The Prince and the Quakeress: (Georgian Series) (10 page)

‘It will be natural enough. He’ll soon be thinking of taking a mistress, I’ll swear.’

‘But George is different. He is not like his father, his grandfather or his great-grandfather. Frederick… well, you knew Frederick as well as I; and George I always had his women, plenty of them. Our present King has always been chasing them, even when in fact he preferred his wife he felt it necessary to his dignity as a King to have his mistresses. George I was a dour man and people were afraid of him – even his women. George II is irascible and a silly little man easily deceived, but his women fear to offend him. George III will be different.’

‘There is an innocence about him,’ admitted Bute.

‘Yes, I fear what would happen to him in the hands of some scheming woman.’

‘He is a boy yet.’

‘Fifteen! His father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were already experimenting in sexual adventure at that age.’

‘But not our George.’

‘No, not our George. He is an innocent boy. I want to keep him so. I want to make sure that he does not mix with people of his own age at the Court. The young are especially dissolute nowadays. I want to keep George and his brothers and sisters
innocent
.’

‘For a while, but they must learn something of the world. Although as you say, they are young yet.’

‘I do not care for the behaviour of some of your young people.’

‘We will keep our eyes on him,’ said Bute, ‘together…’

‘Together,’ she murmured smiling at him.

*

Bute had left her. Augusta yawned contentedly. There was no one in the world like him, no one whom she could trust to help her with the bringing up of her family – and particularly George.

Dear George. Poor George. She thought almost as much of him as she did of dear Lord Bute. Nobody was going to take her son from her. She was going to guide him and make sure that he was protected from the world.

One of her women had come into the apartment. It was Elizabeth Chudleigh, a handsome girl but one who had, according to rumours, lived rather more recklessly than a young unmarried woman should. Elizabeth was not so young, being round about thirty. She was gay and amusing, and at one time everyone had thought she would make a brilliant marriage with the Duke of Hamilton. That had gone wrong, however. Why, Augusta was not sure; but of one thing she was sure, and that was that Elizabeth Chudleigh was a very experienced young woman indeed.

‘Elizabeth,’ she called.

Elizabeth came and stood before her. ‘Your Highness wishes for something?’

‘I feel, Elizabeth, that I should warn you. There are some unpleasant rumours going about the Court concerning you.’

‘Oh, Madam, I have heard it said that a woman should only worry when there are no rumours about her. Then it means that the world has lost interest in her.’

‘Rumours are not becoming when attached to a young unmarried woman.’

‘Do they say of me that I have another lover?’

‘I hope, Elizabeth, that that is not true.’

Elizabeth lowered her eyes and looked very demure.

‘Ah, Your Royal Highness knows
chacun à son But
.’

The Princess was astonished. She could find no words. Elizabeth said: ‘Did Your Highness wish me to perform some task?’

‘No, no,’ said Augusta shortly, ‘you may leave me.’

*

Now, thought Elizabeth, that is the end of me. And all for the sake of a
bon mot.
It was pretty good, though. I would never have dared if it had not been so good. Did she get the
But
? Or did she think I was merely quoting the French proverb? However, she was too flabbergasted to reply… just then. But that does not mean there will not be some riposte. And when it comes… Goodbye to Court, Elizabeth.

To hell with the Court! And what would happen if she were
dismissed? She should have thought of that before she allowed her tongue to run away with her. She was a fool at times. Hadn’t she allowed herself to be carried away by her feelings before? If she had not been so foolish as to believe Hamilton had deserted her, if she had tried to find out why he did not write, she would have discovered the perfidy of Aunt Hanmer and waited for him. Instead she had allowed herself to be carried away by pique and had made the mésalliance with John Hervey. Thank Heaven she had kept it secret, even the birth of their child who, alas, had died when she had put him out to nurse. If Madam Augusta knew the dark secrets of her lady-in-waiting she would have been dismissed from Court long ere this. That secret she believed was well guarded and the King was pleased enough with her to have made her mother housekeeper at Windsor – a pretty profit in that; and he had helped them to acquire a farm of a hundred and twenty acres. So she had not done too badly at Court and if Augusta should decide to dismiss her no doubt there would be a place for her in the King’s Court.

Oh well, Madam Augusta could not be too high-handed – not when she herself could so easily be steeped in scandal. Her passion for my Lord Bute was a little too obvious for secrecy. One could hear it vibrating in her voice when she spoke to him or even of him; and her expression betrayed her whenever he appeared.

So perhaps the Princess who was proving to be a great deal wiser than many had thought her to be while her husband was alive, would not act rashly even where an impertinent maid-of-honour was concerned, when that maid-of-honour happened to be rather a favourite with the King.

In any case, thought Elizabeth, she and Bute are trying to keep the Prince of Wales tied to her apron strings. They treat him as though he’s a baby, both of them. It’s clear enough they want to be in command when he’s King – and he could be tomorrow. Poor old George can’t last much longer and poor young George is such a baby. It’s time someone opened his eyes, helped him to become a man, let him see that he is no longer in the nursery, that he only has to assert himself and need not blindly obey everything fond Mamma Augusta and Papa Bute command.

It was not long afterwards that she had an opportunity of speaking to George. He was calling on his Mamma and she encountered him in one of the anterooms.

She curtsied decorously and said: ‘Your Highness is in good spirits today. There is a change in you.’

George blushed and stammered that he hoped it was for the better.

She laughed in an intimate way. If she could banter with the Dowager Princess, how much more readily she could do so with the Prince of Wales.

‘I believe you are in love,’ she said.

She was astonished at the effect of these words. The faint flush in his cheeks deepened to scarlet.

‘It’s true,’ she cried.

‘Oh, please, please… you must tell no one.’

‘Your Highness may trust me. Not a word outside these walls. Who is the fortunate lady?’

‘Oh… I cannot tell. She does not know… but I assure you she is…’

‘The most beautiful at Court?’

‘Not… not at Court.’

‘Oh?’

‘I must not burden you with my affairs.’

‘Your Highness.’ Her beautiful eyes were wide with sincerity. If there is anything I can do to help…’

‘There is nothing to be done… It is impossible.’

‘Nothing is impossible, Your Highness, and something can always be done.’

‘I cannot speak of this.’

‘Oh, Your Highness… not to me!’

‘You are kind, but it is no use. And someone comes…’

‘Your Highness, I want to help you. I would do anything to help you. Could you give me an audience… In the gardens… Later.’

He looked at her appealingly, so worldly, so knowledgeable, so wise.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘please.’

*

Elizabeth walked beside the Prince. He said: ‘I have never spoken to her.’

‘Oh, why not?’

‘I have seen her only at a window.’

‘What window?’

‘Of a shop… a linen-draper’s.’

‘Where?’

‘In St James’s Market when I have passed in my chair on the way to the theatre. I go there often… whenever possible… without attracting attention. It has not been so easy since my father’s death.’

‘Too many in attendance on the Prince of Wales! But there is no reason why you should not meet this young lady.’

‘Oh, there is every reason.’

‘Your Highness is wrong. She will be immensely honoured and Your Highness will be immensely gratified. It is the way of the world. Your Highness is the Prince of Wales, the heir to the throne. You are not a child as some would appear to think.’

‘She is a Quaker, I have discovered that. And she sits in the window of Mr Wheeler’s shop. I think she must be his daughter. She is very beautiful, in fact I have never seen any to compare with her. Her gown is so simple, and yet all the ladies in their silks and brocades, their glittering jewels cannot compare with her.’

‘I can see Your Highness is deeply affected. But do you not wish to speak with her, to make your admiration known?’

‘I could not speak to her. She is a Quaker. I fear she would be displeased.’

‘Is it enough, then, to look?’

‘Yes, for the rest of my life I would be content if only I might look at her.’

‘Perhaps she would wish for something more from Your Highness than looks?’

He was startled. ‘You think she would?’

‘I am sure of it. I suspect that this young lady is hurt and disappointed because you have made no attempt to speak to her.’

‘Hurt! Disappointed. Oh, but I would not hurt her for the world.’

‘Then you should show your devotion by arranging to meet her.’

‘How could I do that? I could not call at the linen-draper’s.’

‘No, certainly you could not do that. But she will know that
you are the Prince of Wales and she will believe that because you do not seek a means of speaking to her you feel yourself too far above her to wish to.’

‘She could not think that.’

‘How could she think otherwise? Do you really wish to speak to this young lady?’

‘It is what I long for.’

‘Perhaps it could be arranged.’

‘Who could arrange it?’

‘I have friends…’

‘You would… Oh, Miss Chudleigh!’

She curtsied and raised her mischievous eyes to his face. ‘Did I not tell Your Highness that I wished to serve you. Now you tell me all you can and I will see what can be done. Only this must be a secret. If you told your mother… Heaven knows what would happen to the young lady.’

‘I fear my mother would not wish me to meet her.’

‘Ah, mothers! It is the same with my own. Do you know she regards me as an infant in arms even now. But we have to remember that we are grown up, although it does no harm to let our mothers go on believing we are babies if it pleases them. Why shouldn’t everyone be pleased?’

‘That is what I want… to please everyone.’

‘Let me discover what can be done. I think I can promise you that, very soon you will have been able to tell your beautiful Quakeress how much you admire her.’

‘And you will tell no one?’

‘Trust me. As soon as I have news I will give it to Your Highness.’

‘I do not know how to thank you, Miss Chudleigh.’

‘It is
I
who should thank
you
for giving me a chance to be of service.’

*

Elizabeth was enjoying her part in the Prince’s first love affair. Intrigue fascinated her; and it was quite right, she assured herself, that the poor boy should be cut free from his mother’s apron strings; and who more able to do that than a mistress.

He was young, but not too young. It was a man’s desires which decided for him when he should begin his love life; and George’s had evidently decided for him. Let him have a mistress
or two and the Princess Dowager and her paramour Lord Bute would find they could not guide their little Prince as easily as they had hoped. It would be fun to watch the breakaway.

In the meantime the rendezvous with the fair lady had to be arranged. It was not so easy as she had at first imagined. The girl was a Quakeress and therefore it would be impossible to call at the linen-draper’s and explain the Prince’s interest in the fair inmate of that establishment. First of all she must sound the young lady’s inclinations. If she were agreeable it would be so much easier; not that Elizabeth would entirely dismiss the possibility of abduction. After all it was for the Prince of Wales; and reluctant ladies could becoming willing ones in certain circumstances.

This was a project after her own heart. She paid a visit to the linen-draper’s where she was treated with great respect. These Quakers were good business-folk and Mr Wheeler paid due homage to ladies of quality in his shop no matter how he might disapprove of them in his back parlour.

His wife was present and it was easy to indulge in a little conversation with her about her children. They all seemed so young. Then she made the discovery that the young lady in question was not a Miss Wheeler; she was Miss Hannah Lightfoot, niece of the linen-draper who had been sheltered under his roof from an early age. Fortunately before she left Hannah came into the shop. She was a beauty; there was no doubt about that. George had chosen well. He had better taste than his father or grandfather – as for his great-grandfather, every man in England had better taste than he had! But Hannah was indeed a beauty. What luminous dark eyes, what grace! Even the austere Quaker gown could not hide her charms. Worthy… indeed worthy to be the mistress of the Prince of Wales.

Elizabeth spoke to her. Her voice was low and soft; yet, thought Elizabeth, there was sparkle in her; she might well be ready for adventure. And why not? This sombre shop was no place for a beauty like that.

It’s my duty, Elizabeth told herself, to bring her out of it. If I needed to salve my conscience, which I don’t because I don’t possess one, but if I did, I should have a very good reason for proceeding with this most amusing affair.

She graciously took her leave.

What next? There was a man of whom she had heard who kept a house in Pall Mall; he had worked for several people at Court and she had heard that he could supply certain services as efficiently as any. He could arrange meetings in the most secret and unlikely places; he was discreet; ready to help any in need of help. He was expensive, but this after all was the Prince of Wales.