I begged my former lover to complain too, and to his credit, Ford did so. He sent me a most reasonable letter which I instantly had published in the paper concerned:
Lest any insinuations be circulated to the prejudice of Mrs Jordan in respect to her having behaved improperly towards her children in regard to pecuniary matters, I hereby declare that her conduct in this particular has been as laudable, generous and as like a fond mother as in her present situation it was possible to be. She has indeed given up for their use every sixpence she has been able to save from her theatrical profits, she has also engaged herself to allow them £550 per annum, and at the same time settled £50 a year on her sister. It is but bare justice to her for me to assert this, as the father of those children.
Signed,
Richard Ford,
October, 1791
He followed it up with a second letter:
In gratitude for the care Mrs Jordan has ever bestowed on my children, it is my consent and wish that she, whenever she pleases, see and be with them, provided her visits are not attended by any circumstances which may be improper to them or unpleasant to me.
Signed
Richard Ford.
October, 1791
Unfortunately, although Ford did not deny that these letters were written by his own hand, he complained that they had been published without his knowledge or consent.
‘I rather thought that was the whole point of his writing them, in order to publicly protect me, and his children,’ I said, and William agreed.
‘He is concerned only with his own damaged reputation, not yours, dearest, nor his own children’s.’
‘I never could understand how that man’s mind works.’
The papers continued to claim that Mrs Jordan was often seen walking westwards, away from the house, which was surely proof of her desertion. The truth was that I had found a house at Brompton Road where the children were now living with Hester.
When the
Gazetteer
discovered this fact, and informed the world that the lady had taken a house at Brompton, ‘not in the Row, but in the town, which is more private’, the Duke breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Things should quieten down now, my love, as they can see you are spending time with your dear little ones every day.’
Thinking the fracas was behind us, I thankfully returned to the theatre. But then Mr Ford began making a nuisance of himself by constantly turning up backstage whenever I was performing at the Haymarket.
‘Have you yet seen sense?’ he would ask. ‘I shall continue to come every day until you do.’ And there he would sit, just as he always did, while I stood behind the screen to change. His constant attendance made me feel like some sort of peep-show.
One evening, when the Duke found me weeping in my dressing room, distressed by his presence at every turn, he asked Sheridan to demand he leave.
‘Pray, make it very plain to the gentleman who infests this theatre with his presence backstage, that he is not welcome. Mrs Jordan has every right to her privacy. I wish him to desist from constantly calling upon her, or I shall be obliged to demand that he be forcibly removed.’
Sheridan, for once, did not kowtow to royalty, appearing unmoved by the request. ‘With all due respect, Sir, Mr Ford’s standing as a gentleman precludes such a prohibition. In point of fact, he has as much right to be here as yourself.’
The Duke reacted angrily to this but Sheridan remained adamant that he could do nothing to assist. He was equally frustrated with William’s own presence in the green room. Most evenings the Duke would come backstage, laughing and talking with me before I went on. He loved to listen to me recite my lines as I put on my make-up, join in the chat and general horse-play, laughing as George mimicked Signora Storace, a young lady who had achieved brilliant success as an opera singer in Vienna, and whose rough-sounding voice my brother could take off to perfection. Or he would happily watch the dancers practising their steps.
Sheridan, however, was never particularly welcoming to visitors during a performance, for which I could not entirely blame him. Nor did he feel much sympathy for a man who had once attempted to seduce his own wife, even if the Duke was blind to such sentiments. For my part, I was so upset by Ford’s presence and the resulting fracas, that I cried off performing the next night, quite unable to face going on.
Hester came to see how I was faring and even she castigated me for my lack of sensitivity towards Ford. ‘You are not the only one being tormented by the press. Richard too is suffering public humiliation, and considerable embarrassment from those friends to whom he introduced you as his wedded wife.’
I frowned at that, irritated by her support of him. ‘You know full well that those hints about a secret marriage between us were all lies, entirely of
his
making. He could have rectified the embarrassment of our situation at any time during this last five years.’
‘He was protecting
you
.’
‘He was protecting
himself
. I am aware of his friends’ animosity towards me. Lady Lumm and her husband have already made it clear that, however painful it might be to their personal feelings, they can no longer tolerate me as a visitor to their mansion,’ I said, mimicking the lady’s cut-glass accent. ‘I am sorry to lose such old and loyal friends, Hester, but I never for a moment thought they believed the fiction of our marriage. Lady Lumm has chosen the side she wishes to be on, and it is not mine.’
‘Can you blame her? You brought this scandal entirely upon yourself.’
I gasped. My sister had been my constant support throughout my life, now she appeared to be taking Mr Ford’s part. ‘I admit I never claimed it to be a love match with the Duke, not in the beginning, but I had little choice but to take his offer seriously, if my children were to be protected.’
‘You’ve virtually turned yourself into a courtesan,’ she snapped.
‘
Hester!
What a dreadful thing to say.’
‘It is no less than the truth. What would Mama say, were she to see you now?’
Tears filled my eyes. ‘It is unfair to bring our dear mother into this. I’m sure she would understand that Mr Ford never had any intention of making good on his promise. Did she not suffer a similar fate? So what did I have to lose?’
Hester had the grace to look contrite, instantly enfolding me in her arms as she always did when ashamed of her quick temper. ‘I’m sorry, Doll, but I do worry about what you are getting into.’
‘I’m more concerned with what I am getting
out
of. My relationship with Ford was going nowhere.’ Tears were rolling down my cheeks, my heart sore that we should quarrel like this.
‘But you have to feel sorry for the man, as these friends of his are now apparently demanding explanations which he is finding hard to supply.’
I can’t say I shared her sympathy, and was mightily relieved when Ford decided to go on a visit to France. But if I thought my troubles would disappear with his departure I was soon to be disenchanted. His friends, after all, remained behind.
One morning at breakfast I saw the Duke tear up a letter in obvious irritation as he tossed it aside, but I could not resist asking from whom it came.
‘From a Mrs Crouch, apparently, but I read no more than a dozen words in which she feels the need to warn me against you.’ He smiled. ‘Clearly such a project is doomed from the start.’
Maria Crouch, a fellow actress, had never counted herself among my friends, as she hated to take second billing. Nor was she in any position to pass judgement on my own conduct when she had set up a
ménage à trois
with the musician Michael Kelly and her own husband, although the poor man did not remain long with his wife after that. There was much I could say on the subject of Mrs Crouch but I refrained from doing so, determined to maintain my dignity for William’s sake.
We made a pact to ignore, as best we could, all the malicious gossip and enjoy life regardless. We were happy, and I knew in my heart that I had made the right decision. We appeared in public together for the first time at his box at the Haymarket. I had just finished playing Peggy in
The Country Girl
, and instead of him coming backstage to my dressing room as he usually did, he asked me to sit with him for the second piece,
The Cave of Trophonius
, as I was not in it.
We sat holding hands, teasing and kissing each other in a fond way, cocooned in our own private world of happiness. Unfortunately, our laughter and badinage attracted some attention in the pit, and from a
Morning Post
critic who, unbeknown to us, was present. The following morning we read a full description of our flirtatious behaviour in the paper.
Her Grace tapt his chin, he seized her by the muff. For the play was all nonsense, the singing all stuff
.
‘Stuff and nonsense to him too,’ said the Duke. ‘Can they not allow us to be simply happy together, as other couples are?’
‘They will grow tired, if we ignore them,’ I assured him, hoping it was true.
We would walk through Bond Street and St James’s arm in arm, determinedly oblivious to passing stares. And then we would read in the press the next day:
The conduct of a certain pair, in their journey to and from the neighbourhood of Richmond, is the daily occasion of a blush in everything on that road except the mile-stones.
Her Grace bearing her new dignities with becoming indifference
.
I hated them calling me such names, to which I had no pretensions whatsoever. But such titles as ‘
Her Grace
’ and ‘the new
Duchess
’ fell into common use. And the tales fabricated about me now included the fiction that messages must only be brought to me by my own servants, that they were expected to dip a curtsey and say: ‘Your Grace’s carriage is ready,’ or ‘Will Your Grace have your bed warmed tonight?’ And even, ‘Your Grace’s tailor waits below to take the measure of a pair of breeches for Little Pickle.’
Despite their wit they were deeply hurtful. ‘Surely it is common knowledge that I do not preen and flatter myself. I have always lived a quiet, modest life, content to work hard and bring up my children.’
‘Pay no attention, dearest, they are but names,’ the Duke comforted me. ‘I am constantly referred to as the royal tar, warned to buffet the storm, give a broadside, or close the hatches, not to mention apparently skimming your profits. But what does it signify? Am I not the happiest of men?’
And I kissed him, assuring him that I was likewise the happiest of women. ‘I will listen no more to their scurrilous gossip.’
The next morning came this, which was hard to ignore:
Mrs Jordan’s family will present a curious assemblage of infants. Irish, Scotch, and English, and probably Princes and Princesses.
‘And look at this,’ I said at breakfast one morning. ‘They say my carriage, for which I apparently requested the crest of a seagull for the panels, is attended by three footmen, and, as I couldn’t have scarlet and gold, I opted for green and silver in abundance.’
The Duke considered. ‘Would the crest of a seagull have been preferable to your proposal for an anchor, I wonder? Perhaps not,’ and I really couldn’t help but laugh out loud, which brought a fond smile to his face.
‘That’s the ticket, don’t lose that wonderful ability of yours to laugh at yourself.’
‘I won’t, my love. I just wish they would leave us alone.’
It all came to a head one night at the end of November. I had recently missed a performance of
Richard Coeur de Lion
, being too indisposed to appear, and Sheridan had apparently gone on stage to announce that the show would be cancelled, an alternative to be put on in its place.
‘Return the money!’ the audience had cried.
‘Why did you not put a notice on the doors?’
Then no doubt some specially placed plant in the pit cried, ‘Mrs Crouch! we will have Mrs Crouch!’
The
Gazetteer
joyfully reported the entire story and the ensuing disturbance, as of course Mrs Crouch eagerly took my place as Mathilda, ready with lines learned and costume in place for just such an opportunity. Pretty as she was, she had always thought well of herself and been jealous of my success, even as she consistently failed to enchant the audience. She also gave lavish parties to which she invited all those she thought might be of use to her, and would then be the worse for drink and fall about, which no doubt had an effect upon the quality of her performances.
There were further criticisms of my absence in the press in the days following. No longer were they complimenting me upon my sweet smile and frank, intelligent gaze. Rather they were seeking every bit of salacious gossip they could find to damage me, and stories of actresses studying all of Little Pickle’s parts were rife. It felt like a witch-hunt of the worst kind, and I knew the source. I suspected that Mrs Crouch was in league with Ford’s friends, and in addition to accusing me of abandoning my children, they were now attacking my career, to her benefit.
I attempted to refute these charges by writing a letter myself.
Nothing can be more cruel and unfounded than the insinuation that I absented myself from the theatre on Saturday last from any other cause than inability, from illness, to sustain my part in the entertainment . . . There can be no impropriety in my answering those who have so ungenerously attacked me, that if they could drive me from that profession they would take from me the only income I have, or mean to possess, the whole earnings of which, upon the past, and one-half for the future, I have already settled upon my children.