Текст книги "The Prince and the Quakeress "

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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‘That was not so. She was merely...amusing herself.’

‘Amusing herself? When the King had shown preference for her?’

‘I did not wish her to regard me as a King but as a man.’‘

‘She clearly did neither,’ retorted the Princess tartly. ‘She treated you like a foolish boy and I must say that you behaved like one—to allow her to flout you, use you to attract this young...young rake...and then beckon you when she finds he has done with her!’

‘This...this is not so.’

‘The King is clearly deeply affected by Lady Sarah,’ said Bute gently.

George turned to him. Best of friends! Always reliable! He would understand and help him to explain.

‘And in that case,’ said George, ‘since we love each other would it not be desirable for us to marry?’

‘I fear,’ Bute reminded him, still in the same kind voice, ‘it would not be desirable from the nation’s point of view. You see, Sire, you are a King. You are young and have not until now been brought face to face with your obligations. Your marriage is not your own affair. It is the nation’s. Every King or Queen has to face this problem. It rarely happens that what they desire is what the nation needs. It is the sad side of a ruler’s life. Self-sacrifice. Again and again he must pass by what he desires to give his country what it needs.’

George was beginning to lose his confidence. ‘But why should the nation not want Sarah?’

‘A King’s sons and daughters must be royal,’ said the Princess. ‘They should have royal blood on both sides.’

‘Sarah is royal,’ cried George eagerly.

The Princess laughed. ‘Yes, descended from a whore!’

George flushed as though he had been struck. ‘I beg of you, Madam, do not say such a thing.’

‘I am concerned with the truth,’ retorted his mother. ‘We all know where the Richmonds got their title. Through Louise de Keroualle, sent from France by the King of that country to be his spy and the King of England’s mistress. That at least is common knowledge.’

‘You...can scarcely blame Sarah.’

‘I do not blame her. I merely say she is unfit to be Queen of England. George, be reasonable. The people of this country are waiting for an announcement of your marriage. They expect you to marry. They are growing impatient. And they expect you to make the right marriage.’

‘I am sure I am the best judge...’

The Princess said hotly: ‘As you were the best judge in that disastrous matter of the Quaker girl.’

George caught his breath in horror. He could not bear to think of Hannah. When he did so, he was overcome by feelings of remorse and inadequacy.

Lord Bute was at his side, laying a gentle hand on his arm.

‘Your Majesty,’ he said softly, ‘that affair is done with. May I speak frankly?’

George nodded.

‘Your Majesty should not feel remorse over that affair. It was true there were difficulties...but there need not have been. Had you consulted me in the beginning, I could have arranged matters satisfactorily for you and there would have been no trouble. Your Majesty is good and honest and my heart rejoices to see it—but the world is full of scheming men and women...’

‘Sarah is not scheming.’

‘Indeed no. She is an enchanting young girl, unsure of her mind, it is true, flitting from one to the other, unable to come to a decision...a delightful creature. But she is surrounded by ambitious men and women who will seek to guide you through her and separate you from your true friends.’

‘You mean yourself...’

‘Myself and Her Highness, your mother.’

‘No one would ever do that.’

‘I am sure Your Majesty would not allow it, but they would attempt it. In the interests of the country, Your Majesty should accept the Princess Charlotte Sophia...and...’

‘And Sarah?’ whispered George.

‘If she truly loved you she would consent to become your mistress. Other women have had to take a similar decision. It would be a test of her love.’

‘I should not ask her to. I should not care for such an association. When I marry I intend to be a faithful husband. I intend to set an example to my people.’

‘Noble sentiments, and they do Your Majesty credit. You can set the pattern of your Court and I know you will do it. Profligacy, so rife in the last reign, will disappear and it will be due to our King. That is magnificent. But you must have a woman who will help you in this. There must be no uncertainty after marriage. No wandering out by night to confer with other men...nothing of that sort.’

‘It was only mischief.’

‘There must be no mischief. Your Majesty, I beg of you listen to Her Highness, your mother. You never had, and never will have, a better friend in the world.’

‘Yes, listen to me and listen to my Lord Bute. When have we ever failed you?’

‘Never, but...’

‘Then heed our words now,’ pleaded Bute. ‘The country needs this marriage with the Princess Charlotte, and you must give the country what it needs.’

‘No,’ said the King. ‘I have heard enough. I am going to marry Sarah.’

He bowed abruptly and left them.

The Princess was in despair, but Bute was not so despondent.

‘Our words have had some effect,’ he said.

‘What if he goes to Holland House and actually asks for her hand?’

‘I do not think he will act so rashly. I shall stay close with him during the next days. I shall bring him to see where his duty lies.’

Augusta felt faintly relieved. Her confidence in Lord Bute never wavered.

• • •

When the King rode out from Kensington Palace he passed Holland House in the grounds of which Sarah, looking delightful as a country girl in a sunbonnet, was helping to make the hay.

He stopped and spoke to her. How enchanting she was! How wonderful it would have been if he had been a country squire and she the daughter of a neighbour! He could fancy that, on a morning like this.

She looked expectant. Was she hoping he would ask her to marry him?

‘I shall,’ he told himself a little too defiantly.

He rode on past Holland House. A King had his duties to his people. Hannah had said that. No one had realized that more than she had. She had wanted to keep in the background so that she did not embarrass him.

Hannah had been different—a Quakeress and niece of a linen-draper. Sarah had royal blood in her veins and they could say what they liked, it was royal blood by whatever means it had got there.

I shall not listen to them, George insisted. I am going to marry Sarah.

Not listen to Lord Bute, his best friend, whose advice he constantly sought? Lord Bute was so certain that it would be wrong to marry Sarah.

This was one instance where Lord Bute was wrong.

But Lord Bute had never been wrong...until now.

It was noticed that the King looked very melancholy as he rode along.

• • •

Bute came to the King’s apartment, his manner grave.

‘Your Majesty, I have just heard news which disturbs me.’

‘What. Is it Sarah?’

Bute shook, his head. ‘A man named Green was arrested at Westminster for making disloyal comments about Your Majesty.’

‘I’ll dare swear he is not the only one. There were disloyal comments enough about my grandfather. Why should I escape?’

‘These, Your Majesty, were directed against your relationships with...a Quakeress.’

‘What?’ cried the King turning pale.

‘I heard that this man had talked of your enticing the Quakeress from her home and setting her up in a house where you visited her.’

‘Is that...so?’

‘Your Majesty will see how unhealthy it is that such rumours should be allowed to grow.’

‘But...will they grow?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty, unless you marry and show the people that you live respectably with your Queen.’

‘It is what I intend to do.’

‘There would be a scandal if you did not marry the bride who has been selected for you. Colonel Graeme is already negotiating. If you married the Lady Sarah all this scandal about the Quakeress would be revived.’

‘I do not see why.’

‘This man,’ Bute went on, ‘was fined and allowed to go free with a warning. But there will be others to chatter. We must stop this gossip without fail. And the only way is to marry the Princess who has been chosen for you.’

‘No,’ said George. ‘I will marry Lady Sarah.’

But Lord Bute was sure that the King’s resolution was weakening.

• • •

George could not sleep. All night he had been thinking, Hannah! Sarah! They were together in his thoughts. He could hear their voices in his imagination quite clearly, ‘If you really love me,’ said Sarah’s, ‘you will marry me. You are the King. You have but to say the word and none can stop you.’ Hannah’s said: ‘Think, George. Thou thought thou lovest me once. Remember thy vows. Thou wanted to make me Princess of Wales, Queen to be. And now...thou hast forgotten. Thou wouldst have risked thy crown for the sake of a love that was so ephemeral. See how mistaken thou wert.’

It was true. He had believed he would love Hannah forever and now he scarcely remembered her—only to shiver with horror to contemplate the folly he might have committed. Yet Hannah had borne his children...he had married Hannah. The thought made him go cold with fear.

Hannah, he thought, you are dead and buried but you will live with me forever.

And her voice seemed to come out of the darkness: ‘Art thou sure that I am dead and buried, George?’

He faced the truth, the dreadful uncertainty. No. He was not sure. The new gravestone rose up clear in his mind as he had seen it on that day. Rebecca Powell. Who was Rebecca Powell? He had never found out. Why, because even then he had preferred not to know what it was better not to know.

Lord Bute had advised him then. His dearest friend was right. When had he not been right? He was beside him to guide him through all the difficulties which lay ahead. He should trust his friend, and his friend said: ‘You cannot marry Sarah.’

Of course they were right. Kings married the women were chosen for them. They did not marry the nieces of linen drapers; they did not even marry the daughters of noblemen. But they did. Henry VIII had done it. Anne Boleyn, Katherine Howard. Two heads without bodies laughed at him in the darkness. Yes, and look what became of us. Edward IV had married Elizabeth Woodville for love. He could hear the voices of her little boys crying in the tower as they were done to death.

It was folly to think of these events in connection with himself. He was a man of gentle nature; he only wanted to live an upright life, to live in harmony with the woman he loved and the family they would raise; he wanted to set a good example to his people, to be happy and make them happy.

That was the crux of the matter as Lord Bute would say. A King must not think of his own desires but of the nation he governed.

‘I made a great sacrifice for thee,’ a voice seemed to say. ‘George, thou must make this sacrifice for thy country.’

‘What sacrifice?’ he whispered. ‘What sacrifice did you make?’

But he knew. He had suspected and had not wished to know. But in his heart he knew.

She was haunting him. Perhaps she did not want to see him happy with Sarah. Oh no. that could not be said had made such a sacrifice as Hannah had made. But he imagining this. What was he thinking of? Even now he did not know and he would not seek the truth because he did not want to face it.

All through that night he wrestled with his problem, and Hannah was constantly in his thoughts.

By the morning she had convinced him. He must sacrifice his own desires for the sake of the country.

When he went riding he passed Holland House and there was Sarah in her sunbonnet making hay. He stopped to talk to her and she was very gay and inviting; but when he had talked for a while he rode on.

He believed his heart was broken.

• • •

The Dowager Princess was as ever delighted by my Lord Bute’s brilliance and devotion.

‘You have turned failure into success,’ she cried, ‘I must confess that I was in great fear. And you did it through gentleness and reason.’

‘It is the only way to manage George. We must, though, have the public announcement made as soon as possible. I confess I shall not feel easy in my mind until it is made.’

‘The Privy Councillors should be summoned at once and George himself must make the announcement. I agree with you and shall tremble until he has done so.’

‘He will do it,’ Bute assured her. ‘George’s goodness is our salvation. He is a young man who is determined to do his duty. Would there were more in the world like him. It would be a different place then.’

‘Ah yes, a good boy,’ sighed his mother. ‘What a pity that he should have to be stupid as well.’

• • •

George summoned the Privy Council to hear a matter of urgent and important business. The notifications were marked ‘absolute secret’, and the councillors arrived expecting that the King had decided to make peace or had come to some such momentous decision.

When they arrived he fated them, looking stern and pale, and he appeared to have lost that look of boyish innocence.

He stood up boldly and even as he did so he had a strong inclination to disband the meeting, to tell them all it was a great mistake.

But Lord Bute was there smiling at him encouragingly, anxious for him, wishing him to know that he could help him. ‘You can make her your mistress,’ said Bute, like a fond parent offering a child a sweetmeat to take with the medicine. But that was not George’s way.

‘Be a King,’ said his mother; and she was right. Before he was a lover, he must be a King.

He began to speak a little falteringly at first but his voice strengthened as he proceeded:

‘Having nothing so much at heart as to procure the welfare and happiness of my people, and to render the same stable and permanent to posterity, I have, ever since my accession to the throne, turned my thoughts towards the choice of a Princess for my consort; and now with great satisfaction acquaint you that after the fullest information and mature deliberation, I am come to a resolution to demand in marriage the Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, a Princess distinguished by every eminent virtue and amiable endowment, whose illustrious line has constantly shown the firmest zeal for the Protestant religion and a particular attachment to my family. I have judged proper to communicate to you these my intentions, in order that you may be fully appraised of a matter so highly important to me and to my kingdoms and which, I persuade myself, will be most acceptable to all my loving subjects.’

Lord Bute could scarcely hide his triumph, but his expression was one of deepest compassion and admiration as he met the King’s gaze.

As soon as possible he was with the Princess Augusta.

‘We must be prompt. There must be no delay. Betrothals have come to nothing before. This marriage must now take place at the earliest possible moment. Only then can we rest. Do you agree?’

‘I am in complete accord.’

‘Then I propose sending Lord Harcourt—a man I can trust—to Strelitz without delay. The Princess Charlotte must come to England at once.’

‘Let it be done, my dear.’

• • •

Lady Sarah could not believe the news. It was impossible. How could he have talked to her as he had when all the time he must have been making arrangements to marry the Princess Charlotte? She could have believed Newbattle capable of such duplicity, but not George.

Lady Caroline Fox was furious. She stamped up and down the apartment.

‘You have been a fool. You have thrown away the biggest chance you will ever get! It was all that folly in the beginning with Newbattle.’

Lady Sarah wept; but Mr. Fox came in and shook his head over her. ‘It is a great calamity,’ he said. ‘When I consider all the good you might have brought to the family and all the disappointment you have brought us, I am speechless.’

‘I wish you would be,’ cried Sarah. ‘The whole lot of you.’

Then she threw her head into the pillows and put her fingers in her ears and refused either to look or listen to them.

When they left her she rose from her bed and looked at herself in the mirror. She was pretty. No one she knew was as pretty. And he had thought so. Why had he done this? Why had he insulted her...so publicly. It was not revenge for the way she had treated him over Newbattle. She was sure of that. And he had been so timorous...so eager to please her. He had behaved as though he really loved her.

‘And now...jilted,’ she said dramatically.

She was angry not so much because she had lost George—or rather a crown—but because he had made everyone think that he was going to ask her to marry him and then had, without warning, asked someone else. Everyone would be talking about the King’s engagement and when they did that they would talk about her. Poor Sarah Lennox, they would say. Newbattle would laugh. It was not really very pleasant.

She wished Susan were here, she would have had something to say about this and Susan was always good to talk to.

She could not talk to Susan, so it might be a comfort to write to her.

She took up her pen.

‘Even last Thursday the day the news came out, the hypocrite had the face to come up and speak to me with all the good humour in the world. He must have sent to that woman before you went out of town. Then what business had he to begin again? In short, his behaviour is that of a man who has neither sense, good nature nor honesty.’

There was some comfort in setting her feelings on paper, but nothing could alter the fact that the Lady Sarah Lennox had been jilted—and in the most public manner imaginable.

18. The Face in the Crowd

By September of that year—two months after George had made up his mind to accept the Princess Charlotte, he was married to her.

George was reconciled; he was quite convinced that his duty to his crown must come before any personal desires. His heart had sunk when he had first seen his bride for she was no beauty and he could not stop thinking of the gay vitality of Lady Sarah, the haunting beauty of Hannah Lightfoot. The Princess was very different; she was small and thin, although he was pleased to see, not deformed; she was pale and what could be kindly called homely, with a flat nose and a very big mouth.

He gave no sign of his disappointment and welcomed her with warm affection. He had made up his mind that he would be a good husband to her and never, whatever the temptation he might be called upon to face, be unfaithful to her.

He must forget Sarah; he must stop Hannah from continually intruding on his thoughts.

• • •

Lady Sarah had given up thinking about the King. I had not really wanted him, she assured herself. I would have said No right away if the family had not persuaded me. I’d rather had Newbattle...but I don’t want him either.

Her pet squirrel was not well and that was a matter of much graver concern to her, she told her sister, then the silly King’s wedding.

Lady Caroline, tired of telling her what a little fool she was, left her alone with her squirrel.

She did, however, write to Lady Susan:

‘I shall take care to show that I am not in the least mortified. Luckily, I did not love him, nor did I care very much for the title. But I am angry to have been made to look a fool. Please don’t tell anyone what I have written to you. I expect George will hate me and the family forever, for one generally hates people that one is in the wrong with, and who know one has acted wrongly...’

Then she shrugged her shoulders. She was really worried about her squirrel.

• • •

It was a different matter when the bridesmaids to appear at the King’s wedding were selected. These were to be eleven young ladies from the highest families in the land and because of her age and position it was inevitable that Sarah should be one of them.

When the invitation came Lady Caroline was furious.

‘This is an added insult,’ she declared.

‘It’s not a command,’ pointed out her husband, ‘and it can be refused.’

‘I shall go,’ replied Sarah.

‘You don’t know what you are saying!’

‘I know full well. If I don’t go it will be said that I moping at home. Everyone will know I have been invited. No. I shall go and...discountenance him. He shall be sorry I am there...not I.’

The day before the wedding she was discovered weeping and her sister sought to comfort her.

She must not brood. Her own folly was partly to blame, but she had learned a valuable lesson. Not that she could hope for such an opportunity again. Still her rank and beauty would enable her to make a very good match.

‘Match!’ cried Sarah. ‘What are you talking about? My little squirrel is dead!’

‘You’re nothing but a child!’ cried Lady Caroline in disgust.

And so it seemed, for the very next day Sarah found an injured hedgehog in the grounds of Holland House. She brought it in and believed she could make it well.

The prospect made her radiant with joy.

• • •

At nine o’clock the marriage took place in the Chapel Royal at St. James’s. The bride looked very small in her white and silver gown and her mantle of purple velvet fastened by a cluster of enormous pearls. The diamonds in her tiara were said to be worth a fortune.

George was very much aware of Lady Sarah; he kept thinking how different it would have been had she been standing beside him instead of this strange woman. How happy he would have been! And how ironical it was that she, Sarah, beautiful and desired, should be standing so close to him at this moment.

‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together...’ began the Archbishop; but George was thinking. If only I had insisted. Why did I not? I am the King. But he had made an oath to serve his country, to care for nothing but his duty. And this was his duty. He must never allow this plain little woman at his side to doubt his affection for her. He must learn to love her. He must never let his thoughts turn to any other woman. He had sinned enough. Even now he could not stop thinking of that other ceremony. Was there no escape from Hannah?

‘Look, O Lord, mercifully upon them from Heaven and bless them as Thou did send Thy blessing upon Abraham and Sarah…’

Sarah. He felt the hot blood rush into his face. Everyone was watching. He could not resist looking in Sarah’s direction. She met his gaze coolly, contemptuously.

Hastily he looked away. Oh God, he prayed, help me to do my duty.

And now the words were spoken which united him with Charlotte.

This strange, plain little woman was his wife.

• • •

On the way back to the Palace he saw a face in the crowd. It was there for a second and it was gone. But it brought back memories...of the house in Tottenham, the private carriage drive, of looking up and seeing that face at the window. Then, the entry into the house, the hasty embrace.

‘So thou hast come and I am happy to see thee.’

It could not have been. Imagination played strange tricks and he had been thinking of her almost continuously...of her and Sarah.

He had imagined the whole thing. How could it have been; she was dead and buried under a gravestone marked Ret Powell.

Lord Bute was beside him.

‘Your Majesty looks shaken. It was an ordeal, but you came through it magnificently. You always will...’

‘I must speak to you...in private...soon.’

‘Yes, yes. Of course.’

In the Palace the bride sang for the company and gave them an opportunity to admire her skill on the harpsichord. Supper was announced and the company led by the King and the Queen went into the banqueting hall. ,

When they had eaten the King and the Queen would retire to the nuptial chamber, but the King had said that he would have none of the usual ceremony in the bedchamber which he considered both vulgar and obscene. He and his bride would go to bed in private.

He ate little. Bute, watching him, thought he was regretting the loss of Sarah. But it is too late now, thought Bute triumphantly. He was surprised a little later when he had the opportunity of being alone with the King to discover it was not the thought of Sarah which tortured him but of Hannah.

‘I wanted to speak to you,’ said the King quietly. ‘I thought I saw Hannah in the crowd.’

‘Impossible. She is dead.’

‘Are you sure?’

Bute was taken off his guard; he had come to talk of Sarah and now he was confronted with Hannah.

‘But Your Majesty saw the grave...’

‘I saw a grave.’

‘But we were told...’

‘The name above the grave was not even hers. I have a feeling that she is not dead.’

‘But I was told...’

‘I know. But you might not have been told the truth.’

‘Why should I not have been?’

‘Because Hannah wanted to disappear. She wanted to make everything easy for me and that was the only way she could do it.’

‘She left her children, then, you think?’

‘No. She would not do that. The children are with good parents. Why should she not visit them...even be near them. She might be in the household where they are. How can we know? I believe it was Hannah I saw in the crowd.’

‘You have been thinking a great deal of her lately, have you not?’

‘Yes, that’s true.’

‘Then it would be so easy to imagine you saw her. A Quaker habit...In similar dress people look alike.’

‘I knew her well...very well.’

‘That is so. But Your Highness imagined you saw her. Please, Sire, it is better that way.’

‘I married her. If she still lives was I married today?’

‘She does not live and she was already married to Isaac Axford. It was a mock marriage you went through with her.’

‘I...am not sure.’

‘Your Majesty torments yourself unnecessarily.’

That lady...the Queen will bear my children. They will be the heirs of this country...but perhaps it is Hannah’s children...’

‘Your Majesty is, if you will forgive my saying so, tormenting himself with impossible nightmares.’

‘I want to see who lies under that stone.’

‘Impossible. It is too long. Oh no…no…It would be dreadful.’

‘I shall never be sure. I shall be haunted by doubts…for the rest of my life.’

‘Your Majesty, there are some occasions when Kings who have the good of the people to consider should think of nothing but their duty.’

‘And the truth?’

‘Duty, where Kings are concerned, takes precedence over truth.’

‘Then you think...’

‘I think she is dead. I think that unhappy affair is at an end. I think we have a young and good King who will lead his country to greatness. Today he has united himself with a good Queen who will bear him sons to the glorification of this land.’

The King stared at his dear friend.

‘You have always been right,’ he said. ‘I cannot believe that you could be wrong.’

‘I was never more right than I am at this time. I rejoice in Your Majesty’s goodness; in Your Majesty’s marriage; in Your Majesty’s heritage. Sire, there are experiences in all our lives over which we would wish to draw a veil. The thicker that veil very often the better. We make our biggest mistakes when we look back and draw it aside. The past is done with. No good can come by going back...even in thought. Go forward. Long live the King! I say. I trust that this time next year I shall be saying “Long live the Prince of Wales!”’

‘You convince me, my dear friend, as you always have done.’

Bute embraced the King and for a moment. George clung to him as he had when he was a child and this man had come to the schoolroom to help extricate him from some small misdemeanour.

‘You are right,’ he said firmly, ‘My dear friend, you are right. There is no going back. The past must be forgotten. I have my duty to my country and my Queen.’

‘She will be missing you,’ said Bute, smiling.

And George left him and returned to his Queen.

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