Sheridan shook his head over them. It was no use their clamouring to him to play Little Pickle. There was only one Little Pickle in the world and that was Dorothy Jordan.

He was not at all sure that he was going to lose his actress; he fervently hoped not.

He called at Petersham Lodge to see her when he knew the Duke was not there. He kissed her hand and congratulated her on her good looks.

‘This life suits you, my dear,’ he said.

She bade him be seated and sent for refreshment. He watched her in his inimicable way and she secretly wished that she could have complimented him on his healthy looks. There were darker shadows under his eyes and in spite of his rakish appearance she knew he was concerned. He was constantly on the edge of financial disaster and the rebuilding of Drury Lane with its delays and setbacks was giving him many a disturbed night – when he returned home from his carousals.

‘I have been wondering what your plans are… theatrically speaking, of course.’

‘I have not yet discussed them with the Duke.’

‘An actress like you, Dorothy, has a duty to the public.’

‘Don’t you think I have done my duty now, Sherry?’

He was Sherry to William and the Prince of Wales and so to her now. He was aware of the change in her manner towards him. It amused him and reminded him of her elevation. He was a friend now as well as her theatrical manager. All to the good, he thought.

‘To your public yes, but what of yourself and the girls?’

‘It is all taken care of.’

‘There is the future.’

‘What do you mean? It is the future I’m thinking of.’

‘How can one plan for the future? How can one know what will happen? I know you, Dorothy. Improvident spendthrift that I am, I know you – and all the better because you are so completely different from myself. You can command high salaries in the theatre… none higher, even our Sarah. Are you going to throw it away? Why don’t you go on working? If you don’t want the money yourself, you have a family. There are those three girls.’

She was thoughtful.

‘I talked in this way to another young actress. Mrs Robinson. I said to her: “Now the public wants you. It will pay to see you now . . . and go on paying, no matter what happens. But if you stay away for a year or so… five years perhaps… ten years… there is no coming back. Or perhaps I should say that it is rarely one can come back.” The public will go on being faithful as long as an actress remains faithful to it. You understand me.’

Of course Sherry was a cynic. He did not believe her romance with the Duke would last. Of course he would not. What a romantic young man he must have been when he eloped with the lovely Miss Linley and no doubt swore eternal devotion to her. They had believed he was going to be the greatest playwright of all time. He had written The Rivals and The School for Scandal among other plays… and then he had become a theatre manager, a politician and the friend of Princes. He had thrown everything away for the sake of gay company; he had drunk too much, spent too much, had too many passing affairs with women. So that he had besmirched his marriage, not developed his genius and lived in constant fear of the bailiffs. It was natural that Sherry should take a cynical view of life.

And yet… she thought of the money she had been earning; she thought of special Benefit nights. The Duke was the kindest and most gracious of men, but like all the royal brothers he had little understanding of money. He would give her all he had, but he was too generous, not business-like enough. She would have to be the one who looked to the girls’ futures. She wanted them all to make good marriages and she would have to make up for their illegitimacy with big dowries.

‘I believe you are right,’ she told Sheridan. ‘I will talk it over with the Duke.’

Sheridan left smiling to himself. Something told him that all the second-rate actresses who were busy studying Jordan roles were going to be disappointed because he was not going to lose his biggest draw after all.

The Duke made no secret of his devotion. When The Country Girl was put on at the Haymarket with another actress in Dorothy’s place, the lovers occupied a box together and their tender exchanges during the performance were noticed. In fact the majority of the audience took no notice of what was happening on the stage; their entire attention being focused on the box.

They went out together, walking arm in arm through the streets like any devoted couple.

In the press the Duke was called ‘Pickle’s infatuated lover’. He sent for Romney to paint her. The artist had already done a portrait of her as The Country Girl but the Duke wanted a new one of her.

The excitement and pleasure of those few months were marred only by the envy of her fellow-actors and the frequent unjust comments in the press. But Dorothy decided to ignore them. They could not touch her now.

She had broached the matter of her continuing to play at the theatre and William considered it gravely.

‘And what do you wish, my love?’

‘I think I should do it. It may not be possible to resume later if I want to. And I would like to make sure of a good dowry for all three girls.’

‘You know you can leave these matters to me.’

‘You are the most generous man in the world, but you are a Prince and must live like a Prince. I have heard talk of the debts of the Prince of Wales.’

‘My God,’ cried William, whose life at sea had addicted him to strong oaths which he attempted to curb in Dorothy’s presence. ‘His debts are astronomical. Why, it was because of them that there was all that trouble in the House when Fox denied he was married to Mrs Fitz. and she nearly left him because of it. Yes, George is in debt… up to his ears now.’

‘And you too?’ asked Dorothy.

‘Well, to tell you the truth, my love, I haven’t given the matter much thought.’

That made her smile. ‘You have answered for me. I will go on acting providing you have no objection.’

‘I want to do everything you wish.’

‘You mean you will leave this decision to me?’

He took her hand and kissed it – a courteous gallant gesture. How different from brutal Daly, from indifferent Richard Ford.

‘Then I shall go on,’ she said. ‘And I shall try and save money so that in case you should be financially embarrassed when the girls come of age they will be sure of their dowry.’

‘You are a wonderful woman,’ said William.

So to Sheridan’s delight Dorothy agreed to appear again. The crowds packed the Haymarket to see her, and on the first night of her appearance after the brief lapse during which the papers were filled with accounts of her love-affair with the Duke, so great was the crowd trying to get into the Haymarket that a man was trampled to death and one woman was badly injured.

The Duke was present every night she played. He went back-stage and sat in her dressing room. He watched her all the time she was playing and scowled at any man who deigned to glance at her.

The public was amused. He seemed mightily pleased to see her perform. Was it because he was anxious to share in the profits? Everyone knew that the royal brothers were in perpetual debt.

The latest rhyme ran:

‘As Jordan’s high and mighty squire

Her playhouse profits deigns to skim;

Some folks audaciously enquire:

If he keeps her or she keeps him.’

Dorothy did not care; nor did William; they told themselves that they must expect these spiteful shafts. People were jealous because they had found what everyone was seeking: perfect happiness.

When Dorothy called to see the children she found Hester in a state of excitement.

‘Richard has been here,’ she said. ‘He says that he does not see why he should be kept from his own children.’

‘So he is back from France,’ replied Dorothy. ‘And having done nothing for his children he has now decided he wants to see them.’

‘Dodee at least. Lucy has forgotten him. But Dodee hasn’t.’

‘And you are suggesting that I should allow them to visit him?’

‘He is their father,’ Hester reminded her.

‘I am sure the Duke would not hear of it.’

‘But the Duke is not their father.’

Dorothy flew into a rage.

‘Listen, Hester, Richard had every opportunity of giving my girls a name. This he refused to do in spite of all his promises to me in the first place. I should never have agreed to live with him if he had not promised to marry me. And he failed me. He lied to me and betrayed me. I have finished with him. I am happy now and I am determined to remain so. I am not going to allow him to poison me in the minds of my children.’

‘He would never do that, Doll. He feels kindly towards you in spite of the fact that you have left him.’

‘You speak reproachfully.’

‘Oh, no. I wouldn’t presume to do that. But you did regard him as your husband and you have left him for the Duke.’

‘Oh, not you too, Hester! Isn’t it enough with the press! They are my children. I am providing for them. I want nothing more of Richard Ford.’

‘I think you are being a little hard.’

‘Hard! You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I do. I am bringing up the children.’

‘Well, Hester, if you feel so critical of me and of the Duke perhaps I had better find someone else to look after them.’

Hester looked stunned and Dorothy’s anger subsided as quickly as it had arisen.