But it was pleasant to have Nell dance and sing for them and, when Charles saw her imitation of Lady Danby, and Buckingham’s of Lady Danby’s husband, the King found himself laughing as he had not laughed for some weeks. He realized that he had been foolish to neglect the tonic only Nell could give.
Then, with Louise recuperating at Bath, and Hortense relegated to being just one of Charles’ more casual mistresses, Nell stepped into chief place once more.
Rochester warned her: “’Twill only be for a while, Nell. Louise will be back to the fray—doubt it not. And she’s a fine lady, while the dust of the Cole-yard still clings to little Nell. Not that I should try to wipe it off. That was where Moll failed. But do not be surprised if you are not number one all the time. Just fall back when required, but make hay, Nelly. Make hay while the sun shines.”
So Nell made the King visit her not only for parties but during the day, that he might come to better acquaintance with his two sons.
One day she called little Charles to tell him that his father had come.
“Come hither, little bastard,” she called.
“Nelly,” protested the King, “do not say that.”
“And why should I not?”
“It does not sound well.”
“Sound well or not, ’tis truth. For what else should I call the boy since his father, by giving him no other title, proclaims him such to the world?”
The King was thoughtful, and very shortly after that one of Nell’s dearest ambitions was realized.
Her son was no longer merely Charles Beauclerk; he was Baron Headington and Earl of Burford.
Nell danced through the house in Pall Mall, waving the patent which proclaimed little Charles’ title.
“Come hither, my lord Burford,” she shouted. “You have a seat in the House of Lords, my love. Think of that! You have a King for a father, and all the world knows it.”
The new Earl laughed aloud to see his mother so gay, and little James—my lord Beauclerk—joined with him.
She seized them and hugged them. She called to the servants, that she might introduce them to my lord Burford and my lord Beauclerk.
She could be heard, shouting all day: “Bring my lord Burford’s pectoral syrup. I swear he has a cough coming. And I doubt not that it would be good for my lord Beauclerk to take some too. Oh, my lord Burford needs a new scarf. I will go to the Exchange for white sarcenet this very day.”
She fingered delicate fabrics in the shops. She bought shoes, laced with gold, for the children. “My lord Burford has such tender feet … and his brother, my lord Beauclerk, not less so.”
The house echoed with Nell’s laughter and delighted satisfaction.
The servants imitated their mistress, and it seemed that every sentence uttered to any in that house must contain a reference to my lord Earl or my lord Beauclerk.
EIGHT
Nell was busy during the months which followed. These were the happiest of her life, she believed. Charles was a frequent visitor; his delight in my lord Burford and my lord Beauclerk was unbounded; the little boys were well; and Nell’s parties were gayer than ever.
It was true that there was no title for her, but Charles had promised her that as soon as he could arrange it, he would make her a Countess.
Nell allowed herself to shelve this ambition. Little Charles was an Earl, and nothing could alter that. She was ready to be contented.
Hortense was friendly and wrote to Nell, congratulating her on the elevation of her sons.
Nothing could have delighted Nell more.
“I have a letter here,” she called to her steward, Mr. Groundes. “The Duchess Mazarin congratulates the Earl of Burford on his elevation.”
“That is good of her, Madam.”
“It is indeed good, and more than Madam Squintabella has had the good manners to do. Why, since the Duchess is so gracious concerning the Earl of Burford, I think I will call upon her and give her my thanks.”
So Nell called for her Sedan and was carried to the apartments of the Duchess Mazarin, calling out, as she went through the streets, to her friends. “I trust I see you well?” “And you too,” would come the answer. “And your family?” “Oh, my lord Burford is well indeed. My lord Beauclerk has a little cough.” Then she would call at the apothecary’s. “We are running short of pectoral syrup, and my lord Beauclerk’s cough has not gone. I like to have it ready, for when my lord Beauclerk has a cough it very often happens that his brother, the Earl, catches it.”
It was disconcerting, on arriving at the Duchess’ apartments in St. James Palace, to find the Duchess of Portsmouth already there.
Louise, who was chatting with the French ambassador, Courtin, gave Nell a haughty look. Lady Harvey, who was also present, smiled uncertainly. Only Hortense was gracious. But Nell did not need anyone to help her out of an awkward situation. She went to Louise and slapped her on the back.
“I always have thought that those who ply the same trade should be good friends,” she cried.
Louise was horrified; Nell was unperturbed. While Hortense smiled her sleepy friendly smile.
“It was kind of you to come,” she said.
“Indeed I came!” declared Nell. “I was touched by your good wishes, Duchess. My lord Burford would have come to thank you in person, but he keeps my lord Beauclerk company.”
“You must be very happy,” said Hortense.
“And gratified,” said Louise, “having worked so hard and so consistently to bring it about. Your son is fortunate indeed to have such a mother.”
“And such a father,” said Nell. “There has never been any doubt as to who my lord Burford’s father is—although ’tis more than can be said for some.”
Louise was taken aback although she could not believe the affront was meant for her. She had led an exemplary life—apart from that strange and somewhat tepid relationship she shared with Danby.
“And the same goes for my lord Beauclerk,” said Nell.
Louise recovered her equanimity quickly. “I rejoice to say my own little Duke is well.”
Nell at that moment was determined that before she died my lord Burford should be a Duke.
Hortense said to Nell quickly: “I have heard that you have petticoats which are the wonder of all that behold them.”
“I have a good seamstress,” said Nell. She stood up and, lifting her skirts, began to dance, twirling her lace petticoats as she did so.
Hortense laughed. “You twirl so we can scarcely see them. I pray you let us examine them more closely.”
“You’ll not find better work in London,” said Nell. “And this woman will be making silk hoods with scarves to them for my lord Burford and my lord Beauclerk.” She became alert; she could never resist the pleasure of doing a good turn. “Why, I doubt not this good woman would be ready to make for Your Graces if you should so wish it.”
Hortense said that she did wish it; Louise said she feared she must go, and left while the rest of the company were examining Nell’s petticoats.
Nell’s eyes fell on the French ambassador. “Come, sir,” she said, “like you not my petticoats? Portsmouth hath not finer, for all the presents that are sent to her by the King of France. Why, you should tell your King, sir, that he would do better to send presents to the mother of my lord Burford than to that weeping willow. I can tell you, sir, the King liketh me better than Fubbs. Why, almost every night he sleeps with me, you know.”
Courtin hardly knew what to answer. He bowed awkwardly, fixing his eyes on the petticoats. Then he said: “Great matters need great consideration.”
And after a while Nell took her leave and went back to her chair, stopping to buy shoestrings merely for the pleasure of telling the keeper of the shop in the New Exchange that they would grace the little shoes of my lord Burford.