Mary Anne by Daphne Du Maurier

Mary Anne by Daphne Du Maurier

This is a great read, another woman’s book I’d say.  I really can’t see most men being all that interested in the tale of a smart and spunky lower-class girl of late 18^th Century London who rises to fame as the mistress of H.R.H. The Duke of York.  There is plenty of intrigue, chicanery and affaires de coeur in this tale.

There is also, though, a tension, a dilemma.  What is an ambitious and clever young woman to do in the world of 1790 if she finds herself at the lower end of the social-class totem pole with a stepfather who falls ill, a mother who is worn out with the cares of life, a husband who turns out to be a ne’er-do-well drinker and four children to raise.  Mary Anne finagles and calculates to save herself.  Will she use any means necessary?  As a woman, is that her only recourse?  Is it only herself she looks out for?  Does Mary Anne ever really love anybody? 

Now, here’s the kicker.  Mary Anne Clarke is not a fictional character. She really was real and she really was the mistress of the aforementioned Duke.  Mary Anne Clarke was also the great, great grandmother of the author, Daphne Du Maurier.  I had not the slightest idea of this until I finished the book and looked up dates for the Duke of York just to better fix the story in an historical era.  Du Maurier makes no mention that her novel is a work of historical fiction.  Or is it?  But if it isn’t and it’s a biography, then shouldn’t it be introduced as such?  Only the dedication makes hazy reference to Mary Anne being a relative of the author. 

Du Maurier never gave a physical description of Mary Anne except through the voice of one male character.  He remarks that Mary Anne is not a beauty, yet there is something about her eyes.  It was clever of Mrs. Du Maurier never to supply a description of her historical main character when, certainly, she must have seen images of her relation.  I greatly enjoyed the omission; it kept me fully engaged, the imagination jumping from here to there, wondering just exactly what it was that made this woman so alluring. 

I came to like Mary Anne.  That is, for the most part.  In the midst of identifying with her and cheering her on, I would suddenly turn and conclude that she was all tricks and cagey antics, someone I’d never want for a friend.  If you haven’t read it already, read this book.  If you’ve read it, read it again.  Either way, it’s a delightful escape.    

 

Is this Mary Anne?

Is this Mary Anne?

 

A young Mary Anne?

Mary Anne was only 16 when she married.