‘You’ll never have another like it,’ sighed her mother sadly; the guilt was hers, she admitted freely. She should have known better. One could not expect a fourteen-year-old girl to recognize a rogue … but she was a woman and a mother! What would her husband think when he came home. She remembered his threats before his departure! But he did not come home and Mary was right. The need to find money was urgent, for if they did not they would be back in that prison which they had so recently left and they could not expect such opportune deliverance again.

‘Why should I not?’ demanded Mary suddenly.

‘But … Mr Garrick would never give you another chance. He’d think you were a fool to have rejected him before.’

‘I heard that Mr Sheridan is going to buy him out of Drury Lane and take over Mr Garrick’s share in the theatre and that Mr Garrick, now that he is getting old, will retire.’

‘But you don’t know Mr Sheridan.’

‘Not yet,’ admitted Mary. ‘But why shouldn’t I?’

Her success with the Duchess of Devonshire had given her confidence. Why should she not offer her services to Drury Lane? It was a way of life – an exciting way of life; she who was so startlingly beautiful, could dance and sing tolerably well, had had elocution lessons and could recite well – and above all had a strong sense of the dramatic. Surely she was a born actress. She was immediately beginning to believe she was and was already preparing herself to convince Mr Sheridan, and Mr Garrick if need be, of this.

‘I see no reason why I should not have another chance,’ she told her mother. ‘I will seek an introduction to Mr Sheridan.’

‘But how?’

‘Well, Mr Hussey introduced me to Mr Garrick, did he not? I think Mr Hussey would be inclined to help me.’

And he had been. The ballet master was a little startled when she called on him, but, in the manner of everyone else, completely enslaved by so much beauty.

‘A stage career. Why, with looks such as yours you could not fail.’

‘If you would do me the favour of introducing me to Mr Sheridan …’

‘It is Mr Sheridan who will be favoured.’

And so to the meeting which was to change her life and to bring her to this night when she could dream of dazzling possibilities which did not seem absurdly out of her grasp.


* * *

The Green Room at the theatre. She could see it so clearly. Was she not familiar with every aspect of it? But then it had been new to her and there was the handsome Mr Sheridan taking her hand, kissing it and being so charming because she was so beautiful.

So she wanted to be an actress?

Mr Garrick himself, she told him, had once offered her a chance.

‘And you didn’t take it?’

‘I married instead.’

‘The old man will never forgive you that. In offering you a chance to act with him he thought he was giving you the keys to heaven. And you chose … marriage.’

‘Unhappily.’

Mr Sheridan was alert. She knew now, because he had told her, that all the time he was weighing her up, and that almost at once he made up his mind that he wanted her … for Drury Lane and himself.


* * *

No need now to hasten over her memories, to close her eyes and glide over the thin ice which could break suddenly and plunge her into horrid memory. From now on it was success.

At the theatre Mr Sheridan presented her to Mr Garrick. He had aged since she had last seen him but he remembered her well.

‘I offered you a chance in the theatre and you refused it,’ he accused.

‘It was madness,’ she admitted meekly.

‘Madness, folly, stupidity. None of these is a quality that makes a good actress.’

‘I know.’ She was meek and forlorn; but she knew that he would not have bothered to come and see her if he had not thought her worth a little effort.

‘Do you know, young woman, that there are thousands of would-be actresses who would give twenty years of their lives for the chance you had … and threw away.’

‘I know it well,’ she said. ‘It was the biggest mistake of my life.’

He turned away from her as though in disgust and said to Sheridan: ‘And you want this young woman to play Juliet.’

‘At least she’ll look the part,’ answered Sheridan.

Without glancing at her Garrick muttered: ‘Let’s hear you. Begin here:

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name …’

She knew it well. How many times since Sheridan had suggested she might play Juliet had she enacted the balcony scene before her mirror, seeing herself in some diaphanous garment leaning over the balustrade in moonlight, picturing the gasp of admiration from the audience when she appeared.

And as she began to say the words she was on that stage; she was the young girl in love for the first time.

‘Or, if thy wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.’

And the old man beside her was suddenly transformed. The most beautiful voice that had been heard in the theatre for years – perhaps the most beautiful ever – was answering her:

‘Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?’

She went on:

‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy …’

Perhaps she was not word perfect, but she was over-dramatic; she would need a great deal of coaching, but the fire was there. He carried her through the scene and then she heard him murmur in that glorious voice of his:

‘… all this is but a dream,

Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.’

She knew that she must succeed; that she wanted more than anything to play Juliet and to play her as she had never been played before.

Romeo, as if by magic, had become Mr Garrick – no longer the passionate and romantic lover but a carping old man.

He said nothing and had started to walk away.

Sheridan walked after him while Mary stood trembling.

‘Well?’ said Sheridan.

Mr Garrick stood still and seemed to consider. Mary thought he was not going to answer.

She ran to him. ‘If you will give me a chance I will work, I will study … I will learn …’

‘You’ll need to,’ said Mr Garrick; and walked out of the room.

But that was Mr Garrick’s way. He was not unimpressed; and although she was a mere novice he had discovered that sense of drama in her character without which he would not have considered her. But to Sheridan’s delight and her unbounded joy Mr Garrick said he would coach her himself and this meant that she would make her debut at Drury Lane in the exciting and all important role of Juliet.


* * *

Juliet! She would remember that night in every detail. It was worth remembering – even her stage fright just before the curtain rose. She. had worn pale pink satin trimmed with crepe and ornamented with silver and spangles; white feathers were in her hair; and for the tomb scene she had appeared in satin with a veil of transparent gauze; there had been beads about her waist on which a cross hung. She did not have to be told that there had never been a lovelier Juliet. This knowledge had carried her through; she was never unaware of her beautiful image and the very thought of it gave her courage.

She had been eighteen – a few years older than Juliet, but she looked like a child in the early scenes; later in the play when she was in love and loved she matured slightly. Garrick had said this miracle must be subtly conveyed; he had made her live Juliet, be Juliet, the innocent child and the girl who became a woman overnight. And because the genius of Mr Garrick was such that made all those whom he honoured with his advice determined to please him and win a word of praise from him, she, knowing he was in the audience that night, made up her mind that she would force the old man to admire her.

Oh, the glory of that never-to-be-forgotten night when she faced an audience for the first time! There had been a moment of silence and then an audible gasp from the audience. It was the expected homage to her beauty; and what better foil could there have been than the ageing figure of the old nurse!

‘How now, who calls?’

She had been afraid her voice would fail her but there it was, high and clear, the voice of Juliet.

She was launched. This was her métier.

What an evening, with the excitement rising higher with every moment. An audience that would not have missed a word she said, that could not take its eyes from her. It was Juliet’s night. It was an enchanted night. It was her night of triumph. She could not but be conscious of this. Mr Sheridan had caught her coming off the stage and taking her in his arms had kissed her with reckless passion.

‘You’re wonderful, Juliet. You’re all that I knew you would be.’

And she had laughed and been happy. ‘The happiest night of my life,’ she had cried; and he had said: ‘It’s but a beginning. You will see … Juliet.’

And back to play and to sense the excitement in the audience … on to the last scene in the tomb …

‘… oh happy dagger!

This is thy sheath. There rest and let me die.’

The great sigh as she fell beside Romeo’s body and lay there.

The play went on … and she was thinking: This is the end of our troubles. I shall make my fortune. I shall be a great actress. And I owe all this to Mr Garrick and Mr Sheridan … and to my own resolution.

‘For never was a story of more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.’