Part 11 (1/2)
She thrilled as she took her bow before the packed house and to the applause that continued to resound as she left the stage. Lacy swept her into a bear hug and kissed her on both cheeks.
”Look at her glow,” he laughed, turning to Hart and Mick Mohun. ”Ready for more already, she is.”
”And so she should be,” Mohun agreed. ”Well done, Nell.”
She blushed happily at the praise as Hart swept her off her feet.
”You were the best of the new girls,” he said, kissing her before setting her down. ”No question. You've got true presence and a great gift for comedy. And Killigrew's agreed-we'll put you on in The Siege of Urbin next. You'll have four or five quite nice little comic scenes that will let you stretch your wings a bit.”
”I'M REALLY TO WEAR THESE, AM I?” NELL ASKED HART, HOLDING UP the breeches that were part of her costume as Malina, a girl who disguises herself as a boy.
”You are. And I don't know whether I'll be more proud that those sleek little legs of yours are mine to touch, or ready to kill anyone for looking at them.”
Nell loved playing in The Siege of Urbin even more than she liked Thomaso. She had the second-largest female role, after Anne Marshall as Celestina, and their first scene opened the play. Later, disguised as a young man, she flirted outrageously with Betty Davenport as Clara, and her terrified reaction when Hart as the Duke drew his sword against her always got shouts of laughter.
Nell also relished the opportunity to work with Michael Mohun and Nicholas Burt, always learning as she watched and played with them, and grateful for their compliments and words of advice.
Looking over at Hart at supper one evening after the play, she laughed to remember how she had been jealous of him and Anne Marshall. She adored him with her soul, and he had never given her a moment's reason to think that he did not feel the same.
THE END OF THE YEAR WAS ALMOST COME, AND SOON IT WOULD BE 1665. Nell and Hart had stayed up late and come to Tower Hill to get a good view of the comet that had illuminated the sky for several nights. They stood together in the dark, looking heavenward. There was a chill wind biting, and clouds scudded across the icy face of the moon, waxing toward fullness.
”There!” Hart cried.
”Oh!” Nell sighed. ”Magnificent.”
The comet shone bright, trailing a sparkle of stars in its wake. It must be a harbinger of glorious things to come, Nell thought. This year had been one of supreme happiness, and the coming year promised more joy, with Hart at her side and her first leading role.
”When will the comet come again?” she whispered.
”Not until you and I are long gone from this earth, sweeting,” Hart said into her ear, holding her close. ”So look well upon it, that we may always hold this moment in our hearts.”
NELL WAS SO CAUGHT UP IN THE EXCITEMENT OF THE PLAYHOUSE that she cared little for what was happening in the world beyond. But it was becoming impossible to ignore the talk of war with the Dutch that was looming on the horizon. Many of the scenekeepers at the playhouse were sailors, like d.i.c.ky One-Shank, and Nell found a knot of them gathered in angry discussion outside the stage door one morning.
”What's happened?” she asked d.i.c.ky.
”The press-gangs are out,” he said, ”and they've taken up Bill Edwards and John Gilbert.”
”Press-gangs?” Nell asked, looking in confusion at the agitated faces around her ”What's that?” A babble of voices broke out in explanation.
”The king is readying for war, and needs sailors to build up the navy,” said Matt Kempton, a young red-headed giant. ”And if he cannot get enough sailors who are willing, he gets them any way he can. The press-gangs pluck men off the street and press them into service, whether they will or no.”
”But that's terrible!” Nell said. ”Is there nothing to be done?”
”Nothing, once they've been taken off by force,” d.i.c.ky said. ”The only thing is to avoid capture in the first place.”
JOHN DRYDEN'S NEW PLAY, THE INDIAN EMPEROR, WAS A GRAND TRAGEDY in verse. The part of Cydaria, a n.o.ble lady, was far more challenging than Nell's first two roles, and she needed much training before she would be ready. Lacy was undertaking her lessons in carriage and movement.
”Slow down,” he exhorted her. ”Cydaria has no need to hurry and bustle like that. And don't fidget and s.h.i.+ft when you're not speaking. Stand straight and proud. Stillness draws more eyes and lends more regal grace than any movement.”
And though she would not dance in this play, Lacy was looking further ahead.
”You'll need the dancing soon enough. And when you do, you'll not want to have it all to learn on top of your words and everything else.”
So he worked with her daily, teaching her court dances, from the stately pavane to the lively galliard and coranto. Nell was surprised at the delicacy and liveliness with which he moved.
”You have to think yourself light,” he explained. ”Picture yourself like a puppet, your head suspended by a thread dropping down from heaven. That's it. You've got it now.”
Nell had far more lines than she'd had in her previous parts. Hart read them to her and she repeated them back until she had them pat. He was astonished at how quickly she learned the words. She heeded his advice and repeated them over to herself whenever she could.
”You'll need that discipline,” Hart said. ”You may need to keep a score of parts in your head so that you can perform with not much more than a run-through.”
”A score of parts?” Nell asked, horrified.
”Easily, if you do well. I know forty or more.”
REMEMBERING THE WORDS WAS ONE THING. UNDERSTANDING THEM was quite another. With a frequency she found embarra.s.sing, Nell had to ask Hart to explain the meaning of a word or a whole string of words-each of which she understood on its own, but which when put together seemed incomprehensible.
”What does it mean, 'My feeble hopes in her deserts are lost?'”