Temporary Mistress (39 page)

THE LOVERS WERE MARRIED a week later in the Tavora House chapel so Isabella's grandpapa could see her married—in spirit at least. And the dowager Countess of Bathurst joined Molly—Mrs. Peabody that day—Isabella's employees, and a select number of the ton in celebrating the joyful nuptials.

The Leslie relatives found themselves thwarted in their plans, not only by the marriage but by the birth nine months later of a son and heir to the earl and his countess—followed in quick succession by two additional children. And during the course of their marriage, the earl faithfully kept his promise to make his bride happy and in the process found the blessed joy and contentment that had so long eluded him.

1. See page 51. It wasn't unusual for well-known courtesans to write their memoirs in their retirement years as an added source of income. Names of lovers could be omitted from the publications for a suitable sum of money, although Lord Chesterfield and/or the Duke of Wellington (sources vary on the attribution) weren't alone in their famous remark: "Publish and be damned." Because of the intimate nature of these memoirs, the accounts are fascinating glimpses into the temperaments and personalities of these noble lords. Harriet Wilson's early-nineteenth-century memoirs are some of the most interesting, for her friendships included many of England's most powerful and influential men. And contrary to popular belief, the life of a courtesan wasn't necessarily that of degradation and ruin. Many beautiful young ladies found prosperous, loving husbands in the course of their careers. Harriet Wilson's youngest sister, Sophia, was a case in point. With her older sisters in the business, she'd determined from a young age to parlay her youth and beauty into the ultimate triumph. And she succeeded. She charmed and married Lord Berwick, immediately became conscious of her new dignity, and cut herself off from her sisters and former acquaintances.

2. See page 67. Mrs. Fitzherbert, twice widowed and childless, first attracted the attention of the Prince of Wales in March 1784. He was twenty-two and she was twenty-eight. With the
Prince already notorious for his drinking and womanizing, she shrewdly resisted his persistent passionate advances, refusing to become his mistress until December 15,1785, when he agreed to marry her in a secret ceremony. While the marriage wouldn't be legal under the Royal Marriages Act, in the eyes of the church it would be a marriage and that was sufficient for Mrs. Fitzherbert. One child, possibly two, were a result of their union (take your choice of inferences and evidence), but like so many of the Prince's relationships, it was threatened by his dissolute lifestyle and disreputable friends. By the winter of 1793, the love affair was over and Lady Jersey became the Prince's favorite. In addition, his mounting debts required he marry legally, which would increase his income by at least 100,000 pounds a year. A bride was found for him—his current lover, Lady Jersey, having a hand in her selection—and not by coincidence his cousin, Princess Caroline of Brunswick, proved to be unremarkable and plain. His remark on first meeting her is legendary: "I need a brandy." The marriage, which took place April 8,1795, was disastrous, lasting only two weeks. Completely alienated from his wife and tired of his mistress Lady Jersey, in the summer of 1798 the Prince sought to win back Mrs. Fitzherbert. By midsummer 1799, she at last relented. Their reconciliation was now official. "A Gentleman of high rank and Mrs. Fitzherbert are once more 'Inseparables,'" announced
The Times
on July 4, 1799. "Where one is invited, a card to the other is a matter of course."

The next eight years were the happiest of their connection, although the Prince still spent a great deal of his time with his cronies.

3. See page 67. Princess Caroline was treated abominably by both the Prince of Wales and his family. As mentioned above, she was spurned almost immediately after the wedding and once her daughter, Charlotte—conceived in the brief two weeks of their conjugal union—was born, she was deliberately kept from her child. Miserable in the royal apartments, she was allowed to rent a house at Blackheath in the summer of 1797, where she continued to live for many years. She was rumored to have a sizable sexual appetite, and stories circulated concerning her various lovers. Gossip had it she delivered a child in 1802, but no definitive proof survives. Until she was allowed to leave England in 1814, she lived apart from the court with only a few retainers in attendance.

Her stay on the continent fueled more scandal, and a commission was funded by the government to investigate the allegations of adultery for the purpose of a divorce action. The then Prince Regent was eager to divorce his wife. His only child, Charlotte, had died in childbirth, leaving the English throne without an heir, since all the royal dukes had morganatic marriages. Charlotte's death created a rush for the royal dukes to marry and provide an heir to the throne. The Prince Regent brought divorce proceedings against his wife in 1820 but failed in his attempt. Caroline died on August 7, 1821, and by her will wished to be buried in Brunswick with the simple epitaph: Here lies Caroline of Brunswick, the injured Queen of England.

4. See page 67. Beau Brummell was a favorite of the Prince of Wales's from 1794 until 1813. His reputation was founded upon his preoccupation with dress and his wit. The cut of his clothes, the fit of his gloves, and the shine of his boots were exquisite. The secret of good grooming, he said, was "no perfumes, but very fine linen, plenty of it and country washing." His major influence in male fashion was the introduction of two innovations: starched neckcloths and Hessian boots. With the Hessians came pantaloons—tight-fitting leggings—and before long, trousers were replacing knee breeches. Brummell had managed to discourage the excess of silk and satin, gold lace and multicolored embroidery so beloved of the Prince of Wales and his friends. The Prince and Brummell may have shared the same tailors—Schweitzer and Davison, Weston and Meyer—but only one of them was setting the fashion—Brummell. The Beau was
also responsible for introducing the left-hand-only style of opening a snuffbox.

Although the Prince and Brummell had been drifting apart for some time, July 1813 saw the final breach between them. Brummell and three of his dandy friends gave a ball at the Argyle Rooms and deliberately omitted the Prince Regent from their guest list. But when the Regent wrote to announce he would attend, they were forced to send him an invitation.

On the evening of the ball, the Regent was met at the door by the four hosts. Bowing to Pierrepoint on one side, the Prince turned to the next host, saw Brummell, and ignored him. The shocked silence was broken by Brummell's casual drawl: "Ah, Alvanley, who is your fat friend?"

Brummell and the Regent never spoke again.

In 1815, Brummell was forced to flee his debtors in England. He died at Calais in 1840.

5. See page 147. I'm always fascinated by the ingenious plumbing incorporated into some of the grand residences, at a time when indoor plumbing wasn't universally available. But water provision was in the hands of numerous private companies and had been as early as 1581, when waterwheels were pumping Thames water to parts of the City. At the end of the seventeenth century, the use of steam for power was made effective by Thomas Savery. In 1712, a pump worked by a Savery engine was installed at Campden House in Kensington. It could raise three thousand gallons an hour up fifty-eight feet to a cistern at the top of the house. In 1723, the Chelsea Waterworks Company was incorporated "for the better supplying in the City and Liberties of Westminister and parts adjacent with water." The company was responsible for introducing the first iron main in London in 1746, and by 1767, with the widespread use of steam pumps, 1,750 tons of water were pumped daily. By the time Celia Fiennes was touring England in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century, water was being supplied for indoor fountains, baths, and water closets.

6. See page 187. Isabella, Marchioness of Hertford, was an ambitious woman. Born two years before the Prince of Wales, the daughter of the ninth Viscount Irvine, she became the marquess's second wife when she was just sixteen. Eighteen years her husband's junior, she was tall, handsome, and elegant—though a little portly. I've dated their relationship earlier for the purposes of the story, but she and the Prince didn't become involved until 1807. So why did the Prince replace one aged companion (Mrs. Fitzherbert was now fifty-one) with another almost as old (Lady Hertford was forty-seven)? Lady Bessborough's suspicion that the Prince was suffering from boredom—"alas! No cure—the disease is fatal" was probably correct. Lady Hertford was intelligent and worldly enough to both stimulate him mentally and satisfy him emotionally. Their liaison lasted ten years.

7. See page 228. I'm always intrigued when I come upon some rare note on female sexual amusements. While thousands of volumes have been written on male sexual diversions, women have not been as well documented—although certainly there is historical evidence of female sexual assertiveness (i.e., to cite only a few—Cleopatra, Empress Theodora, Heloise, Diane de Poitiers, and my all-time favorite, Catherine the Great of Russia). So in the interests of scholarship, the handsome young male shop assistants of Bond Street can be added as further proof that females have always found pleasant ways to entertain themselves. According to Malcolm
(Anecdotes of the Manners and Customs of London During the Eighteenth Century
, 1810), "as early as 1765 came the demand for strong, good-looking young men to serve in the ladies' fashion shops, who would create a market through the impression made by their personalities on the world of prominent ladies, and many scandals arose even in those days from
this custom." At the end of the century Boettiger
(London and Paris
, 1799) says: "As the female population of this town is not devoid of feeling for a handsome male form and fresh red cheeks, the cunning Bondstreeters look out for well-built, personable
and promising shop assistants with whom a lascivious lady might very well care to exchange a couple of dozen more words than is warranted by her business."

8. See page 266. Since dueling was illegal, a closed carriage was often used to drive to the dueling rendezvous so the occupants wouldn't be recognized.

9. See page 269. The dire consequences of an error in loading a pistol is emphasized by Abraham Bosquett in this grim warning from
The Duel
by Robert Baldick:

"It has been known, that by injudiciously overloading, the Principal has been killed by his own pistol bursting, a part of the barrel having entered the temple; and it has frequently happened, through the same cause, that the pistol-hand has been shattered to pieces. I was present on an occasion when the Principal shot his own Second through the cheek, knocking in one of his double teeth, not by the ball, but by a part of the pistol barrel, that was blown out near the muzzle. I was also on the ground when a Principal shot himself through his foot, at the instep, which nearly cost him his life, but put an end to farther proceedings at the moment; his Second had given him his pistol at full cock, with a hair trigger, which he held dangling at his side, before the word was given, and in that position it went off. On another occasion the Second had charged his friend's pistol so carelessly, that the ball and powder had fallen out before he presented; when, but not till after receiving the opposite fire, snapping, and burning prime (the matter being then accommodated), he discovered, on making several attempts to discharge his pistol in the air, that it was unloaded."