Moll lived not far from Maypole Alley in a second-floor lodging much like Nell’s own, though she had been bragging that his Majesty was going to take a fine house and furnish it for her. Nelly rapped at the door, greeted Moll with a broad grin, and stepped inside while the girl still stood staring at her. Her eye went quickly round the room, picking out evidences of new luxury: yellow-velvet drapes at the windows, a fine carved chair or two, the silver-backed mirror Moll was holding in her hand.
“Well, Moll!” Nelly tossed back her hood, unfastened the button at her throat. “Aren’t you going to make me welcome? Oh! Maybe you’ve got company!” She pretended surprise, as though she had just noticed that Moll wore only her smock and starched ruffled petticoat, with her feet in mules and her hair down her back.
Moll stared at her suspiciously, searching for the motive of this visit, and her plump dainty-featured little face did not smile. She knew that Nell must have heard the things she had been saying about her. She lifted her chin and pursed her lips, full of airs and newly acquired hauteur. “No,” she said. “I’m all alone. If you must know—I’m dressing to see his Majesty—at ten o’clock.”
“Heavens!” cried Nell, glancing at the clock. “Then you must hurry! It’s nearly six!” Nelly was amused. Imagine taking four hours to dress—even for the King! “Well, come on, then. We can gossip while you’re making ready. Here, Moll—I brought you something. Oh, it’s really nothing very much. Some sweets Rose and I made—with nuts in, the kind you always like.”
Moll, disarmed by this thoughtful gesture, reached for the box as Nell held it toward her, and finally she smiled. “Oh, thank you, Nell! How kind of you to remember how much I love sweets!” She opened it and took up a large piece, popped it into her mouth and began to munch, licked her fingers and extended the box to Nell.
Nelly declined. “No, thanks, Moll. Not just now. I ate some while we were making it.”
“Oh, it’s delicious, Nell! Such an unusual flavour, too! Come on in, my dear—I have some things to show you. Lord, I vow and swear there can’t be a more generous man in Europe than his Majesty! He all but pelts me with fine gifts! Just look at this jewel case. Solid gold, and every jewel on it is real—I know because I had a jeweller appraise it. And these are real sapphires on this patch-box too. And look at this lace fan! Have you ever seen anything to compare? Just think, he had his sister send it from Paris, especially for me.” She thrust two more pieces of candy into her mouth and her eyes ran over the gown Nelly was wearing. It was made of red linsey-woolsey, a material warm and serviceable enough, but certainly neither beautiful nor luxurious. “But then of course you didn’t want to wear your diamond necklace coming through the streets.”
Nell felt like crying or slapping her face, but she merely smiled and said softly, “I haven’t any diamond necklace. He hasn’t given me anything.”
Moll lifted her brows in pretended surprise and sat down to finish painting her face. “Oh, well—don’t fret about it, my dear. Probably he will—if he should take a fancy to you.” She picked up another piece of candy and then began to dust Spanish paper onto her cheeks with a hare’s foot. Nelly sat with her hands clasped over one knee and watched her.
Moll struggled with her hair for at least an hour, asking Nelly to put in a bodkin here or take one out there. “Oh, gad!” she cried at last. “A lady simply can’t do her own head! I vow I must have a woman—I’ll speak to him about it tonight.”
When the royal coach arrived at shortly after nine Moll gave an excited shriek, crammed the last three pieces of candy into her mouth, snatched up mask and fan and muff and gloves and went out of the room in a swirl of satins and scent. Nelly followed her down to the coach, wished her luck and waved her goodbye. But when the coach rattled off she stood and watched it and laughed until tears came to her eyes and her sides began to ache.
Now, Mrs. Davis! We’ll see what airs you give yourself next time we meet!
The following day Nelly went to the Duke’s Theatre with young John Villiers—Buckingham’s distant relation, somewhere in the sprawling Villiers tribe—to see whether her rival dared show herself on the boards after what had happened the night before. And Villiers—because he hoped to have a favour from her after the play—paid out four shillings for each of them and they took their seats in one of the middle-boxes, directly over the stage where Moll could not miss seeing them if she was there.
