Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill: (Georgian Series) (25 page)

So now listening to Maria enumerating his virtues he was very happy indeed.

But she must entertain now and then, and since whenever
she entertained he would be present, she must have a worthy establishment in which to do it.

‘Lord Uxbridge’s place in St James’s Square is to let,’ he told her.

‘My dear, dear George, you cannot mean that
I
should take such a place?’

‘But why not. It’s reasonably habitable.’

She threw back her head and laughed. The most musical laugh in the world, he thought, raising his head to kiss her throat before settling down once more on that magnificent bosom.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘Far, far too expensive for me. It would cost all of three thousand a year to maintain it.’

‘That does not sound a
very
large sum.’

‘Not to you, my extravagant Prince. To me it is one thousand more than my income.’

‘Your Prince is not without intelligence, you know.’

‘Indeed I know that he possesses that very useful asset in abundance.’

‘Then …’

‘Then what, my dearest?’

‘Supposing you to have an income of six thousand a year, that intelligence tells me that you would not then find Uxbridge’s place too expensive.’

‘The logical answer to that is that I have not an income of six thousand a year.’

‘And the logical answer to that is that you
shall
have.’

‘Listen to me. I have no intention of taking an income from you.’

‘Why not?’

‘It is unnecessary. I have considered myself very comfortably placed. I have two fine houses … well, fine enough for me … but then I do not judge them by royal standards.’

‘But you now have raised your standards, my love … my queen …’

She smiled tenderly. ‘Fine houses … jewellery … these gifts which you are constantly trying to bestow on me are of no importance. What matters is that we are together, not where.

‘I know it. I know it. But I wish you to have everything that
is worthy of you and that is the best in the world. I want you to have Uxbridge’s House. I will pay the rent and with your six thousand a year you will, I know, keep the creditors at bay.’

‘Six thousand!’ she cried. ‘But my dearest, what of
your
creditors.’

‘Money! Other things are far more important. Don’t you agree?’

‘Yes, that is why I suggest that I continue as I am here in Park Street and that no new expenses are incurred on my account.’

But the Prince was determined. ‘This house,’ he said, ‘was Mr Fitzherbert’s. Is he to be allowed to present you with a house and I not?’

That was a different argument and Maria was perplexed. After that it took very little persuasion to make her agree.

‘The truth is,’ said the Prince roguishly, ‘I have already told Uxbridge that we are taking it.’

‘Of course the Prince married her,’ said some of the gossips. ‘She would never have succumbed otherwise.’

‘He can’t have married her,’ said others. ‘It would be illegal. What of the Marriage Act? She is his mistress. She was only holding out to make him the more eager.’

Whichever theory was supported there was no doubt that the Prince and Mrs Fitzherbert were lovers; and everyone watched them with interest.

The gossip reached Windsor. Madam von Schwellenburg who considered herself head of the Queen’s household – and was in fact the most disliked member of it – muttered to herself as she went about her apartments feeding the toads which she kept in cages about her room. Her little pets she called them; and she was far more gracious to them than she was to the maids of honour who were under her sway.

‘Herr Prince vos up to no goot,’ she told the toads. She had come to England with the Queen twenty-six years before but had never bothered to learn English properly. She despised the English, hated their country, so she said; and was furious when attempts had been made to send her back to Germany. ‘Dis is vere I lifs,’ she had said, ‘and dis is vere I stays. Novon villen
me move.’ But she showed her dislike for the country, to which she clung, in every way and it was apparent in her atrocious rendering of the language.

She disliked everyone except the Queen, whom she looked upon as her charge. Charlotte herself did not like the woman but kept her with her from habit. In the first place, when her mother-in-law, Augusta the Dowager Princess of Wales, had tried to get rid of Schwellenburg soon after Charlotte’s arrival, she had clung to the woman on a matter of principle. But there were times when she wished her back in Germany.

So Schwellenburg had grown old in the Queen’s service and none the more attractive for that. She disliked the King and the Queen’s children; she disliked everyone and everything except herself, the Queen and her toads. She delighted in the misdeeds of the Princes and the gossip concerning the Prince of Wales was in particular a great joy to her.

‘Herr Prince von bad vicked,’ she told her favourite toad, the one who croaked the loudest when she tapped his cage with her snuff box. ‘Has vedded von bad voman.’

She had seen that the cartoons in the papers were brought to the Queen’s attention by setting them out with the appropriate pages in evidence on the royal dressing table. She had tried to tell the Queen about the rumours, but the Queen had shrugged them aside.

‘There are always these stories about royal people, Schwellenburg.’

‘Of veddings?’ asked Schwellenburg maliciously. ‘Dis vomen ist von Catholic. Von bad ding.’

‘It is of no importance, Schwellenburg. I have heard that the lady whose name is being coupled with the Prince’s is a very virtuous one. I am sure it is quite a pleasant relationship.’

‘Like Vilhelm vis Portsmod Sarah.’

Really the woman was intolerable. ‘Go and attend to your toads, Schwellenburg. I no longer need your services.’

The very mention of her toads made Schwellenburg forget everything else, and the Queen was delighted to be alone.

It was a different matter when Lady Harcourt spoke to her. Lady Harcourt was a trusted friend. Charlotte was very fond of the Harcourt family, for it was Lord Harcourt, the present Lady Harcourt’s father-in-law, who had come to Strelitz all
those years ago to arrange for her marriage to George, who was then the Prince of Wales. She could trust Lady Harcourt and had only a year or so before appointed her a Lady of the Bedchamber. To Lady Harcourt as to no other could she confide her innermost thoughts; it was a great comfort to have such a friend.

Lady Harcourt said, when they were sitting together with their knotting in their hands: ‘Your Majesty, I am distressed about the rumours … and I have hesitated whether or not I should speak to you about them.’

‘My dear, you know you may speak to me on any subject you think fit.’

‘But I did not wish to add to your anxieties.’

‘Have you heard something dreadful?’

‘It is alarming.’

‘About William? That was a distressing affair. I do hope he is behaving sensibly. The King has sent him to Plymouth, but he may well take it into his reckless head to go back to Portsmouth. What a trial one’s children are.’

‘I was not thinking of His Highness Prince William but … of the Prince of Wales.’

The Queen’s fingers faltered on her knotting.

‘You have heard something fresh?’

‘I do not think it is fresh, but it is so … persistent. I greatly fear that there may be some truth in the rumour.’

‘What is the rumour?’

‘That he is married to this woman, Mrs Fitzherbert.’

‘I have heard that rumour. It is simply not possible. How could he be married to her? It is against the law. The Royal Marriage Act forbids any member of the family to marry without the King’s consent.’

‘But, Your Majesty, that need not prevent the Prince’s doing so.’

The Queen said piteously: ‘Oh, my dear Lady Harcourt, what have we done – the King and I – to be so plagued by our sons.’

‘They are young men, Your Majesty … lusty young men. They wish for independence.’

‘He is the heir to the throne. He could not be so foolish.’

‘He is undoubtedly in love with this woman, and the Prince
when he does anything does it wholeheartedly. He is, I have heard, wholeheartedly in love with Mrs Fitzherbert.’

‘But I have heard that she is a good and virtuous woman. She would never allow this.’

‘It is because she
is
a virtuous woman, Your Majesty, that it has happened.’

The Queen was silent for a while and then she said: ‘What can I do?’

‘Should Your Majesty not speak to the King?’

Charlotte turned to her friend. ‘I can say this to you though I would say it to no other. I am afraid … for the King.’

Lady Harcourt nodded.

‘This affair of William and the Portsmouth girl. It has upset him more than the Court knows. I have heard him talking … talking endlessly at night. He … he rambles. He goes on and on … and sometimes I do not know what he is saying. He has grown very melancholy. He talks of his sons and how he has failed with them, how the Prince of Wales hates him, how William flouts him.’

‘Has he been bled and purged?’

‘Constantly. Far more than is generally known. I dare not speak to him at this time of this affair.’

‘It may not be true,’ said Lady Harcourt.

‘No,’ replied the Queen gratefully. ‘It may not be true. But I think we should know whether it is or not.’

Lady Harcourt nodded.

‘If it were true,’ said the Queen, ‘it could imperil the succession; it could shake the throne. I could not tell the King in his present state of health.’

‘Your Majesty is the Prince’s mother. Perhaps you could yourself see him … find out if this rumour is true. He would not lie to you if you asked him for a direct answer.’

‘I will do it,’ said the Queen. ‘But my dear Lady Harcourt, should it be true, I tremble to contemplate the effect it would have on the King.’

‘Perhaps Your Majesty could keep it from the King … until he is recovered.’

The Queen smiled brightly. It was a pleasant idea; but she knew in her heart that he never would recover. She laid her hand momentarily over that of Lady Harcourt.

‘It is good to talk … with friends,’ she said. ‘I will summon him to Windsor and demand he tell me the truth.’

On receiving the Queen’s request that he should come to Windsor to see her, the Prince drove down from Carlton House in his phaeton.

The Queen was moved when she saw him – so elegant in his dark blue coat, his silk cravat and the diamond star glittering on his left breast. He towered above her. How handsome he is! she thought. If he would only kneel at her feet and beg her to intercede for him with the King as William had! But of course he did no such thing. He stood before her, arrogant, caring nothing for her and showing by his manner that he quite clearly had no love for her. Her mood changed, for since he would not let her love him, her feelings were so strong that they bordered on hatred. She had never felt this strong emotion towards any of the others – it was only for George, her adored first-born whom she had worshipped in the first years of his life.

‘You wished to see me, Madam.’ His voice was cold containing no affectionate greeting, but merely implying: Come let us get this business finished so that I can get away.

‘I have heard rumours,’ said the Queen, ‘rumours which greatly disturb me.’

‘Yes, Madam?’

‘Concerning you and a lady named Mrs Fitzherbert.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Rumours,’ continued the Queen, ‘that you have married the lady. Of course I know this to be an impossibility but …’

‘Why an impossibility, Madam? I am capable of going through a marriage ceremony.’

‘I did not doubt it but you would not be so foolish … or so wicked … as to deceive a lady of good character into believing that it was possible for you to marry her.’

It was the wrong approach. She had seen that when his face flushed angrily.

‘Madam, I am married to a lady whom I love and honour above all other people.’

‘Married! You are certainly not married.’

‘I should have thought, Madam, that I was the best judge of that.’

‘Evidently you are not if you can delude yourself into thinking you are this woman’s husband. It is quite impossible for you to be. Have you never heard of the Marriage Act?’

‘I have heard so much of that criminal measure that I never want to hear of it again. In fact my first act when I mount the throne will be to repeal it.’

She stared at him aghast. How could he talk so? And the King was only forty-eight years old – a comparatively young man. One would think his father was in his dotage. She shuddered.

‘Please do not talk in that way. I am not sure that it is not … treachery.’

The Prince laughed. ‘Madam, I thought the reason why I am treated like an imbecile or an infant in the nursery was because it was well known that I should one day be king. Is one supposed not to mention this fact as though it were something shameful?’

‘The King is still a young man.’

‘He looks and behaves like an old one, so you cannot blame people for thinking of him as such. But you asked me here because you had heard rumours that I was married. Well, I tell you that I am, that the lady I have married is worthy to be the Queen of England; she will not disgrace your drawing room …’

The Queen burst out: ‘She will never have an opportunity of proving that.’

‘So you will not receive her at Court?’

‘Certainly I shall not.’

‘Why not? Why not?’

‘Because I do not receive my son’s … mistresses … in my drawing room.’

‘Madam, this is my wife.’

‘You know very well that cannot be. You may have gone through a form of marriage with her but she is not your wife. And I repeat, I will not receive your mistress in my drawing room.’

The Prince was white with anger. ‘Very well. But every other drawing room in London will think itself honoured to welcome her. And Madam, let me tell you this:
your
drawing room is as dull as a mausoleum and the conversation there about as lively as at a funeral gathering. In
my
drawing room, Madam, where
the wittiest and most brilliant people of the country foregather, my
wife
will receive the honour due to her. So, let me inform Your Majesty that it will be no hardship to my
wife
that she is not received in the Queen’s drawing room when she is the hostess in that of the Prince of Wales.’