So Near So Far (5 page)

On the following afternoon Delancey was at the theatre and Mather, at his own suggestion, came to offer his own counsel and assistance. It was as well he did so, for Delancey, after Fiona appeared, would talk to no one else. Nor did the girl herself need any encouragement. There were young ladies in society who would make a point of being bashful in male company but Fiona's life had been spent on the stage. Observing her, Mather guessed that she would have had several lovers in her time. She was no virgin, of that he felt sure, but she retained, nevertheless, a certain quality of innocence. Forced to take over the chief role of technical adviser, Mather explained to Mr Ward that the crew's energies should be directed, first of all, towards hoisting the cutter's mainsail. He began to show how this would be done. Delancey, meanwhile, led Fiona aside and sat beside her on a bench in the wings. After a moment's hesitation he asked her about her career since they had met.

“You are not of a Guernsey family, I should suppose?”

”Why, no. I came to the island with the theatre company, being treated almost as a daughter by Mr and Mrs Bernard. Then the theatre closed down there and I tried my fortunes in London.”

“I'm afraid you will have had an uphill struggle?”

“I have been luckier than many young players. I haven't often gone hungry.”

“You have relatives perhaps, in London?”

“No, sir. None nearer than Scotland.”

“Do please forgive my directness, Miss Sinclair, but do tell me this: Are your parents alive?”

“No, sir. I am illegitimate but have been told that my father, who never married and who died in battle, was commander of a private man-of-war. My mother was young when she came under his protection, and died when little older. I don't remember her, but I have an aunt and uncle at Dumbarton. I have been brought up on the stage and have had no other education. Now you know my whole life history! One or two men have wanted to marry me but they lost interest when they learnt that I am not legitimate. A good riddance, too! If a man cares for me no more than that, he doesn't care for me enough.”

Delancey was captivated by Fiona and found himself wondering why. Her clothes had, and were meant to have a stunning effect—shirt and trousers were obviously her only garments—but she seemed almost unaware of her powerful attraction. Far from being bashful or self-conscious, she was too intent on the conversation to notice what her unbuttoned shirt was revealing.

“Tell me your name again,” she demanded.

“Richard Delancey.”

”I should have remembered it from our first meeting.”

“When I was the Poor Sailor!”

“But no longer poor. You have been promoted, you have fought gallantly, and you have made prize money!”

“How do you know?”

“I can see it in your face. I shouldn't call you exactly handsome—”

“You are right there!”

“—But you look interesting. I can imagine men being afraid of you.”

“Men, but not girls?”

“Of course not. Any girl can do what she likes with you and would know it from the beginning. Do you think me pretty?”

“You are the most beautiful creature I ever set eyes on.”

“But quite penniless, almost nameless, and not a model of virtue. I am full of mischief. If we are to be friends, you must not claim afterwards that I did not warn you. I am no fine lady, no simpering miss, and no ornament to society. I am just a village girl, an orphan, and brought up on the stage.”

“I have been warned and I still want you to think of me as a friend.”

“In that case we are friends. You may kiss my hand.”

Delancey quickly availed himself of that privilege. Then he noticed that the rehearsal had come to a pause, with Mather talking quietly with Mr Ward on one side of the stage and the players chatting among themselves, some of them glancing with amusement at Delancey. Fiona had made another conquest! They must have been familiar with the routine and might even claim to know the lines. Fiona took all this in at a glance and her face lit up with a wicked idea.

“And now you may kiss my feet!” Without a second's hesitation
Delancey knelt before her and deliberately kissed each foot in turn, noticing how dirty they were, as they would be, of course, from the dust of the stage.

“And for that you deserve a reward!” She kissed him fairly on the mouth to the sound of subdued laughter. “And now I must go and rehearse with the others, after which I must change these clothes and you must go.” She was gone in an instant and it seemed only a matter of minutes before Delancey found himself in the street, walking westwards with Mather.

“What an astonishing creature!” he exclaimed. “She is almost as direct as a milkmaid or shepherdess, ready to be tumbled next moment in the hay, but she has been taught as an actress to take the part of a young lady. She has no trace of a country accent. She could easily play her part as a Colonel's daughter.”

“Forgive me saying this, sir, but it seems to me that you are taking a terrible risk. What if Mrs Farren comes to hear of this frolic backstage? Your whole future depends upon making a good marriage and you have the chance of a lifetime. It is not as if Mrs Farren were unattractive. I have been told that she is still a fine woman. She will bring you wealth—in India stock, too, I hear—and just the right sort of connection.”

“I know that, Mather, and need no reminder.”

“But it is not merely the risk of losing her. You could be accused of trifling with Mrs Farren's affections and would make enemies of the whole family.”

“I realise that.”

“But they might take very real offence. I should suppose, indeed, that her brother, Lord Dynevor, might call you out.”

“Yes, I think he might. In his place I should do the same.”

“So do please heed my advice for once. Leave things as they are and let's hope that no word of this comes to Mrs Farren's
ears. Let us thank heaven that Major Willoughby and the others were not here today. It is the stage players who will gossip but they don't move in society. There is a chance of nothing more being heard about it. But please, sir, resolve never to see this girl again. Forget you ever saw her!”

“Could
you
ever forget her?”

“Well—I suppose not. But it isn't important that I should. For you, sir, it is vital.”

“So you would advise me against marrying Miss Sinclair?”

“Marrying
her? No thought of that ever crossed my mind. You must know as well as I do that she is little better than a prostitute.”

“A streetwalker?”

“No. I don't mean that. But it is well-known that a young actress will gain a part in a play by offering her favours to the leading actor. I should suppose that Fiona is a woman of the world. She has done well to be playing at Drury Lane. I can only guess at the story of her rise to this prominence.”

“She is no angel, I grant you that, but I should not want her to be different in any way. I could not even have wished that her feet had been clean.”

When they parted, Mather headed quickly back to the theatre and arrived just as members of the cast were leaving. Fiona Sinclair was greatly surprised to see him, and perhaps disappointed, but she allowed him to escort her for the short distance to where she lodged in Hanover Place. A shy bachelor, Mather had the utmost difficulty in explaining himself. He finally made it clear that his friend Delancey was a rising officer of potential distinction and that his whole future depended upon his making a suitable marriage. He was all but engaged to a lady
of high position and influence. By coming backstage at Drury Lane he had put his career at risk. By pursuing a friendship with an actress he would face ruin.

“Did he tell you to say all this?” asked Fiona bluntly.

“He has not the least idea of it,” Mather hastened to assure her. “I am pleading with you for the good of the service.”

“And with an eye to your own promotion?”

“I know it must seem like that. I have questioned my own motives a dozen times. But Delancey's career would be important to me even if I had not been his follower or had not been in the service at all. He will some day lead a squadron as Commodore. The whole safety of the kingdom might depend upon his resolution and skill. His name may well be remembered alongside those of Howe, Jervis, Duncan, or Nelson.”

“And Nelson has done himself no good by associating too much with a prostitute called Emma?”

“I'll admit, forgive me, that the comparison had crossed my mind. Anyway, my plea is that you refuse to see him again.”

“But look, Mr Mather, why don't I hear all this from him? If he is so distinguished, successful, and brave, why can't he decide for himself which girl he likes best? Why have I to decide for him?”

“Perhaps you would understand him better if you realised how his recent years have been spent. He took command of the
Merlin
at Gibraltar in 1799. He served in the Mediterranean from then until the war ended, now on convoy duty, now at Malta and eventually in the battle of Algeçiras. All that time he hardly set foot ashore. Finally, when the sloop was paid off he comes to London and falls in love with the first lady he meets and that doesn't prevent him from falling in love with you as
well. Sailors come ashore starved for love—yes, like Lord Nelson himself. Believe me, we can behave very foolishly indeed. He will not listen to my advice, Miss Sinclair. Only you can save him from ruin.”

“And will his marriage to this lady make him happy?”

“I don't know. I have never seen her.”

“Men who marry an heiress can end in misery.”

“Very true, Miss Sinclair. But it is also misery for an active officer to be left on the beach.”

“But I still don't understand. As good an officer as you say he is must be needed at sea.”

“Forgive me—I have failed to explain things clearly. If he jilts this lady—for his withdrawal now would amount to that—her family would see to it that he never has another command. He would be ashore for good as a half-pay Commander—supposing, of course, that he survives a duel with the lady's brother.”

“I begin to understand, Mr Mather. I am an ignorant girl from the country, with no knowledge of society beyond what I learn from playing a part as Lady This or the Honourable Mrs That. I speak the lines yet I know little sometimes of what they mean. But I'll be frank with you provided that you repeat nothing of what I say to Richard Delancey, or indeed to anyone else. Have I your promise?”

“On my honour, Miss Sinclair.”

“Very well, then. Your friend Delancey saw me on the stage and liked me. Years later he has seen and talked to me, to discover that he likes me more. To speak openly—as I suppose that real ladies never do—I like him too. But for men to admire me is no new experience. I need to know of a man whether he wants me enough, whether he wants me more than anything
in the world. Such a man I could love but I won't accept anything less.”

“Thank you for being so open with me.”

“I have decided, anyway, what I must do. It so happens that I have been offered a leading role at a theatre in the provinces, far from London. I have been trying to decide whether to accept or refuse it. I have now made up my mind to go. But your plea for your friend's career has led me to a further decision. I shall go at once. I shall go without leaving an address. I shall leave my understudy to take my part. So far as Delancey is concerned, I shall have vanished. He will have his regrets but then he will remember his career and pay homage again to this lady upon whom his future depends. As for me, I too will soon forget him as a man who admired my beauty but who never really cared for me. How is that for a bargain?”

“I hope that you have not made too great a sacrifice.”

“I have made no sacrifice at all. If Delancey goes back to his heiress and his chances of promotion, he is not a lover worth having. Next time he calls at the stage door there will be a note from me advising him to be faithful to his society lady. If he calls again it will be to learn that I have left London and that no one knows where I have gone. And here we are at my lodging and I must say goodbye to you. Take care of yourself, Mr Mather, don't get killed in battle, and find a nice girl to marry.”

Mather walked away with an odd feeling that he had betrayed his friend. He knew that he had acted from the purest of motives. Mather could see what Delancey's temptation had been. Fiona Sinclair was a lovely girl—he had no illusions about that—and she had an honest down-to-earth quality, a directness, a lack of affectation, which appealed to him
personally. Mather thought the time had come for him to leave town. His business had been done and he would do well to escape from the expenses and temptations of London. A few days later he left London by coach after wishing Delancey every success in his wooing. Delancey, he knew, had recently been seen with Mrs Farren and had not, he felt certain, been seen again at the theatre.

D
ELANCEY'S best friend in London was Colonel Barrington, once of the East India Company's army but now something of an invalid, living in St James's Square and seldom seen in society. It was to Barrington that Delancey finally explained his problem. This was in February 1802, some weeks after Fiona's vanishing from Drury Lane, and Delancey had since continued to pay half-hearted court to Diana. He came straight to the point and described his position.

“I have been much seen in company with the Honourable Mrs Farren, a widow of good family—”

“Yes, yes, I know who you mean. A charming woman. Her husband was killed in a hunting accident—his horse fell on top of him, poor fellow. Diana is still in good looks and owns a pretty estate in Wiltshire. When in town she stays with the Markhams. You could scarcely find a more eligible match. Your dancing attendance on her has been noticed, by the way. Someone made some comment on it only t'other day. Could it have been Tommy Onslow? Anyway, I hear that the relatives approve and that the lady is likely to say ‘Yes.' I offer you my congratulations.”