Caroline the Queen Read online

  Hervey saw the familiar lift of the lips, the opening of the eyes which remained cold and serene.

  ‘We discussed your talents,’ she said. ‘They are too great to be wasted.’

  ‘How kind.’

  ‘If you could persuade Lord Hervey to read his latest poem to you ...’ began Stephen.

  But Hervey silenced him with a loving smile.

  ‘Let us discuss my talents,’ said Hervey. ‘I thrive on flattery.’

  ‘This is no flattery,’ said Pulteney.

  Anna Maria who hated prevarication said bluntly: ‘They want you to join the Patriots.’

  Hervey took a kerchief from his sleeve and waved it before his face. Stephen half rose in alarm; Molly sat smiling and Pulteney was very alert.

  ‘That would be far from simple,’ murmured Hervey. ‘Why so?’ asked Pulteney sharply.

  ‘I have my appointment to serve the Queen.’

  ‘Why should you not continue in it?’

  ‘Do you think Walpole would allow one who was no longer a friend to hold a post so close to the Queen?’

  ‘That would be for the Queen to decide,’ said Anna Maria.

  ‘The Queen and Walpole share each other’s views, Madam. What Walpole thinks today the Queen thinks tomorrow.’

  There was silence.

  ‘I should be the loser by one thousand pounds a year,’ declared Hervey languidly.

  ‘Your father would be delighted to give you a thousand a year,’ suggested Molly.

  He smiled at his wife tenderly.

  ‘My dearest, you think all have as high an opinion of me as you have.’

  ‘I dislike Walpole,’ said Molly. ‘He is a coarse creature. He tried to seduce me once when I was at Court.’ ‘Unsuccessfully?’ enquired Hervey.

  ‘Certainly unsuccessfully.’

  ‘The fool! ‘ said Pulteney. ‘He is a disgrace to the country.’

  ‘A disgrace who has brought peace,’ suggested Hervey. ‘It was time for peace. There is always a time for peace after wars.’

  ‘He is credited for the peaceful times and the new prosperity.’

  Molly said: ‘If your father would make up the loss of the stipend you receive as the Queen’s Chamberlain would you consider leaving Walpole?’

  There was silence in the room.

  Hervey looked at them; Pulteney so flatteringly eager; Anna Maria suspicious, the vixen; and Molly, cool, seeming impartial. She wanted him to say yes. She did not care that her husband should be the crony of the man who had tried to seduce her. Fastidious Molly, how she must have hated the coarse old man. Was she capable of feeling elated at the thought of his fury when he knew he had lost such and important adherent as Hervey? It would be interest. ing to see.

  ‘My father would not do so,’ he said.

  ‘But if he did ...’

  Hervey lifted his shoulders; the assumption was that his loyalty to Walpole hung on his stipend he received as the Queen’s Chamberlain.

  * * *

  Stephen was alarmed, for he knew more of the secret plans of his dear friend than anyone.

  ‘If you gave up your post you would hardly be received intimately at the Court.’

  ‘That’s so, dear Stephen.’

  ‘But ... it is necessary ... that you are at Court.’

  ‘Entirely necessary.’

  ‘And yet ...’

  ‘Dear boy, you disturb yourself unnecessarily. There is no question of my giving up my post. My father will never agree to pay me the thousand a year.’

  ‘And if had ...’

  ‘He never will. My dear boy, do you imagine that I would give up this brilliant chance of being in close Court circles. Never! But if I say to my wife I wish to be on friendly terms with your would-be-seducer, she will be displeased. And if I say to William Pulteney: You are a clever fellow but I prefer to stand in the good graces of one whom I think is more clever—he will be offended. But if I say I do what I do for the sake of one thousand pounds a year, they are only disappointed; they understand and in a way they approve. Madam Vixen also. She has always such respect for money. It’s the line of least resistance. I shall go back to Court, sighing because I must smile at the man who would have seduced my wife, I must call my friend the enemy of one who believes himself to be my true friend. Oh, blessed thousand a year.’

  Stephen smiled.

  ‘How clever you are!’

  Hervey nodded. ‘And growing a little tired of the country life. This intrigue here in Ickworth has made me eager to plunge into others. Our stay will be shorter than I had at first planned.’

  * * *

  Lord Hervey had miscalculated. His father, Lord Bristol, who disliked Walpole intensely, was pleased that his son was considering severing his connection with him.

  Molly had written to him explaining that her husband would have allied himself with Pulteney but for the fact that he had to consider the thousand pounds he received each year in payment for his duties as Chamberlain to the Queen. It went without saying that to turn from Walpole would be to lose the post, and it was for this reason only that dear John did not raise his voice against Sir Robert.

  The Earl replied to his dearest daughter-in-law that he understood the predicament and was ready to do anything that would help his dear Jack. Therefore he need have no fear of relinquishing his post for his father would make up for all that he lost.

  When Molly received the letter she did not run out to the gardens where Hervey was walking in deep conversation with Pulteney; that would have been showing an eagerness and Molly never did that.

  She was as serene as ever and it was only after they had dined and were seated together in the retiring chamber when she produced the letter from Lord Bristol.

  Hervey listened in dismay. Stephen’s large eyes were fixed fearfully on his friend’s face.

  ‘So,’ said Pulteney, ‘this matter is settled.’

  ‘No, that is not so,’ answered Hervey.

  ‘But you can have no objection now. You will lose nothing. Your father is willing to reimburse you.’

  ‘I do not recollect saying that my decision depended on this thousand a year.’

  ‘But you distinctly ...’

  ‘I do not believe I passed an opinion. You assumed. I said nothing.’

  Pulteney was furious. Hervey had never seen him so angry.

  ‘You said ... you implied ...’

  ‘I implied nothing. As I remarked, and I pray you forgive the repetition, you assumed. And wrongly as it has turned out. I have no intention of relinquishing my post.’

  With that Hervey rose and bowing to his wife and Anna Maria declared his intention to retire. He had a great deal to do for he intended to set out for St James’s without delay.

  He left the next day, leaving a furious Pulteney who refused to speak to him.

  Molly paid him a placid farewell and went back to her social life, giving parties, looking after the poor of the district, caring for her children, as though she had never attempted to persuade him to leave the Walpole party in favour of the Patriots.

  Hervey smiled as the carriage rattled through the Suffolk lanes on its way to London. He was singularly blessed in his marriage. As for Pulteney—a plague on him!

  * * *

  As soon as Hervey returned to Court he began to ingratiate himself with Frederick. This was not difficult, for Frederick was always looking for new friends, flattery, and excitement; and Hervey, with his wit and elegance, his knowledge of the world and of politics seemed to the Prince a most engaging companion.

  Frederick was restive. There were plenty to tell him that he was not treated fairly by his parents. He was kept short of money which was a bore and a humiliation. His sisters with the exception of Caroline openly disliked him; so did his parents. Whenever he could plague them, he would. And there were plenty to help him do it.

  But he was not serious by nature. He did not want to be seriously involved in politics; he liked to surround himself with merry companions
and drink together, play cards, or perhaps wander incognito through the town to see what adventures came their way.

  After the manner of his father, he believed that it was due to his dignity to take a mistress or two, although the company of his own sex delighted him and it seemed to him that Lord Hervey was the ideal companion.

  Very soon they were firm friends.

  Stephen Fox was a little jealous of Hervey’s devotion to the Prince but Hervey wrote comfortingly to Stephen that the Prince was a fool and that it was not through friendship that they were so much together. While he was forced to spend his time with Frederick his thoughts were with Stephen, and when he was at a banquet at Lord Harrington’s and Stephen’s name was proposed as a toast, he had felt himself blushing as a man’s favourite mistress would have done on the same occasion. Stephen was the person whom he adored more than all the others in the world bundled together. Stephen should remember this—no matter what gossip he heard of Hervey and his new friend.

  Like his father, Frederick enjoyed discussing his love affairs. They were numerous he told Hervey. And what of his?

  ‘Numerous also,’ replied Hervey languidly.

  This delighted Frederick, who went on to explain the charms of the daughter of one of the Court musicians.

  ‘The hautboy player. She is very charming ... and so humble. Yet it cost me all of fifteen hundred pounds to set her up in her own establishment.’

  ‘Generous of Your Royal Highness. The honour should have sufficed.’

  That delighted Frederick. ‘Oh, I like to be generous with those who please me.’

  Over-generous, thought Hervey. There’ll be debts.

  ‘She is very different from Madame Bartholdi. You know Madame Bartholdi?’

  ‘An excellent singer. I have heard her at the opera.’ ‘A passionate woman.’

  ‘My dear Fred, most women in England would feel passion for the Prince of Wales.’

  How easy it was to please. He liked Hervey to call him Fred. He prided himself on his democratic attitude. That was why he liked to roam the streets at night incognito.

  His latest acquisition was the daughter of an apothecary at Kingston and he was constantly taking boat there to see her.

  So tiresome! thought Hervey.

  He himself had his duties in the Queen’s apartments. Caroline had always liked him; she reminded him of how he used to ride along beside her chaise when the hunt was on and amuse her with his conversation.

  ‘Are you still as witty as you were then, Lord Hervey?’ she asked.

  ‘I trust Your Majesty will give me opportunities of assuring you that I am more so.’

  She laughed. ‘I hope it is not venomous wit like little Mr Pope’s and so many of his sort. It is so much more clever to be witty and kind, Lord Hervey, than witty and cruel.’

  ‘Your Majesty being both witty and kind is the cleverest of us all.’

  ‘There is no need for flattery. You should save that for the Prince of Wales. Ah, how different everything is now. I remember when you were a very young man and were courting Molly Lepel. How is dear Molly?’

  ‘Very well and very fruitful.’

  ‘Somehow I did not think you would be father to so many.’

  ‘I am delighted to be able to surprise Your Majesty.’

  ‘And I am delighted to see your friendship with the Prince of Wales. If you can teach him to be a little more serious ...’

  He smiled. ‘When I am scarcely serious myself?’

  ‘A little more ...’ She was going to say like yourself, but perhaps that would be too strong. There were always people within earshot and she did not want to start a scandal about herself and Lord Hervey. He was after all about fourteen years younger than she was but she had always had a fondness for him and she knew she brightened when he stood beside her chair and enlivened her with his conversation. George would be furious if there was so much as a breath of scandal about her. And he was difficult enough to handle as it was.

  ‘A little more princely,’ she said. ‘I fear he wastes his time in the company of ...’

  ‘Men like myself?’

  ‘No, you will be good for him. I am sure of it.’ She turned away. She would have to be careful.

  Hervey was well aware of her caution and was amused by it. There was nothing he liked so much as to exert his charm, and to have made the Queen aware of it delighted him.

  Perhaps he should spend more time near to her.

  He noticed one of her maids regarding him with some interest, and when he left the Queen’s presence he found her at his side. She was very handsome and very voluptuous. He knew of her. She was Anne Vane at present mistress of Lord Harrington, although Harrington was by no means the first man to have been her lover.

  ‘My lord,’ she said, ‘it is good to see you back at Court. I trust you will stay.’

  There was invitation there. Hervey considered it. She interested him, partly because she must be as different from his wife as a woman could be. Molly was as cool as April; this woman was hot August.

  Her gaze was flattering: ‘You bring out the male in me,’ he said.

  She laughed understanding. Hervey was an interesting character. Two-sided, it was said. There was the feminine side and the masculine. He liked this to be said. It made him seem so interesting. Although he preferred perhaps the company of his men friends, he was, he wanted people to know, not without interest in women.

  ‘We must talk together sometime.’

  Anne Vane opened her mouth and let her tongue appear between her white teeth.

  ‘Some say there is no time like the present,’ she said. ‘And do you say it?’

  ‘On this occasion most emphatically? And my lord?’ ‘Slightly less emphatically.’

  ‘I am sure I should know how to make you more emphatic.’

  ‘And my Lord Harrington?’

  ‘Is spending a few days in the country.’

  ‘That must make you very sad.’

  She smiled and laid her hand on his arm.

  Hervey found Anne Vane an interesting mistress; and the liaison became more intriguing when Harrington returned. Hervey had no wish to make it known that he was Anne’s lover. Stephen became so jealous and there was always someone to carry such news.

  He did not know what Frederick’s reaction would be either, for he and Frederick were drawing closer together every day and the Prince was beginning to tire of the apothecary’s daughter.

  To please the Prince he suggested they should write a play together, and this delighted Frederick. Of course, thought Hervey, I shall do all the work; but it was worth it to have people saying that he and the Prince were becoming inseparable.

  The play was difficult to write for he had never tried his hand at playwriting before. It required a more sustained effort than the writing of verses or the notes he was accustomed to make in his journal. He had his doubts as to the virtue of the play, but Frederick was enthusiastic about it. Poor Fred! He had no literary taste!

  When the play was finished Frederick insisted on sending it to Wilks, the actor-manager at Drury Lane.

  ‘He must put it on the stage,’ cried Frederick. ‘No one shall know who wrote it. The King and the Queen will come and admire it and then and only then shall they know that the son whom they despise has some talents.’

  Hervey regarded the Prince tolerantly. Did he really think Wilks would put on their little piece if he didn’t know the Prince had had a hand in it. Didn’t he see that the only hope of its ever being on a stage was because his name went with it.

  But one must placate royalty, which often meant deceiving it.

  ‘You, my lord, will know exactly how to manage this. I want to go to the theatre and see our play.’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ said Hervey.

  This Frederick was pleased to do, being certain that in a short time he and his dear friend would be sitting in a box incognito watching the audience delight in their work.

  * * *

  �
�This is not a play,’ cried Wilks scornfully.

  ‘I think you should put it on nevertheless,’ Hervey told him.

  ‘The audience wouldn’t sit through it.’

  ‘I still think you should put it on.’

  ‘There’s Court interest in this?’

  Hervey nodded.

  ‘Well, I must let the audience know. They’ll not take it otherwise.’

  ‘Orders are secrecy. Put on the play first. Revelations will come after.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ said Wilks. ‘Nor will the audience.’

  * * *

  Frederick and Hervey sat back in their box. The Prince’s eyes were shining with delighted anticipation as he surveyed the audience who had no notion who he was. Even Hervey had disguised his elegance with a big cloak.

  ‘I love the opening when the players come on to the stage one by one ...’ burbled Frederick.

  ‘Let us hope the audience do.’

  The play began. Frederick watched enchanted, which was more than the audience did. Hervey was aware of their restiveness before Frederick was. They coughed; they shuffled their feet; they talked together and in less than ten minutes they were shouting for Wilks.

  ‘Take this off and put on a proper play,’ shouted someone from the pit.

  Frederick sat back in his seat, his face white.

  ‘They ... they don’t like it....’

  ‘They don’t know it was our work,’ replied Hervey cynically. ‘They’re judging it by Gay’s standards ... not by those of royalty.’

  ‘They ... don’t ... like it!’ repeated Frederick stupidly.

  The audience was more than restive; it was angry. Had they paid good money to see nonsense like this? When they compared this with the Beggar’s Opera or Henry VIII there was only one thing they could do.

  Someone stood on his seat and shouted it.

  ‘Give us a play or our money back.’

  ‘Our money back! Our money back! ‘ screeched the audience.

  Someone threw a mouldy orange on to the stage. It was a signal. Missiles were falling thick and fast until Wilks came to stand by the footlights. He held up his hand; there were jeers and catcalls, but Wilks was enough of a man of the theatre to know how to handle an audience.