The Viscounts Daughter

Opportunity came when that rare event, a British film production was making a film about the Duke of Monmouth. He was an illegitimate son of Charles the Second, and believed he had a right to the throne after his father's death. It was James, Charles younger brother who succeeded Charles, and became James the Second. The aggrieved Duke of Monmouth raised a rebellion. The film crew needed quite a few extras for the battle scene on Sedgemoor and the repertory was approached to help. It is a most peculiar attitude of some actors that making movies somehow degrades their position as serious actors; that the 'theatre' was the only place to practise their calling. The die-hards at the repertory turned down the chance whereas I signed up, much to the disgust of my fellows in the troupe.

I turned up on set on a very cold but sunny February morning expecting to be given a rudimentary uniform, a Pike and then stand in line freezing my butt off waiting for the call of 'action'. Whereupon we would advance in line with others playing King James troops, Pikes at the ready yelling imprecations at the Duke of Monmouth's rebels.

Fate works in very funny ways. A bit part player tripped over his sword and broke his leg. The Director looked around for a substitute and as I had the exact build and height for his costume picked me to take the part. I was given a script and told to learn the lines. There was little dialogue to remember it was more a question of position and movement. The director was very pleased with my performance as I made it in one take. I was paid more for ten minutes on camera than a week of stacking shelves. Moreover the director remembered me and a few months later offered me another part.

It was again just a bit part. However with much more dialogue and I completed the film with something like thirty-five minutes in the can, and eventually twenty minutes in the actual film.

I kept my job at the supermarket but the repertory declined my involvement, I had sold out it appeared. However I was getting quite regular work, albeit in sword and dagger productions mainly for television. One week I would be a Norman Knight yelling insults at Harold's Saxon Thanes, a month later I was one of those Saxon Thanes swearing death to William's Norman Knights. I had the right height and build for these kind of productions. I was not in the mould of Schwarzenegger or Stallone, yet my years of working for my father on the farm had given me broad shoulders and a good physique. Over the next three years I got more and longer parts. Eventually I had to give up the stacking shelves actually before I was sacked for taking too much time off. Richard Leigh was becoming known.

Film work attracts many girls seeking fame of some kind and the majority are quite attractive. Few have the ability to act well; those who can act tend to be the more intelligent and very good company. The other girls become a little desperate and try to gain exposure by exposing. They get their photos in the papers and celebrity; more for how little they are wearing rather than for their acting prowess. Most people reading the showbiz page of their newspaper imagine that the star they accompany is rewarded with a night of passion.

It does happen although how satisfying it is should be in doubt. From personal experience the lovely seductive woman who hangs on your arm, smiling as if she has captured her true love turns out less interested in their escort and more interested in texting their friends to tell them of their evening. Sex is advertised but grudgingly performed. It was an older actress who caught me. Ashley Marne was well known and lauded as an accomplished actress and she had made a number of critically acclaimed films. Although in her thirties she could still play the romantic heroine as I found out when I worked on one of her films and we had one romantic scene together.

After shooting I was standing-by in case flaws were found in the rushes. We were sitting together one afternoon drinking tea from the canteen when she asked me out for dinner that evening. To be honest I was astounded. Of course I accepted and we had a very good dinner at a well-known eatery. Afterwards she wanted dessert, which left me gasping and totally wiped out at four o'clock in the morning when she allowed me to get out of her bed. The woman was insatiable!

Ashley had perfected her manners and could deliver 'put-downs' in the most cultured of tones. When in bed she was diametrically the opposite. She asked me to escort her to a film premiere very soon after our getting together. The flashing of camera lights was disconcerting for me yet she took it in her stride, turning on a brilliant smile as soon as she alighted from the car. Questions galore were shouted at her from the press contingent, one of which she took objection to. The question was "Is this your latest squeeze, Ashley?"

She stopped and smiled at the questioner. "This gentleman is Richard Leigh, a very talented young actor who has gallantly agreed to escort me this evening. A squeeze is something you do to a lemon or an Accordion. Would you like me to spell accordion for you?" She swept on leaving the reporter speechless as his fellow reporters grinned with glee having recorded the comment.

Ashley was in the line up to be introduced to the minor royal who had been delegated to come and watch the film. She asked me to stand close behind her as the line up waited and kept whispering to me "closer, Richard, closer." I did so and she moved her hand behind her and stroked my fly. The inevitable happened and she purred. "Oh good. Keep him like that as I'll be making use of him later."

The royal stopped and spoke a few words to most people in the line up. When he came to Ashley she performed a most elegant curtsey. His Highness (not high enough in the pecking order to be a Royal Highness) took the opportunity to gawp at Ashley's décolletage before murmuring that he was so pleased to see her when she rose. He moved on and Ashley whispered to me from the side of her mouth. "I wanted to give him something worth seeing tonight. The film's a crock." After the line up the royal was escorted to his seat as the others, who were specifically invited took their places. Ashley hung back and as the foyer cleared, she told me it was time to go.

"We are not seeing the film?" I enquired.

"No, Darling. It's rubbish. We have something far better to do." She led me out of a side entrance and magically her limousine was waiting. We were wafted back to her hotel and once there straight up to her suite. She ordered a light meal from room service and ordered me not to eat too much. "If you're too full you will not be at your best tonight and Richard, my darling, I need you on top form." I ate little of the food as she watched closely, shaking her head if she thought I was too greedy. When she decided that I had eaten sufficiently she stood. As if by magic, the dress slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet, that was all she had worn. She walked to the bed and turned, crooking her finger. "Now Richard, I need you naked and in me."

We were together for five months when she told me our dalliance was over. She had taught me a lot, not just in bedroom skills but also stagecraft and other skills that made me a better actor. Her reasoning was that if we stayed together it would become widely known and it would be rumoured that I was getting parts because of her influence. "Richard that would be wrong. You are good enough to get parts on your own. Darling, you will never be the star with your name above the title. You will be something better. The support that no star can do without. You will always be in demand, which in this industry is rare. You will get parts because the star needs you to make him or her look good. You will be working when the star is not. My fame will fade and if we were still together, you will fade with me and I will not do that to you. You have made me very happy for our few months and I will treasure the memories always. You will find someone soon and you will make her very happy too."

I racked my brain for days and eventually realized that she had paraphrased a speech of one of her characters. This character was dying of cancer but decided not to tell her lover of her illness. I smiled. The next time I saw her was another premiere. I was in the line up this time and she noticed that. She smiled beautifully and blew me a kiss.

ANDREA

My life had changed so much; the carefree girl who grew up in Broughley with the space of the countryside to explore was now trapped in a house in Bloomsbury. Admittedly, it was a very nice house with many big rooms filled with the best furniture and with all the conveniences that modern life would demand. Yet I rattled around in them like the last dried pea in the packet. I didn't have to do anything. Mrs. Hoskins, the housekeeper saw to that. She cooked and took care of the washing. A team of skivvies came in every morning to clean, polish, and vacuum. None of them spoke English and I doubted that any of them were here legally.

Mrs. Hopkins would speak to me occasionally, usually when she needed instructions. That was not frequent, as she knew her job inside out. I didn't get to decide on what we would have for lunch or dinner except when we were entertaining. The invitees to our entertainment were not friends. Charles didn't have friends. He had acquaintances, people who had been helpful to him or could be helpful to him. My friends were back in Broughley, in the South of France or Italy, girls who became friends when we were at Finishing School. Charles didn't know them and didn't appear to want to know them.

We would go out at times to receptions. I never knew the reason why there was a reception, but Charles insisted that we should go. He would put on his full fig of white tie and tails and I would put on my latest long dress, the diamond necklace, earrings and bracelet. Charles had wanted to buy me a tiara and was sullen for days as I refused to wear it.

He liked these events especially the formal introductions to the host for the evening. The Toastmaster would call in a loud voice "Mr. Charles Anstruther and The Honourable Andrea Seddon." I cringed and Charles basked. He was a contradiction in many ways. He had urged me to keep my maiden name when we married, although now I knew why. He thought that as Mrs. Charles Anstruther I could not be 'The Honourable'. That was not actually true. However Charles believed it to be so and I decided not to enlighten him.

For these functions he encouraged me to get a new dress every time. I used the credit card he had given me and never worried about it being refused; in fact I played a little game at first to see how much I could spend on the card. I got bored with the game well before I reached the limit.

Charles was very good at making money, indeed it was his work and playtime rolled together into one. If he wasn't working he thought about what he would do the next day when he was working. He was working when we entertained, and he was working when we attended one of these boring receptions. For him Life was complete except for our lack of a child, but as in work he never gave up, still visiting my bed once a week to see if this time he could strike home.

After eight years of being the bird in the golden cage something different happened. Charles announced that he would be going to Tokyo for three weeks. Charles hated travelling; it took him away from his office. If we took a holiday it had to be in England, Scotland was too far away.

It had to be something very important to persuade Charles to fly halfway round the world. As a dutiful wife I packed for him. He had made a list of things he needed and I packed those things, then I packed the things he hadn't put on his list like underpants, socks, toothbrush etc. If he were going away, admittedly not for a holiday, then I would go away as well."Charles. I think I will take some time when you are away, I'll go and see daddy and possibly take a few days by the sea, somewhere relaxing."

"That's a good idea, Andrea. It will do you good. Take your mobile with you just in case. I shall not ring you as it will be the middle of the night what with the time difference." Charles dislike of travelling extended to not checking the time difference. Actually Tokyo was just eight hours in front of us so there would have been a suitable time to call. It was surprising as most financial concerns kept clocks turned to the actual time of all the exchanges. I said nothing, as I didn't feel the need to hear from him. His conversation would have been all about finance. I liked finance too, well the spending part at least.

I did go to Broughley and seeing daddy again was a tonic. He was the ideal dad. He didn't lay down rules and regulations; he simply discussed life with me and let me work out for myself what was acceptable and what was unacceptable. I learned as I grew, made mistakes but was lucky enough to avoid situations where I was like to be in danger. Of course living in Broughley I had quite a few self-appointed chaperones, the guys who worked the farms. It was amazing the number of times a tractor would turn up and a rough country voice would hale me, "good morning Lady Andrea." If I were intent on mischief it would have been curtailed before it began.

I re-acquainted with Warlock who was getting on in years and couldn't gallop as once he had. Nonetheless he seemed happy with a gentle trot and an amble around paths we had often used.

Dad asked me if my marriage was sound. This was a difficult question to answer. "Dad, it is what it is. I have no complaints really. Charles doesn't beat me or shout at me. In most ways he could be described as the perfect husband, he works hard and makes a lot of money. If I have a complaint it is that Charles is not as affectionate as he could be."

My father blushed as he asked the next question. "Are you saying that your marital relations are deficient?"

"No dad. He is as efficient in that way as he is at work."

"I see, well I think I see. Is it that there is little passion?"

"There is no passion. He wants a child. I am quite happy to give him a child, but in order for that to happen he has to sleep with me more than once a week." I was the one blushing now.

"Good grief!" Dad was astonished. "I don't wish to sound as if I am bragging, but I was chasing your mother all round the house day and night. If I didn't chase her, she chased me. The honeymoon only stopped when you came along. Seddons are rather hot-blooded; my grandfather sired a lot more kids than those who bore the name of Seddon."

"Daddy!"

"It's true, Andrea. The number of times he was caught out in the fields playing the two-backed beast with some maid was uncountable. He depleted the coffers quite severely with the bribes he had to pay to console some cuckolded husband."

I had heard stories about my great-grandfather but no one in the family had ever been so honest about his behaviour. "Well Charles is cut from a different cloth. I am sure I will conceive soon. As far as I know there is nothing wrong with us, it's just one of those things."

"Well I am sure you know what you are doing." He said in a tone that suggested that I didn't. As always he had work to do. Running an estate such as Broughley was not a sinecure.

It was my grandfather who sensing the revolution in farming had brought the estate into the twentieth century. Before, the estate was comprised of small farms run by farmers who paid rent to the estate for their acreage. Gradually grandfather had taken back control of the farms until the estate was run as a big business rather than some twenty-six individual concerns. It was Daddy who refused to grub out the hedgerows and trees to garner more acreage for which the EU would pay a subsidy. His reasoning was that the trees and the hedgerows soaked up much water, which if not taken up naturally would form new courses and depending on the topography would eventually run into the Severn or Wye rivers carrying much of our fertile soil.

He introduced a diverse policy of production. Nowadays the estate balanced its time old crops with stuff unheard of in our area such as Lavender, Rape, Linseed and Liquourice. Of course our orchards were still important as well as our Hops.

It was good being home again and sleeping in my own bedroom. The walls were covered with posters of pop-stars, film stars and one particularly huge poster announcing 'ban the bomb'. It was crazy, as when I put it up I had no political thoughts whatsoever; I put it there because it was fashionable amongst the young to rebel against government policy, whatever party was in power. One poster was of a bay in South Devon. We had had a family holiday there when I was about eight years old and it stuck in my mind as the best holiday I have ever had. I had always thought it would be nice to go back.

I sat up in bed sharply, why not? I could go, I had time on my hands at this moment and a few days by the sea may allay the feeling I seem to have of being dissatisfied. I went on-line and found the village. I couldn't remember the name of the hotel, and none of the pictures rang a chord with me so I just chose the one I liked the look of and booked for the next week.

Memory does play tricks, especially when the memory is that of an eight-year-old girl, who was trying to remember from twenty years ago. I had a fuzzy recollection of our driving west from Battisborough Cross and I retraced that road. However it didn't seem the same as my memory. Silly of me really, why should it be the same as twenty years before? Trees had grown; old cottages would have been restored becoming the bijou second homes for people like Charles. Add to this mix was the size of the latest model of Range Rover I was driving; cynically called a 'Chelsea Tractor' because of its appeal to the sophisticates of Chelsea and Sloan Square.

I drove carefully fearful of meeting another vehicle in these narrow lanes where the width of the Range Rover would make passing almost impossible. Charles had insisted on the car because he thought it infra-dig to use public transport. I wouldn't use the Range Rover in London preferring to take a taxi. Charles' view of society divided the population into 'us' and 'them'. 'Them' were those people who didn't earn lots of money and that view encompassed even the Prime Minister as he didn't earn more than two hundred thousand pounds per year. Charles' tidemark was at least half a million pounds per annum. He made an exception for people like my dad. Dad was a Viscount and that gave him a pass into Charles' society.

I eventually found the hotel by the simple expedient of asking. This became a necessity after my trusting the Range Rover's Sat-Nav. Unfortunately the equipment had me taking very narrow lanes and driving through fords. When faced with a ford that appeared to be at least three foot deep I retreated. Turning the car involved a very tricky manoeuvre a three-point turn becoming at least a seven-point turn. The hotel was a welcome sight and the warm reception was appreciated. I mentioned to the manageress my previous visit and described the hotel we had stayed in. "Oh, that would have been the Haven. It's an old people's home now." Yes it had been the Haven and had a marvellous view over the bay. At least some of my memory was true.

The next morning I retraced the steps of twenty years ago and walked the track that led down to the beach. I was delighted to see little change. The beach was a mixture of shingle and sand and the feeling of sand between my toes was exquisite. I strolled slowly along the strand; the sun was bright with a pleasant warmth. I had my bikini on underneath my frock and the warmth teased me to take my frock off. I folded it and put it into my sling bag. Another memory pushed into my mind. Yes, the headland! At very low tides it was possible to walk around the headland to a cove. I made my way closer to the headland and inspected the state of the tide. It was nearly out and I thought that if I waited for a half hour it might be possible to walk to the little cove.