Beck had no word to say to that; she had forgotten that it was folly to pit her wits against those of Nell.
The dainty little creature was more full of fire than any, and had the weapon of her wit with which to defend herself.
They all began to realize then that they were glad to have Nell back. Even Charles Hart—who, though in the toils of my lady Castlemaine, had regretted seeing Nell go to Buckhurst—found himself relenting. Moreover he had the business of the playhouse to consider, and audiences were poor, as they always were in times of disaster. Anything that could be done to bring people into the theater must be done; and Nell was a draw.
So, very soon after her brief retirement with Lord Buckhurst, she was back in all her old parts; and there were many who declared that, if there was one thing which could make them forget the unhappy state of the country’s affairs, it was pretty, witty Nell at the King’s playhouse.
All through that autumn Nell played her parts.
Meanwhile the country sought a scapegoat for the disasters, and Clarendon was forced to take this part. Buckingham and Lady Castlemaine were working together for his defeat, and although the King was reluctant to forsake an old friend he decided that, for Clarendon’s own safety, it would be wiser for him to leave the country.
So that November Clarendon escaped to France, and Buckingham and his cousin Castlemaine rejoiced to see him go, and congratulated themselves on bringing about his eclipse.
But it was not long before Buckingham and his cousin fell out. Lady Castlemaine with her mad rages, Buckingham with his mad schemes, could not remain in harmony for long. The Duke then began to make further wild plans, and this time they were directed against his fair cousin.
He conferred with his two friends, Edward Howard and his brother, Robert Howard, who wrote plays for the theater.
Buckingham said: “The Castlemaine’s power over the King is too great and should be broken. What we need to replace her is another woman, younger, more enticing.”
“And how could this be?” said Robert. “You know His most gracious Majesty never discards; he merely adds to his hand.”
“That is so; but let him add such a glorious creature, so beautiful, so enchanting, so amusing, that he has little time to spare for Castlemaine.”
“He would fain be rid of her and her tantrums now, but still he keeps her.”
“He was ever one to love a harem. Our gracious Sovereign says ‘Yes yes yes’ with such charm that he has never learned to say ‘No.’”
“He is too good-natured.”
“And his good-nature is our undoing. If Castlemaine remains mistress en titre she will ruin the country and the King.”
“Not to mention her good cousin, my lord Buckingham!”
“Aye, and all of us. Come, we are good friends—let us do something about it. Let us find the King a new mistress. I suggest one of the enchanting ladies of the theater. What of the incomparable Nelly?”
“Ah, Nelly,” said Robert. “She’s an enchantress, but every time she opens her mouth Cole-yard comes out. The King needs a lady.”
“There is Moll Davies at the Duke’s,” said Edward. Buckingham laughed, for he knew Moll to be a member of the Howard family—on the wrong side of the blanket. It was reasonable that the Howards should want to promote Moll, for she was a good choice, a docile girl. She would be sweet and gentle with the King and ready to take all the advice given her.
But Buckingham was the most perverse man in England. It would be such an easy matter to get Moll Davies into the King’s bed. But he liked more complicated schemes; he wanted to do more than discountenance Castlemaine. Moreover how would Moll stand up to her ladyship? The poor girl would be defeated at every turn.
No, he wanted to provide the King with a mistress who had some spirit; someone who could deal with Lady Castlemaine in a manner to make the King laugh, if he should witness conflict between them, and there was one person he had in mind for the task.
Let the Howards do all in their power to promote the leading actress from the Duke’s Theater; he would go to the King’s own playhouse for his protégée.
Mrs. Nelly! She was the girl for him. She had at times the language of the streets. What of it? That was piquant. It made a more amusing situation: a King and a girl from the gutter.
He turned to the Howards. “My friends,” he said, “if there is one thing His Majesty would appreciate more than one pretty actress, it is two pretty actresses. You try him with Moll; I’ll try him with Nelly. ’Twill be a merry game to watch what happens, eh? Let the pretty creatures fight it out for themselves. Her ladyship will be most disturbed, I vow.”
He could scarcely wait to bid them farewell. Nor did they wish to delay. They were off to the Duke’s to tell Moll to hold herself in readiness for what they proposed.
Buckingham was wondering whether he should first call Charles’ attention to Nell or warn Nell of the good fortune which awaited her. Nell was unaccountable. She had left Buckhurst and gone back to the comparative poverty of the stage. Mayhap it would be better to speak to Charles first.
He began to frame his sentences. “Has Your Majesty been to the playhouse of late? By God, what an incomparable creature is Mrs. Nelly!”
Buckingham was in high spirits by the time he reached Whitehall.
THREE
King took several brisk turns round his privy gardens. It was early morning; it was his custom to rise early, however late he had retired, for his energy outstripped that of most of his courtiers, and when he was alone in the morning he walked at quite a different pace from that which he employed in his favorite pastime of sauntering, when he would fit his steps to those of the ladies who walked with him, pausing now and then to compliment them or throw some witty remark over his shoulder in answer to one of the wits who invariably accompanied him at sauntering time.
But in the early morning he liked to be up with the sun, to stride unattended through his domain—quickly round the privy garden, a brisk inspection of his physic garden, perhaps a turn round the bowling green. He might even walk as far as the canal in the park to feed the ducks.
During these walks he was a different man from the indolent, benevolent Charles whom his mistresses and courtiers knew. Those lines of melancholy would be more pronounced on his face as he took his morning perambulation. Sometimes he recalled the carousal of the previous day and regretted the promises he had made and which he knew he would not be able to keep; on other occasions he meditated on the virtuous and noble actions which he had left undone and all the subterfuges into which his easygoing nature and love of peace had led him.
It was more than seven years since he had ridden triumphantly into Whitehall, and this city had been gay with its flower-strewn streets, the banners and tapestries, the fountains flowing with wine, and most of all its cheering hopeful citizens.
And during that time how far had his people’s hopes been realized? They had suffered plague in such degree as had rarely been known in all previous visitations; their capital city had been in great part destroyed; they had suffered ignoble defeat by the Dutch and had experienced the humiliation of seeing Dutchmen in their own waters. They had deplored the Puritan spoilsports but what had they in place of them? A pleasure-loving King who more frequently dallied with his mistresses and the debauched Court wits who surrounded him, than attended to affairs of state! The fact that he was in full possession of a lively mind, that he could, if he had been less indolent and more in love with politics than with women, have grown into one of the most astute statesmen of the times, made his conduct even the more to be deplored.