Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill: (Georgian Series) (11 page)

‘You could run away,’ said the Prince.

‘How?’ She was all excitement; and suddenly, so was he.

Why not? Her guardian was at Brighton. Someone in his entourage? Suppose he set her up in a little house. There should be no obstacle. He knew enough of her to realize that she was not of the nobility; perhaps her guardian as she called him – or her, perhaps – had a post in his household. In that case the aforesaid guardian could be made to realize that the patronage of the Prince of Wales could be as comforting as marriage with a rich old man.

‘We could elope,’ suggested the Prince.

‘Oh, how, when?’

It would not be impossible. Suppose he had a post-chaise waiting for her? All she would have to do was slip away as she did when she came to the beach and into the chaise where her lover would be waiting for her. He would give the order to drive and they would go away … together. She would be out of danger.

She was excited about the plan; but, she declared mournfully, her guardian would be watchful of her; she would never escape.

He would have a footman’s uniform procured for her; she could put it on and leave her guardian’s residence disguised in it.

She was enchanted with the idea and clasped her hands with excitement. She agreed to meet him the following night and complete their plans.

But the next night she did not appear; and the Prince then realized how diverted he had been by this adventure, and how depressed he would be if it came to nothing. He was growing a little weary of Lady Melbourne; Mrs Billington had long since begun to pall; Mrs Crouch, another actress, was a real beauty but she drank to such excess that she smelled like a wine shop and the Prince did find this repulsive, particularly after Major Hanger had said that her throat smelt like a smoking chimney.

But his little nymph of the beach was fresh and lovely, and he would be wretched if he lost her.

For two nights she did not come, but on the third she was there. She sobbed against him and told him that she had been forbidden to leave the house. Her guardian was so suspicious, and she dreaded that she would not be allowed to make the escape.

They would arrange it, he said, for the very next night; she had the footman’s uniform; she must put this on and slip out to where the carriage would be waiting; he would be inside and they would go to London together.

‘I will be there,’ he said, and embraced her tenderly.

Soon, of course, he would have to confess who he was; but that would only add to her delight, he was sure.

He was excited and absentminded the next day; he had decided that he would dine early and alone, and let it be known that he was leaving for London immediately after dinner.

He was dressing when Major Hanger was announced. As he received his intimate friends without formality, and since the affair of the duel Major Hanger had been one of them, the Prince ordered that he be brought to him.

The Major came and while the Prince explained the new method of wearing the neckcloth to him the Major listened with absentmindedness.

‘I can see, my friend,’ said the Prince, ‘that you are somewhat distraught.’

The Major admitted that this was so and that he had come to ask the Prince’s advice.

‘Talk to me over dinner,’ said the Prince, ‘for I have business in London which means I must leave early.’

‘Knowing Your Highness’s success and experience with the fair sex, I believe you to be the one to advise me.’

‘I am interested to hear what has gone wrong for you.’

‘Everything … everything …’ groaned the Major.

And when they were seated at the dinner table he told the story.

‘I met the girl, Your Highness, in London. She wanted to come to Brighton. All of ’em want it. They want to have a chance of seeing Your Highness, I swear. So I brought her here … set the lady up in a pleasant little apartment, and what does she do? She starts an intrigue with a fellow of Brighton.’

‘This is sad news, Major. You mean she prefers this fellow to you?’

‘Stab me, if I could lay hands on him I’d douse him in the sea. He’d have had enough of sea bathing by the time I’d done with him.’

‘You don’t know who he is?’

‘No, but I shall find out. I’m determined on that. I’ve had her followed … meets a fellow on the beach, and is planning to go off with him.’

‘What’s this?’ said the Prince.

‘She goes to the beach. I’ve had her followed. Some fellow … from the household, I believe … meets her there. Oh, yes, I’ve had her watched; I’ve had her spied on. And she’s eloping with the fellow, I hear. Not sure when but I’ll find out. I’ll let her know that I’m not paying for apartments for her to use while she goes out to meet this fellow.’

‘What sort of a … woman is she?’

‘Damned pretty. And up to tricks. Not so young as she looks and she knows a thing or two, my Charlotte does.’

‘Charlotte?’

‘Little Charlotte Fortescue … Blue eyes … black hair and the prettiest little figure …’

‘One moment,’ said the Prince. ‘Describe her to me … in detail.’

The Major did describe her and before he had finished the Prince knew. His Lottie and the Major’s Charlotte Fortescue were one and the same woman. So she had pretended she was an innocent girl, when all the time she was kept … yes kept … by the Major.

‘Major,’ said the Prince, ‘I am your fellow.’

‘What’s that sir? What’s that?’

The Prince explained.

‘Well, stab me!’ cried the Major. ‘So she’s been playing us both. And Your Highness is the, the …’

‘The fellow you are going to douse in the sea.’

‘Why, sir … The wicked creature! No wonder she’s been looking so smug lately.’

‘You mean … she
knew
who I was?’

‘There’s little Charlotte doesn’t know.’

‘When I think of her sitting in my carriage … in my footman’s uniform … waiting for me …’

‘Very pleased with herself, Highness, having hooked the Prince of Wales.’

The Prince was irritated. It was not pleasant to have been so duped by a slip of a girl. He had only been mildly involved. She was not really his type; she was far too young. And the
fact that she had deceived him had completely changed his feelings towards her.

But she should not be allowed to get the better of him. He had an idea. It would be almost as good a joke as the duel.

‘Listen, Major. The carriage will be waiting to pick her up. She will be expecting me inside it. You shall put on the coat and hat I wore for my meetings with her and be there in my place. Madame Lottie will trip along, enter the coach … See how long you can keep up the deception. Then you can take her to London and enjoy the little jaunt which was to have been mine.’

The Major slapped his thigh.

‘By God, Sir, trust you to think up a first-class joke. I’m ready to choke with laughter in anticipation.’

They started to laugh together; then the Prince was sober. It was rather an anti-climax to what was to have been a pleasant adventure.

After the Major had gone, he started to think how pleasant it would be if he could meet a woman who was good and beautiful, who was his ideal, who loved him tenderly and whom he could love.

There is no satisfaction in light love affairs, he told himself.

In due course the Major reported the consternation of Charlotte Fortesque when she discovered that her deceived lover had taken the place of the Prince of Wales; and the incident made the two men even closer friends. The Major’s eccentricities were very diverting and he could always be relied on to think up some original trick to amuse.

On one occasion over dinner at Carlton House the Major became involved in an argument with Mr Berkeley over the merits of turkeys and geese and which could travel the faster. Major Hanger was sure the turkeys would; Mr Berkeley was equally certain that it would be the geese. Other conversation around the dinner table ceased and all attention was concentrated on the argument between Hanger and Berkeley.

The Prince joined in and said there was only one way of settling the matter. They must have a race. Because this was the Prince’s idea it was taken up with enthusiasm. It was in any case another opportunity for a gamble.

Bets were taken and the stakes rose high.

The Prince was on the Major’s side and backed the turkeys, declaring that he would be in charge of the turkeys and Mr Berkeley should be the gooseman. The preparations were, in the Prince’s mind, hilarious.

‘Now, George,’ he said to Hanger, ‘you must select twenty of the very best turkeys to be found in the land.’

Hanger said he could safely be trusted to do that.

Mr Berkeley was equally determined to find twenty of the finest geese.

It was not possible for the Prince to do anything without a great many people knowing of it; and the proposed match between turkeys and geese was no exception.

What will they be up to next? people asked themselves; and they came out to watch the race which Berkeley had artfully decided should take place in the late afternoon.

There was great hilarity when the birds were set on the road leading out of London for the ten-mile race. The Prince and Major Hanger were with their turkeys carrying the long poles on which pieces of red cloth had been tied with which to guide the birds if they decided to stray; and Mr Berkeley and his supporters were similarily equipped to deal with the geese.

The turkeys got off to a good start and the betting was in their favour; in the first three hours they were two miles ahead of the geese; and then as dusk fell the turkeys looked for roosting places in the trees and finding them would not be dislodged; in vain did the Prince and the Major endeavour to do so; they were engaged in this when the geese came waddling into sight prodded by their supporters and went on past the roosting places of the turkeys to win the contest.

This was all very childish apart from the fact that enormous sums of money had changed hands and the Prince’s debts were thereby increased because of it.

But although he spent lavishly on gambling, clothes, entertaining and improvements to Carlton House – in fact anything that took his fancy – he was not without generosity. He could never pass a beggar without throwing a handful of coins; he liked to scatter them among the children in the Brighton streets; and on one occasion borrowed eight hundred pounds from the moneylenders to give to a soldier just returned from
the American wars whom he discovered living in penury; and not only did he give money but made it his personal duty to see that the soldier was reinstated in the Army.

In fact he wanted to enjoy life and others to enjoy it with him; he had not yet lost the pleasure he found in freedom; the shadow of the restricted life he had led at Kew under his parents’ supervision was not far enough behind him for him to have forgotten it. But he was becoming a little palled. Light love affairs, ridiculous practical jokes, absurd gambling projects – they were lightly diverting for the moment: and that was all.

He longed for a stable relationship.

He was in this frame of mind when during a visit to Kew he strolled along the river bank with a little group of friends and met Maria Fitzherbert.

The encounter was so brief; she was there; he bowed and she was gone; but the memory of her lingered on.

‘By God,’ he said, ‘what a beauty!’

His friends agreed with him; but they had no idea who she was.

And there she was in Lady Sefton’s box in Covent Garden.

What a goddess! She was different from everyone else. It was not only due to the manner in which she wore her hair – and what glorious hair! It was all her own, not frizzed nor powdered, but dressed naturally with a thick curl hanging over one shoulder; and her bosom – full, white as marble, was almost matronly. Her complexion – and it was untouched by art – was clear and dazzling. And how delightful it was compared with the uniform red and white of rouge and white lead.

‘I never saw a face I liked better,’ he said to his companions. ‘Who is she? For God’s sake tell me. I shall not have a moment’s peace until I know.’

‘She is a Mrs Fitzherbert, Your Highness. A cousin or some distant relation of the Seftons. A widow …’

‘Adorable creature!’

‘Your Highness wishes her to be presented?’

He was thoughtful. There was something about her manner which warned him. She was no Charlotte Fortescue – not even
a Perdita. She was unique; and he knew from the start that he would have to go carefully.

‘Leave this to me,’ he said.

He had decided that for the duration of the opera he would content himself with looking. By God, he thought, there is plenty to look at.

She seemed unaware of him. That was what was so strange. Everyone else in the house was conscious of him – except Maria Fitzherbert.

‘Maria Fitzherbert.’ He repeated the name to himself. He wanted to know everything about Maria Fitzherbert. Just to look at her gave him infinite pleasure. No silly young girl this – a glorious goddess of a woman. No coy creature, no giggling companion. A mature woman, already a widow; a woman who was serious and in her lovely way mature. After the opera he would send someone to her box; he would say that the Prince of Wales desired to be allowed to visit her there. Impatiently he waited for the curtain to fall – and then it was too late. She had slipped away.

But it was not too late. He would follow her. He would take a chair as any ordinary gentleman might and he would follow her to her home.

How flattered she would be at this honour! She would invite him in for a delightful tête-à-tête; he would express his admiration; he would tell her that he knew something had happened to him tonight which had never happened before.

So to Park Street by chair in the most exciting manner.

But she had arrived there before him; and although she looked from the window and saw him standing in the street, she did not ask him in.

He was not seriously disturbed. Of course she was not
that
sort of woman. Nor, he told himself sternly, would he wish her to be; nor had he expected her to be.

He went home and all night he dreamed of Maria Fitzherbert.