The Duchess of Drury Lane by Freda Lightfoot Read Free Book Online

as tall as I could before him. ‘I dare because I have nothing more to lose. For the sake of my family I have tolerated your ruining my career and my life, completely at your mercy as you stole my innocence and degraded me, but I will not willingly subject myself to violence. You are a cruel tyrant, a despicable, immoral man who cares for nothing but his own selfish desires. I don’t care what you do to me, I’ll have no more of it.’
    I expected a tirade of fury but he showed no reaction at all, save for a slight tightening of the mouth, and his right hand falling to where his sword would hang, as if he were about to fight a duel. The silence went on for so long that I began to tremble with fear, my new-found courage quickly evaporating. At length, when I was praying for the ground to open and swallow me, he spoke. ‘Have you ever heard of a Mrs Eston?’
    My heart began to pound, for of course the scandal had been common gossip in the green room at the time. The poor lady had been deserted by her husband, but she was young and pretty and Daly had been rather taken by her. It was said that at first he was most kind, lending her money to help her recover from her abandonment, but then had caused her to be arrested for non-payment of her debt. Had she too refused him favours? I wondered. Why had I not paid more attention to this gossip?
    ‘It was a most sad case,’ he said, his handsome face with its cock-eyed gaze as inscrutable as ever.
    ‘For which you were vilified in the Dublin Evening Post ,’ I daringly challenged him.
    ‘The chit had some supporters, it is true,’ he agreed, somewhat dismissively. ‘But it didn’t greatly help her in the long run. The debt remained, you see, and although some may think me vengeful, I am surely entitled to be reimbursed for my generosity. As she could not repay the loan, then debtor’s prison is sadly where she ended up, as must you, my dear. One way or another the price has to be paid. You owe me a considerable sum, Dora dear, and if it is not settled . . . if you are unwilling to give me any sort of recompense for my kind generosity, then . . .’ He let out a heavy sigh. ‘. . . then the debtor’s prison it is.’
    My knees went all weak and I very nearly collapsed. ‘You cannot seriously mean to have me arrested and put into prison? My family would starve.’
    ‘I do and I will. You have twenty-four hours, Dora, to consider your options. Be careful you make the right decision.’
    That evening I wept as I confessed the whole truth to my mother. She had never seen me cry, save for when Papa had left, and later when we’d learned of his death. But this was grief of a different sort. I wept for my lost innocence, for the seed Daly had planted in my body which would mature in the fullness of time, and for the terror of prison. The words spilled out, the whole sordid tale, for I could keep the secret no longer.
    To her credit Mama did not castigate me. She was a woman of the world and knew well enough the fragility of our situation, as well as the lot of young actresses. She put her arms about me and held me close to the warmth of her motherly breast. ‘Do not fret, child. We shall never allow him to use you thus again.’
    ‘How can I stop him? He is no gentleman, for all his fine dandified ways and fancy education. He is a tyrant, a bully. And now, because I have refused to obey his orders any more, following his further recourse to violence upon me, he has threatened me with arrest. There is nothing to be done.’
    But I had greatly underestimated my mother. Grace Phillips, the woman who had run from home to join a theatre, and then married against the wishes of her bridegroom’s family, was no feeble-minded weakling. She was a woman of pride, ambition and great courage. Now, with commendable composure, she considered our options.
    ‘Your father’s Irish family will be of no use to us. My erstwhile mother-in-law made it very clear when she handed me that not