Текст книги "Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill "

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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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 turkevs 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 w r hich to guide the birds if they decided to stray; and Mr. Berkeley and his supporters were similarly 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 roost-

ing 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.

4 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 tete-a-tete; 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 Fitz-herbert.

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

go Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill

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. Fitzherbcrt 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 ^-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 remov-

ing 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.

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.

Tm 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, Vd crowns resign to call thee mine, Sweet lass of Richmond Hill/

In desperation the Prince rode out to Chertsey. Charles fames 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.

Charles received him with pleasure and so did Lizzie Armi-stead. A delightful woman, Lizzie; she reminded him in some ways of Maria—a pale shadow of Maria, of course; but that serenity, that poise! And Charles had changed since they lived together in an almost respectable manner. It showed what the right kind of woman could do for a man. Charles, he believed, was more or less faithful to Lizzie; he still drank too much and gambled heavily—but he had changed. He had mellowed; it was as though he had found something well worth while in life.

The Prince sighed. It would be the same with him and Maria. He had sown enough wild oats; he wanted now to reap the contentment which should be the right of any man who was capable of enjoying it.

'We are honoured, Your Highness,' said Lizzie, sweeping a graceful curtsey. She gave no hint that they had once been very intimate indeed. Admirable Lizzie!

He embraced her with tears in his eyes.

'I am happy to see you well, my dear. And Charles?'

Charles had heard his arrival and was coming out to greet him.

'My dear, dear friend/

Tears, thought Charles. This means he wants me to do some thing. How can I induce the woman to throw aside her principles and jump into bed with him?

'Your Highness, you honour us.'

'And envy you, you fortunate pair! I would give up everything to know contentment such as you enjoy in this little cottage.'

Cottage! thought Lizzie. It was scarcely that. It was a com fortably sized house and she was very proud of it. Compared with Carlton House, of course ...

'We are astonished that Your Highness should deign to visit such a humble dwelling,' she replied.

'My sweet Liz, it's not the dwelling I come to see but you two dear friends.'

'Your Highness will come into our humble drawing room doubtless,' said Fox, 'and perhaps partake of a little humble refreshment which will be served by our humble servants.'

The Prince laughed through his tears. Then he said appeal-ingly: 'The humility is all on my side, Charles. I come to beg of you to help me.'

He sat in the drawing room, diminishing it by his dazzling presence. His large plump form weighing heavily on the chair he had selected—feet stretched before him, glittering shoe buckles almost vying with the magnificent diamond star on the left side of his elegant green coat.

When wine had been brought he looked helplessly from Charles to Lizzie. 'What am I going to do?' he demanded. 'She receives me. She is kind; she laughs; she is gracious; but she will not allow me to as much as kiss her cheek.'

'Mrs. Robinson held off for a very long time,' said Lizzie. 'I remember how she used to pace up and down her room and declaim: "His wife I cannot be. His mistress I will never be." It is a quotation, from some play most likely. She was full of such quotations. But all the time she had a firm intention to give in. She was being reluctant in order to make you more eager.'

'You cannot compare Mrs. Robinson with Mrs. Fitzherbert.'-

'Except that they are both women. Mrs. Robinson had one husband and Mrs. Fitzherbert has had two.'

Terdita's husband was living. He was somewhere in the background. Maria has been twice widowed.'

Lizzie knew when to be silent. Charles said: 'Has Your Highness tried offering her estates ... er .. /

The Prince laughed bitterly. 'You don't know Maria. She does not want money. She had made it clear to me that she is perfectly happy with her income. Moreover, she knows how to live within it which is more than we do within ours.'

'If she were not such an admirable woman,' said Charles, 'we should not be confronted by this impasse. Virtue can have its drawbacks. A little sin is very convenient now and then.'

It was Lizzie's turn to flash a warning at Charles.

'We must try to find some solution to His Highness's problem,' she said. 'He knows we would do anything ... just anything ...'

'My dear, dear Lizzie, I know it well.' The tears were in his eyes; he covered his face with his hands. 'But what ... what ... whatY

'Has Your Highness explored every approach? Is there anything that would make the lady relent?'

The Prince looked hopeful. 'She is fond of me. I am certain that the objection has nothing to do with my person. But she is a strict Catholic and this is at the heart of the matter. How lucky those of you are who are not born royal. You can marry where you will. You do not have to be dictated to. You are not at the beck and call of an old tyrant. The State does not decide with whom you shall spend your life, who shall bear your children. Oh, you most fortunate people. They will soon be trying to marry me to some hideous German woman. I know it. I shall be expected to fawn on her and pretend to be in love with her. I tell you there is no one I want but Maria ... Maria ... Maria!'

Charles said: 'There must be a way. We will find it, Your Highness.'

The Prince's smile was immediately sunny. 'You will, Charles, I know you will, my dear good friend. I don't know

what I should do without you, and you too, Lizzie. God bless you both.'

The Prince rode away from Chertsey in a happier state of mind from that in which he had come, but Charles was grave.

'The Guelphs,' he said, 'have always been able to turn on the tears at the least provocation; but this is a perpetual flow. I don't like it, Liz. He's getting desperate. God knows what he will do. He's capable of the utmost folly. Why can't he have the sense to fall in love with a nice sensible whore. Why does he have to choose this respectable, deeply religious, highly virtuous matron?'

'What are you going to suggest to him?'

'God knows. I saw marriage in his eye. You heard what he said about the hideous German. It shows which way his thoughts are turning. This will give Papa a hundred sleepless nights where he suffered but twenty before/

'He can't marry Maria Fitzherbert. What about the Marriage Act? It wouldn't be a legal marriage.'

'No, and the woman's not only a Catholic. She's a Tory.'

'He surely would never go over to them. It would mean being on the side of the King.'

'I think his desire for Maria is greater than his hatred of his father. Most definitely we are up against a tricky situation. Action will have to be taken in a very short time.'

'At least,' said Lizzie, 'sorrow does not affect his weight. I thought he was going to break my chair when he sat there creaking on it.'

'Your very humble chair, Liz.'

'At least,' said Lizzie with an air of pride, 'it is paid for.'

'Oh, admirable Lizzie. If only H.R.H. were as lucky in love

as I!'

• • •

Charles was going to help him and that was something; but this was a devilishly tricky situation and he decided to call in the help of his dearest Duchess.

Georgiana received him with great sympathy and when he had wept a little in her beautiful drawing room at Devonshire House, which was very different from that in Chertsey, he demanded of Georgiana what he was going to do. D

Georgiana shook her head. 'Maria seems adamant.'

He covered his face with his hands.

'Dearest Highness, there must be a way out of this.'

'What, Georgiana, what?'

Georgiana was silent. Why had the woman come to Court? Why had she not married another old husband and stayed in the country nursing him? That was the life which would suit her. She was beautiful in her way, thought Georgiana, but there was nothing especially wonderful about her. Her nose was too long and prominent anyway ... quite an aggressive nose. Georgiana wondered that the Prince couldn't see it. When she thought of her own rather pert and pretty nose, her own beauty ... she could not understand it. Why should he have to be so enamoured of this ... matron? There was no other word for her. She had not born children but she was like a mother. She would be fat in a few years time, Georgiana prophesied. And she must be nearly twenty-nine. Thirty, possibly, and he was twenty-two! It was a ridiculous situation. It was not that Georgiana disliked Maria Fitzherbert. Far from it. She was an interesting and pleasant creature. But she was a little tiresome in her vinue. After all, a love affair with the Prince of Wales would not have impaired it all that much, and what she lost in virtue she would have gained in prestige.

Poor dear Prince, he was so distrait and he was such a darling spoilt boy who was bewildered because here was a woman who did not fall to his grasp as soon as he held up his pleading hands.

She, Georgiana, had refused him, and that had kept him eager for her; but this was different; he was obsessed with Maria Fitzherbert as he never had been for the Duchess of Devonshire.

Still, she must not allow her pique to interfere with her friendship because she was discovering that she really was genuinely fond of him.

'I have an idea.'

'Yes, yes...'

'I am fond of Maria ...'

The Prince seized her hands and covered them with kisses. His dearest Georgiana! Such good sense ...I So clever...!

Drama at Carlton House 99

Besides being beautiful she was the wisest, best woman in the world ... next to Maria.

4 I think I could talk to her. I could discover if there is any thing that can be done. If there is a way out... I could perhaps speak more frankly on this rather delicate matter than you ... and if you would give me your permission .. /

'My dearest, dearest Georgiana, you will be my saviour, ] know it.'

'You know that I will do everything in my power to help you.'

'I know it. God bless you.'

He was in tears again.

The Duchess's carriage had taken her to Richmond.

Now, she thought, to talk with the Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill. Not such a lass. It would be easier if she were.

'My dear Maria!'

'Welcome, Duchess.'

The Duchess surveyed her appraisingly. It is because she is different, she thought. That must be the answer. Those eyes are good and her hair is lovely, of course; her complexion cleai and fresh and the bosom ... well it's very fine. Marble hills indeed. But soft and billowy. He'll be able to weep on that in comfort.

'Maria, you know what I have come about. The Prince has been to see me.'

Maria sighed. One had to admire her. She is genuine, thought Georgiana. She really means she will not become his mistress.

'His Highness is in a very sad state.'

Maria had taken the Duchess to her drawing room, which was very elegant though of course very small and by no means to be compared with Devonshire and Carlton Houses.

'I have been thinking of what will be best for me to do and 1 have come to the conclusion that if I went away for a while he would turn his attention to someone else.'

She spoke in a matter-of-fact voice. What a calm and sensible woman! How different from that dreadful actress who had

imagined herself on a stage all the time. Georgiana remembered how that vulgar little upstart had tried to wrest from her—Georgiana—the title of leader of fashion. The thought infuriated her even now, to think of that woman parading herself in the Mall or at the Pantheon and the Rotunda in her outrageous costumes ... all in an endeavour to make people look at her instead of at the Duchess of Devonshire.

Georgiana smoothed the velvet of her skirts made specially to her own design. No fear of Maria Fitzherbert being so foolish. She was really what one would call a very nice, sensible woman. No airs—complete sincerity. Georgiana had seen that her mission would be in vain; she had had a lurking suspicion that if Maria were offered a large enough reward she would have succumbed and she would have been the one to discover it and so bring happiness to the Prince. But no. Maria was sincere in her determination not to enter into an irregular relationship with the Prince.

'Wherever you went he would follow/ said the Duchess.

'Not if I went abroad. He cannot leave the country without the King's consent. I have lived a great many years of my life in France. I was educated there and when my second husband was ill I took him to Nice. We lived there for almost a year. I have friends in France. I speak French as well as I speak English. So ... it seems a natural choice.'

'And when do you propose to go?'

'Within the next few days. I have in fact made all my arrangements.'

'Heaven knows what the Prince will do.'

Maria smiled, a little sadly Georgiana noticed, and she said quickly: 'You are fond of him?'

'How could I help it?' Maria was by nature frank. 'This has all been so ... flattering. And he has been charming to me. I have been surprised that one in his position could be so ... so humble ... so modest... and so kind.'

'You sound as though you are a little in love with him.'

'If circumstances were different...'

'Ah/ said the Duchess promptly. 'If he were in the position Mr. Weld or Mr. Fitzherbert had been in ... you would not hesitate.'

'No,' said Maria, 'I would not hesitate. Yes, I am fond of him. It is impossible not to be. He has great charm. He is so young ... and I...'

'And your husbands have been so old. Oh, Maria, how cruel is fate. If only he were Mr. Guelph with a pleasant estate in the country all could end happily.'

'My dear Duchess, how kind you are to concern yourself with our affairs.'

'Is there nothing that can be done?'

'Nothing. The Prince is pressing me to become his mistress. I could never agree to that. It is against my beliefs ... my religion. I could never be happy in such a position and therefore nor would he be. I have thought a great deal of this. It saddens me. I shall miss him sorely, but I know that my best plan is to leave the country. In time he will turn his attentions to someone else ... and then I shall return.'