The Duchess of Drury Lane by Freda Lightfoot Page B

contract.
    ‘Before I sign I should tell you, sir, that I am with child.’ I flushed with humiliation at having to reveal my loss of innocence, but the moment for honesty had come.
    I saw the disappointment in his eyes, the way his mouth tightened as if he had heard this too many times in the past, and had not wished to hear it from me.
    ‘It did not happen of her own free choice. She was ill-used,’ Mama hastily put in, unable to restrain herself.
    He gave Grace a quizzical look, but asked for no further explanation. Then just as I expected at any moment to be given my marching orders, he asked, ‘Are you fit to work?’
    ‘I am, and will continue right to my time.’
    ‘Then sign. I want you in my company.’
    I gladly did so, too overcome with gratitude to find any words to express it.

Six
‘. . . the horse and foot’
    The season being over the company set out for York. According to Mama, Tate Wilkinson was lessee of theatres at York, Leeds and Hull, as well as touring the company around Yorkshire and earning himself the title of The Wandering Patentee.
    The company walked around Yorkshire on foot like strolling players. Actors, of course, were accustomed to living on the road and not having a settled home, carrying everything they owned with them. But having only ever worked in town, at one or other theatre in Dublin, this way of life was new to me, and came as something of a challenge.
    Wagons carried the scenery and props, as well as some of the children, who found it all rather exciting. Occasionally the women too would ask for a lift if they were tired, or beg rides from passing farm carts. I managed to do this on several occasions, if only for the sake of Mama. Hester, of course, was always quick to complain if she grew weary. My sister is kind and helpful at heart, but not the most patient soul, and with a quick temper. The men rode on horseback, assuming they were rich enough to own or hire such an animal, and sometimes allowed my young brother a ride now and then, if they felt like a walk.
    So off we went, bag and baggage, trudging across country, over hill and dale. Beautiful as they undoubtedly are, the Yorkshire moors are bleak and windswept, rough, rock-strewn and boggy. A remote part of the country indeed, with nothing more to guide our way than sheep trods, and the well-worn paths of previous years. A stout pair of boots was essential, not to mention good health and strength.
    It was a far from ideal situation for a pregnant woman, but fortunately I was fit and healthy, my spell of morning sickness long past. I did, however, worry about Mama, who was less robust, and barely recovered from our earlier trek from Liverpool.
    ‘Are you feeling all right?’ she asked, coming alongside as we plodded along, equally concerned about me.
    ‘I am very well, Mama, really quite enjoying the warm summer sunshine.’
    ‘You aren’t worrying about Daly, are you?’
    ‘I try not to, but it isn’t easy,’ I confessed. ‘I wonder sometimes what his reaction was when he discovered I’d escaped his clutches. More than likely he would be angry. Nor will he easily let me go. Were he ever to discover where we are he would most certainly demand recompense for his loss, penalties on breaking my contract, and the repayment of my debt.’
    She thought about this for a moment. ‘One advantage of this peripatetic life is that it makes it harder for Daly to find us.’
    ‘But not impossible.’
    ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘The theatre world is a small one, so not impossible.’
    Wilkinson joined us at this point to ask how we were faring, and I smilingly thanked him for his concern. He was ever a kind, generous-hearted man. ‘I am well, thank you, kind sir.’
    ‘You look sprightly enough, praise be, but it is not easy for you, I know from my own wife’s labours. The horse and foot travels over one hundred and fifty miles a year,’ he blithely informed us.
    I rather liked this description of us, as if we were a