to others, or the favours granted by the women of the company, but these were few.

  Honey quickly came to realise most of the women had their lovers, and had, after her initial reaction of disapproval that was a result of her stern upbringing, come to accept it as a normal part of this exciting new world. She did not so readily accept the advances made to her by some of the men in the company, who tended to regard each new woman as a potential mistress. At first she had repulsed them angrily, and been rather frightened, but when one of the older women, perceptive and kind, had talked with her one day, she was able to follow her advice and reject the overtures more lightly.

  'Tell them you've a lover who'll slit their noses for them,' she advised. 'There's nothing actors fear more than to have their looks spoiled. No matter if it's true or not, it will keep them in order!'

  When her duties permitted it, Honey spent her time in the wings watching the actors on stage, both during performances and rehearsals, and she read copies of all the plays she could find, and in secret practised declaiming speeches, and making the gestures she had admired. Her opportunity to appear herself came when Tom Killigrew needed some people to swell a crowd, and tremblingly Honey dressed herself in one of the best gowns to make her simple debut.

  Having nothing more to do but move with the crowd, she had ample opportunity of looking out at the audience, and revelling in the delight of being, at last, in however humble a capacity, one of the actors. Her first nerves conquered, she found her ambitions growing, and looked forward to the time when she might be trusted with a speaking part. She longed to ask Tom Killigrew to send her to Moorfields, where he was planning to form a school for training actors, but dared not, fearing he might be angry with her and dismiss her.

  *

  One day, as she was mending a tear in one of the gowns, a red-haired girl of about her own age, or younger, put her head round the door.

  'Oh, hello. I'm looking round. Is this where the costumes are kept?'

  'The special ones,' Honey replied. 'Most of the actors wear their own, of course, and these are just for elaborate occasions such as when they portray foreign emperors and the like.'

  'I've seen you before. Were you not with Mr Dunstone one day?'

  Honey nodded, and looked at her more closely.

  'Why, you are the orange girl! Did he not call you Nell?'

  Nell nodded and laughed.

  'But I'm no longer an orange girl,' she said gleefuly. 'I've contrived to be taken on in the company! I knew when I first got Orange Moll to give me a job – she's in charge of the orange girls – that it would not be for long. My sister Rose is a friend of Harry Killigrew, Tom's son. He's groom of the bedchamber to the Duke of York, and might have spoken for me at the Duke's House in Lincoln's Inn Fields, but I wanted to be one of the King's Players!'

  'Have you been promised a part?' Honey asked wistfully.

  'Only small ones as yet. I have to learn much. I shall ask John Lacy to teach me to dance, because for all he's so much like a tub of lard, he's a graceful dancer! I mean to make my name! Can you see it on the bills? Eleanor Gwynn! But what is your name?'

  'I'm Honey Andrew. Do you think Mr Lacy might teach me to dance too? I've never dared to ask him, for he seems so important!'

  Nell laughed again. 'Indeed he is, and that is exactly why I shall ask him. You have to please the ones with power! But we'll both ask him, and he'll not be able to resist us, will he? But tell me, when I saw you with Mr Dunstone, I had the oddest feeling I'd seen you before. It puzzled me for days, and yet I could not remember where!'

  Friendly as Nell appeared, Honey was reluctant to disclose to her the escapade that had resulted in her disgrace at home, fearing that if the rest of the players heard of it they would plague her for accounts of it. She did not inform Nell that the re
ason for the odd lapse of memory was the fact that when they had first met Honey had been dressed in breeches. Instead they fell to discussing the plays, which Nell knew in great detail from having worked in the theatre for almost a year. Later Honey discovered she was fourteen, but she had been brought up in the slums about Drury Lane, and had worked as a fish hawker when still a child, and then as a maid in a bawdy house in Lewkenor's Lane, so in experience she was far older then Honey.

  Nell's arrival amongst the players made life even more enjoyable for Honey, since the little orange girl possessed not an atom of shyness, and in her company Honey herself showed more vivacity. True to her boast, she did persuade the fat John Lacy to teach her to dance, and he willingly included Honey in the lessons. Nell's other triumph was to obtain acting lessons from the great Charles Hart himself, one of the main actors in the company.

  Hart was a fine looking man who had fought in the late wars under Prince Rupert, being a Lieutenant of Horse in the Prince's regiment, and he often entertained the younger members of the company with vivid descriptions of the battles he had fought in, reliving them as he did so. When Honey had been with the players for a few weeks he invited her to sup with him, and showed clearly that he was attracted to her. By then she had become an adept at refusing such invitations, and he had not persisted for long, appearing to lose interest in her. Honey had a shrewd suspicion Nell had not rejected his advances, and when Nell did not suggest Honey join her for the acting lessons as she did for the dancing ones, the suspicion became a certainty.

  Honey found she was annoyed by this. It was not in the least because she wanted Hart's attentions for herself, since he was more than old enough to be her father, and in any event she was determined not to submit to any of the players, but she knew that with his aid and influence Nell would soon be given important parts, while she herself would have to remain content with the occasional crowd part.

  She could not be angry with Nell, however, for the girl was so friendly and helpful. They rehearsed scenes together, and she was generous in her praise of Honey, looking forward to when they would play together in major parts.