“Your tongue again, Nell. Guard it well. That was the end of the Rump Parliament, and the General was for the King.”
“It was not so long ago, Rose, and this time he’ll be home. Then there’ll be fun in the streets; there’ll be games in Covent Garden, Rose, and there’ll be fairs and dancing in the streets to the tunes of a fiddler. Oh, Rose, I want to dance so much I could get up now and do so.”
“Lie still.”
Nell was silent for a while. Then she said: “Rose, you’re afraid, are you not? You’re afraid of Ma’s new ‘house.’” Nell threw herself into her sister’s arms. “Why, Rose?” she demanded passionately. “Why?”
This was one of those rare moments when Nell realized she was the younger sister and begged to be comforted. Once they had been more frequent.
Rose said: “We have to make a living, Nell. There are not many ways for girls like us.”
Nell nodded fiercely; and a silence fell between them.
Then she said: “What shall I have to do in Ma’s house, Rose?”
“You? Oh, you’re young yet. And you’re small for your age. Why, you don’t look above eight. Keep your tongue quiet and none would think you were the age you are. But your tongue betrays you, Nell. Keep a fast hold on it.”
Nell put out her tongue and held it firmly in her fingers, a habit of her very young days.
“You’ll be well enough, Nell. Just at first you’ll be called upon to do nothing but serve strong waters to the gentlemen.”
The two sisters clung together in silence, rejoicing that whatever the future held for them, the other would be there to share it.
Nell was there in the streets when the King came home. Never in all her life had she witnessed such pageantry. She had climbed onto a roof—urging Rose and her cousin Will to climb with her—the better to see all that was to be seen.
Nell’s eyes shone with excitement as others, following her example, climbed the roof to stand beside the three children; Nell jostled to keep her place and let out such streams of invective that those about her were first incensed, then amused. She snapped her fingers in their faces; she was used to such treatment; she knew the power of her tongue which always made people smile in the end.
From where she stood she could see St. Paul’s rising high on Ludgate Hill and dominating the dirty city, the hovels of which clustered about the fine buildings like beggars about the skirts of fine ladies. Even the wide roads were so much in need of repair that they were full of potholes; the small streets and alleys were covered in mud and filth. The smells from the breweries, soap-makers and tanneries filled the air, but Nell did not notice this; these were the familiar smells. On the river were boats of all descriptions—barges, wherries, skiffs, anything which could float. Music came from them, and shouting and laughter filled the air. Everyone seemed to want to talk of his pleasure in this day so loudly as to shout his neighbor down.
The bells were ringing from every church in the city; the roughness of the roads was hidden by flowers which had been strewn along the way the King would come; tapestry was hung across the streets and from the windows. The fountains were running with wine. All the people seemed to be congratulating each other that they had lived to see this day.
Over London Bridge and through the streets the procession came on its way to the Palace of Whitehall. There were all the fine ladies and gentlemen, all the noblemen and women who surrounded the King.
Nell leaped with excitement and was warned by Rose and Will that if she did not take greater care she would fall from the roof.
She paid no heed, for at that moment the cheering and shouting of the people had become so loud that she could no longer hear the pealing of the bells. Then she saw the King ride by, tall, and very dark—a veritable Black Boy—bareheaded with his black curls falling over his shoulders, his feathered hat in his hand as he bowed and smiled to the crowds who were shouting themselves hoarse in their welcome.
The dark eyes seemed to miss no one. All about her Nell heard the whisper: “He smiled at me. I swear it. He looked straight at me … and smiled. Oh, what a day is this! The King has come home, and England will be merry again.”
Behind the King came all those who had followed him from Rochester, determined to accompany him into his capital, determined to drink his health in the wine flowing from London fountains, determined to show that not only in London did people welcome the King to his own.
Nell was quiet as she watched the rest of the procession. She was wishing she was one of the fine ladies she saw riding there. Those little feet of hers would look well in silver slippers. She longed for a velvet gown to replace her coarse petticoat; she would have liked to comb the tangles out of her hair and wear it in sleek curls as those ladies did.
Rose was wistful too. Rose had changed lately—grown secretive. Rose was now working in her mother’s house, and Rose was reconciled. She was pretty and many men who came to the house asked for Mrs. Rose. Nell, hurrying from one table to another serving strong waters, eluded those hands stretched out to catch her; she could not curb her tongue and she knew how to use it to advantage—not to charm those men with the ugly lustful faces who gathered in her mother’s cellar, but to anger them, so that they felt more inclined to cuff that slut Nelly than to caress her.
It was seven of the clock by the time the procession had passed and they could fight their way back to Cole-yard, where Madam Gwyn was waiting for them. There was free wine in the fountains that day, but all the same she anticipated good business in her cellar.
It was early morning and there were still sounds of revelry in the streets.
Rose was not in the house in Cole-yard. She had gone off with a lover. “A fine and gallant gentleman,” mused Madam Gwyn. “Ah, what I do for my girls!”
It was not easy to sleep. Nell lay on her pallet and looked at that mountain of flesh which was her mother. She had never loved her. How was it possible to love one who had cuffed and abused for as long as one could remember? What did Ma want now but a life of ease for herself—ease and gin, of course. She was meant to keep a bawdy-house. Sugary words came easily to her tongue when she talked to the gentlemen, just as abuse came when she scolded her daughters. All her hopes were in Rose—pretty Rose who already had found a lover from the casual callers at the house.
And, mused Nell, what else was there for a girl to do? Sell herrings, apples, turnips?
Rose had a fine gown given her by her lover, and she looked very pretty when she sauntered out into Drury Lane. The other girls were envious of Rose. Yet Nell did not want that life. Nell was going to remain a child—too young for anything but to serve strong drinks—for as long as she could.
“Ma,” she said softly, “are you asleep?”
“There’s too much noise outside for sleep.”
“It’s good noise, Ma. It means the King’s home and things will change.”