Текст книги "The Prince and the Quakeress "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
‘You’ll be all right. Nothing for you to fret about. Whatever happened, you’d be all right.’
‘Whatever happened...’
‘Well, he’s the Prince, isn’t he? They’re saying in the streets that he’s going to be King soon. When it’s his birthday there’s quite a to-do. Bells ringing and all. And when I hear them I think: "That’s Hannah’s friend...my friend Hannah’s friend." And I’m proud. Hannah, I’m really proud.’
‘There is really nothing to be proud of."
‘You’re getting soft in the head, Hannah.’
‘I am dishonoured.’
‘Nonsense. Not when it’s a Prince. That makes all the difference. Now if it was a grocer...or a linen-draper or a glass-cutter...well that would be different, but this is a Prince, Hannah—and not just an ordinary Prince. This one could be a King.’
‘There is no difference in the sight of God. Jane.’
‘Oh, I was never religious like you, but I reckon kings are special...to everyone.’
Hannah smiled. ‘Oh, Jane, thou art blasphemous.’
‘Well, whatever that means it makes you laugh, so it can’t be such a bad thing. No, Hannah, you’re too serious. You weren’t put here to be miserable...but to laugh and enjoy yourself. Else why were things put here to make us enjoy them?’
‘For our temptation perhaps.’
‘Temptations my aunt Jane...only. I ain’t got one. No, I reckon it’s better for my children to have warm clothes out the winds and good food inside ‘em and a fire to sit by, and to laugh and play together...I reckon it’s better for them to be happy like that than cold and miserable and always on their knees asking God not to let them have too good a time because it’s sinful. If being well fed and happy is sin...then I’m for sin.’
‘Thou art wilfully misconstruing my words, Jane.’
‘Oh well, let’s talk of something interesting. You aren’t so again?’ Hannah nodded. ‘Well, I knew it. Still, you like them, don’t you? Mind you, you want to take care of yourself. You’re looking a bit peaky. Still it’s often that way. To my way of thinking everything’s turned out wonderful. Hannah, let’s have a look at the picture.’
Jane stood before it and gazed at it in awe.
‘It’s beautiful, Hannah. Oh, it’s really beautiful! And this Mr. Reynolds...he really is an important man. A lady mentioned him in the shop. She said no one could paint quite like Mr. Reynolds, and that she was trying to persuade her husband to have her portrait painted.’ Jane assumed a haughty expression and went on: ‘"Anyone...just anyone who is anyone...must be painted by Mr. Reynolds." And I laughed to myself and I thought: Well, I know someone who has been painted by him. It was an order...a royal command. "Go and paint that lady..." And, of course, he had to go.’
‘Jane, you talk too much.’
‘I always did, didn’t I? I was the talker, you the listener. Well, don’t you fret about Mr. Isaac Axford. I’d say this is good news. He’s not going to go sniffing about for his first wife, is he, when he’s got a second?’
After Jane had left, Hannah sat looking at the picture. Mrs. Axford, the lovely Quakeress, by Joshua Reynolds.
Mrs. Axford no longer.
Change was in the air. Isaac no longer considered her his wife. The Prince’s visits were less frequent. At any time now she might hear that he had become the King of England.
Was this a premonition she felt—or was this sense of doom due to the fact that she was with child and feeling less well than she usually did at such times?
• • •
When George next called at the house he was alarmed by the sight of her.
‘Are you ill, Hannah?’ he asked fearfully.
‘It is nothing...nothing,’ she hastened to assure him, for she could not bear to lee him anxious. ‘Perhaps this time it is a little more difficult than usual.’
‘I must send for Fothergill.’
‘It is not necessary. All is well. Thou must not worry.’
‘But I shall if you are ill. And I know all is not well. Do not think you can deceive me, Hannah.’
‘Jane has been here. She has news of Isaac Axford. He has recently married a Miss Bartlett.’
‘Married!’
‘Yes, Jane is certain. She has seen the lady. She has brought him a little fortune so...perhaps that is why...But he is no longer searching and what strikes me is that he has either committed bigamy or...he does not consider himself married to me.’
George was silent. He was beginning to be apprehensive. For the first years of his liaison everything had gone well and smoothly. But since his eighteenth birthday, when he had begun to realize what would be expected of him as King, he was realizing too what a difficult position he had put himself—and Hannah—into.
It was all very well for a young Prince to have a mistress living in secret in a house in Tottenham–well, not all very well but it was accepted as a not too unusual affair—but for the King it was another matter. Kings had their mistresses. Indeed they did—and none more blatantly than his ancestors, but they were recognized as mistresses, they lived at Court; it was considered as natural as marriage. But could a King make periodic and secret journeys from St. James’s, Kensington or Kew to a house in Tottenham and not be discovered? Certainly he could not.
Like Hannah, he could sense change in the air.
Yet he could not imagine Hannah at Court, living as the Countess of Yarmouth did, or Miss Chudleigh...
Then, of course, he would he expected to many. One of the first duties of a King was to provide ide the country with heirs. He had evaded the ladies of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel and Saxe-Gotha...but how could he go on avoiding marriage? It would come...inevitably, and then he would have to accept it, and he would have to make some plans about Hannah.
What could he do? Consult Bute or his mother? He knew in advance what their answer would be. He must bring Hannah to Court, a place could be found for her in his mother’s household doubtless, the children would be cared for by people who could be trusted; and he must marry a woman of their choice and do his duty by his Queen and country. There was one other alternative; part from Hannah. That he declared vehemently to himself, he would never do.
But something had to happen soon. Each day that was becoming clearer to him.
He said slowly: ‘It is well that Axford has married this woman. Now he will no longer search for you.’
She nodded and they went to the nursery and played with the children, but he was deeply aware of her melancholy, and he was concerned for her health.
‘You must hide nothing from me,’ he told her gently. ‘You are troubled. Tell me why.’
‘It is nothing. Thou hast enough with which to concern thyself. Tell me of thy dear Lord Bute’s care for thee. I love to hear that thou hast such a good friend. And of thy dear mother who loves thee so tenderly.’
He talked of Mr. Pitt and his ambitions and how everything was going well abroad, but that Mr. Pitt was an arrogant man who would have to be watched. Lord Bute had said that when he came to the throne he would be King of a great expanding Empire.
‘I mean to be a great King, Hannah. I mean to be a good King.’
‘Thou wilt, George, because thou art a good man.’
‘But now I am uneasy about you. There is something on your mind. Pray tell me. Are you having dreams?’
‘Oh, I dream, George. I wake in the night trembling with fear. Last night I dreamed I was at the Judgment seat with my load of sins on me. They were heavy. They weighed me down and I knew that there was no place for me in Heaven.’
‘There is no happiness for me unless you share it,’ he told her soberly.
She seized his hands and kissed them; and after that she made a great effort to be gay. Temporarily they forgot the gloom which thoughts of the future must amuse in them both; but when he had gone back to Kew he remembered, and so did she, alone in the house in Tottenham.
• • •
His solace was to be found with his sister Elizabeth and his brother Edward. Elizabeth looked very wan; her health did not improve as time passed and she was particularly sympathetic when she heard that Hannah was not well either.
‘What can I do?’ demanded George. ‘I am afraid for Hannah. Soon she will be delivered of our child and there is a melancholy about her...a sadness. Do you think people can die of melancholy?’
Elizabeth thought they could. She believed that if people desperately wanted to live they could often overcome illness and even face death and triumph; but if a person wanted to die, if he...or she...held out welcoming aims to death...then death came quickly.
‘I know how her mind works. She believes that this affair can bring no good to me. She thinks only of me.’
‘Nor can it,’ Edward said practically. ‘It is clear, brother, that soon you will have to take some action.’
George looked helplessly from his brother and sister. Then he said almost defiantly: ‘After I left Hannah, I came to a decision.’
‘Yes?’ they asked simultaneously.
‘I...I am going to marry Hannah.’
Marry her,’ breathed Elizabeth. ‘But that is not possible.’
‘It is possible. I do assure you. All we have to do is get a priest to marry us.’
‘Secretly?’ cried Edward.
‘How else?’
But, George, think..!’ begged Elizabeth. ‘How can you possibly marry Hannah?’
‘Merely by taking our oaths before a priest.’
‘I know. But...it would never be permitted.’
‘You cannot imagine that I intend to publish my intentions to the world.’
‘Oh...George...have a care.’
‘I have thought and thought about this and I see only one way out. Hannah is broken-hearted. I have a terrible fear that she will not live long. She believes she has sinned...and that she is condemned to eternal damnation. There is only one thing which can save her in the eyes of God. Marriage. There is only one way to salvation.’
‘Remember that soon you will be the King, George.’
‘I know it. But that is no reason why I should deny her salvation. I love Hannah...as I shall never love another woman, and I fear she is close to death. She feels it too. Do not ask me how this can be so. I only know it is. And she is afraid. Her soul is in torment...because she cannot face her Maker with this load of sin upon her.’
‘And you think that only marriage to you can save her?’
‘I know it.’
‘But, George, what will this mean to you?’
‘It is not time to think of myself. I must think of her.’
‘You say she is near death?’
‘She feels it. If I lost her I should never be happy again, but I think I should find some comfort if I could clear her conscience. If I could think of her through the years ahead as happy in paradise I shall have some modicum of comfort. Then I shall devote myself to doing my duty.’
‘George,’ said Elizabeth earnestly, ‘why has this feeling suddenly come to you?’
He looked at her strangely. ‘I do not know. I have a feeling that Hannah will not be long with me. She is to have a child again and I sense that all is not well. It is like a great burden on my shoulders. I think that if Hannah died...in sin...I should never know peace as long as I lived.’
‘Has Dr. Fothergill seen her?’ asked Edward.
‘No. She does not wish to see him. He will deliver the child as usual when the time comes.’
‘And that time will be soon?’ asked Elizabeth.
George nodded. ‘I have made up my mind about this. Edward, I need your help.’
‘You know that I will do all in my power.’
‘You must be a witness of our marriage.’
‘But,’ cried Elizabeth, ‘have you thought deeply enough of this? Have you considered all it will mean?’
‘I have considered everything.’
‘If you married Hannah she would be...Queen.’
‘And none more fitted.’
‘Oh, I am sure of that, but...will your ministers think so? What of the people? George, dearest brother, you have your duty to the crown.’
‘I have my duty first to Hannah.’
Elizabeth looked at Edward and then at George, who died out: ‘Would you have me send Hannah to the Judgment scat with this sin upon her?’
Elizabeth interrupted: ‘I cannot believe that a sin is expiated so simply in God’s eyes.’
‘Oh, Elizabeth, you do not see. We have sinned, both of us. I should never have taken her away from her people; she should never have come. We must pay for our sins. Her payment could be to go to her Maker in sin; mine is to marry, no matter what are the consequences. It is the only way we can right that wrong we did when I took her away from her people and she came. Edward, will you come with me? Will you witness our wedding?’
‘Certainly I will, George, when you decide to make this marriage.’
‘I have decided.’
Edward looked at Elizabeth and lifted his shoulders helplessly.
‘Wait,’ cried Elizabeth. ‘Let us send the best doctors to Hannah, let them cure her...then there will be no immediate need for marriage. Everything could go on as it is then for a while, until we have planned what would be the best thing to do.’
‘And if you married Hannah on her death-bed...then...that would not matter for you would be unmarried on her death and could make another marriage...the one which was chosen for you.’
‘Please do not talk of Hannah as though she is dead. Hannah is not going to die. She is going to live and I am going to marry her.’
• • •
‘Can he mean it?’ whispered Elizabeth.
‘I am sure he does,’ answered Edward.
‘Oh, Edward, what will happen?’
‘Trouble, great trouble. Unless, of course, she is married on her death-bed. Then he is left free. That is what we must hope for.’
‘Hope for Hannah’s death?’
‘My dear sister, how else can our brother marry this woman except on her death-bed. It would be disaster to do so.’
‘You must persuade him against it, Edward. And I must do the same.’
‘Dear sister, George is slow to come to a decision, but when he has reached it he is as stubborn as a mule. I have seen something in his face tonight.’
‘And that was?’
‘A determination to marry Hannah Lightfoot.’
• • •
The closed carriage rumbled out of the private drive. In it sat a lady well muffled up in a concealing cloak and hood; she was heavily pregnant. Beside her sat her maid, anxiously glancing at her from time to time, for it was clear that the lady was ill.
The carriage stopped in Curzon Street and the occupants alighted and hurried into the chapel there.
There they were greeted by the Prince of Wales and his brother, Edward, Duke of York.
The young Duke bowed and looked with wonder into the beautiful face of the woman who had so deeply affected his brother.
‘Are you well?’ asked the Prince anxiously.
‘I am at peace,’ answered Hannah, ‘but I fear for you.’
‘All will be well. Fear not.’
He had never looked so handsome as he stood there before Dr. Wilmot whom he had commanded to perform the ceremony. Resolute, determined, he believed he was acting in the only manner possible to an honourable man. Whatever the consequences, he would no longer be tormented by his conscience. He had sinned and this was the only way in which he could expect forgiveness in God’s eyes.
So, with his brother as witness, on that day in the year 1759, the Prince of Wales was married to Hannah Lightfoot.
The Grave at Islington
Elizabeth Chudleigh had been to Winchester on a very special mission so it was not until later that she discovered what was happening at Court.
A wise woman, Elizabeth told herself, must keep her eyes open for advantages and when they came seize them; she was a wise woman, and the folly of one day could by a strange turn of fate become the wise action of another.
She lived dangerously; she expected to and she liked to; of one thing she was certain and that was that Elizabeth Chudleigh would draw the utmost advantage of life. Elizabeth Chudleigh! She was Elizabeth Hervey now; and there was going to be no secret about that.
It was many years since she had married the Honourable Augustus John Hervey; she had been piqued at the time because she believed the Duke of Hamilton, whom she had hoped to marry, had deserted her. She had met Augustus at the Winchester races whither she had gone when she was staying at the house of her uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Merrill, in Larnston, Hampshire. Knowing that Augustus came from a good family – he was a grandson of the Earl of Bristol – the Merrills had encouraged the match and she had agreed to marry him.
She soon was under the impression that she had acted rashly; and deciding to keep her marriage a secret did not mention it when she returned to Court. Augustus, who was a sailor by profession was not in England for long spells but when he was, he expected to live with his wife. Elizabeth’s plan had been to spend her time between the Court and her mother’s house in Conduit Street; and when she was there Augustus would be with her and insist on his conjugal rights. Elizabeth was nothing loath; the only condition she had demanded was that the marriage should be kept a secret.
In her heart she always believed that one day some great opportunity would come along. She intended to be a Duchess at least and when that opportunity came she did not wish to be hampered by a marriage to a nobody, which was all Augustus was at the time. Augustus did not seem to mind the secrecy as long as he was not excluded from her bed when he desired to be there. That had to be accepted and was no hardship, he being a personable young man; but there followed the inevitable result which caused her a great deal of trouble. In spite of voluminous skirts these predicaments have a way of showing themselves and it soon became char to Elizabeth that she would have to stage a little act. She would have to leave Court to take the air, she announced; there were smiles behind fans and whispers in corridors; much Elizabeth cared. She left Court and gave birth to a boy—christened Henry Augustus—and she put him out with a suitable family to be cared for. He did not live long, poor child, and she had soon forgotten him. She returned to Court, where acquaintances were inclined to make too tender enquiries after her health.
One pert young woman, and this in the presence of Lord Chesterfield, murmured that she had heard rumours and had dared suggest that she had had twins. Elizabeth had turned to Chesterfield and demanded to know if he could believe such a thing.
Chesterfield who prided himself on being a wit replied: ‘I never believe more than half I hear. Miss Chudleigh.’ Which remark was noted down and reported and repeated throughout the Court as an illustration of the wit of the Earl of Chesterfield and the scandalous behaviour of Miss Chudleigh.
But she cared nothing for gossip and scandal. Let them chatter to their hearts’ content. She was safe. No one knew she was married to Hervey—nor would they ever be sure of it, because even if he declared they were married she could deny it, for she had taken the precaution of forcing the parson to give her access to the register and had destroyed the certificate of marriage and torn the page from the register on which Mr. Annis, who had married them, had recorded the event.
Now the position had changed. The Earl of Bristol was very ill and Augustus was next in the line of succession to the Earldom. The Countess of Bristol was a very worthy title and she was wishing now that she had not destroyed the evidence of the marriage.
There was nothing to be done, she decided, but to go to Larnston and stay with her aunt and uncle, and when there she would bully little Mr. Annis into giving her another marriage certificate and rewriting the page in the register. It was a very simple matter.
So Miss Chudleigh had left Court ‘to take a little country air,’ and in due course arrived at Winchester and from thence went to the home of her uncle and aunt in Larnston.
They were delighted to see their flamboyant relative from Court who was so beautiful, so dazzling, that everyone for miles round would envy them.
Miss Chudleigh accepted their homage and was graciously charming, explained that she wished to see Mr. Annis without delay for she had important business to discuss with him.
Oh dear, this was a sorry business. Mr. Annis was dangerously ill.
‘All the more reason why I should see him without delay.’
‘But the poor man is on his death-bed.’
‘Then I certainly must see him before he expires.’
‘In fact, his doctor has said he is to see no one.’
Miss Chudleigh smiled. She was not no one. Aunt and Uncle Merrill, country-folk though they were, should know that.
So into the death chamber strode Elizabeth, vital, determined, in great contrast to the lid man on the bed. She must speak with him alone; everyone must leave her; it was of the utmost importance to the saving of his soul.
‘Mr. Annis, can you hear me Mr. Annis?’ His eyes were glassy, but he must live until he had done his task. ‘Mr. Annis, it was a wicked thing you did to destroy that page from the church register. How can you face your Maker, Mr. Annis. with such a sin on your conscience? I have come to save you. You must put back that page before you die.’
Mr. Annis remembered her. Who would ever forget her?
Often he remembered what he had allowed her to do. It was an offence, was it not, a criminal offence to destroy part of the church register.
‘I heard how ill you were and I could not allow you to go before your Maker until you had put this matter right. Do you hear me, Mr. Annis?’
He did hear. He did remember his sin.
‘Now you must give me the keys which open the cupboard or wherever it is the books and certificates are kept. You married me to the Honourable Augustus John Hervey, did you not? Then you must write me another certificate and you must put that page back in the register...somehow. It is the only way to salvation, Mr. Annis.’
Poor Mr. Annis! The sheer will to save his soul kept him alive. In the death-chamber he listened to Elizabeth; he gave her the keys and it was she who guided his hand.
And when he had done as she asked, he lay back on his pillows and died.
An example she told herself of what can be achieved if one only has the will to do it.
Poor old Annis! Let him rest in peace He had done duty; and now if the old Earl of Bristol died tomorrow no one could deny that Elizabeth Chudleigh was the Countess.
• • •
The Earl stubbornly and most unaccommodatingly clung to life and Elizabeth returned to Court so that she might be close at hand to hear of his demise when it occurred. In the meantime she had to make the facts of her marriage known and the first person she must tell should be the Dowager Princess.
She would have to break the news gently, for Augusta would not be pleased with a maid of honour who married without her consent and kept the marriage secret for some years. It was most unconventional behaviour and Elizabeth had already offended the Dowager Princess with her manners.
Not that the Princess cared to reprimand her. Elizabeth was aware of matters which she would rather not have mentioned. Of course Elizabeth must never forget that although the Princess might not want to offend her she was the most powerful member of her own Court and she could take action which might be inconvenient to Elizabeth. She might even call her bluff and let her do her worst, which could be inconvenient. Now, if there was a little blackmail going on between them it was pleasant courtly blackmail; and that was really how Elizabeth wanted it to remain.
So she must act with care.
By good fortune—for her—she encountered the Prince of Wales when he was alone and was immediately struck by the change in him.
Our Prince has turned into a very serious young man, she thought. Something has happened.
Elizabeth must naturally find out what without delay.
She dropped a charming curtsy.
‘What pleasure to see Your Highness looking so well. It is long since that pleasure was mine.’
‘You have been away from Court, I believe, Miss Chudleigh?’
‘Yes, I had to pay a duty call on my aunt and uncle in the country and I used that opportunity to take a little air.’
‘You are looking well for the change.’
‘How gracious is Your Highness.’ She took a step nearer. ‘Oh, this is presumptuous of me...but it is out of my deep regard for Your Highness. I...I trust all is well?’
‘All is well, Miss Chudleigh.’
‘I was thinking of...that dear friend of us both.’
The Prince coloured. ‘She...she is better, thank you.’
‘So she has been ill?’
He looked at her steadily for a few moments; ha lowly face was suffused with tender affection. Much as he loved Hannah he could always be deeply affected by a beautiful uoiii.in, and there was something motherly about Elizabeth at that moment.
He longed to confide in someone; he was deeply worried. He had done something which he knew his mother would consider disastrous. Only that day she and Lord Bute had talked about the day he would marry; they had talked complacently as though they were looking forward to it. He had made an effort to tell them, but he could not bring himself to do it. Lord Bute had been saying that the people might like their King to have an English bride, but his mother said that he must have a royal Queen and that his ancestors had always taken their wives from Germany.
It was painful to listen to such talk and yet he could not bring himself to stop them, to explain to them. He had wanted to, but he knew—and he was realizing this more and more every day—what a shock it would be to them when they heard of his marriage to Hannah.
Therefore it would be comforting to explain to someone who would be sympathetic and he knew she would because she always had been.
‘Miss Chudleigh,’ he said quietly, ‘I wish to confide in you.’
‘Yes, Your Highness.’ She tried not to sound too eager.
‘You were so kind to me...and to Hannah.’
‘Your Highness, it is my duty to serve you with am power I have. As to Hannah...I look upon her as a very dear friend. If I could do anything...just anything...to make you two happier, I beg of you, I implore you, to let me know what it is.’
‘Miss Chudleigh, I have married Hannah.’
She caught her breath. It was incredible. Fresh from her own adventure with the church register of Larnston it still seemed fantastic. The future King of England married to a little Quaker girl—the niece of a linen-draper! Oh no. It couldn’t be true. It simply could not.
He was watching her eagerly, so she forced her features into an expression of deepest sympathy.
‘It seemed to me the only possible action, Miss Chudleigh.’
‘I understand.’
‘I knew you would. Oh...I knew you would. So you are not shocked.’
‘I think you have done a brave and noble thing.’ She forced the tears into her eyes; it was not easy, but she had taught herself this trick and in any case she was so surprised that it was not so difficult as usual.
‘Oh, Miss Chudleigh, I feel much better having confided in you.’
‘I am glad Your Highness so honoured me. Have you...told any others?’
‘Only my sister Elizabeth and Edward...my brother. Edward was our witness.’
‘And who married you?’
‘Dr. Wilmot. I commanded it. They cannot blame him.’
‘Your Highness is your own master and will ere long, I doubt not, be the master of us all. So...no one else knows.’
He shook his head. ‘It is a great relief, Miss Chudleigh, to share this burden. I want to explain. Hannah is ill...she fears she may not live. It was necessary, you see. She could not die with this sin...on her soul. I had to do this, Miss Chudleigh. It was the only way.’
‘I understand. I am sure you were right. It was good and noble. I am sure of it. And Mr. Axford...?’
‘The marriage to Mr. Axford was no real marriage. It took place at the marriage mill, which is illegal. Mr. Axford himself believes this, for he has recently married a Miss Bartlett. Dr. Wilmot helped me discover the truth of this and there is no doubt of it.’
‘So...there is a Princess of Wales,’ murmured Elizabeth.
‘I do not know whether Hannah would wish to be so described...nor that my grandfather...’
Elizabeth nodded. Here was excitement. This made her little adventure seem like a nursery prank. The Prince married—and the King in ignorance of it. And the Princess and old Bute...I She wanted to laugh, but she smiled benignly, sympathetically and affectionately.
‘Your Highness, may I dare to advise you..?’
‘Oh, Miss Chudleigh, please do.’
‘Say nothing of this to anyone...who does not know already.’
‘I certainly will not. And thank you for your kindness.’
‘Your Highness, you must not thank me. I have done nothing...though I wish you to know that I will do anything to serve you now and at any time.’
The Prince went to his apartments considerably comforted by the encounter; and Elizabeth went to hers in a state of great excitement.
• • •
Elizabeth presented herself to the Dowager Princess. Augusta forced herself to smile. She wished the woman had stayed in the country. There was something quite brazen about her; and when one thought how much she knew of that unfortunate affair of George and the Quaker it was really quite disconcerting.
‘So you have returned,’ said Augusta.
Elizabeth swept a demure curtsy. ‘And have come to ask Your Highness’s pardon.’
The Princess raised her eyebrows
‘Have I Your Highness’s permission to proceed:-’
‘Pray do.’
‘I have to confess, Your Highness, that I am married.’
‘And when did this occur?’
‘Some years ago, Your Highness.’
‘I see, so you have been posing at my Court as a single woman.’
‘That is so, Your Highness.’
‘I find this distasteful.’
‘Your Highness, I fear there is much going on that is distasteful.’ The beautiful wide-open eyes met those of the Princess Dowager and the Princess felt her own colour rise. A reference to herself and Lord Bute. The insolence of the creature. She would not have her at the Court. Could this clandestine marriage be used as a means of getting rid of her?
‘The name of your husband?’
‘The Honourable Augustus John Hervey.’
‘Bristol’s grandson...and heir.’ Light was beginning to dawn on the Princess. Bristol was very ill, close to death, she had heard. Now she knew why Elizabeth Chudleigh was anxious to announce her marriage. She was looking forward to being Countess of Bristol. The woman was shameless, a schemer, unscrupulous.
Yes, in spite of Lord Bute’s warnings she was going to get rid of her.
‘I trust Your Highness is not displeased.’
‘I am very displeased. I do not care for this secrecy. I find it...discourteous. I trust you enjoyed your stay in the country. Where was it?’
‘Larnston, Your Highness, not far from Winchester.’
