Perdita's Prince: (Georgian Series) (5 page)

This state of affairs made the Cumberlands even more resentful, and it was to them that Charles James Fox decided to turn.

He called at the Cumberland House where he was always a welcome guest. Fox was a witty conversationalist, a high liver, a gambler, an amorist – in fact he indulged freely in all the fleshly vices. At the same time he was the cleverest politician in the country and while the Cumberlands could attract such men to their house their parties could be the most amusing in town. Moreover, they could give not only offence but anxiety to the King.

Fox, a stubble on his double chin, for over-indulgence in food and drink had made him fat in spite of the fact that he was only thirty years of age, his coat slightly splashed with grease from his last meal, for he made no concessions to royal dukes, arrived at Cumberland House, his mind full of the project.

The Duchess, fluttering her long lashes, received him boisterously. There was nothing regal about the Duchess. Her conversation was amusing and droll and not untouched by coarseness, but she was a very beautiful woman.

The Duke was with his wife – a small man with the loose Hanoverian mouth and the rather bulging blue eyes. Charles James had little respect for his intelligence – the Duchess had more – but his position as uncle to the Prince of Wales made him important.

He believed that Fox had come for a gamble, for the politician was a gambler by nature and could never resist a game of chance, but Fox quickly disillusioned him.

‘I have come to talk to Your Highness of your nephew.’

‘George!’ cried the Duchess. ‘There is no talk of anything but George. What a rascal the boy is becoming! He’ll soon be a rival to his uncle.’

The Duke grinned at her.

‘I hope someone will warn him not to write letters,’ continued the irrepressible Duchess. ‘Love letters can be costly when those who receive them are no longer in love.’

The Duke laughed at this reference to the Grosvenor case. ‘Is everyone going to go on talking of that forever?’

‘I’m sure it is what His Gracious Majesty holds against you … far more than your marriage to me.’

‘The Prince will need guidance,’ said Fox.

‘He’ll get it,’ laughed the Duke.

‘Never fear, dear Mr Fox,’ went on the Duchess. ‘Papa keeps him in his gilded cage and Mamma has tied his reins very firmly to her apron strings.’

‘All’s very well while he’s a minor. Your Highnesses forget he will soon be eighteen. Then we shall see changes.’

‘Changes!’ mused the Duchess. ‘He has shown very clearly the way he will go. Ladies, short and tall, fair and dark will lead him by the hand. And, Mr Fox, is it not charming of him to prefer beautiful English women … not like his ancestors who like ugly German ones.’

‘He is behaving … naturally,’ said Charles James. ‘Of course he is up in arms against his father.’

‘Which does not surprise me,’ put in Cumberland.

‘It would surprise me if it were otherwise,’ said the Duchess. ‘The King has treated our Prince like a naughty child in the past and is continuing to do so … in spite of the fact that he has shown the world so clearly that he is in possession of his manhood. I don’t know the number of seductions to date …’ She glanced at the Duke. ‘Perhaps you do, my darling. But they are too many for a boy. Our Prince is a man.’

‘The last one is a rather amusing story,’ said the Duke. ‘It
concerns a certain married lady of the Palace. Yes, His Highness is finding married ladies very much to his taste.’

‘Preferring experience to innocence,’ added the Duchess. ‘Wise young man.’

‘There very nearly was a mighty scandal over this affair,’ said the Duke.

‘There very nearly always is a mighty scandal. Don’t look so disappointed, Mr Fox. We’ll have our mighty scandal pretty soon, I promise you.’

‘It’ll come,’ agreed Fox. ‘And then he must have someone to turn to … someone to help him.’

‘He’ll get his reproaches from the Queen and a lecture from the King, who’ll tell him he wishes he could use the cane on him as he did when he was a bad boy.’

‘Alas for the dignity of the Prince of Wales!’

‘You’ve heard what happened, eh?’ asked the Duke, and when Mr Fox and the Duchess declared they had not he proceeded to tell them.

‘The Prince’s
affaire
with the lady was proceeding according to the usual pattern. The lady was living on amicable terms with her husband who – unlike some husbands – had no notion of the honour His Royal Highness was doing him by way of his wife. Indeed, he was that kind of a fool of a man who might have resented the honour, so the Prince and his lady refrained from informing him. One day the husband told his wife that he would be away for the night on Palace business, which made an excellent opportunity for the lovers. Alas, the inconsiderate man completed his business that evening and returned at midnight. He was heard knocking at the locked door of his apartments by the Prince who by chance happened to be sharing the connubial bed with the lady.’

The Duchess burst out laughing and cried in delight: ‘
In flagrante delicto,
I’ll be bound. Our future king is such a lusty young dog.’

‘Exactly,’ went on the Duke. ‘But what could he do? Escape was impossible even if he could have scrambled into his breeches in time. Fortunately for the Prince he has loyal attendants, and being of an open nature is apt to confide in them during the various stages of his love affairs. Consequently, one of his
gentlemen was aware of the husband locked out and the lover locked in, and knowing precisely what the husband would find if he burst in, took upon himself the duty of releasing his young master from a very embarrassing situation.’

‘A good servant,’ said the Duchess. ‘What was his name?’

‘Cholmondeley. You know Cholmondeley.’ The Duchess nodded and the Duke went on: ‘Cholmondeley went to the husband, told him that the Prince was in some difficulty and he had been asked to summon him to the Prince’s apartments immediately on his return that he might be made aware of the Prince’s dilemma. Having conducted the fellow to the Prince’s apartments Cholmondeley then went to the lady’s apartment and released the Prince who hurried off; then Cholmondeley returned to the husband, told him the Prince had retired and that the matter must rest until the morning. And in the morning he told the husband that the matter had been settled and his help would not be required.’

‘That is the sort of servant required by all young men who stray into other men’s beds while they are away from home,’ cried the Duchess. ‘Fortunate George. It would be interesting to know what would have happened if Cholmondeley had not been in his confidence and on the spot.’

‘Scandal, scandal, scandal and the King would have stormed at his son and suffered more sleepless nights on his account.’

‘So all was for the best,’ sighed the Duchess. ‘The Prince remains blissful in his enjoyment of the lady and the husband in his ignorance.’

Charles James Fox who had been listening without much interest to the story said: ‘This brings me to the point of my visit to Your Highnesses. The King cannot long delay giving the Prince an establishment of his own. And when he does the young man will have his friends … not only ladies. He is witty, possessed of intellect and a contrast to his royal father. We will not find our George growing wheat and making butter and buttons. Young George is of a different calibre. When the day comes we should be ready.’

‘We?’ said the Duchess, her startling black-fringed green eyes wide open.

‘Yes,’ said Fox. He waved his hand. ‘Here should be the centre of the Prince’s party.’

‘You think he’ll be a Whig?’

‘Certainly, Highness. Is not old George a Tory?’

The Duchess clasped her hands. ‘Of course. It is inevitable.’

‘His uncle should show an interest in his welfare.’

‘And what will HM say to that?’

‘It will not be the first time Your Highness has acted without the approbation of His Majesty.’

‘We’ll do it,’ cried the Duchess. ‘We’ll cultivate the acquaintance of our nephew.’

‘It will be necessary to go warily.’

‘Very,’ agreed the Duchess. ‘The King won’t have us at Court, you know.’

‘I know it full well, Your Highness. But the Prince will choose his own friends. He will, I believe, find more to interest him in his uncle’s residence than in his father’s royal palaces.’

‘We should be heading for a real family quarrel.’

‘History,’ said Mr Fox cynically, ‘has a rather endearing way of repeating itself.’

‘A Prince’s party to set itself against the King’s party,’ cried the Duchess. ‘We’ll do it.’

‘I thought Your Highness would wish to,’ said Mr Fox demurely.

*

George was in love once more. He had found the new paragon in the apartments of his sisters when he had gone to visit Charlotte, Augusta and Elizabeth. He had scarcely been able to talk to them so overcome was he by the charms of Miss Mary Hamilton.

Mary was wonderful. Of all the women he had so far loved there was not one to compare with this new charmer. She had all the virtues, and being six years older than he was seemed to him ideal. Nor was she a foolish, simpering girl – as he now thought of Harriot; nor was she a blasé married woman cynically breaking her marriage vows. Mary Hamilton was a pure woman and his love for her was pure.

He confided to his brother Frederick, to Cholmondeley, to
Maiden. This was different from anything that had ever happened before. This was a pure affection.

‘Do you imagine,’ he demanded of Frederick, ‘that I wish to seduce this lady?’

Did he not? asked Frederick in surprise.

‘Oh, no, you must understand, Fred, this is a
pure
love. But for my station in life I should immediately offer her marriage.’

Was this not a little rash?

In the circumstances, no. This was quite different from any of those other adventures of his.

‘Yet at the time …’ Frederick tentatively pointed out.

‘Oh, be silent, Fred. What do you know of love? I have written to her.’

‘George, you remember Uncle Cumberland’s letters. They cost our father thirteen thousand pounds.’

‘Don’t mention my Mary in connection with my Uncle Cumberland, I beg of you.’

‘But there were letters.’

‘Do you think that Mary would ever use my letters against me. Not that I could write as our uncle did. My love for Mary is pure. It will remain so.’

‘But will that be very satisfactory?’ asked Frederick, who had come to expect a certain line of action from his brother.

George sighed and went on: ‘I have written to her telling her that I am in love with a lady of the Court. I have mentioned no names. I have begged her not to be offended by my confidences.’

‘Why should she be?’

The Prince of Wales was too blissfully happy to be angry with his brother’s obtuseness. If Fred could not see that this was different from anything that had gone before, it was because he was too young to appreciate this strange and wonderful thing that had happened to him.

‘I have written to her. You shall read the letter Fred. I fancy I have a way with a letter.’

Frederick took the paper and read:

I now declare that my fair incognito is your dear dear self. Your manners, your sentiments, the tender feelings of your heart so totally coincide with my ideas, not to mention the many advantages you have in person over many other ladies, that I not only highly esteem you but love you more than words or ideas can express …

Frederick said: ‘But how do you know about her sentiments and the tender feelings of her heart?’

‘I spoke with her when I was in our sisters’ apartments.’

‘But only briefly.’

‘My dear Fred, one can fall in love in an instant. I have assured her of my friendship.’

Frederick glanced down at the paper.

Adieu, dearest Miss Hamilton, and allow me to sign myself him who will esteem and love you till the end of his life.

Frederick whistled, but George impatiently snatched the paper from him, sealed it and summoned Lord Maiden to take it to the lady.

*

The Duke of Cumberland rode out to Kew and when he demanded to be presented to the King none dared dismiss him.

George, being told that his brother was asking for an audience, was uncertain how to act. He thought he had made it clear that he had no wish to receive his brother who had so disgraced the family. And yet how could he send Cumberland away? He shouldn’t have come of course. He should have written and ascertained first that the King would see him.

George paced up and down his chamber. He thought of Lady Grosvenor and the letters Cumberland had written to her. No, he’d not see his brother. Cumberland lived riotously with that Duchess of his and she was a woman he would not receive.

It was sad, of course, that there should be quarrels in the family, but sadder still that members of it should behave as disgracefully as Henry had.

Then George thought of his mother who had dominated him, and with her lover Lord Bute put him into leading strings until he had broken free of them. She had loved him, though; he was certain of that. And she had died so bravely hiding the fact that she was in terrible pain from the cancer in her throat.

‘Forgive your brothers, George,’ she had said. ‘Don’t have quarrels in the family if you can avoid it. Your father and his father … Your Grandfather and his …’ Quarrel, quarrel, quarrel … Father against son. And it was no good to the family; no good to the monarchy.

Yet he had refused to receive Cumberland although he had accepted Gloucester – but not his duchess.

He called suddenly: ‘All right. All right. Tell the Duke I’ll see him.’

Cumberland stood before him, a little sheepish, a little truculent. He should be ashamed, thought George, writing those disgusting letters to Lady Grosvenor … and making me pay thirteen thousand pounds’ damages to the woman’s husband. And now he had this woman with the fantastic eyelashes. Eyelashes, eh what? thought the King. Who but a fool would choose a wife for her eyelashes?

‘Well,’ said the King, ‘so you’ve come here to Kew, eh, what?’