Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill: (Georgian Series) Read online

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.

  In the morning he said to himself: I have fallen in love at first sight with Maria Fitzherbert.

  Drama at Carlton House

  THE PRINCE HAD always lived publicly; his affairs could not be hidden, so he made no attempt to hide them. He was passionately in love with Maria Fitzherbert and he could not have kept that secret had he wished to. He made it clear that if any of his friends wished to please him, they must invite Maria Fitzherbert to their houses and him at the same time; they must make sure that at their dinner tables he was seated next to her; he wanted to talk to Maria Fitzherbert, dance with her, be with her every moment that was possible, and he wished no one to attempt to prevent this.

  His friends reminded each other of Perdita Robinson. So it had been in the early days of that affair; and that hadn’t lasted very long. Of course Maria was different from Perdita, Maria was socially acceptable; she had been twice married and she was a poised society woman; she was not very rich, but on the other hand she was by no means poor. She had a house at Richmond and a house in Town; she did not entertain a great deal, but then she had no need to. Every fashionable hostess knew that unless she invited Maria Fitzherbert she would not have the Prince of Wales.

  And Maria herself? She was not honoured; she was not delighted. She could not see how any good could come from the Prince’s infatuation. Maria was sensible; she knew that she was no beauty but that she was a great deal more attractive than many who were; there was about her a dignity, an almost maternal air; she was not even very young, being twenty-eight; and she did not see how there could be any honourable relationship between herself and the Prince of Wales, and she was not the sort of woman to indulge in any other.

  The Prince was very soon declaring his admiration.

  ‘Never in my life have I met anyone who had moved me so deeply,’ he told her. ‘I could be perfectly happy in a world which contained no one else but you.’

  She smiled serenely and said he was very charming to her, and she knew that she owed her welcome into society to him.

  He tried to explain. He wanted her to owe everything to him; he wanted her to know that it was his greatest desire to serve her … not only now, but for the rest of his life.

  She smiled her placid smile, which really meant that she believed he had made similar declarations many times before; and although she found him charming and it was pleasant to know that he enjoyed making them to her, she did not take them at all seriously.

  ‘I don’t doubt you have heard stories of my adventures with women,’ he said ruefully.

  ‘The affairs of a Prince of Wales must always attract interest, of course.’

  ‘But you don’t understand, Maria … Oh what a beautiful name. Everything about you is perfect. What I feel now is something entirely new. I realize now that I was never seriously involved with anyone before.’

  But she did not believe him. She was gracious and charming, completely unruffled; she liked him; she thought him amusing, charming, a delightful companion; but she refused to consider him as a lover. She had been twice most honourably married, and she did not consider it an honour to be any man’s mistress – even that of a Prince of Wales.

  He was frustrated. He did what he always did in moments of stress. He took to his pen. He wrote to Maria, pouring out his feelings for her. She did not always answer the letters, but when she did she did so in the manner of a friend and he could not break through the barrier she had set up.

  He was interested in nothing. In vain did his friends try to tempt him. The Duchess of Cumberland would give an entertainment to outshine any she had ever given before. He was not interested. Georgiana would invite all the most interesting people in London – all those who had most delighted him. Was that going to make Maria consider him seriously? Major Hanger would think up some delicious practical jokes. Maria thought them childish, said the Prince; and so they were. He was finished with such amusements.

  ‘Mrs Fitzherbert is a Tory and a Catholic,’ Fox reminded him.

  ‘I’d be a Tory and a Catholic if that would give me any headway with her,’ was the Prince’s retort.

  That was an alarming statement. ‘For God’s sake,’ said Fox to Sheridan, ‘let the woman give in before real damage is done.’

  The Prince could not eat; he lost his good humour; he wanted Maria, but Maria, while ready to be his friend, would not become his mistress.

  Lady Sefton called on Maria. Maria received her in the drawing room at Park Street and Isabella Sefton studied her as people were studying Maria now, which made her smile.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Maria. ‘It’s what everyone thinks when they look at me nowadays. What does he see in her?’

  ‘Well, Maria, you are very attractive.’

  ‘That may be, but surely not attractive enough for so much fuss.’

  ‘Too modest, Maria. You could have accepted Bedford. Then you would have been a Duchess.’

  ‘A title for which I have no great desire, Isabella.’

  ‘No more than you have a desire to become the first lady of London society.’

  Maria laughed. ‘For how long? Remember poor Perdita Robinson. Her reign was of very short duration.’

  ‘You’re no Perdita. Yours could be for ever, perhaps.’

  ‘I can see no honour in it, Isabella.’

  ‘You must be fond of him. He is charming, is he not?’

  ‘Charming yes … and modest for one in his position. He is interesting too when he is not talking in the most exaggerated terms of his feelings for me which, I am fully aware, are aimed at one object. No, Isabella, your charming Prince is not going to succeed.’

  ‘Not mine, Maria. You mean yours.’

  ‘Our Prince, then. He will soon be tired – have no doubt of that. He is far too young and impressionable not to discover someone more willing than I who will be the most beautiful woman in the world, who will embody all he looks for in women and so on.’

  ‘He is gallant,’ admitted Isabella. ‘He has always been fond of women; but I … and others tell me the same … have never seen him in this state before. He is interested in nothing but you; he talks of nothing but you. He makes no secret of his passion. You cannot deny, Maria, that the young man is in love with you.’

  ‘Oh, Isabella, I am too old, too experienced of life …’

  ‘With two old husbands?’

  ‘Thomas was not so old. He was only twelve years older than I.’

  ‘But you were little more than a nurse to both of your husbands, Maria; is it not time that you began to enjoy life?’

  ‘I enjoy it well enough, Isabella; and I certainly should not if I were doing something of which I was ashamed.’

  ‘Other women …’

  ‘I am not other women, Isabella. How could I go to confession if I were living in sin … which is clearly what he wishes. No, the best news you could give me would be that someone else has caught his fancy and that he is no longer interested in me.’

  ‘I don’t believe he will be satisfied until you give in.’

  ‘Then he will have to prepare himself for a life of dis-satisfaction. I have decided to leave London. The less he sees of me the better. Pray do not mention the fact that I am going. I am leaving early tomorrow for Marble Hill.’

  Isabella smiled sardonically. Did Maria think that by removing herself to Richmond she would escape from the Prince of Wales?

  Isabella was right. Within a few hours the Prince had discovered where she had gone. He immediately called for his phaeton and rode out to Marble Hill.

  She must receive him. She must listen to an account of his sufferings when he had heard she had left Park Street; he had thought at first that she might have hidden herself somewhere. It was a great joy to find that she had only removed her bright presence to Marble Hill.

  She felt the need of a little country air, she told him. She lived very simply.
r />   There was nothing like the simple life, he agreed. He too longed to get away from balls and banquets and everything that went with them. The glitter of society had no charm for him … since it had none for her.

  ‘I’m afraid the simple life I prefer would have no charms for Your Highness.’

  ‘There is only one life that has any charms for me, Maria – and that is life with you.’

  She sighed; she begged him to change the subject and talk of other matters. Anything in the world she wished, he said; so they talked lightly of politics, of her gardens, of people they knew, and she laughed gaily and he was enchanted with all her views, with her quick spontaneous laughter, with everything she said and did; and when he left, reluctantly, for it was she who suggested that he should go, he was more in love than ever.

  Every day he drove out to Marble Hill. He declared that he would not let a day pass without a glimpse of Maria. She would understand in time how much he loved her, she would realize that she could not go on being so cruel … and so on.

  He was determined to become her lover; and she was equally determined that he should not. But she could not turn him away when he came to Marble Hill; she could not help being fond of him; but her answer was always the same.

  Everyone was talking about the Prince’s passion for Mrs Fitzherbert and a new ballad had been written and was sung all over the town:

  ‘On Richmond Hill there lives a lass

  More bright than May day morn,

  Whose charms all other maids’ surpass

  A rose without a thorn.

  This lass so neat, with smile so sweet,

  Has won my right good will,

  I’d crowns resign to call thee mine,

  Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.’

  In desperation the Prince rode out to Chertsey. Charles James Fox had helped him over the Perdita affair; he had known how to act when she threatened to present the bond he had given her and publish his letters. Very satisfactorily Charles had dealt with that matter – and had rounded it up in a characteristically cynical way by becoming Perdita’s lover. Charles would help him with Maria. He was certain of it.