Текст книги "Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill "

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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should be something vulgar, ridiculing or informative—something which her sense of duty would tell her she ought to pass on to the King.

Her hair dressed, her toilette completed, she would send for the elder Princesses and spend a quiet hour with them, sewing or knotting while one of the ladies read aloud to them. The Queen always listened attentively to what was read; she had made a habit of this and it was one of the main reasons why she had mastered the English language so well and spoke it fluently with only a trace of a German accent.

She was pleased to see the girls waiting for her, and that the Princess Royal had remembered to fill her snuff box.

She took a pinch and called for her work; and set them all their duties. The Princess Royal should thread her mother's needles; Augusta should be responsible for bringing in the dogs and taking them out again when the sessions were over; Sophia should hand her her snuff box when she needed it. In the meantime they should sew of course. The others should continue with their sewing or knotting all the time and Miss Planta, the governess, who was a good reader, should read aloud to them, and Miss Goldsworthy who was the sub-governess and who was affectionately known as Gooley by the royal family should take over from Miss Planta when the latter was tired.

The party were busy with their tasks as they had been so many times before when suddenly the door was flung open and a young man burst into the room without ceremony and, looking wildly about him, dashed to the Queen and flung himself on his knees before her.

The Princess Royal jumped to her feet, treading on one of the dogs which had been nestling there so that he gave a loud yelp and went on yelping.

Princess Augusta cried: 'William! Brother William.'

'William?' stammered the Queen.

'Yes, Mamma,' said the young man. 'It is I, William. I have to see you. I have made up my mind. Nothing will deter me. I have come to tell you that I want to marry Sarah and you must make my father agree to the match. I have given my word ... I...'

'One moment,' said the Queen, seeking for her dignity, staring with dismay at her son. What was he talking about? It was George and Mrs. Fitzherbcrt who had been in her mind ... not William and this ... Sarah.

'Pray get up, William,' she said.

But he would not do so. He continued to kneel, catching her knees.

'You must help me, Mamma,' he said. 'I have made up my mind. No one is going to stop me.'

William was shouting; the Princesses and their governesses were looking on with round inquisitive eyes. This was very extraordinary. They were all expecting they knew not what concerning the Prince of Wales—and here was William ... also in love and wanting to marry someone of whom the King and Queen would not approve. Sarah ... who was Sarah and where had William who had been stationed at Portsmouth met her?

The dogs were barking; one of them had become entangled in Augusta's knotting string; Sophia had let the snuff box fall to the floor; and William went on shouting.

'Stop!' cried the Queen. 'Miss La Planta, Gooley, conduct the Princesses to their apartments. They may take their work with them and you may read to them.'

The governesses curtsied and the Princesses did the same, leaving the Queen alone with her son.

William seemed a little sobered now, and the Queen said to him: 'Now, William, you had better tell me exactly what all this is about.'

It was amazing what the effect of a little regal authority had on William; he had grown considerably calmer.

'I have come to ask you to speak to the King about my engagement,' he said.

'Pray sit down and tell me what this is all about.'

William meekly obeyed.

'Now,' said the Queen, 'what was it that so induced you to forget your duty as to leave Portsmouth, and your manners as to burst in upon me and make such a scene before your sisters and their governesses?'

'This is a very serious matter.'

'It is indeed. Desertion is punishable in the Navy by ... I

know not what. But I am certain that it will be severe. But let me hear what this engagement is.'

'Mamma, I am in love.'

'My dear William, have you not yet learned that love and marriage do not always go together in the lives of princes?'

'Are you suggesting that I should indulge in an immoral relationship with Sarah?'

'Indeed, I am not. I am suggesting that you should never have been so foolish ... and so wicked ... as to become involved with her.'

'Sarah is the most beautiful of girls. She is completely suited to the rank of Princess.'

'But she is not, I imagine, of such a rank?'

'Of course she is not.'

'Then pray tell me who she is.'

'She is Sarah Martin—daughter of the Commissioner of Portsmouth in whose house I lodge.'

'I see. And you imagine yourself to be in love with her.'

'There is no imagination about it. I am.'

'And you propose to marry her. You must know, William, that without your father's consent and that of the Parliament such a marriage would not be legal.'

'George does not seem to think so.'

'George! You are referring to the Prince of Wales, I suppose. Let me tell you that this Royal Marriage Act applies to you all ... George included, even though he may be the Prince of Wales.'

'Mamma, we may be princes but we are still men.'

The Queen looked with exasperation at her son who hurried on: 'If you do not approve of my marriage to Sarah I am ready to abandon everything to be with her. I shall be happy enough as Lieutenant Guelph. In fact that is what I am known as in the Navy. I prefer it. I would rather be a commoner and free than a prince and a prisoner.'

'No one is suggesting that you should be a prisoner, William. Only that you should observe the laws of your country as we all have to do.'

'All men—except the members of our family—may marry as they please. That is the greatest freedom of all. Mamma, I will

marry Sarah. I must make Papa see. Where is he now? Perhaps I could go to him and explain ...'

'My dear William, His Majesty is greatly worried by your brother's conduct. I pray you do not add to his anxieties.'

'And what of George? I suppose he will have his way. I suppose he will find some way out of his ... his ... cage.'

'I will not listen to such foolish talk. Your brother will marry as you will, which is as the King wishes.'

'Oh, I can see that it is important to George. His son would be the King. But surely it cannot be so important for me. There is Frederick to come before me. Mamma, will you speak to the King?'

The Queen was silent. She imagined the King's reaction to this news. She pictured his coming in now and finding his son in Windsor when he should be in Portsmouth. The shock would be terrible; and she was afraid of these shocks. Heaven knew what the Prince of Wales was doing. They must expect shocks from that direction. But that William, their third son, should suddenly present them with his problem was quite unexpected.

It would never do for the King to find his son here. It would be much better if she could break the news gently.

'I will speak to your father, William,' she said.

'Oh, Mamma.' He took her hand and kissed it. How affectionate they are, she thought, when they want something.

'You will plead with him? You will tell him how important this is to me? Tell him that he need not be ashamed of welcoming Sarah into the family circle. She is good ... and beautiful, and would be an asset to any family.'

'I am sure she would,' said the Queen. 'I will speak to your lather on condition that you return immediately to Portsmouth.'

The Prince stared at her in dismay.

'I will see that you hear the King's decision there. But if you stay here I can do nothing. For one thing His Majesty will be so enraged when he sees that you have deserted your post that lie will not listen to you. Go back as quickly and quietly as you can to Portsmouth and I will take the first opportunity of speaking to your father.'

He took her hands and looked earnestly in her face.

'You will speak for me.'

'Yes, my son, I will speak for you.'

He kissed her hands fervently.

She thought: If only George would ask me to do something for him. But George was different from William. He went his way without needing any help from his mother. He was after all Prince of Wales.

'Thank you, Mamma. I will return to Portsmouth at once ... and you will speak to the King.'

'At the first opportunity,' the Queen promised.

The King came in from hunting the stag in Windsor Forest, looking tired; but then he almost always did nowadays. The Queen thought: He takes too much exercise. He forces himself to, because he thinks it is good for his health and will reduce his weight. But he was growing fatter in spite of all his efforts; his face was a deeper shade of red and there was a tinge of purple in it, but perhaps that was due to those white eyebrows. His eyes seemed to bulge more than they used to.

I watch him too critically, she thought. I am too anxious.

She asked him if she could have a word alone with him. He looked surprised. 'Eh, what?'

'At Your Majesty's convenience.' She did not wish to make it sound too important. She had no wish to worry him in advance.

In due course they were alone and she said to him: 'A disturbing thing happened today. William came here.'

'William.' The white brows shot up; the blue eyes bulged; the colour in the too colourful face deepened. 'William! Left Portsmouth! Eh? What for? What did he do that for? Why did he leave Portsmouth, eh, what?'

Oh dear. The rapid speech, the repetitions. Always a bad sign.

'He has one of these notions which young people get. He's fallen in love with the Commissioner's daughter and wants to marry her.'

'Marry her. Is he mad, eh?'

The Queen shivered. She hated that word.

She said quickly: 'He is young. Your Majesty knows what young men are. I think some action will have to be taken and Your Majesty will know what.'

'Action, eh, I should think so. What is this? How far has it gone? What is the girl? Commissioner's daughter? He lodges in the Commissioner's house. So that's it! Well, it will have to be stopped, of course. Young fool. Will have to stop being a ... a young fool. And he came here. How dare he? Desertion, that's what it was. Does he think because he's my son he can flout the rules of the Navy? We'll have to teach that young puppy a lesson or two.'

The Queen thought of the 'lessons' which had been taught the boys when they were younger. This had been the application of the cane—often by the King himself. He had declared to the Queen, 'Only way ... only way you can train young puppies.' And she had hated to hear the screams of the boys and had been a little frightened by the fury and resentment she had seen in their eyes towards their father ... and this applied particularly to the Prince of Wales. Of course William could not be allowed to marry this Sarah Martin, but she was sorry for William—and she hoped the King would not be too severe.

'He is in love with this Sarah ...' began the Queen.

'Sarah!' cried the King; and his thoughts immediately went to another Sarah. Lady Sarah Lennox, with whom he had been in love, whom he had given up to marry Princes Charlotte of Mecklenburg Strelitz, this plain old woman who was sitting there now and was the mother of the troublesome William and that other even more troublesome one, George, who had given him so many sleepless nights. He wondered what his life would have been like if he had married beautiful Sarah Lennox– and he could have married her, for there was no Marriage Act in those days to prevent him and in any case, as the King, he could have given his own consent to whatever marriage he had wanted to make. Yet he had done his duty—a fact of which he had been proud all those years but which nevertheless continued to rankle.

'Sarah?' he repeated.

'Her name is Sarah Martin ... this Commissioner's daughter.'

'He must be mad.'

The Queen flinched.

'He is only twenty.'

'Old enough to know better. Where is he now?'

'He has gone back to Portsmouth. He will stay there until lie hears Your Majesty's decision.'

The King grunted.

'What is Your Majesty going to do?'

The King hesitated and looked at her cautiously. Usually he kept her in the dark. He had always said that he would not have women interfering in State matters. But this was scarcely a State matter. It was a family matter—and he was going to see that that was what it remained. In this case he could take Charlotte into his confidence.

'I will order the Commissioner of Portsmouth to transfer Prince William to Plymouth without delay.'

The Queen sighed.

'And there this ... this ... young woman will not accompany him. I doubt not that in Plymouth he will find someone else to take her place ... but this, this little adventure will have taught the young rip that he should not take these ladies too seriously.'

The Queen nodded and the King said angrily, 'Sarah ... Sarah ... what was it?'

'Martin,' answered the Queen a trifle sadly, for she knew what memories the name recalled. There had been plenty to let her know when she had arrived in England that the King had been deeply enamoured of Sarah Lennox and reluctantly was taking Charlotte to be his Queen. That, thought the Queen, was the fate of princesses—and of princes too. This William would discover.

In a few days he was transferred from Portsmouth to Plymouth.

Family Conflict

The Prince was happy. He was seen everywhere with Mrs. Fitz-herbert. Whispers circulated throughout the Court and the Town—Are they married? Or is she his mistress? It was obvious from the Prince's manner that either one or the other of these conditions were true. If anyone wished to entertain the Prince of Wales they must entertain Mrs. Fitzherbert also. If there was no invitation for the lady, then the Prince of Wales regretfully declined. He would dance with no other but Mrs. Fitzherbert; he must be placed next to her at table; and after each ball, banquet or evening engagement he could be heard saying to her with the utmost gallantry: 'Madam, may I have the honour of seeing you home in my carriage?'

She did not take up her residence in Carlton House, but continued to live at Richmond and in Park Street-. She was, however, constantly in the company of the Prince of Wales, and the change in him was remarkable. He was extremely affable to everyone; he was constantly bursting into song; he moderated his language and rarely used a coarse expression; he drank less; he liked to retire early on some evenings. He was undoubtedly a newly married husband deeply in love with his wife and domesticity.

He took a box at the Opera for her and was frequently seen with her in it; they rode together in the Park. His habits had

changed considerably; he no longer sought the company of others. Mrs. Fitzherbert was all he asked.

The friendship with Charles James Fox had clearly weakened. There had been a time when he had been constantly in that man's company, had accepted his news, laughed heartily at his wit and called him his greatest friend. But Mrs. Fitzherbert was inclined to view the politician with disfavour.

'He is both coarse and unclean/ she commented; and there was a distinct coolness between them.

4 He is a brilliant fellow/ the Prince told her. 'My love, I think you would enjoy his conversation.'

'He is undoubtedly very witty and a brilliant conversationalist, and I am sure a very clever politician,' agreed Maria, 'but he certainly does not change his linen often enough and his wit is inclined to be cruel.'

'Everyone cannot be like my angel,' commented the Prince.

'Who likes only those who are worthy to be the friends of hers/

The Prince was enchanted by that reply and began to feel less friendly towards Fox from that moment, and when he remembered that Fox had tried to prevent the marriage he felt some resentment. How dare Fox preach to him! Fox who had led just about the most immoral life any man could lead! But Fox had not preached. He had only pointed out the facts—and they were true enough. All the same, much as he respected Fox, he did not want to see him. To tell the truth he wanted no one but Maria.

He walked into Maria's drawing room where she received him with open arms and a demeanour which was almost regal. What a queen she would make! If he could make her so. Why not? When the old man died he would alter that Marriage Act with a stroke of the pen. He would have powerful ministers behind him. Fox! There he was back at Fox. No matter! His Maria was beautiful, worthy in every way to be a queen. He told her so.

'But this place is not good enough for my dearest/

'My darling, it is ideal for me/

'No, no, Maria. I want to see you in a setting worthy of you.'

'Settings arc unimportant.'

'Of course. What setting docs the brightest jewel in the kingdom need? You don't need it, my precious love; but you should have it. I see you in a white and gilded drawing room with Chinese silk lining the walls.'

'It sounds like Carlton House,' she said with a laugh.

'But this shall be yours. And there we shall entertain. You must admit, my dearest Maria, that this place is a trifle small.'

'It is big enough for the two of us. I care only to entertain you.'

He embraced her and wept on that wonderful bosom, so soft, so voluptuous yet so maternal. Oh, Maria, perfect woman, with all the attributes, everything that he needed to make him happy!

'Why ... real tears,' she said, stroking his frizzed hair.

'Tears of joy,' he cried. 'Tears of wonder and gratitude. What have I done to deserve you, Maria? Tell me that.'

'You have been good and kind to me, faithful to me, you have sacrificed much for me ...'

He lay against her listening. It was true.

7'd crowns resign To call thee mine .. /

But it had not been necessary to resign the Crown. This sort of marriage did not interfere with the succession in the least. It was a secret marriage, a morganatic marriage, if one cared to call it that. And it was secret; therefore what harm could come of it? As soon as he was the King he would get the Act repealed and marry Maria; and any children they might have before that happy event would be legitimized. It was really very simple. He could not imagine why there had had to be the fuss.

So now listening to Maria enumerating his virtues he was very happy indeed.

But she must entertain now and then, and since whenever she entertained he would be present, she must have a worthy establishment in which to do it.

'Lord Uxbi idge's place in St. James's Square is to let,' he told her.

'My dear, dear George, you cannot mean that / should take such a place?'

'But why not. It's reasonably habitable.'

She threw back her head and laughed. The most musical laugh in the world, he thought, raising his head to kiss her throat before settling down once more on that magnificent bosom.

'Well?' he said.

'Far, far too expensive for me. It would cost all of three thousand a year to maintain it.'

'That does not sound a very large sum.'

'Not to you, my extravagant Prince. To me it is one thousand more than my income.'

'Your Prince is not without intelligence, you know.'

'Indeed I know that he possesses that very useful asset in abundance/

'Then...'

'Then what, my dearest?'

'Supposing you to have an income of six thousand a year, that intelligence tells me that you would not then find Ux-bridge's place too expensive.'

'The logical answer to that is that I have not an income of six thousand a year.'

'And the logical answer to that is that you shall have.'

'Listen to me. I have no intention of taking an income from you/

'Why not?'

'It is unnecessary. I have consideted myself very comfortably placed. I have two fine houses ... well, fine enough for me ... but then I do not judge them by royal standards/

'But you now have raised your standards, my love ... my queen ...'

She smiled tenderly. 'Fine houses ... jewellery ... these gifts which you are constantly trying to bestow on me are of no importance. What matters is that we are together, not where.

'I know it. I know it. But I wish you to have everything that is worthy of you and that is the best in the world. I want you to have Uxbridge's House. I will pay the rent and with your six thousand a year you will, I know, keep the creditors at bay/

'Six thousand!' she cried. 'But my dearest, what of your creditors.'

'Money! Other things are far more important. Don't you agree?'

'Yes, that is why I suggest that I continue as I am here in Park Street and that no new expenses are incurred on my account.'

But the Prince was determined. 'This house,' he said, 'was Mr. Fitzherbert's. Is he to be allowed to present you with a house and I not?'

That was a different argument and Maria was perplexed. After that it took very little persuasion to make her agree.

'The truth is,' said the Prince roguishly, 'I have already told Uxbridge that we are taking it.'

'Of course the Prince married her,' said some of the gossips. 'She would never have succumbed otherwise.'

'He can't have married her,' said others. 'It would be illegal. What of the Marriage Act? She is his mistress. She was only holding out to make him the more eager.'

Whichever theory was supported there was no doubt that the Prince and Mrs. Fitzherbert were lovers; and everyone watched them with interest.

The gossip reached Windsor. Madam von Schwellenburg who considered herself head of the Queen's household—and was in fact the most disliked member of it—muttered to herself as she went about her apartments feeding the toads which she kept in cages about her room. Her little pets she called them; and she was far more gracious to them than she was to the maids of honour who were under her sway.

'Herr Prince vos up to no goot,' she told the toads. She had come to England with the Queen twenty-six years before but had never bothered to learn English properly. She despised the English, hated their country, so she said; and was furious when attempts had been made to send her back to Germany. 'Dis is vere I lifs,' she had said, 'and dis is vere I stays. Novon villen me move.' But she showed her dislike for the country, to which she

tlung, in every way and it was apparent in her atrocious rendering of the language.

She disliked everyone except the Queen, whom she looked upon as her charge. Charlotte herself did not like the woman but kept her with her from habit. In the first place, when her mother-in-law, Augusta the Dowager Princess of Wales, had tried to get rid of Schwellenburg soon after Charlotte's arrival, she had clung to the woman on a matter of principle. But there were times when she wished her back in Germany.

So Schwellenburg had grown old in the Queen's service and none the more attractive for that. She disliked the King and the Queen's children; she disliked everyone and everything except herself, the Queen and her toads. She delighted in the misdeeds of the Princes and the gossip concerning the Prince of Wales was in particular a great joy to her.

'Herr Prince von bad vicked,' she told her favourite toad, the one who croaked the loudest when she tapped his cage with her snuff box. 'Has vedded von bad voman.'

She had seen that the cartoons in the papers were brought to the Queen's attention by setting them out with the appropriate pages in evidence on the royal dressing table. She had tried to tell the Queen about the rumours, but the Queen had shrugged them aside.

'There are always these stories about royal people, Schwellenburg.'

'Of veddings?' asked Schwellenburg maliciously. 'Dis vomen ist von Cadolic. Von bad ding.'

'It is of no importance, Schwellenburg. I have heard that the lady whose name is being coupled with the Prince's is a very virtuous one. I am sure it is quite a pleasant relationship.'

'Like Vilhelm vis Portsmod Sarah.'

Really the woman was intolerable. 'Go and attend to your toads, Schwellenburg. I no longer need your services/

The very mention of her toads made Schwellenburg forget everything else, and the Queen was delighted to be alone.

It was a different matter when Lady Harcourt spoke to her. Lady Harcourt was a trusted friend. Charlotte was very fond of the Harcourt family, for it was Lord Harcourt, the present Lady Harcourt's father-in-law, who had come to Strelitz all

those years ago to arrange for her marriage to George, who was then the Prince of Wales. She could trust Lady Harcourt and had only a year or so before appointed her a Lady of the Bedchamber. To Lady Harcourt as to no other could she confide her innermost thoughts; it was a great comfort to have such a friend.

Lady Harcourt said, when they were sitting together with their knotting in their hands: 'Your Majesty, I am distressed about the rumours ... and I have hesitated whether or not I should speak to you about them.'

'My dear, you know you may speak to me on any subject you think fit.'

'But I did not wish to add to your anxieties.'

'Have you heard something dreadful?'

'It is alarming.'

'About William? That was a distressing affair. I do hope he is behaving sensibly. The King has sent him to Plymouth, but he may well take it into his reckless head to go back to Portsmouth. What a trial one's children are.'

'I was not thinking of His Highness Prince William but ... of the Prince of Wales.'

The Queen's fingers faltered on her knotting.

'You have heard something ... fresh?'

'I do not think it is fresh, but it is so ... persistent. I greatly fear that there may be some truth in the rumour.'

'What is the rumour?'

'That he is married to this woman, Mrs. Fitzherbert.'

'I have heard that rumour. It is simply not possible. How could he be married to her? It is against the law. The Royal Marriage Act forbids any member of the family to marry without the King's consent.'

'But, Your Majesty, that need not prevent the Prince's doing so.'

The Queen said piteously: 'Oh, my dear Lady Harcourt, what have we done—the King and I—to be so plagued by our sons.'

'They are young men, Your Majesty ... lusty young men. They wish for independence.'

'He is the heir to the throne. He could not be so foolish.'

'He is undoubtedly in love with this woman, and the Prince when he does anything does it wholeheartedly. He is, I have heard, wholeheartedly in love with Mrs. Fitzherbert.'

'But I have heard that she is a good and virtuous woman. She would never allow this.'

'It is because she is a virtuous woman, Your Majesty, that it has happened.'

The Queen was silent for a while and then she said: 'What can I do?'

'Should Your Majesty not speak to the King?'

Charlotte turned to her friend. 'I can say this to you though I would say it to no other. I am afraid ... for the King.'

Lady Harcourt nodded.

'This affair of William and the Portsmouth girl. It has upset him more than the Court knows. I have heard him talking ... talking endlessly at night. He ... he rambles. He goes on and on... and sometimes I do not know what he is saying. He has grown very melancholy. He talks of his sons and how he has failed with them, how the Prince of Wales hates him, how William flouts him.'

'Has he been bled and purged?'

'Constantly. Far more than is generally known. I dare not speak to him at this time of this affair/

'It may not be true,' said Lady Harcourt.

'No,' replied the Queen gratefully. 'It may not be true. But I think we should know whether it is or not.'

Lady Harcourt nodded.

'If it were true,' said the Queen, 'it could imperil the succession; it could shake the throne. I could not tell the King in his present state of health.'

'Your Majesty is the Prince's mother. Perhaps you could yourself see him ... find out if this rumour is true. He would not lie to you if you asked him for a direct answer.'

'I will do it,' said the Queen. 'But my dear Lady Harcourt, should it be true, I tremble to contemplate the effect it would have on the King.'

'Perhaps Your Majesty could keep it from the King ... until he is recovered.'

The Queen smiled brightly. It was a pleasant idea; but she

knew in her heart that he never would recover. She laid her hand momentarily over that of Lady Harcourt.

'It is good to talk ... with friends,' she said. 'I will summon him to Windsor and demand he tell me the truth.'

On receiving the Queen's request that he should come to Windsor to see her, the Prince drove down from Carlton House in his phaeton.

The Queen was moved when she saw him—so elegant in his dark blue coat, his silk cravat and the diamond star glittering on his left breast. He towered above her. How handsome he is! she thought. If he would only kneel at her feet and beg her to intercede for him with the King as William had ! But of course he did no such thing. He stood before her, arrogant, caring nothing for her and showing by his manner that he quite clearly had no love for her. Her mood changed, for since he would not let her love him, her feelings were so strong that they bordered on hatred. She had never felt this strong emotion towards any of the others—it was only for George, her adored first-born whom she had worshipped in the first years of his life.

'You wished to see me, Madam.' His voice was cold containing no affectionate greeting, but merely implying: Come let us get this business finished so that I can get away.

'I have heard rumours,' said the Queen, 'rumours which greatly disturb me.'

'Yes, Madam?*

'Concerning you and a lady named Mrs. Fitzherbert.'

'Indeed?'

'Rumours,' continued the Queen, 'that you have married the lady. Of course I know this to be an impossibility but...'

'Why an impossibility, Madam? I am capable of going through a marriage ceremony.'

'I did not doubt it, but you would not be so foolish ... or so wicked ... as to deceive a lady of good character into believing that it was possible for you to marry her.'

It was the wrong approach. She had seen that when his face flushed angrily.

'Madam, I am married to a lady whom I love and honour above all other people.'

'Married! You are certainly not married.'

'I should have thought, Madam, that I was the best judge ol that.'

'Evidently you are not if you can delude yourself into thinking you are this woman's husband. It is quite impossible for you to be. Have you never heard of the Marriage Act?'