Making false accusations against my son is wrong and impudence to your betters is wrong and complaining about your work is wrong, when everyone knows I am the most benign of employers.
And so is rushing about the house in your nightwear in the middle of the night, his lordship put in, eyeing her appreciatively from top to toe.
I only did it to escape.
Then you may escape. Permanently. You may go back to bed, but I want you gone by the time I come down for my breakfast.
But, my lord, where will I go?
That is no concern of mine. Back where you came from, I suppose. And do not expect a character
My lord, I beg of you
Enough. I am not going to bandy words with you. Get out of my sight before I throw you out here and now.
Maddy went back to her room, relieved to find her unwelcome visitor had gone, and flung herself on the bed, sobbing her heart out. Why didnt they believe her? It was so unfair. Where could she go? How could she live? Who could she turn to? She couldnt go back to the orphanage, she was too old for that now. Must it be the poorhouse?
If Henry Bulford had an ounce of shame, he would admit what he had done and exonerate her. But she knew he would not. He was one of the upper crust, people with more money than they could spend in a lifetime and they thought that meant they could do as they liked, just as the young dandy who had run down her mother thought he could do as he liked. People like her were the lowest of the low and didnt matter.
But gradually her misery turned to anger and anger made her strong. She would not be cowed. She was as good as they were, better than they were, and one day she would prove she did matter. One day she would beat them. One day they would have to acknowledge her as their equal; if she trampled on a few aristocratic toes to get there, so be it. And if one of those aristocratic toes turned out to belong to the Honourable Henry Bulford, so much the better. She did not know how she would do it, nor how long it would take, but nothing and no one would stand in her way. She would make her dreams come true; she would be a lady.
Chapter One
1827
T he curtain came down on the last act to thunderous applause. The cast took several curtain calls, but everyone knew it was really Madeleine Charron the audience wanted. She had the theatre world at her feet; all the young men of the ton and several who were not so young were raving about her, including Duncan Stanmore, Marquis of Risley.
I dont know which I admire more, her looks or her acting ability, he said to his friend, Benedict Willoughby, as he rose with everyone else to clap and call bravo. Both are bang-up prime.
If youve got your sights set on her, you will come home by weeping cross, dont you know? Benedict said. Unlike most of her kind, she is very particular.
You only say that because she refused to go out to supper with you last week.
Not at all, Benedict said huffily, as they made their way towards the exit. Im not the only disappointed one; shes turned everyone down, though I did hear she went for a carriage ride in the park with Sir Percival Ponsonby last week, so she cant be that fastidious.
Sir Percy is a benign old gentleman who wouldnt hurt a fly.
I didnt say he would, but you must admit hes an old fogey. He must be sixty if hes a day and those ridiculous clothes!
Hes well-breeched and he knows how to treat a girl. And he has always had a liking for actresses, you know that. They appreciate his gallantry and they feel safe with him. It wont last. Percy is a confirmed bachelor.
Good God! You arent thinking of betting on the marriage stakes yourself, are you?
Dont be a fool, Willoughby. It is not to be thought of. My revered father would have a fit. But I will take her out to supper.
Yes, you have only to wave your title and your fortune under her nose and she will fall at your feet.
Ill do it without mentioning either.
When?
In the next seennight. Ill put a pony on it.
Done.
They wandered out into the street. A flower girl stood beside her basket, offering posies to the young men as they escorted their ladies to their carriages. Duncan stopped beside her, fished in his purse for a couple of guineas and rattled them in his palm. Ill buy the lot, he said, throwing the coins in her basket. Take them round the stage door for Miss Charron.
She gave him a wide grin. Any message, sir?
No. Just the flowers. And do the same tomorrow night and the night after that and every night for the rest of the week. He found some more coins and tossed them in with the others, before turning to Benedict. Come on, Willoughby, Ill buy you supper at Whites and we can have a hand of cards afterwards.
Arent you going round to the stage door?
What, and stand in line with all the other hopefuls, begging to be noticed? No fear!
Benedict, who was used to his friends strange ways, shrugged his shoulders and followed him to their club.
At the end of the week, a small package was delivered to the theatre, addressed to Miss Madeleine Charron. It contained a single diamond ear drop and a note that simply said, You may have its twin if you come out to supper with me on Monday. My carriage will be waiting outside the stage door after the performance. It was unsigned.
It was meant to intrigue her and it certainly succeeded. Maddy was used to being sent flowers, but they usually arrived with their donors, anxious for the privilege of taking her out, or accompanied by billets doux or excruciating love poems and definitely not penned incognito. But a whole florists stock, every night for a week, followed by a single ear drop of such exquisite beauty it brought a lump to her throat, was something else again. This latest admirer was different.
And rich, Marianne said, when she saw the trinket. Marianne Doubleday was her friend, an actress of middle years, but a very good one, who had once, not many years before, fooled the entire beau monde for a whole season into believing she was a lady and a very wealthy one at that. Are you sure you have no idea who it might be?
None at all.
And will you go?
I dont know. He is undoubtedly very sure of himself.
So what is that to the point? No doubt it means hes an aristocrat. Thats what you want, isnt it?
Years ago, when she had first joined the company as a wardrobe seamstress, Marianne had befriended her and later, when Maddy had been given small parts, had taught her how to act, how to project her voice so that a whisper could be heard in the gods, how to move gracefully, how to use her hands and her eyes to express herself and still conceal her innermost thoughts, how to listen and understand the undercurrents in a conversation, the innuendo behind the way a word was said, the ways of the worldly-wise, everything to bring her to the standing she now enjoyed.
In return Maddy had confided her secret ambition to be a lady. Marianne had not mocked it; after all, noblemen sometimes did marry actresses, but she had told her how difficult it would be, how they were usually ostracised by Polite Society and that being a lady was not all it was cracked up to be, that with wealth and status came responsibilities.
Besides, youll find all manner of obstacles put in your way by the young mans parents, she had said. If they have any standing in Society, theyll fight you tooth and nail. Theyll have a bride all picked out for him, unless, of course you set your cap at someone old, but then hes like to be a widower with a readymade family.
Besides, youll find all manner of obstacles put in your way by the young mans parents, she had said. If they have any standing in Society, theyll fight you tooth and nail. Theyll have a bride all picked out for him, unless, of course you set your cap at someone old, but then hes like to be a widower with a readymade family.
Maddy had grimaced at the idea. No, that wont do. I want people to envy me, to look up to me, to take what I say seriously. I want to have a grand house, a carriage and servants. No one, no one at all, will dare look down on me or take me for granted ever again
A tall order, Maddy. My advice is to take what is offered and enjoy it without wishing for the moon.
Although Marianne knew about her ambition, she did not know the reason for it. She did not know the inner fury that still beset Maddy every time she thought of Henry Bulford and his uncaring parents. It had not diminished over the years. All through her early struggles, she had nursed her desire forwhat was it? Revenge? No, it could not be that, for Henry Bulford had inherited the title and was married and she did not envy his top-lofty wife one bit. They had attended the same theatrical party once and he had not even recognised her. But then why would he connect the skinny, pale-faced kitchen maid he had tried to rape with the beautiful actress who had taken London by storm?
A great deal of water had flowed under London Bridge since then, some of it so dreadful she wished she could forget it, but it would not go away and only strengthened her resolve. She had risen above every kick dealt her by an unkind fate, but sometimes it had been touch and go. She had nearly starved, had begged and even stolenand she was not proud of thatuntil she had found a job as a seamstress. Hours and hours of close work, living in dingy lodgings, quite literally working her fingers to the bone and all for a pittance.
Her ambition was smothered by the sheer weight of having to earn a living, but it did not die altogether and one day in 1820she remembered the year well because it was the year the King had tried to divorce his wife and become the butt of everyones ribaldryshe found herself delivering a theatrical costume to the Covent Garden theatre. Her employer sometimes helped out when they had a big production and this was wanted urgently. She had told Maddy to take it round there on her way home.
On this occasion, the whole company was carousing, having just pulled off a great performance at a large aristocratic mansion. The troupe was led by a colourful character called Lancelot Greatorex, who fascinated her with his strange clothes and extravagant gestures. Seeing her ill-concealed curiosity, he demanded to know if she were an actress.
Oh, no, she said.
How do you know you are not?
Why, sir, she had said, laughing, I have never been on a stage in my life.
Thats of no account. You dont need to tread the boards to play a part, we all do it from time to time. Do you tell me you have never had a fantasy, never pretended to be other than you are?
I hadnt thought of it like that.
You speak up well. What do you do to earn a crust?
He may have been speaking metaphorically, but to her a crust was all she did earn, and sometimes a little butter to put on it. I am a seamstress, she said.
Are you good at it?
Yes, sir. I did most of the stitching on the costume I have just delivered.
Quick, are you?
Yes, sir.
How much do you earn?
Six pounds a year, sir.
He laughed. I can double that.
Oh, I do not think I can act, sir.
I am not asking you to. Actresses are ten a penny, but good seamstresses are like gold dust. Would you like to join my troupe as a seamstress? Having work done outside is not always convenient.
Maddy had not hesitated. The flamboyant life among stage folk appealed to her and, somewhere in the back of her mind, her sleeping ambition revived. If she wanted to better herself, to act a part for which she had not been born, then where better to learn it?
She had become a seamstress, sewing, mending and pressing costumes and from that had progressed to becoming a dresser for Marianne Doubleday, chatting to her in her dressing room, learning, learning all the time. She was quick and eager and when they discovered she could read, they gave her the job of prompter, so that when one of the cast fell ill, who better to take her place but Maddy, who already knew the lines? And so Madeleine Charron, actress, had been born.
But was it enough? Did it fulfil her dream? Was she still burning with that desire to be a lady? A real one, not a fantasy. Could she pull it off? Was she, as Marianne suggested, wishing for the moon? She smiled at her friend. So you dont think I should go?
Marianne shrugged. It is up to you. You do not have to commit yourself, do you? The invitation is to supper, nothing more.
And nothing more will be offered, I assure you.
She had been out to supper with countless young men before and enjoyed their company, each time wondering before she went if this was the one who would fulfil her dream, but before the night was over, she had known he was not.
There were so many reasons: these sycophants did not have the title she craved; they were too young or too old; they were ugly and would give her ugly children; their conversation was a little too exuberant, or not exuberant enough. Some were fools, some gave every appearance of doing her a favour in spending money on a supper for her, some were married and expecting more than she was prepared to give. She did not intend to be anyones light o love.
But do have a care, Maddy, that you are not branded a tease.
Have no fear, dear Marianne, you have taught me well.
Maddy lingered over her toilette the following Monday night, spending more time than usual sitting before her mirror, removing the greasepaint from her face and brushing out her dark hair before coiling it up into a Grecian knot, before choosing a gown to wear. She prided herself on her good taste, and being a seamstress and a very good one meant that her clothes, though not numerous, were superbly made of the finest materials she could afford. It made her feel good to know that she could stand comparison with those who considered themselves her social superiors.
She slipped into a blue silk, whose fitted bodice and cross-cut skirt flowed smoothly over her curves. It had short puffed sleeves and a low neckline outlined with a cape collar which showed off her creamy shoulders and neck. She hesitated over wearing a necklace but, as most of her jewellery was paste, decided against it and fastened the odd ear drop in her ear before throwing a dark blue velvet burnoose over her shoulders and venturing out into the street.
Everyone but the night watchman had left and she half expected to find the road empty. It was her own fault if it was, she had kept him waiting and she could hardly complain if he had given up and gone home. But there was a carriage waiting. It was a glossy affair, though its colour she could not determine in the weak light from the street lamp. There was no sign of an occupant. Perhaps her admirer had simply sent the carriage to fetch her to wherever he was. She was not sure she liked that idea; it put her at a disadvantage. She stood, pulling her cloak closer round her, waiting for someone else to make the first move.
A hand came out of the door of the carriage, dangling an ear drop, the twin of the one she was wearing, and she heard a low chuckle. If you come over here, my dear, I will fasten the other one for you. Beautiful as you are, you look slightly lopsided.