Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill: (Georgian Series) (17 page)

‘Lizzie, I will tell you this: I shall forgo the Crown. If I cannot as heir to it marry where I will then I shall abandon my claim to it. I have my brothers. I shall sell everything I have – jewels, plate, everything. I shall find Maria and fly with her to America.’

America, thought Lizzie. A rather unfortunate choice. She wondered how the Americans would greet the son of the King who had been their greatest enemy.

But this was not the occasion to point it out to the Prince.

She had an idea. ‘Your Highness cannot go abroad, that is certain since the King forbids it, but why should others not go and at least find out where she is. If you traced her you could write to her and I believe your letters would be most persuasive.’

‘Lizzie,’ he said. ‘God bless you. You were always my good friend.’

There was one man who could find Maria if anyone could. That was the Duc d’Orléans, who was at this time in England. The Prince was certain that Maria had gone to France, because she knew the country well and it would be a second home to her. Orléans was living in London with Grace Elliot who, not very long ago, had been the mistress of the Prince of Wales.

Theirs had been a comfortable love affair – no protestations of devotion on either side. Grace – known as Dally the Tall, because she had a tall and willowy figure and before her marriage to a Dr Elliott she had been a Dalrymple – was a gay young woman who had had a host of lovers and she and the Prince had parted without regrets and therefore as the best of friends.

When the Prince invited Orléans to Carlton House and confided his troubles, the Frenchman was full of sympathy.

‘She is in your country, I am sure of it,’ cried the Prince. ‘But I do not know where.’

‘It should not be impossible to find out,’ replied Orléans.
‘Such a beautiful Englishwoman would create talk wherever she went.’

The Prince clenched his hands together at the thought of his infinitely desirable Maria in that country where men were noted for their gallantry. What if someone were able to offer her what the Prince was not … honourable marriage?

‘I must find her,’ he cried. ‘I want to tell her that I will give up everything … simply everything in order to marry her.’

The Due nodded sympathetically. He thought the Prince a fool who did not know what he was talking about. Give up a crown for this plump matron? Orléans had his eyes on another crown and from the reports he heard from his spies all over his country, and particularly those who prowled about the Palais Royale, affairs in France were working towards some sort of climax which could be very beneficial to the Due d’Orléans.

He was a very ambitious man and although not yet forty, owing to the life he had led he had developed that revolting skin disease which made his hair fall out and his complexion hideous to behold; but these disabilities affected him little in society because they were offset by his fortune and his connection with the royal family of France.

It suddenly occurred to him that this might be a very propitious time to return to France, for if interesting events were about to take place it was as well to be on the spot.

He could go back to Paris, setting new fashions in his pink coat, top boots and leather breeches; he would have his English-style carriage over there, introduce horse-racing; and at the same time let the people know how much better affairs were run in England than in France.

Here was an excellent excuse for returning. Not because affairs were taking an interesting turn; not because the news he heard from his spies was setting him on the alert; not because he wished to be at hand to help disconcert his cousin, the King, and the woman he hated most in the world, the Queen of France – but to help his friend and kinsman, the Prince of Wales, to find a woman who had run away from him.

‘I doubt not that I could have her whereabouts discovered in a week or so.’

‘Is that possible?’

‘If I went to France and saw to this matter myself.’

‘But … you do not wish to leave England.’

‘In the service of my dear friend I would do anything.’

‘You mean that you would …’

The Due bowed gracefully. ‘For you, my dear friend and Prince, I would do much.’

The Prince fell on to the Due’s neck and embraced him, forgetting for once that horrible skin disease.

And the Due, full of plans, left with Grace for France where he set about introducing English fashions, undermining the throne of France and finding Maria Fitzherbert.

As he had predicted, this last was simple.

He discovered that Mrs Fitzherbert had gone first to Aix-la-Chapelle, but because she did not wish to stay too long in one place and believed that it would be suspected that, in view of the fact that she knew that country well, she would have gone to France, had crossed the frontiers and was visiting the Hague.

So now he knew and he was all impatience to visit Holland. First, though, his debts must be paid before he could leave the country. The King had been brooding over those debts for weeks and had made no announcement. So he went to see him again.

The Prince had changed, and the King was quick to notice this. A little of the arrogance had disappeared; he looked pale – and, yes, he had grown a little thinner.

Some good has come out of this then, thought the King.

‘Sir, you have promised to settle my debts.’

‘I must first have a full account of how they were incurred. There is this item.’

Oh God, thought the Prince. What is he talking about?

‘I want a full account of how this £25,000 is made up.’

‘I have no idea.’

‘But you must have an idea … a sum like this. How could you run up debts for that amount without knowing how, eh, what?’

‘I tell you I have no idea.’

‘Then you go away and think about it. I don’t believe you can’t know how such a large sum of money was spent. If it’s a debt you’re ashamed to explain then I ought not to pay it.’

‘Sir, I wish to go abroad.’

‘Well,
sir
, I should remind you that that is something you cannot do without my consent. And I do not give that consent. You understand me, eh? You understand, what?’

Miserably, his heart full of hatred towards his father, the Prince left.

But at least he knew where she was, and there was the comfort of pen and ink-pot. He wrote pages to her which gave him some pleasure. He would shut himself in his apartments and cover sheet after sheet. Although the Prince had been deeply affected by women since his adolescence he had never before been in love like this. The most surprising thing of all was that he remained faithful. No other woman could be of the slightest interest to him. All through the winter his only comfort was talking to his friends about his devotion to Maria, writing impassioned letters to her, keeping couriers running back and forth across Europe. These were often arrested as spies and only the help of the Duc d’Orléans saved them from imprisonment. When he explained that the mission of these men was love and not espionage they were immediately freed and given every facility to reach Maria.

But she stubbornly remained out of the country in spite of his appeals and everyone now understood that Maria Fitzherbert was not playing a waiting game in the hope of luring the Prince to indiscretion; she really was the deeply religious woman she had made herself out to be and she would not consider living with the Prince on any terms but marriage.

Sir James Harris, the English Ambassador to The Hague, came to London to report and the Prince seized the opportunity of sending for him.

Harris had been a friend of the Prince; and as ambassador in a country such as Holland over which the French and the English were fighting for control, he was often in the depths of intrigue. He was therefore in close touch with the King and his ministers, and understood many of the problems not only of State but of the royal family.

Like all those who wished the family well, he deplored the Prince’s absorbing passion for a woman whom he could not marry and who had refused to live with him on any other terms. If Mrs Fitzherbert had given in, the problem would
have been immediately solved; it was ironical, but it was Mrs Fitzherbert’s virtue which was causing such concern.

The Prince greeted Harris warmly at Carlton House and immediately came to the reason for his visit.

‘I want to know whether it would be possible for me to go to The Hague as a private person, and if I did how would you, as the King’s representative there, receive me?’

Harris was alarmed. So much depended on his answer, but he hesitated only briefly and said: ‘I should be very sorry to see Your Highness in Holland otherwise than in a character which would allow me to receive you in a manner comformable with the respect and affection I bear Your Highness. Your coming abroad, however, without the King’s consent, would imply that you came after having been refused it. You may rest assured that in this case I should have received orders as to how I should act on your arrival and however much these orders were in contradiction to my feelings, as the King’s servant, I should be obliged to obey them.’

‘I should be the last person to ask you to do otherwise. But what can I do? Am I refused the right of every other individual? Cannot I travel legally as a private person, without the King’s consent?’

‘It seems immaterial to know whether Your Highness can or not, since it is evident that you cannot with any propriety to the public or satisfaction to yourself, cross the seas without it.’

‘Why not? I wish to travel economically, to be unknown and to live in retirement.’

‘I confess that no event would give me so much pain as an Englishman to see a Prince of Wales abroad under such a description.’

‘But what can I do? The King suggests I put aside £10,000 a year to pay my debts at a time when, with the strictest economies, my expenses are twice my income. I am ruined if I stay in England.’

‘Your Royal Highness will find no relief in travelling in the way in which you propose. You will be slighted or the object of intrigue.’

‘What can I do? The King hates me. He has hated me since I was seven years old.’

‘His Majesty may be dissatisfied with Your Highness but
surely he cannot hate you. I am convinced that nothing would make him and the Queen so happy as to restore their affections to you. This would be the greatest blessing to the nation and comfort to the royal family.’

‘That may be so but it cannot be. We are too wide asunder.’

‘I do believe Your Highness should try every possible means before you carry into execution your plan of travelling.’

The Prince sighed. ‘I see I shall have to think it over.’

Couriers were leaving Carlton House for Germany as well as Holland, for the Prince was now writing not only to Maria but also to his brother Frederick. Frederick had been his close companion in youth and the affection between them had been great; they had helped each other out of many a scrape and the fact that they had been parted was an added grievance against the King. When the Prince had heard that his brother was to be sent to Germany to train for the Army, he himself had begged for a commission that they might continue to be together. Why could they not both serve in the English Army? Why must Frederick go to Hanover? All the objections had been ignored and the brothers parted. But they had declared they would be friends for ever.

Frederick had heard of the charms of Maria Fitzherbert and of his brother’s devotion and how nothing would satisfy him but marriage with this lady; and he, who had been at his brother’s side during the affair with Perdita, who had attended those clandestine meetings on Eel Pie Island to be at hand to give a warning if needed, now declared himself entirely at his brother’s service over the matter of Maria Fitzherbert.

If necessary, wrote the Prince, he would give up the Crown, which would mean that Frederick would inherit it. Was Frederick agreeable to make this sacrifice?

Frederick replied that he would make any sacrifices for his brother.

Dear, dear brother, how cruel to keep them apart! Frederick must realize, the Prince reminded him, that at some time he himself might want to marry someone who was not acceptable as a future Queen of England.

Frederick’s reply was characteristic of him. In that event there was William, Edward, Ernest, Augustus or Adolphus to
step into the breach. There was one thing for which they must be grateful to their parents; they had been generous in providing substitutes should they feel unable to accept the Crown.

They could always laugh together. The Prince was a little more hopeful and the people in the streets were singing more than ever, with sympathy and interest in their emotional, lovesick, but never boring Prince of Wales:

‘I’d crowns resign

To call thee mine …’

Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.’

Maria wrote to him. He must forget her, she told him. It was no use his talking wildly of marrying her and giving up the Crown. This she appreciated but even if he disobeyed his father and was so imprudent as to follow her abroad, she could never marry him. She implored him to try to forget her.

She would always remember his devotion to her and be grateful for it; the memory of his fidelity and devotion sustained her in her exile; but he must not think of leaving England. It would be a fatal mistake which he would regret for the rest of his life – and she would never forgive herself if she allowed him to do this.

She thought of him often; she would not deny that she loved him. Yet if he came abroad she would never stay with him, but would make sure that he could not find her. This she meant and she begged him to be calmer, to wait a while, to see if his feelings changed in the next months.

He read and re-read that letter. It seemed to hold a gleam of hope; and at last he began to see that it would be impossible for him to leave the country and that no good could come of it.

That brilliant young man who had the appearance of having been born old, called on the King: William Pitt, the younger, whose great claim to the King’s loyalty was that he was in opposition to Charles James Fox.