During the days that followed I revelled in the luxury of being waited on hand and foot and spent over eight hundred pounds on fashionable, expensive costumes and millinery. An even larger sum was spent on jewellery. I was delirious with excitement each time a package of clothing was delivered at the door and my personal maid, Tilly, helped me dress in my new attire. She fussed around me smoothing out the creases as I stood admiring myself in front of the bedroom mirror.
Some of the costumes were really beautiful and did much to enhance my appearance. My favourite was a rose pink walking out dress with a bodice that hugged my figure and open sleeves that revealed the puffed chemisette underneath. The skirt had a very wide base with broad white ribbon bands below the knee.
I was wearing this costume on the day I spied John Sweetapple in the vicinity of Westminster Abbey and invited him back to Cheyney House for coffee and a chat.
His was the first familiar face I had seen since Charles sailed for Australia. Now that the excitement of buying new clothes and jewellery had died down, there was little to occupy my time. Money and a title don't necessarily bring friends. Life had become tedious and boring and I longed for company and conversation for I am very gregarious by nature.
It was plain that John Sweetapple, a thin man with pale, watery eyes, didn't recognize me for there was a puzzled look on his grey, wrinkled face when I greeted him like an old friend. I had to remind him of the times when James and I first arrived in London and spent several evenings at his rooms listening to him reading his plays.
His face cleared as the memory came back to him, but, to my disappointment, he showed little desire to continue our acquaintanceship and was about to move on when I exclaimed, 'There have been great changes in our lives since last we saw you. Following his father's death, James has succeeded to the title of Lord Pulrose.'
It seems everyone loves a lord for this news brought about a tremendous change in Sweetapple's attitude to me. Stunned, he looked at me with great interest, admired my dress, shook my hand with enthusiasm and said in a deferential low voice, 'And you, of course, are Lady Pulrose… Er… How is… er… James these days?'
I explained briefly that we were living apart but remained good friends. By this time he was leading me by the arm in the direction he had been walking when I first approached him. Releasing my arm from his hold, I beckoned to Baldwin to bring the carriage alongside and asked Sweetapple if he was refusing my invitation to have coffee with me. The poor man was all confusion and apologies, tripped on the step of the carriage as he was getting in and nearly fell into my lap.
At Cheyney House, with fancy cakes spread out in front of him and a cup of coffee in his hand, he calmed down to tell me what he had been doing since we last met. I learned that he had given up writing his boring plays and had become an actor manager with his own theatrical company touring provincial theatres. His play-actors were pressing him to arrange another tour. Theatres in Manchester, Liverpool and Dublin were available to him; all that was lacking was the finance to set it all in motion.
I knew this talk was leading up to a request for money and was prepared with an answer. The intoxicating excitement of a group of theatricals on tour was still fresh in my memory. It was just what was needed to lift my spirits.
He eventually came to the point. 'Lady Pulrose… er… I wonder, er… if you have given thought to… er… being a patron of the arts?'
'Certainly not,' I snapped, 'and I have no intention of doing so. How much money do you want?'
Flustered by direct speech, he hummed and hahed. 'Er… a hundred pounds.' Seeing the smile on my face gave him more confidence. 'Er… that would be the rental for… er… the theatres.'
'John Sweetapple,' I said accusingly, 'you are not being entirely truthful with me, are you? I will finance your tour up to the sum of three hundred pounds on condition that, at one of the theatres, you put onRomeo and Julietand I play the part of Juliet.'
When he stopped gulping in surprise at this windfall of money that was coming his way, we discussed details of the tour and, because he had doubts about a Shakespearean play, it was agreed we would have two or three rehearsals before our first performance ofRomeo and Julietin Dublin.
This suited me perfectly. I would have the company of the other actors for two weeks without any responsibilities and, on the third week, realize an ambition I had nursed for a long time of playing Juliet.
There were one or two other conditions I insisted on before we parted that day. 'No one,' I told him, 'must know that I am a titled lady or that the financial backing for the tour is coming from me.'
'By what name shall I… er… introduce you to the rest of the company?' he asked.
'We must think of a name. What do you suggest?' But nothing he came up with met with my agreement. In despair, I asked him for his mother's maiden name and promised to accept it as my stage name, whatever it was.
'Er… Nellie Clifden,' he answered, looking at me warily to see how I would respond.
'It is not the name I would have chosen but it will have to do. I refuse to discuss the matter any further but do remember in the future to address me by that name and not as Lady Pulrose.'
That was how I was known throughout the tour. Nellie Clifden, an actress who had recently returned to England after a lengthy tour of the theatres in America. I enjoyed myself immensely and impressed everyone at rehearsals, including John Sweetapple, in my role as Juliet. By the time we got to Dublin for my debut at the Theatre Royal, I was word perfect. Judging by the applause and the three curtain calls made at the insistence of an enthusiastic audience on our first night's performance of the play I was undoubtedly a great success.
The following morning, taking a stroll around the harbour, I came across a Manx fishing boat moored to the dockside. The crew were busy preparing to sail back to the Isle of Man but not too busy to chat to someone from their island. It was good to hear the Manx tongue again and I took the opportunity to ask news of my family in Baldwin Valley. They had little to tell me except that my brother, Simon, had emigrated to New Zealand with the intention of working his own farm. I was reluctant to leave them and waited at the dockside until they had left the harbour and set sail for the open sea.
Simon was the eldest in our family. We were very close, there being only one year's difference in our ages. I had no regrets about leaving the island but would have liked to have kept in touch with him. Simon was the only one who truly cared about me. Returning to the hotel my mood became sad at the thought that now he was living on the other side of the world it was unlikely we would ever see each other again.
Removing the greasepaint from my face after the curtain had fallen that night, I heard a discreet knock on my dressing room door. Upon my call to enter, there appeared, to my surprise, a handsome young man in the full-dress uniform of an officer in the British Army.
'Lieutenant Stanley at your service,' he announced, giving me a half salute.
I viewed him up and down for a moment. It is not uncommon for young gents to enter the dressing room of an actress with an invitation to dinner in the fond hope of a sensual reward afterwards.
'What can I do for you, Lieutenant?' I enquired casually.
Receiving no reply I turned to face him.
'The Devil take me,' he said. 'Now that I am here I don't know what to say.' Picking at an imaginary speck of dirt on his sleeve, he got his message out in a great rush of words. 'The fact is the Prince of Wales attended the theatre last night. He was in a state of excitement and interest each time you appeared on the stage. By jove, he couldn't contain himself. He has done nothing but talk about you ever since. Most distressing.'
'I'm very flattered,' I said, 'but, if that's all you have got to say, you can go now… and… oh, yes… tell the Prince I thank him for his interest and regard.'
'You don't understand,' he protested fervently. 'His Royal Highness is in a frenzy of desire for you and doesn't know what to do with himself. I have a cab waiting in the street to take you to Curragh Camp.'
Outraged at his impertinence, I cried out, 'How dare you make such a proposition to me. If you think that because I am an actress I am freely available to any gentleman who desires me, you are very much mistaken.' Opening the door wide I gave him a withering look of contempt and said in an ice cold voice, 'GET OUT!'
After he had gone I changed my clothing and was about to don my cloak when the Lieutenant popped his head around the half-opened door. 'Please, Miss Nellie, may I say I'm deuced sorry?'
He looked so miserable and down in the mouth that I took pity on him and invited him to be seated. 'Tell me why you have undertaken the task of procuring girls for the Prince of Wales?' I asked sternly.
'By jove, that's a cursed unpleasant way of putting it,' he protested with an expression of indignation. 'Please be patient with me, Miss Nellie. I'm not very good with words but I want to try to explain my mission.'
'Alright,' I replied, 'I'm listening.'
