has told me of her passion for archery, but I do not think such strenuous activity can bring about the result you desire. In the mornings (after you have been to her chamber—which I hope you will do frequently—this is for your country, Charles, and must be taken with all seriousness), she must elevate her legs for at least two hours. James writes that she drinks water. Is it true? Ruinous. She must stop immediately. I am sending my physician, Dr. Fronard, to personally see to her health. In truth, Charles—affection. That is the key to a happy marriage and to a happy country. Just affection. Be good to her.
Maman,
Her Majesty Queen Henrietta Maria
August 1, 1663
Coal Yard Alley, London Margaret,
So sorry that you were not able to visit us here this summer. I hope your foot is much recovered. All is well here. Rose is growing up faster than any of us could have imagined and is more beautiful each day. Ellen is still small and seems likely to stay that way. Oddly, it seems to suit her fairy spirit. I am as well as ever. I think Jezebel is a perfect name for the new goat—particularly if she has such a tempestuous disposition. Please do not allow her to eat my books.
My best love,
Edward
Tuesday, August 6—Will’s Coffee-house, one p.m. (hot and clear)
The delicious smells of apple cakes baking and warm French macaroons drifted from the vast kitchens. I entered the famous coffee-house with some trepidation. It is holy ground reserved only for actors and writers and artists and politicians, but Meg had sent me with a message for Teddy, and I was determined to deliver it. The dark, wood-panelled interior was austere, but the scene inside was convivial, noisy, relaxed, and
crowded
. The next room smelled of coffee, new bread, and
people. Lots
of people. Men and women lounged everywhere, on everything: faded sprigged sofas and peeling painted chaise longues, spindly ladder-back chairs, stained window-seats, even on the rough plank trestle tables themselves. By the enormous open fireplace were two men sleeping in patched overstuffed armchairs that were losing their stuffing. (I have heard that Mr. Dryden keeps an armchair reserved by the fire.) Everywhere people were eating, laughing, dicing, talking, drinking, and in one corner dancing. A man played a violin but could hardly be heard over the ruckus. Dogs lay on the floor and waited for scraps. It was chaos. How would I ever find Teddy in this mess?
After some effort, I caught the barmaid’s attention, and she pointed me to a corner table by an open window. Theo was drinking cold chocolate, and Teddy was fanning himself with a script against the heat. The table was heaped with summer fruit pies, sugary glazed cakes, and pots of fresh snow cream.
“Ellen,” Teddy said, looking up and scooting down on his bench to make room. He has a way of always making me feel welcome.
“Oh no,” I started, “I can’t stay. Meg just wanted me to tell you that Lady Fenworth has come up from the country and has arrived at the theatre looking for you.”
“Ugh!” Teddy slapped his forehead in an elegantly affected gesture. “I was meant to ride in St. James’s Park with her this afternoon, and I forgot.” He turned to me. “Is she very cross?”
“I wouldn’t keep her waiting,” I told him with sincerity, taking a seat beside him. I’d seen her sweep into the theatre, swathed in voluminous black silk and carrying an incongruously small dog. She probably outweighed Teddy by at least two hundred pounds and looked exactly like an impatient rhinoceros. “When I left, Lacy had found her a seat in the great foyer to wait for you. But she did not look too comfortable.”
“Time to go,” Teddy said, getting wearily to his feet. “It will take me half an hour to dress, at least. Thank you, Ellen, for finding me so swiftly. No, no, stay.” He waved me back to my seat. “Eat something. You look famished. Theo, until this evening.” With that he hurried out the
Maman,
Her Majesty Queen Henrietta Maria
August 1, 1663
Coal Yard Alley, London Margaret,
So sorry that you were not able to visit us here this summer. I hope your foot is much recovered. All is well here. Rose is growing up faster than any of us could have imagined and is more beautiful each day. Ellen is still small and seems likely to stay that way. Oddly, it seems to suit her fairy spirit. I am as well as ever. I think Jezebel is a perfect name for the new goat—particularly if she has such a tempestuous disposition. Please do not allow her to eat my books.
My best love,
Edward
Tuesday, August 6—Will’s Coffee-house, one p.m. (hot and clear)
The delicious smells of apple cakes baking and warm French macaroons drifted from the vast kitchens. I entered the famous coffee-house with some trepidation. It is holy ground reserved only for actors and writers and artists and politicians, but Meg had sent me with a message for Teddy, and I was determined to deliver it. The dark, wood-panelled interior was austere, but the scene inside was convivial, noisy, relaxed, and
crowded
. The next room smelled of coffee, new bread, and
people. Lots
of people. Men and women lounged everywhere, on everything: faded sprigged sofas and peeling painted chaise longues, spindly ladder-back chairs, stained window-seats, even on the rough plank trestle tables themselves. By the enormous open fireplace were two men sleeping in patched overstuffed armchairs that were losing their stuffing. (I have heard that Mr. Dryden keeps an armchair reserved by the fire.) Everywhere people were eating, laughing, dicing, talking, drinking, and in one corner dancing. A man played a violin but could hardly be heard over the ruckus. Dogs lay on the floor and waited for scraps. It was chaos. How would I ever find Teddy in this mess?
After some effort, I caught the barmaid’s attention, and she pointed me to a corner table by an open window. Theo was drinking cold chocolate, and Teddy was fanning himself with a script against the heat. The table was heaped with summer fruit pies, sugary glazed cakes, and pots of fresh snow cream.
“Ellen,” Teddy said, looking up and scooting down on his bench to make room. He has a way of always making me feel welcome.
“Oh no,” I started, “I can’t stay. Meg just wanted me to tell you that Lady Fenworth has come up from the country and has arrived at the theatre looking for you.”
“Ugh!” Teddy slapped his forehead in an elegantly affected gesture. “I was meant to ride in St. James’s Park with her this afternoon, and I forgot.” He turned to me. “Is she very cross?”
“I wouldn’t keep her waiting,” I told him with sincerity, taking a seat beside him. I’d seen her sweep into the theatre, swathed in voluminous black silk and carrying an incongruously small dog. She probably outweighed Teddy by at least two hundred pounds and looked exactly like an impatient rhinoceros. “When I left, Lacy had found her a seat in the great foyer to wait for you. But she did not look too comfortable.”
“Time to go,” Teddy said, getting wearily to his feet. “It will take me half an hour to dress, at least. Thank you, Ellen, for finding me so swiftly. No, no, stay.” He waved me back to my seat. “Eat something. You look famished. Theo, until this evening.” With that he hurried out the
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