How they stumbled through to the end, she was not sure, but they did; and the curtain fell to a storm of hissing and booing.
Poor Mrs Robinson, thought Dorothy, this is the end of Nobody.
She felt sick and ill. Perhaps she had acted too soon after her confinement. Perhaps this life she was living was too much for her. The life of a popular actress was enough in itself; one could not be the mistress of an exacting prince and the mother of young children at the same time. Perhaps she should retire. As Perdita Robinson had?
Only if a woman had a docile partner – like Will Siddons for instance – could one combine such careers as that of prominent actress and prince’s mistress.
Is this the beginning of the end? she asked herself; and she remembered his face cold, almost hating, as he had reminded her that she had been to see the girls.
She opened her dressing room door and as she entered someone stepped from the shadows and held her.
‘William!’
‘Of course I came,’ he said. ‘That dreadful play! The audience was in a nasty mood.’
‘You were out there?’
‘No! I was back-stage. I was going to get on to that stage and carry you off if anything started.’
She felt limp with relief and happiness.
‘Oh, William… and I feared…’
‘There is nothing to fear,’ he said.
‘But you thought…’
‘Jealous,’ he said. ‘Jealous fool, that is your William.’
It was over. Sheridan put on Nobody for the two following nights; the audience were hostile. On the third night he ran down the curtain on Nobody for the last time.
Dorothy was happy.
There was no rift. Everything was as it had been in the beginning between her and William. But she must remember that there must be no jealousy between her two families. She wished that she could have had them under one roof. But although she assured herself that William loved her and wished to give her everything she desired, that was something for which she dared not ask.
The attempted fraud
SHE WAITED FOR William to suggest that she give up the theatre, but he did not.
He expressed a great interest in all her parts; and although this necessitated her often staying in London while he, with the boys, was at Petersham, he accepted this too.
The money she earned was important. She was commanding the highest salary of any living actress; and always in her mind was the household presided over by Hester. She could not ask William’s support for the girls, particularly now that they had their own family. His delight in the boys was great; and although he raised no objection to her seeing the girls and even taking the boys to visit them and allowing the girls to come now and then to Petersham, it was obvious that he would not have wished them to be under the same roof.
She could understand that. It would be a constant reminder to him of her relationship with Daly and Ford, both of whom were still alive.
She needed the money her profession brought to her; and William, who had his brothers’ disinclination to consider the cost of what he wanted and was unable to come to terms with money, was constantly short of it.
She must work. She must make sure that her children were cared for.
It was a shock to learn that Richard Ford had married. His wife was a woman of some property and he had become a city magistrate. His father had approved of the marriage and Richard was on his way up in the world.
Dorothy was angry.
For all those years he had lived with her, enjoyed the comforts her salary had brought them and their children, and had evaded marriage – which was the one thing she had asked of him. And now… shortly after their parting he had married.
He was an opportunist. He was weak. Why had she ever believed she loved such a man? And he was the father of her two little girls!
It was humiliating – and only the devotion of William could comfort her.
One day soon after the Nobody fiasco, a visitor called at Petersham and asked for an audience with the Duke of Clarence and Mrs Jordan. It was on a matter which he was sure would be of great interest to them both. His name was Mr Samuel Ireland which they would not know, but when he imparted to them the news of his discovery he was sure they would welcome his visit.
His curiosity aroused, the Duke ordered that the man should be brought in to the drawing room where he and Dorothy were alone.
‘Your Highness! Mrs Jordan!’ said Mr Ireland, with a bow. ‘It is good of you to receive me. I will get to the point without delay. My son, William Henry Ireland, has made a great discovery. An old trunk has come into his possession which he is certain was once the property of the late William Shakespeare, and in this trunk are certain plays and deeds which, since they were placed in this trunk by William Shakespeare himself, have not seen the light of day.’
‘This is incredible,’ cried Dorothy. ‘Where is this trunk?’
‘It is in the house of my son, Madam. He believes it to be the greatest discovery of the age. He said I should come to you, Sir, as a patron of the theatre, and to you, Madam, as our greatest actress.’
‘But when can we see these… plays?’ asked Dorothy.
‘If Your Highness would give me an appointment, I and my son would bring one of the plays to wherever you wish.’
‘There should be no delay about a matter like this,’ said the Duke. ‘Bring them to my apartments at St James’s Palace tomorrow morning.’ He smiled. ‘You will be with us there, my love?’
Dorothy said she certainly would. She was filled with excitement about this great discovery.
So the next day in the apartments of the Duke of Clarence in St James’s, Mr Samuel Ireland arrived with his son William Henry, and they brought with them a folio inscribed Vortigern and Rowena by William Shakespeare.
‘You will observe,’ said William Ireland, ‘that the play is in the style of Shakespeare. I was inclined to think that someone might be playing a hoax, but as soon as I read on… I was convinced.’
The interview was interrupted by the arrival of the Prince of Wales who had heard the news and wanted to see the discoveries.
Dorothy had not seen him since his wedding and thought he looked less healthy than he had before. She had heard from William how eagerly he was awaiting the birth of his child and though he hoped for a son, a daughter would do, because it was freedom from his wife that he wanted more than anything; and if she could give birth to a healthy child he need never see her again.
‘This is fascinating,’ cried the Prince. He turned to William Ireland. ‘Pray tell me how the trunk was discovered.’
‘My father is a writer and engraver, Your Highness. His work took him to Stratford upon Avon, for he is producing a book called Picturesque Views of the Avon and he went there to make his engravings. I accompanied him and there made the acquaintance of an old gentleman whose name I have given my solemn word not to divulge. He showed me this trunk and gave me his permission to bring the papers therein to the notice of the public.’
The Prince had picked up a document which was signed by William Shakespeare in a handwriting similar to that of the poet. It was sealed in the Elizabethan manner; and the Prince declared the parchment to be that which was used at the time.
A page came in to say that Mr Sheridan was without and asking leave to come in. He, too, had heard of the play and had come to see it.
‘Bring him in,’ said the Prince.
When Sheridan glanced at the play, he saw that it was very long and written in blank verse in the style of the existing plays; the language was similar, and he decided that forgery or not he would have to have it or Covent Garden would get it and that would be a great calamity. In any case it was so long – he’d have two plays there for the price of one. He declared there and then that he would put on Vortigern and Rowena.