When the royal coach arrived at shortly after nine Moll gave an excited shriek, crammed the last three pieces of candy into her mouth, snatched up mask and fan and muff and gloves and went out of the room in a swirl of satins and scent. Nelly followed her down to the coach, wished her luck and waved her goodbye. But when the coach rattled off she stood and watched it and laughed until tears came to her eyes and her sides began to ache.
Now, Mrs. Davis! We’ll see what airs you give yourself next time we meet!
The following day Nelly went to the Duke’s Theatre with young John Villiers—Buckingham’s distant relation, somewhere in the sprawling Villiers tribe—to see whether her rival dared show herself on the boards after what had happened the night before. And Villiers—because he hoped to have a favour from her after the play—paid out four shillings for each of them and they took their seats in one of the middle-boxes, directly over the stage where Moll could not miss seeing them if she was there.
As they sat down Nell became conscious that there were two men in the box directly adjoining theirs and that both of them had watched her as she came in. She glanced at them, a smile on her lips—and then she gave a little gasp of horrified surprise and one hand went to her throat. It was the King and his brother, both apparently incognito for they were in ordinary dress, and the King wore neither the Star nor the Garter. In fact, their suits were far more conservative than those of most of the gallants buzzing away down in Fop Corner, next the stage.
Charles smiled, nodding his head slightly in greeting, and York gave her an intent stare. Nelly managed to return the smile but she wanted desperately to get up and run and would, in fact, have done so but that she did not care to draw the attention of the entire theatre upon them. And furthermore Betterton, wrapped in the traditional long black cloak, had now come out onto the apron of the stage to speak the prologue.
She stayed, but even after the prologue was over and the curtains had been drawn for the first act she sat rigid and tense, not daring to move her head, scarcely seeing the stage at all. Finally Villiers shook her elbow and whispered in her ear.
“What’s the matter with you, Nell? You look as though you’re in a fit!”
“Shh! I think I am!”
Villiers looked annoyed, not knowing whether to take her seriously or not. “D’you want to go?”
“No. Of course not. Be still.”
She did not even glance at him, but her cheeks had begun to burn for she was aware that Charles was looking at her, and he was so close that by leaning over slightly she could have touched his arm. And then suddenly she turned her head and stared him full in the eyes, questioningly. He grinned, his teeth shining white beneath his black mustache, and Nelly gave a relieved little laugh. Then he wasn’t angry! He had thought it a good joke too.
“What brings you here?” asked Charles, speaking in a low voice so as to attract no more attention than could be helped from those around them.
“Why—a—I came to see if it’s true Moll Davis is a better dancer than I am.”
“And do you imagine she’ll be dancing today?” His eyes sparkled at her obviously painful embarrassment and confusion. “I should think she might be sick at home with the colic.”
In spite of herself Nell blushed and dropped her lashes, unable to face him. “I’m sorry, Sire. I wanted to pay her back for—” Suddenly she looked up at him, eager and serious. “Oh, forgive me, your Majesty! I’ll never do such a thing again!”
At this Charles laughed outright and his familiar deep voice drew several glances. “Give your apologies to her, not to me. I haven’t spent such an entertaining evening in a long while.” He leaned closer, put the back of his hand to his mouth and whispered confidentially, “To tell you truly, madame, I think Mrs. Davis is mightily out of humour with you.”
With sudden boldness Nelly retorted, “Well, she must be mighty simple or she wouldn’t have been taken in with a stale old trick like that! She should have known it was physicked after the first bite!”
At that moment Moll came whirling out onto the stage below them, spinning round and round, a small graceful figure in her close-fitted boy’s breeches and thin white-linen blouse. A spontaneous roar of shouts and applause went up. Charles gave Nelly a brief glance, one eyebrow lifted as much as to say, Well, she did dare to come after all. Then he returned his attention to the stage and it was not long before the girl on it saw him and smiled, as brazenly self-assured as though nothing at all unusual had happened the night before.
But just the next moment she saw Nell sitting there beside him, leaning with her elbows on the railing, grinning down at her. For an instant Moll’s face lost its smile, then immediately she stuck it back on again. Swiftly Nelly raised her thumb to her nose and waggled her fingers, but not so swiftly that his Majesty missed the impudent gesture. When Moll’s dance was over she flung several kisses toward the middle-box; then she was gone and she appeared no more, for she had no part in the play that afternoon.
From time to time as the play progressed Charles and Nelly exchanged opinions on the acting, a song, a bit of stage-business, costuming and scenery, or the rest of the audience. Villiers was beginning to look disgruntled, but York glanced now and again at his brother’s newest mistress with pleased interest, liking her expressive face, her gaiety and the spontaneous happy laugh that crinkled her blue eyes till they all but disappeared.
When at last the play was done and they were getting up to leave Charles casually remarked, “Now that I think on it, I don’t believe I’ve eaten any supper yet. Have you, James?”
“No. No, I can’t say that I have.”
Nelly gave Villiers a swift nudge in the ribs with her elbow and when he did not take his cue quick enough she kicked him sharply on the ankle. He winced at that and promptly said: “Your Majesty, if it would not be too great an impertinence, may I beg the honour of your company, and his Highness’s company, at supper with me?”
Charles and York accepted instantly and all of them left the theatre together, hailed a hackney and set out for the Rose Tavern. It was already dark, though not yet six-thirty, and the rain came in gusts. Charles and York were not recognized at the Rose, for both men had their hats pulled low and cloaks flung across their chins, and Nelly wore a full vizard. The host escorted them upstairs to a private room, which they asked for, with no more ado than if they had been any trio of men bringing a wench to supper.
Villiers was not very gay, for he resented the King’s intrusion, but Charles and James and Nelly enjoyed themselves immensely. They ordered all the most expensive and delicious food the famous kitchen prepared, drank champagne, cracked raw oysters, and ate until they had turned the table into a litter of shells and bones and empty bottles. It was two hours before Charles suddenly snapped his fingers and said that he must be on his way. His wife was expecting him in the Drawing-Room that night to hear a newly arrived Italian eunuch who was supposed to have the sweetest voice in Christendom.
With the first enthusiasm he had shown Villiers jumped to his feet and bellowed downstairs for the bill. The waiter came in as Charles was holding Nelly’s cloak for her and, because he was obviously the eldest, presented the bill to him. Charles, a little drunk, glanced at it and gave a low whistle, experimentally put his fingers into the various pockets of his coat and each time brought them out empty.
“Not a shilling. What about you, James?”
James likewise searched his pockets and wagged his head. Nelly burst into peals of delighted laughter. “Ods-fish!” she cried. “But this is the poorest company that ever I was in at a tavern!”