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change me, could you? But I love you for trying.’

Malmesbury flinched. She would never learn. She would go on making wild

and reckless statements, but she would not wash as she should; and she would

never please the Prince of Wales.

‘You see, my dear lord, I shall never change. I shall always be your naughty

Caroline of Brunswick.’

‘I believe that if you would try very hard to behave in a manner which would

not shock the Prince—’

‘Shock him. He is the right one to be shocked. You know, don’t you, that he

sleeps with that Jersey woman?’

Malmesbury turned away, his expression pained. What could he do to help

such a woman? Had he not done his utmost; and all his efforts had clearly been in vain.

There was nothing he could do, thought Malmesbury.

The marriage was doomed.

The King was equally concerned for the marriage. The Prince disliked his

bride and that was bad; but whatever happened appearances must be kept up.

The Queen came to his apartments. How their relationship had changed,

thought the King sadly. In the days before his illness she would never have dared to come without an invitation. Now, of course, she was so necessary to him. A

good wife, he thought. And he remembered all the children who had given him so

much cause for anxiety: The girls who ought to have husbands found for them for

they were growing restive and in a few years would be too old for marriage; the

boys with their wildness. But there was always dearest little Amelia, the light of his life, he called her. His dearest youngest daughter who was yet too young to

cause him any concern; he would like her to remain a child— a lovely innocent

child for ever. And even she worried him because of that cough of hers. He

himself prescribed her cough mixture and always impressed on her the need to

take it; and when she put her arms about his neck and kissed him and called him

dearest Papa
, everything that he had suffered, the years of marriage with a woman who did not greatly attract him, everything seemed worthwhile.

He still had the verses which Miss Burney composed on his recovery after

that frightful illness and which darling Amelia had presented to him. He

remembered how sweet the child had looked and how she had spoken her piece

which was:

The little bearer begs a kiss

From dear Papa for bringing this.

He would always treasure the memory. And whatever happened he had his

darling Amelia.

Now he asked the Queen how Amelia’s cough was and when he heard that it

was better he was much relieved.

‘I must bring up this matter of George’s debts to Parliament,’ he said. ‘I

suppose they will be generous.’

‘It is the price he has to pay for his marriage.’ The Queen’s big crocodile

mouth widened in a smile. ‘I daresay he is thinking the price a high one. Well, we all have to pay for our follies.’

‘You think he cannot take to the young woman, eh, what?’

‘I am sure he cannot. You will admit that she is a— spectacle.’

‘I thought she was a handsome enough young woman.’

‘Not handsome enough for George, evidently.’ The Queen gave a quick laugh.

‘Poor child,’ said the King compassionately. ‘It is not easy.’

‘Scarcely a child. I was some ten years younger when I came here.’

‘I know it. I know.’

‘I feel Louise would have been a better choice. Well, it is too late now. I can

feel almost sorry for George.’

The King frowned. ‘I hope there will be no troubles about these debts. They

are enormous. Some £620,000. How did he ever manage to let them grow to that

extent, eh, what?’

The Queen shrugged her shoulders. ‘George will have the best of everything.’

She laughed again; but the King did not feel in the least like laughing. He was

worried. It was not so long ago that the French had taken their king to the

guillotine and cut off his head. When such a mighty conflagration as the

Revolution was raging across the Channel, a neighbor so near as England could

not expect to remain aloof. The execution of a king must stir up feeling against all monarchies. Are we so safe over here? wondered the King. And one of the most

unpopular members of the royal family was the Prince of Wales.

‘If they go on like this,’ he said, ‘there’ll be no kings left in Europe. Eh,

what?’

The Queen was accustomed to the manner in which the King’s thoughts

strayed from one topic to another and she knew how much events on the other

side of the Channel had preyed on his mind. If the King were incapacitated again

she was going to make sure that she had a say in affairs and if George became

Regent, she would conspire with Pitt to put a limit on his powers.

‘George’s behaviour does not help to make Royalty popular,’ she observed.

‘And now this marriage of his. If he had listened to me—’

‘When has he ever listened to either of us?’

The Queen lifted her shoulders. ‘Well, he married that his debts should be

paid and it is high time that they should be. I hear that some of the trades-people involved are getting very restive.’

‘Something must be done— must be done. Don’t want trouble, eh, what?

Must speak to Pitt. Should not be too much delay.’

‘Yes, speak to Pitt. It is a well known fact that the Prince centered into this

marriage for one reason only— and that was because he was in debt to such an

extent that it could no longer go on.’

The Queen smiled. Lady Jersey reported to her regularly.

Between them— and with the help of the Prince, of, course— they would

make Caroline wish she had never heard of the Prince of Wales.

————————

Mr. Pitt was not inclined to make life easy for the Prince of Wales. Why

should he? The heir to the throne had consistently shown himself to be the enemy

of Mr. Pitt, had allied himself with Mr. Pitt’s enemies, and had made no secret of the fact that Fox was his man and on the day when he inherited the Crown he

would do all in his power to oust Mr. Pitt from his position and set up in his place Mr. Fox or one of his Whig cronies.

The Prime Minister was too much of a politician to help such an enemy. It

was Pitt who forced Fox to deny in the House of Commons the Prince’s marriage

to Mrs. Fitzherbert which had been responsible for making such a breach between

Fox and the Prince that it had, Pitt believed, never entirely been healed. But the Prince was a Whig and Mr. Pitt and his Tones were prepared to do as little as

possible for him.

The Prince’s debts seemed to be a recurring problem. How one man could

manage to spend such large sums was a mystery. Should the Nation be expected

to pay an extravagant young man’s gambling debts and those he had incurred in

the pursuit of women— and Lady Jersey was one of the most rapacious of his

band— merely because he was the Prince of Wales?

Certainly not.

Mr. Pitt made his proposals to the House of Commons.

The Prince’s debts, he explained, were once more a subject for discussion. He

regretted to inform the House that they amounted to some £619,570— a vast sum

of money they would all agree. He proposed as follows: The Prince’s income

should be increased to £125,000 a year exclusive of those revenues due to him

from the Duchy of Cornwall which he estimated as some £13,000 a year.

£120,000 should be allowed to the Prince for the completion of Carlton House.

He did not, however, propose to settle the Prince’s debts. He believed that the best manner of dealing with this problem was for the Treasury to deduct £73,000 from

the Prince’s income per annum and this should be done until his debts were

settled. This seemed to him the best possible solution to a delicate matter.

- When the Prince heard what the Government proposed he was furious.

He raved to Lady Jersey: ‘They have cheated me. I married this woman whom

I loathe solely because my creditors were threatening action if they were not paid.

And I went through this marriage with her— this farce of marriage— and now I

am worse off than ever. They have increased my income and will deduct £73,000

a year to pay these wretched debts. I shall be worse off than before.’

Lady Jersey was mournful. The Prince’s poverty affected her deeply. She did

not wish him to cut down his expenses; she was doing very well and if there was

less to be gained because the Prince must be ‘careful’— what a hateful word— he

was far from pleased.

She tried to soothe him. ‘It is not final yet. It has to be passed.’

‘Pitt!’ he said. ‘It’s always Pitt. That fellow hates me. What a diabolical plot!

To deduct such a sum from my income!’

He thought of that other occasion when he had been unable to pay his debts

and the King would not help him. He had economized; he had sold his horses,

shut up most of Carlton House; and he and Maria had gone down to Brighton in a

hired coach. It had seemed such fun then. They had enjoyed their economizing.

But then he had enjoyed everything with Maria. Maria had never wanted

anything; she had never craved money, jewels—

He looked with faint distaste at his mistress— that dainty creature who

sometimes reminded him of a snake. But she still knew how to fascinate him,

though not so completely as she once had done.

Yes, they had shut up Carlton House and gone down to Brighton and they had

lived in a manner which he called humble— and now looking back he could

believe that had been the happiest time of his life.

How different this was! His debts unpaid; his income raised and yet he would

be poor because from it he would be obliged to pay his debts.

It was insulting. And it was more than that. It was infuriating, maddening and

tragic because to achieve this end had had been forced to marry a woman he

loathed,

He hated her more than ever now. And what consolation had he? Frances

Jersey— when his heart cried out for Maria Fitzherbert.

Caroline was in despair. She had not believed that it could be quite like

this. Although she had not expected her husband to fall passionately in love with her on sight, she had allowed herself to imagine that in time they would come to

an understanding. But how could they, when he loathed her and made no secret of

the effect she had on him.

I would have tried,
she reminded herself.
But, by God, if he is going to
humiliate me then I shall show him that I care nothing for him?

Lady Jersey! That woman was always close to her. And he had placed her

there. She would not have blamed him for having a mistress; but surely he should

have had the good taste, the good manners, to keep his liaison from his wife. The First Gentleman indeed! Then God help women if he was the finest example of

his sex,

‘I hate him!’ she cried in the privacy of her apartments,

But that was in private. No one was going to know how hurt she was

She wondered how best to hurt him. She found a way. She had seen Maria

Fitzherbert, the woman who had once so enslaved him that he had committed the

utmost folly of going through a form of marriage with her.

So that was Maria! She seemed an old woman to Caroline. She must be well

past forty. And what airs! One would have thought she were indeed Princess of

Wales Handsome in a way, but with a beak of nose. Lovely hair. Better than

mine? Caroline asked herself
. I don’t think so. A good skin it was true, but fat and
unmistakably middle-aged.

She told him when next she saw him. ‘I met Widow Fitzherbert. What a

Madam, eh?
Mrs. Fitzherbert
, they told me, I thought she was visiting Royalty—

or at least a Duchess. Then I hear she’s plain Mrs. Fair-fat-and forty!’

He had turned scarlet with anger. How dare she attack his goddess. He gave

her a look of the utmost contempt and she knew that he was comparing them and

that he saw the middle-aged widow as eternally beautiful and herself eternally

repulsive. He revealed something else. In his way he was still in love with the

woman— more so than with Lady Jersey.

It was hurtful but gratifying in a way. It might well be that Madame Jersey

would not always be at hand to torment her.

Caroline went about with a defiant air. She had given up trying to please him;

instead she did her best to make him aware that she had no love for him. And yet

she longed to win his affection. She had heard much about his elegance, so she

tried to be elegant too, but she only succeeded in looking more vulgar in his eyes.

She could never compete with the exquisite ladies of his circle; and the more she tried to, the more dismally she failed. Knowing how he admired wit, she tried to

be witty; her clumsy efforts to amuse were even more pathetic than her attempts

to dress with taste.

Everything she did made him despise her the more.

God damn him!
she cried.
Why did they bring me here? I wish they had kept
their Prince of Wales.

Then she would think of Major von Täbingen, yearn for him and dream of the

happy life they might have had together. She wished then that she had died when

they took him from her— which she believed she almost had.

And then in the midst of her despair she made a discovery. She forgot her

miseries; she even forgot the lost joy she might have had with Major von

Töbingen. She forgot everything but what the future was promising her now.