The Prince and the Quakeress: (Georgian Series) (14 page)

She felt old and wise; she led him to a sofa and drew him down beside her. She held his head against her breast as though he were indeed a child.

She said tenderly: ‘My love, marriage is impossible, so we must needs do without it. It was no fault of ours. The intention was there. I had no love for Isaac Axford, so I count it no marriage… nothing but a few words spoken before a priest who in a short time will have no power to marry people in this way. We will call it no marriage. Thou stood beside me in spirit… it is to thee that I consider myself married this day.’

He lifted his head to look at her wonderingly.

‘Oh, Hannah,’ he whispered, ‘how wonderful you are!’

*

She went about the house like a young married woman in her new home. She sang as she never had before. She was happy. She had thrown aside her old beliefs. Uncle Wheeler thought
that we were not put on earth to be happy and that if one felt an excess of happiness one should be wary and ask oneself if the devil was not looking over one’s shoulder. Well, Hannah was happy. And she no longer believed in Uncle Wheeler’s doctrines. She had come to a new and glorious understanding that human beings were put into the world to find happiness and the ones that did so should remember this and do all in their power to keep it.

The Prince came regularly. He was now the lover – no longer the boy. He was turned sixteen, but he seemed several years older than the boy who had brought her here. He was a husband – for that was how he saw himself. Nothing else was possible to him. He told her that there was much profligacy at his grandfather’s Court and it shamed him. When he was King he would set up a new standard of morals. He would see that the sanctity of marriage was respected.

Hannah did not look as far as that. She wondered what would happen when he became King and his ministers insisted on his marrying; there would have to be a Queen of England and it would not be Hannah Lightfoot. But that was a long way off. In the meantime she was happy; she must stay happy; and happiness was here in the present not in the vague and distant future.

He wished that he could live here. What fun it would be. Mr and Mrs… Guelph. Or perhaps Colonel and Mrs George. That was the name in which he had taken the house: Colonel George. Guelph was too dangerous.

He was happy. There was only one regret, that he could not have been legally married to Hannah and could have told the world so.

However, as Hannah said, they had so much. They had each other, the chance to meet frequently; they had love; and they knew that their intentions were honourable; they could rely on each other’s fidelity; and they were married in the sight of God.

They must not ask more. If they did, Fate would consider them greedy and perhaps decide to deprive them of some of their blessings.

They must be happy. And while they could be together, safe from discovery, she was happy; she asked nothing more.

*

A carriage came to the door of the house.

Hannah was horrified. It was not her lover. Then who? No one called at the house. She must shut herself away, refuse to see any visitors. What if it were her uncle come to take her away… or her husband!

From behind a curtained window she saw a woman get out of the carriage; she was veiled, but she was relieved to recognize her as Jane.

She rang for her servant. ‘There is a lady below,’ she said. ‘Please bring her to me without delay.’

Jane came into the room, throwing back her veil, and they embraced affectionately.

‘But it’s magnificent,’ cried Jane. ‘Oh… it’s quite magnificent. You lucky creature!’

‘Jane… what brings you here?’

‘To see you, of course. And… to warn you.’

‘To warn me of what?’

‘Let me sit down. And what about a dish of tea? I’m thirsty.’

Hannah rang for the maid and gave an order, while Jane looked on with admiration.

‘Different from the Market, eh?’

‘Jane, tell me of what thou wishest to warn me.’

‘They are searching for you. There’s a great stir among the Society of Friends.’

Hannah grew pale. ‘They may have followed thee here…’

‘Not they! I was careful. Never fear that I would lead them to you, Hannah. I was questioned: “Where is she?” “What do you know?” Mr H. came to my rescue. He swore I knew nothing… and they couldn’t go against a girl’s husband, could they? He knows which side his bread’s buttered. We shall soon have our own shop, think of that. And all due to Mr H.’s clever wife. So you can rely on him… and me… me for friendship, Hannah, as well as the money. That’s why I came to tell you that you must be careful. I’m to be the go-between… and I’m to be careful, they tell me. If there’s anything you have to know, I shall be bringing you news of it. And now I’ve got to tell you, Hannah, that they are all searching. Isaac, he was near demented. “Where is my wife Hannah?” he kept asking, and he was running through the streets looking into carriages.’

‘Oh dear,’ cried Hannah aghast.

‘You have become important, chortled Jane. ‘A
cause célèbre
. Where is the fair Quaker of St James’s Market? everyone is asking.’

‘They must not find me, Jane. They must not.’

‘Of course they mustn’t. And they never shall.’

Jane sat contentedly sipping her tea.

‘My, how I’ve come up in the world,’ she murmured. ‘Tea with a
cause célèbre
and my own mistress and all because of you, Hannah.’

Hannah could not share Jane’s pleasure. She was very uneasy.

*

Although the search went on and in the St James’s Market area there was constant speculation about the disappearance of Hannah Axford, Lightfoot that was, Hannah continued to live without disturbance in her tall quiet house, visited frequently by her lover who became more and more devoted as the months passed.

George was happy: he constantly reminded himself that he considered himself married to Hannah, which was the only way in which he could enjoy such a connection. He had intended to marry Hannah; he would be faithful to Hannah; and she to him.

There were very few people in the secret, but these he could trust. Elizabeth Chudleigh was one; she had been of great help to him and had shown him how to make this liaison possible. It had changed him from a careless boy to a man of responsibilities and if he still had to sit in a schoolroom and learn history and mathematics, in one phase of his life he was a man and this gave him confidence. There were two others with whom he shared that confidence and who in the family circle were closer to him than any other; this was his brother Edward and his sister Elizabeth. Edward had declared that in George’s place he would have done exactly the same; in fact, Edward had applauded his brother and swore he would always support him.

So while George sat in the schoolroom and wrote his account of English history he was thinking of Hannah.

‘Charles I did not regard the laws of the land,’ he wrote, ‘but violated them when they thwarted his interest or inclination.’
It was no way to rule; and Charles I had discovered that too late. It was something to remember.

George understood that he must prepare himself for kingship. The old King was growing more feeble every day, more irascible. It was said that one of these days the old man would go off when he was in one of his violent outbursts of temper; and when he does, thought George, I shall be King.

His mother was anxious about him. He loved her dearly; he admired Lord Bute as much as any man he knew; and both of them were constantly telling him: ‘You must learn to be a King.’

It was comforting to ride out to Hannah, to tell her of the ways of the Court, of the trouble in his household, of his mother and Lord Bute pulling against the tutors the King had chosen for him.

‘I have two ambitions,’ he told Hannah, ‘to be a good King and to be a good husband to you.’

*

George was delighted to find that his dear friend Lord Bute did not blame him for his affair with Hannah.

‘It is natural that Your Highness should have a mistress,’ he explained. ‘You should feel no sense of guilt.’

‘But Hannah is not a mistress. I do want to make that clear.’

‘Of course not,’ soothed Lord Bute. ‘Do you not realize that I understand your feelings…
perfectly
.’

‘I knew you would if I had an opportunity to explain.’

‘Your Highness can always explain everything to me. Have I not always assured you that any skill I may have is at your disposal.’

‘You have… no one more.’

‘Then when you are in any difficulties I can expect you to come to me. Now that you are no longer a boy I can talk to you freely. There are two people whom you can trust: one is your mother; the other is myself.’

George nodded. ‘And fortunate I am to have you.’

‘I think of this nation and I can see no one who can care for you as your mother does. You have this delightful lady, your beautiful Quaker. She loves you as a wife but she knows nothing of the malice and intrigues which always surround a Court, Your mother does; and she is here to protect you. She wishes you well
for your own sake. Others have interested views; they wish for riches or honours; they are ambitious not for your good or that of the country but for themselves. The advice they give you will be contaminated by these considerations. So her advice alone is the advice you should follow, for you will know it is given with your own good in mind solely, and for no other reason.’

‘I do know it; and I thank God for her care.’

‘I too care only for your good. You will find many to speak against me. They will try to represent me to you as a villain.’

‘I would not believe them.’

‘You say that now; but some are skilful. I am certain that in the future, when you are King of this realm, attempts will be made to vilify me. They will use all their arts to win you over. If they do you will be ruined.’

‘I know this. I know it well. I am young. I am without experience and I want advice now and shall in the future. I trust you as I trust no other man.’

‘If you failed to trust me I should contemplate leaving the country.’

‘I beg of you do not speak so. I need your friendship. I am so young and I know so little.’

‘If you married you would not feel the need of my friendship so strongly.’

‘I am married… and I still feel it.’

‘There will come a time when you will have to make a state marriage…’ began Bute tentatively.

‘How can that be when I am married already?’

‘When you are King it will be necessary for you to marry a Princess, to give the country heirs…’

George shook his head and looked stubborn. Trouble here, thought Bute; but he is only sixteen. Give him a chance to grow weary of the Quaker adventure.

He spread his hands. ‘It will be for you to decide,’ he said comfortingly. ‘And you know that I shall always be ready to advise in any problem. I trust that you will always come first to me, Sir, or to your mother.’

‘I shall. I shall insist that everyone accepts you as the Friend of the Family. My dear friend will always mean more to me than the crown itself. I need you now, but I shall need you more
when the crown is mine. You must never think of leaving me.’

Bute took the Prince’s hand and kissing it, swore he would not.

Shortly afterwards he was repeating this conversation to the Princess.

‘I feel we have lost nothing through this affair of the Quaker,’ said Bute.

‘But I shall never forget that he acted without consulting me,’ replied the Princess.

‘It was natural that he should not consult his mother about his mistress. Rest happy. He is more devoted to us than ever before; and as long as we do not try to separate him from his mistress he is ours to command. Trust me, my dearest, this little affair of his is no bad thing.’

The Princess nodded. She could always rely on dear Lord Bute to comfort her.

*

George, the King, was in a testy mood. Nothing was going well in the country – discord at home and defeats abroad. He was beginning to suspect that Newcastle was not the best man for his post and that Pitt would be an improvement. Pitt was a man of war, but perhaps what the country needed at this time was a man of war. Pitt… an outsider and a master of oratory! His brilliance in that direction had caused Robert Walpole some misgivings. Oh, the days of Sir Robert, when Caroline was alive and the three of them had conferred together! Everything was so much easier then. Sir Robert was a man of genius and he, the King, had known how to bring out the best in that genius; and Caroline was always there to support him. No woman worthy to unlatch her shoe, thought the King sentimentally, forgetting to remember that he loved her so much more since she was dead than he had when she was alive. He had always been so devoted to her when he was away from home; he had regularly written to her letters twenty or thirty pages long, quite often about his affairs with other women, asking her advice, explaining their particular accomplishments in the bedchamber. She had never shown any resentment. A remarkable woman. No one worthy to buckle her shoes.

But now she was dead, and there was Newcastle making his insufficiencies apparent every day and Pitt clamouring to take
office and Henry Fox standing by, cunning as his name implied. Pitt and Fox… good men both. Pitt had integrity; he knew that; and men of integrity were as rare as they were valuable; and Fox, well since he had married Richmond’s daughter he was wealthy and he did not have to rely on his position in politics. Security could make a man honest. Perhaps Pitt and Fox provided the answer.

And there was one other the very mention of whose name made the veins stand out at the King’s temples: Bute. But one could not ignore him because of the power he wielded at Leicester House. Was it true that he was the Princess’s lover? Of course it was true. One only had to see the pair together to know that they were cooing like a pair of turtle doves. The Princess doted on Bute as she never had on Fred. He didn’t blame her there. Married to Fred, poor woman; anyone who married Fred would have his sympathy. And Fred was gone and she was free, so let her have a little fun, poor woman. But she was not going to put Bute into his government while he lived. And when he had gone… Ah, then Bute would be there; she would see to that. He was installed there in her household as though he were young George’s father – and he behaved as such, by all accounts. And young George accepted him!