The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (14 page)

Her fresh coolness delighted him; in his heart he wondered whether he really wanted her to surrender. When he thought of the sexuality of Lady Jersey he was nauseated. How different was Isabella. She would not surrender, she implied, on any terms. And what could he do? There was nothing he could offer her that she should possibly want. She was as rich as he was – richer possibly – and her great passion was politics – Tory politics at that. When the Prince considered all that lay between them – his politics, her frigidity, virtue she called it – it seemed a hopeless case. And yet it was the hopelessness which he had always found so attractive; and while she held no hope of surrender, she implied that she was not displeased by his attempts to seduce her.

At the same time she made certain demands; she wanted assurances that he really was as infatuated as he declared himself to be.

Could she doubt it? he demanded.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘You are so frequently in the company of that very virtuous lady who – rumour has it – would never so compromise herself if she did not consider you to be her husband.’

‘Maria Fitzherbert has been my very good friend for many years.’

‘Then, Sir, since you are so satisfied with
that
friendship, why do you seek mine?’

Because, he told her, she was the most beautiful, elegant and fascinating creature he had ever met, and he could only be truly happy in her company. He wished to give a banquet for her at Carlton House. Would she allow him to do this?

She was thoughtful for a while. She was not very anxious to appear in public with him. She cherished her reputation which had never been touched by scandal, and she had no intention of becoming one of the women with whom it would be said he was having a light love affair. She had no doubt that while these were progressing he made ardent protestations to the ladies concerned, as he was doing to her now. He was merely the Prince of Wales; he had very little political power, nor would he have while the King ruled; but as she pointed out to her husband, the King was a very sick man and at any moment there could be a new sovereign – or at least a Regent. Then the Hertfords should have that King or Regent at their command. They had to remember that. But in the meantime she must keep him dangling. Even so neither of them must forget that while he believed himself to be Maria Fitzherbert’s husband no one was going to get very far with him. That woman had a very firm hold; and if the Prince was to be of any use to the Hertfords it had to be broken. It had been broken before by Frances Jersey; and what Lady Jersey could do Lady Hertford was certain that she could do better.

So her task at the moment was to keep the Prince at bay while slackening Maria Fitzherbert’s hold on him.

Maria had considered herself a friend of Lady Hertford; it was for this reason that the entire affair had begun, for Maria had sought Isabella Hertford’s help in the Seymour case.
Friendship? thought Lady Hertford. That had little place in her life. She loved politics and very little else – except her own person of course; it was a great delight to dress herself and know that she was the most elegant woman present when she entered a ballroom and everyone turned to look at her. The Snow Queen, they called her. Well, why not present a different kind of beauty to the Court? And in any case her cool elegance was the complete opposite of the blowsy appearance presented by the Princess of Wales. The very contrast in them was enough to make the Prince admire her.

But she was not concerned with the Princess of Wales but with Maria Fitzherbert. She was going to amuse herself by the manner in which she ousted Maria. Outwardly they would continue to be friends, while slowly she undermined Maria’s influence.

Her first move was typical of her.

She would be delighted to attend the banquet at Carlton House, but did the Prince know that people were beginning to whisper about them? ‘About myself and Your Highness! That is something which has never happened to me before. My reputation is at stake. I am a married woman; Your Highness is a married man. I could not dream of attending the banquet at Carlton House unless Mrs Fitzherbert was present also.’

She was adamant. Those were her terms. It was not as he had visualized it. He had pictured Isabella beside him while they dined so that he could pay court to her. And how could he with Maria present? The banquet, he explained, was to be given in honour of Lady Hertford. He had not counted on Maria’s being there.

‘Your Highness must see that only if Mrs Fitzherbert is present could I attend.’

So now, driving to Tilney Street the uncomfortable task lay before him of requesting Maria’s presence at a banquet at which Lady Hertford was to be the guest of honour.

Maria should please him in this, he told himself. He had done so much to please her. In fact he was on his way to Tilney Street now, because she had specially requested it.

‘To please me,’ she had pleaded, ‘be as attentive to Charlotte as to Minney. Will you do this … for me?’

He had hesitated. Charlotte was so
gauche.
God knew he had tried hard with the girl, but she was so like her mother. She
reminded him of her all the time and because of this he longed always to get away from her. But since it was his dear Maria’s special wish, he would come.

As he rode through the streets he was recognized, but the crowds were silent. There were no cheers now; he was no longer the darling of the people. They even preferred his mad old father. They were blaming him now because of the Delicate Investigation. They said he persecuted his wife. He had tried to bring a case against her and had failed, although during the course of that case surely everyone had realized the sort of woman Caroline was. Perhaps William Austin was not her own child, but that did not mean that she had not behaved in an extremely immoral fashion with the men who visited her house. He preferred to believe the maid Mary Wilson who had told another servant that she had gone into a room at Montague House and actually found the Princess Caroline and Sir Sydney Smith engaged as she put it ‘in the fact’. This they had heard and yet they still believed Caroline to be the wronged wife. They blamed him for the failure of the marriage; and in addition they suspected that he might have previously married Maria Fitzherbert, which was in a way the truth. Maria
was
his wife, if not in the eyes of the State, in those of the Church, and for Maria he had risked his crown and sacrificed much. It was because of Maria that he was greeted with sullen silence as he rode through the streets, for it was Maria’s staunch Catholicism that the people would not endure.

What I sacrificed for her! he thought. Is it asking too much that she do this little thing for me?

She was waiting to greet him in the hall; he embraced her fervently.

‘My dearest love!’

‘I am so happy to see you. Charlotte is with Minney and George Keppel.’

‘Oh, yes …’ This was something else he was doing for her.

‘They will have seen your carriage arrive. I’ll swear they were watching from a window. They will be so excited.’

He wasn’t listening. ‘I should like to be with you for a little while first, my dearest.’

Arm in arm they went into her drawing room.

‘And how is dear Minney?’ he asked.

‘In excellent health. In fact since the case has been over she
has been in high spirits. Poor lamb, she was far more worried than I realized.’

‘I shall never forget what we owe the Hertfords,’ said the Prince.

‘It was a brilliant idea. I have told Lord Hertford so often how grateful I am that I believe he is getting a little weary of my gratitude.’

‘We should do more I suppose than offer them words of thanks.’

‘What could we do? I think, in fact, that Minney’s happiness is enough reward for us all.’

‘Even so I thought of giving a banquet at Carlton House. Lady Hertford should be the guest of honour. I would be obliged to devote myself to her for the whole of the evening.’

Maria suffered more than a twinge of uneasiness. She had heard the rumours. It could not be true. Isabella Hertford was such a frigid creature. A fashion-plate it was true and that appealed to him, but she would never indulge in a liaison outside her marriage – not even with the Prince of Wales.

‘Should they not both be guests of honour?’

‘Why … yes … of course. Perhaps you could devote yourself to Hertford.’ He was beaming with pleasure. That would be it. ‘There could be two tables … one at one end of the room with you at the head and Hertford on your right and at the other end my table with Lady Hertford.’

Oh, no, thought Maria. The Prince’s table was the only table at which it would be an honour to sit and her place was at that table. She always had a place there – next to the Prince of Wales. It was his way of saying to the world that he regarded her as the Princess of Wales and expected everyone else to do the same.

‘I think that both Hertfords should be with us at your table,’ said Maria firmly.

But that would not suit him. How could he make verbal love to Isabella under Maria’s nose?

‘No,’ he said coolly, suddenly becoming very regal and the Prince of Wales in place of Maria’s ‘dear love’. ‘I prefer it my way.’

Maria felt indignant. She wanted to tell him that she had already heard the rumours about his growing passion for Lady Hertford. She controlled herself with an effort and said coolly:
‘Lady Hertford herself might not care for the arrangement.’

‘I have already spoken to her.’

‘Without consulting me,’ she said; and immediately cursed her hot temper which Miss Pigot had informed her had been her downfall during the Jersey affair.

‘Did you expect me to consult you about my Carlton House arrangements?’

Oh dear, she thought, we are going to quarrel. And Charlotte is waiting upstairs for him. In a moment he would walk out of the house and Charlotte would believe it was because she was there. Poor child, how dared he treat his wife – for she was that, whatever anyone said – in this way; and how dared he refuse his daughter that affection which she so obviously craved.

She said quickly: ‘Of course I did not. Charlotte is eagerly awaiting you. Please …’

‘And you will agree?’ he asked eagerly. ‘You will come to the banquet as I ask?’

She thought: We are bargaining. Be nice to your daughter and I will be present so that the woman whom you hope to make your mistress is not compromised.

No, she thought. I won’t do it. Then she thought of that young girl who was eagerly waiting now, listening for his footstep on the stair.

What does it matter? she thought. He has been unfaithful before. But that was what she had told herself when Lady Jersey had appeared on the scene and had brought about their parting. But he had come back to her. He knew he needed her. Very well, let him have his flirtations, his infatuations, his light love affairs. He would always come back to Maria.

She said: ‘I agree. And now come and show your daughter that world-famous charm.’

How impressive he was! Charlotte was proud of him. No one else had a father like him. George Keppel had Lord Albemarle, who was all right; poor Minney had no father at all, though she had Mrs Fitzherbert, who was perhaps a great deal more comforting – but Charlotte had the Prince of Wales.

He looked enormous – tall and fat; his eyes were laughing; he looked as though something had pleased him; he had somewhat pouting lips which gave him a petulant air and his slightly tilted nose made one want to kiss him. His clothes were magnificent;
they made Charlotte feel awkward just to look at them, because they fitted him so perfectly. His coat of very fine dark green cloth was single breasted and he wore it buttoned right up to the chin; his breeches were of leather and his boots Hessian; his neckcloth was of white silk with tiny gold embroidered stars on it; it had many folds and came right up to his chin. He wore a wig which was a profusion of honey-coloured curls. A truly magnificent figure.

He sat down on the chair and Minney ran to him. George remained decorously in the background and he said: ‘And Charlotte? Come and tell me what
you
have been doing.’

Mrs Fitzherbert smiled and nodded to her as though to say: Don’t be nervous. And she felt that with that good fairy standing there nothing could go wrong.

So she spoke up and told him about the Bish-Up and Dr Nott, imitating them – and some of the amusing things that happened in the schoolroom.

To her delight he thought them funny too, and so did Mrs Fitzherbert, who started everyone laughing a great deal, and when Mrs Fitzherbert laughed so did the Prince.

‘Why not a game?’ said Mrs Fitzherbert. ‘A guessing game.’

All the children were delighted at the prospect, and Mrs Fitzherbert suggested one at which Charlotte always shone.

So they played and Charlotte won a great many points at which the Prince was surprised and pleased; and Charlotte thought on more than one occasion that Mrs Fitzherbert chose questions to which Charlotte knew the answer. And looking across the room at her seated on the chair – serene and plump but with her lovely figure and her skin as fresh as a young girl’s and her masses of golden hair untouched by powder, Charlotte loved her; and a wish came to her. If this were my home … if these were my parents … But she would not go on with it because it was unfair to her own mother, who had come down to Windsor especially to see her. It was not her fault if she had been turned away.

When the Prince took his leave he was affectionate to his daughter and Charlotte’s eyes were shining with pleasure. It had been such a happy afternoon – she rarely remembered enjoying herself so much.

The carriage came to take her with George and Lady de Clifford back to Carlton House, and when she took her leave she
threw her arms about Mrs Fitzherbert and buried her face in that magnificent bosom.

Maria held her tightly for a few seconds in a special grip which meant that she understood. Charlotte was saying ‘Thank you’ and Maria was implying that this was a beginning. She was going to make everything right between Charlotte and her father.

Out into the street they went – Lady de Clifford leading. A little crowd had gathered about the carriage. Someone said: ‘That’s her. That’s the Princess Charlotte.’