‘It is often so with families,’ said the practical Miss Sketchley. ‘And you have a large one. But remember that while there are some to give you anxiety there are others to bring you joy.’

‘How right you are!’ said Dorothy. ‘And I have had a great deal of happiness in my life. I know Alsop was a trial but I have two good sons-in-law. Samuel is so firm and strong… such a rock and dear Frederick so reliable. And the dear girls… Fanny, of course.’

‘Fanny’s place is with her husband,’ said Miss Sketchley firmly.

‘I wonder whether she would be happy there.’

Miss Sketchley did not answer. She knew that Fanny would never be happy anywhere.

It couldn’t be true. Was there not enough trouble. How could Fanny do this? Had she not caused enough anxiety already?

The letter reached her while she was playing in Carlisle and it was from Frederick. He did not know how to begin to tell her but there had been trouble in Cadogan Place.

Fanny had been writing threatening letters to the Duke of Clarence – letters which carried a hint of blackmail. She had threatened if he did not give her mother more money that certain facts of their relationship of which she was aware would be given to the newspapers.

As a result the Duke had sent his lawyer to Cadogan Place and there had been an alarming scene.

Frederick was outraged because, as he said, the Duke suspected him of being concerned in these threats. He had not believed that Fanny could have composed the letters herself but that Frederick had helped her.

‘I was able to prove my innocence,’ wrote Frederick, ‘and not only that, but let it be known that I had tried to prevail on Fanny to stop doing this foolish thing.’

‘Oh, God, what can I do?’ Dorothy demanded of Miss Sketchley. ‘I really begin to wonder what will happen next. I must go home.’

‘You cannot break your contracts,’ Miss Sketchley pointed out, ‘or you will be sued. You don’t want further financial worries.’

‘How can I go on acting? What can I do? Fanny will have to go away. I wonder if she would go to India. Perhaps I could send her to my brother in Wales. Anything… anything to get her away.’

‘Frederick is capable. He should be able to manage this in your absence.’

‘I will write to him. What can we do for poor Fanny? For she is ill, you know. That is the trouble. My poor, poor Fanny! First, she must be stopped writing these letters.’

‘I daresay she had been thoroughly frightened out of that by the lawyers.’

‘As soon as I get home I shall have to make some arrangement for her. In the meantime I am asking Frederick to increase the premiums on the life insurance I took out for Alsop, so that if he should die out there Fanny will be all right for the future. My head is simply whirling. I don’t know what I should do without you. How I long for this tour to be over!’

‘Frederick will manage everything,’ soothed Miss Sketchley.

‘Thank God for Frederick.’

Frederick told Dorothy that he had control of affairs in Cadogan Place and she could trust him to carry out her wishes. So she wished to raise the insurance on Alsop’s life; he would deal with the matter. He was not sure of the amount but if she would send him a blank cheque he would fill in the amount required. He was also advising Fanny that she should, after the trouble with the Duke, make plans immediately to leave for India, or if she did not wish to go so far he was sure it could be arranged for her to go to her relations in Wales.

Fanny said she would consider which appealed to her more. And one day she went out and did not return.

When Dorothy – still on tour – heard the news she was heartbroken; but Miss Sketchley said that Fanny would always fall on her feet and she probably had been making plans to leave home for some time. It was clear that she would not go to her husband; and now that she had made everything so uncomfortable at home, preferred to leave.

It was very likely, added Miss Sketchley, that she had gone to Wales.

Dorothy remained in a state of great unhappiness. It was all very well for others to say that all would be happier without Fanny. Dorothy could not forget that she was her daughter and she loved her in spite of all the trouble she had caused.

‘What will become of the child?’ she asked distractedly of Miss Sketchley.

‘Child! She is scarcely a child. If it were not for her and her husband you would not be here now working yourself into a state of exhaustion. You would be living peacefully at Cadogan Place.’

‘She did not ask to come into the world. Nor did I ask that she should. It’s that man Daly… he has been an evil shadow across my life from the day I met him. If I had never known him, everything would have been different.’

‘Fanny would never have been born, but would the Duke have remained faithful?’

‘It might have been different. Who knows? We had quarrels and I think I irritated him beyond endurance with my preoccupation with money and it was for the girls, I suppose.’

Miss Sketchley did not think highly of the Duke and conveyed it in her silence when he was mentioned. But Dorothy insisted on defending him. ‘He was always good and generous. It was money which separated us.’

Miss Sketchley said nothing. She was maliciously amused by his inability to find an heiress. She hoped that one day he would realize what he had lost.

Dorothy was waiting anxiously for news. There was none. Touring was so exhausting particularly when one felt so ill. She was spitting blood more frequently now and the pain in her chest was recurring. She must go on playing the old roles. Peggy in The Country Girl, Prue in Love for Love and Letitia Hardy in The Belle’s Stratagem. She could no longer play Priscilla Tomboy or the Little Pickle. Those days were over, but there was some satisfaction in knowing that audiences felt very lukewarm about anyone else’s playing of the parts.

So weary she was after a performance that Miss Sketchley had to help her to bed where she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Every day she would wait for news. ‘Any news of Fanny?’ she would ask, fear showing in her voice and eyes. What next? she was wondering. What else could happen?

The next blow came from an unexpected quarter and was all the more cruel for that.

She was deeply in debt. Someone had been drawing on her account; bills which she had believed to have been paid had been left outstanding. Her creditors were threatening that they could wait no longer.

She read the letter from Frederick several times and Miss Sketchley who was always alarmed when the mail arrived came in to find her sitting staring blankly before her.

‘May I?’ she asked, picking up the letter.

Dorothy nodded.

‘Good God!’ cried Miss Sketchley. ‘This can only be Frederick March.’

‘Impossible.’

‘It seems to me,’ said Miss Sketchley sadly, ‘that it is the unexpected that often happens.’

‘I must go home,’ said Dorothy.

‘You are certainly in no fit state to go on the stage. Leave it to me. I’ll make all our arrangements. We must leave at once for London.’

That very day they drove out of Margate; and when Dorothy returned home it was to find Frederick in a state of near dementia.

He threw himself at her feet. He deserved her reproaches. Nothing she could say or do to him would be hard enough punishment.

Yes, he had been wicked. He had been criminal. He had needed the money. He had stolen from her. He had filled in the blank cheques she had given him for double and treble the amounts she had intended.

They were ruined.

That it should be Frederick, her favourite son-in-law!

She did not know what to do. She could only think of her poor mother who had feared insecurity and so longed for the respectability of marriage. Marriage! What had it brought to Fanny? And now Dodee’s husband had done this to her!

Colonel Hawker offered to help but how could he? He was not a rich man. He had not the sums at his disposal which they would need.

She read through the demands for payment. The veiled threats if the bills were not met. She understood them well. They pointed to the debtors’ prison from which there was no escape, for how could she earn money while in prison to pay her debts, and how could she escape from prison until she did?

What to do? Where to turn?

She thought of the one man who had been good to her. Yes, he had, she insisted, until his family had demanded that he marry for State reasons and pay his debts.

William would never desert her.

But she could not plead to him personally. She would write to his agent, John Barton, who had arranged the settlement. He would most certainly inform the Duke and everything that could be done to save her would be done.

It was a relief.

She wrote to Barton and waited.

When John Barton received Dorothy’s appeal for help he began to see how he could use the position to the advantage of his master.

Since his desertion of Dorothy the Duke of Clarence had become a figure of fun to the people. They did not approve of the desertion. He had lived with Dorothy for twenty years. They had had ten children and then like a silly lovesick schoolboy he had started to court young women. Heiresses, of course. There was something ridiculous about an ageing man pretending to be a young one; and the fact that the heiresses had the good sense to refuse him made him all the more ridiculous.

The people did not like this treatment of one of their favourite actresses; and while she appeared on the stage and was constantly in the public eye, they could not forget.