By the time she was back in Crow Street Dorothy had come to regard herself as a professional actress. The smell of tallow candles, the draught that blew in from the wings, the excitement of facing an audience and the gratifying ring of applause were a part of her life; and she asked for no other.

She had her friends – and enemies – in the company. Ryder was one of the best of the former; the latter were made up of those actors and actresses who were jealous of her popularity with audiences, those who declared that the young upstart took more than her share of the applause.

There were many ways in which they could make life burden-some; they could try to distract the audience’s attention from her; they could discuss her disparagingly in the Green Room; they could talk of her in the taverns as a girl who had achieved success through a fine pair of legs and hint at the reason for her favouritism with Ryder.

Dorothy could take these taunts better than Hester. In truth she enjoyed a fight, and the attitude of some of her fellow players increased her determination to succeed. She could retaliate by displaying her superior talents on the stage, by singing with more and more feeling, dancing with more and more verve. In those early days life was a battle – a gay and exciting one which seemed to offer certain success.

There was one man in the company who gave her a few twinges of fear. His name was Richard Daly and he was a swaggering braggart of a man – not a great actor but the opinion he had of himself made up for a lack of acting ability. There was a quality in him which made it impossible for anyone to be unaware of him. He was tall and well made; in fact he would have been extremely handsome but for the fact that he squinted. This squint added a diabolical touch which many declared to be entirely fascinating. He was constantly boasting of his successes with women and it was obvious that this was no idle boast. He was a real dandy – the most elegant man in the theatre and any casual observer would have thought he was the manager rather than Ryder. He was a great duellist, adept with sword and pistol; and he wore a diamond brooch in his coat with great pride because it had once saved his life. It seemed he had challenged a college acquaintance, Sir Jonah Barrington, to a duel – for what reason no one seemed sure – and Sir Jonah had fired first. The bullet would have gone through his heart but for the diamond brooch; in fact some of the gems had become embedded in his chest. He had had the brooch reset and wore it always that everyone might remember how ready he was to make a challenge and that he was Devil-May-Care Daly.

Daly was a gambler, and if his acting was not of the highest standard, having graduated from Trinity College, he was educated and could quickly memorize a part; moreover he had an excellent wardrobe of his own which was useful in business. Daly had no sooner joined the company than he began to dominate it.

He was a deeply sensual man and greater than his interest in gambling and duelling was his interest in women. There was not a woman in the company on whom he did not cast his speculative eye, and it was scarcely likely that Dorothy would escape.

He would waylay her on the way to her dressing room; he would bar her way almost playfully but she was aware of his brute strength and he wished her to be.

‘Dear Miss Francis, why in such a hurry?’

‘Dear Mr Daly, what concern is that of yours?’

‘All Miss Francis’s actions are a concern of mine.’

‘Then it’s more than Mr Daly’s are of mine.’

‘A kiss for a free passage.’

‘These passages are already free,’ she told him. ‘Or so I believe. I must verify this with Mr Ryder.’

A threat of course. Ryder had it in his power to dismiss Daly.

‘I am in no mood to take orders,’ he told her.

‘I know. You solve your problems with bullets. But don’t spoil that nice diamond brooch again.’

She would dodge past him with a derisive laugh; and he would laugh with her, but his eyes, as far as the squint would allow her to see, were smouldering.

He was the sort of man whom her mother would wish her to avoid. And I am in complete agreement with her, thought Dorothy.

But for the existence of Mrs Lyster, the leading female player in Ryder’s company, Dorothy might have been uneasy, for she sensed something evil in the man.

Mrs Lyster was a fine comic actress. Dorothy liked to stand in the wings and watch her perform for she had great talent and there was much to be learned from her. She had been a Miss Barsanti before her marriage to Mr Lyster who had recently died leaving her a comfortable income. Dorothy admired Mrs Lyster not only for her acting ability but for her poise and that comfortable and apparent sense of security which having an income apart from her theatrical earnings gave her.

There was someone else who admired Mrs Lyster and that was Richard Daly; and Mrs Lyster like so many women seemed to be completely fascinated by the man and not in the least revolted by his squint; on the contrary to find it an added attraction.

Daly’s interest in the widow did impede to some extent his pursuit of Dorothy, but in spite of the fact that everyone knew his intentions towards Mrs Lyster were serious and honourable (Dorothy, laughed at the word because it was clearly Mrs Lyster’s income which made her so overwhelmingly attractive) he still turned that smouldering gaze on Dorothy.

She was repelled by it and yet excited. She had welcomed the opportunity to let him know that although most women found him irresistible, she did not. She was relieved however when Daly announced to the company his intention to marry Mrs Lyster.

The wedding was celebrated by a party back stage, which Dorothy attended with the rest of the company. Mrs Daly was very proud of her swaggering squinting husband and, thought Dorothy, welcome to him.

The bridegroom had a word or two with her.

‘I’m disappointed in you,’ he told her. ‘I’d hoped to find you heart-broken.’

‘Although I condole with the bride,’ retorted Dorothy, ‘I can hardly be expected to break my heart for her.’

‘And what of the bridegroom?’

‘He’s a man who will know how to look after himself, I don’t doubt.’

‘True, Miss Francis. I know a wise woman like you would recognize in him a man who won’t be denied what he wants.’

‘I am sure Mrs Daly will be able to satisfy all his needs.’

With that Dorothy turned away. In spite of her mockery, he disturbed her.

Shortly after the wedding Ryder told her that he had had to relinquish the lease of the Smock Alley theatre.

‘What will that mean?’ asked Dorothy. ‘If someone else takes it they’ll set up in opposition to Crow Street.’

‘It means exactly that. But I can’t pay the rent just to stop someone else opening up.’

‘But two theatres can’t be filled. You know how hard it is to fill one.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m in debt to the tune of thousands of pounds and the owners have offered to waive the debt if I give up the lease. There’s nothing I can do but give it up. It may be that they’ll use the building for something other than the theatre. I can tell you this, it will be a great weight off my mind and off my pocket to be rid of the place.’

The deal went through and Ryder was more at ease than he had been for a long time. Richard Daly was strutting about the theatre as though he were premier actor, manager and owner of the place. He was clearly delighted with his marriage.

Dorothy heard the news through Ryder.

‘Who do you think has taken over Smock Alley? Richard Daly! And he’s going to open up in opposition.’

In the stalls every night sat a young soldier. There were many soldiers in Dublin who came regularly to the theatre but there was something persistent about this one and very soon the company was referring to him as Francis’s admirer.

He was very young – scarcely good-looking, but extremely earnest; and there was no doubt that he was in love.

Flowers and gifts were arriving back-stage for Dorothy and at length she consented to see the young man. She could not help being touched by his naîvety. On the first meeting he proposed marriage.

Very soon Dorothy took him to the family’s lodgings where Grace eagerly studied him. Dorothy was amused because her mother’s dearest wish to see her married was becoming more of an obsession. ‘You are doing well now,’ she would say, ‘but never forget that the life of an actress is a precarious one. The public can drop you as quickly as it takes you up. Look what a private income did for Mrs Lyster.’

‘It bought Richard Daly,’ mocked Dorothy.

‘I don’t mean that. He’ll doubtless run through her fortune for her.’

‘Not he. She’s too good a business woman and he too good a business man for that to happen.’

‘Dorothy, you must learn to be a business woman.’

‘Very well. I’ll start taking lessons.’

‘But best of all is a rich husband to take care of you,’ affirmed Grace. ‘We must find out more about Charles Doyne.’

Dear Charles, he was so young and so much in love! She was sure she could be quite happy married to him. He would never interfere with her career, and it would be pleasant to have a constant admirer. She had to admit that she was not deeply in love with the young man though she liked him well enough, and the more she compared him with Richard Daly the more she liked him. Though why she could compare him with that man seemed irrelevant. What was important was that he would be a docile husband, and there would be children. She had discovered in herself a great desire to have children. It was not that she was so fond of other people’s children; it was those of her own which she wanted. And one of her mother’s most constant fears was that – as in her own case – there might be children without marriage.

Grace was making inquiries. A cornet in the Second Regiment of Horse. A cornet! What did Dorothy think they were paid? The young man was of good family though, his father being Dean of Leighlin, but Grace knew how such families viewed the marriages of their sons with actresses. She must consider with extreme caution.

It was Grace who discovered that Doyne’s income was of the smallest and so was his pay; his family might be good but they were not wealthy and it was clear that the couple would get no support from them.

‘I can continue acting,’ pointed out Dorothy, ‘and we shall be much in the same position as before.’

‘There is the family to be supported and what if you started a family of your own? No, my dear, I see nothing but a life of drudgery. Consider this very carefully. Fortunately you are not in love with the young man.’

No, conceded Dorothy, that was true. And a rising actress did not accept marriage from an impecunious young man merely because she wanted legitimate children. Hester joined her voice to Grace’s and since Charles Doyne was too meek to be a persistent suitor and Dorothy herself could view the relationship from the most practical of viewpoints, she quietly told him that she could not accept his proposal.

Young Charles was desolate and when the company went on tour he made the most of his leave to follow it to Waterford in the hope that Dorothy would change her mind. But she was firm in her resolve and this was strengthened by the fact that the opening of Smock Alley had taken so much business from Ryder that he was forced to cut salaries.

‘Business,’ he said mournfully, ‘is bad. We’re playing to empty houses. Most of it’s going to Smock Alley.’

Ryder grudgingly accepted the fact that Daly was a good business man and with his wife’s money behind him a formidable rival.

It was clearly no time for an insecure actress with family responsibilities to consider marrying a young man who had little beyond his pay as a comet in a regiment of horse.

Dorothy was firm, and accepting defeat Charles Doyne began to look elsewhere for a wife.

Another cut in salary. Dorothy was getting worried. Grace said: ‘I don’t know how we’ll manage. The public is deserting Crow Street for Smock Alley every night. I’ve seen this sort of thing happen before. People like something new. And they say that Daly has engaged John Kemble.’

‘How will he be able to pay his salary?’ pondered Hester.

‘Daly was wise,’ replied Grace. ‘He married a woman who could not only help to fill his theatre by her own performances but could pay for those of others. He’s a very clever gentleman. He’ll go up and the more he rises the lower will Tom Ryder fall.’