The Prince and the Quakeress: (Georgian Series) (15 page)

BOOK: The Prince and the Quakeress: (Georgian Series)
7.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

And what was all this talk about a Quaker? The young puppy must have a mistress, one supposed. But why couldn’t he choose one from his own or his mother’s household or even the King’s household come to that? Why must the young fool go sniffing round Markets.

It was because he was concerned about his grandson that the King had sent for him, and the boy had come down to Hampton and was waiting to be called in. All right, let him come.

The King was standing with his back to the door looking out of the window at the craft on the river when the Prince entered.

The King turned slowly. So this was his grandson, Fred’s boy. The King frowned. He was tall, and George II had always disliked tall men because they reminded him of his own lack of inches, something which all his life had irritated him. Now the Prince of Wales stood there, tall and gangling, not making the most of his height which irritated the King as much as his having it.

‘Well?’ barked the King.

‘You… Your Majesty sent for me.’

‘Don’t stammer. Never could abide it. Now… what’s all this, we hear. Abducting Quaker girls from Markets. By God, what do you think you are? A dashing young gallant, I suppose. But let me tell you this, you young puppy, you are the Prince of Wales and are not expected to behave like some ninny on a theatre stage.’

This was spoken in French so fast that the Prince could scarcely keep up with it. He realized to his dismay that he was expected to reply in the same language.

‘Well,’ went on the King, ‘what have you to say for yourself? Young Quaker girls! Why can’t you find a girl in one of the households? Why do you have to go prancing round Markets. Do you know there has been trouble. Enquiries made. Good respectable tradesmen looking for their girl. There has been a note delivered to the Secretary. Did you know that? Of course you didn’t, you young puppy. Not your job to know, you say. Yours is only to go sniffing round Markets.’

‘Sire…’ stammered George, and could go no farther.

‘So you’re dumb, are you? It’s time I took a hand with your education. That mother of yours… Women are no good at this sort of thing… except your grandmother. She was a woman who could do anything. No one worthy to unbuckle her shoes. I’ll speak to Waldegrave. This won’t do, you young puppy. It won’t do. Do you hear me? Then say something. Don’t stand there like a ninny!’

‘If Your Majesty would speak in English…’

A further offence. The Prince spoke perfect English. The King was not going to display his very imperfect brand.

‘Don’t tell me what to speak.’

‘Sire, I… I did not tell you… I… I…’

‘Stuttering ninny! Now what’s this about the Quaker girl? You send her back to her family and find a woman in your mother’s household…better there than your own.’

‘I… I must ask Your Majesty not to speak of… of… this lady in this manner.’

‘So you are telling me how I should speak of my subjects, are you?’

‘Your Majesty does not understand…’

‘Not understand. Look, you ninny, I had mistresses when I was your age. Don’t think you’re the first. But there are whores enough about you. You don’t want to go to Quakers for them.’

The Prince had turned pale. ‘I must ask Your Majesty not to speak of this lady in this way.’

‘I speak of my subjects as I please, boy.’

‘N… not of this one.’

If George had not drawn himself up to his full height the King might have laughed at him; but he did and he towered above his little grandfather so that the King had to look up to him.

‘Infernal puppy!’ shrieked the King, and bringing up his hand slapped the Prince so violently across the face that he reeled backwards. ‘Get out of my sight, whelp, idiot,
puppy
! Get out before I set the guards on you.’

The Prince stared at his grandfather, but the King, his face purple, shaking with rage, was on the point of calling the guard.

George stumbled out of the room, humiliated and angry. He never wanted to see the old man again; he never wanted to see Hampton again.

The guards smiled at each other as they watched the Prince stalk out of the palace to the river stairs and take boat to London.

Only the King quarrelling with the Prince of Wales… an old Hanoverian custom.

*

The King sent for Lord Waldegrave; he wanted to speak to him he said about that young puppy, the Prince of Wales.

Waldegrave looked sad and the King nodded grimly.

‘I can see you have no great opinion of your pupil.’

‘I fear I shall never make a scholar of him, Sire.’

‘Scholar! Who wants a scholar? Don’t want the puppy bleating poetry all over the place. But the young fellow doesn’t seem to have any sense. That’s what I complain of.’

‘He is very slow, Your Majesty. I suppose he tries to learn, but it’s not easy for him.’

‘Lacks the intelligence, I suppose.’

‘Not a very good brain, Your Majesty.’

‘I know… I know. Takes after his father. A stupid ass, that
was Fred. And it seems this one’s the same. Fred’s mother…’ The King’s eyes were glazed with tender memories. ‘How different she was. I used to say to her: “You’re more like a schoolmarm than a Queen.” If she were here now. There’s not a woman worthy to unbuckle her shoes, Waldegrave.’

Waldegrave successfully managed to stifle a yawn. The eulogy on the late Queen – whom the King had delighted to humiliate during her lifetime – would go on for precisely five minutes and Waldegrave knew it almost off by heart. One virtue the King possessed was his precision. He was always accountable. He was as regular as a clock in his habits. There were people at Court who remembered how he used to walk up and down outside his mistress’s door, his watch in his hand, so that he could call on her at precisely the time he had set himself to do so. He would leave at the arranged time also. The joke at Court was that he made love by the clock.

So Waldegrave waited while he delivered his speech on the virtues of the Queen. The King wiped his eyes at the end as he always did. Waldegrave wondered mildly whether Madame Walmoden had to listen to a recital of the late Queen’s virtues before getting into bed with her lover. He hoped so. Caroline deserved that small consideration after all the accounts she had had to listen to of his affairs with other women.

The King had finished with his Queen and was now ready to get to the business for which he had summoned Waldegrave.

‘So you find the young puppy no good at his lessons?’

‘He’s not lazy, Sire, perhaps it’s an inability to learn. Sometimes I think he tries.’

‘H’m,’ grunted the King. ‘He’s a brainless whelp. And, of course, his mother keeps him under her thumb – and that prize stallion of hers too, I doubt not. Between them the pair hope to turn out a nice little wooden doll, who’ll nod when they say nod and shake when they say shake. That’s it, eh, Waldegrave?’

It was not the sort of agreement one gave even to the King, so Waldegrave contented himself with smiling at His Majesty.

‘Oh, I know, I know. And now I hear the boy has a mistress. A young Quaker, they tell me.’

‘There is a rumour to that effect, Sire.’

‘Quakers,’ mused the King. ‘Their women are thin. I never fancied thin women, Waldegrave.’

No need to mention that, thought Waldegrave. Your Majesty has made that perfectly obvious.

‘And he’s not content with choosing a nice plump woman of the Court. He must go for this thin Quaker and snatch her from her husband almost at the altar. What do you think of that, Waldegrave? I’d never have believed it of the puppy, that I wouldn’t.’

‘It is said that His Highness was aided in the matter.’

‘Some interfering scoundrels, I am sure. Ha! And that mother of his none too pleased – nor the Scottish stallion either, eh? I hear they knew nothing about it until it was over. Is that true do you think, Waldegrave?’

‘I think so, Your Majesty.’

The King was in a sudden good humour at the thought.

‘Well, well,’ he went on, ‘it’s time we mated the puppy. That much is clear.’

‘Your Majesty has someone in mind?’

‘When I was last in Hanover I looked around. The Duchess of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel brought her two girls to see me.’

‘And Your Majesty liked what you saw?’

The King licked his lips significantly. ‘So much, Waldegrave, that if I’d been twenty years younger I’d have married the elder of the girls myself and that would still have left the younger for my grandson.’

He shaped the outline of a generously formed female shape with his hands.

‘Charming young girls, Waldegrave. Charming.’

‘Well then, Your Majesty, since you feel the time has come…’

‘How old is he? Sixteen, seventeen? In a year or so, I think, Waldegrave.’

‘Your Majesty will wish the Princess Dowager to be informed.’

‘H’m. Wait a bit. But I think we should give thought to these matters. It’s time the young puppy was mated. Quakers!’

*

When the Princess Augusta heard of the rumours she was infuriated.

She paced up and down her apartment and her lover had difficulty in pacifying her. ‘Do you think that old scoundrel
would dare bring one of those Wolfenbüttel girls over here without consulting me?’

‘Surely not,’ soothed Bute; although he believed the old scoundrel capable of doing anything.

‘I will not have one of those girls for my daughter-in-law. I detest their old mother. She is the most unattractive woman I ever knew, and the girls will take after her. George is too young to marry. And I will not have one of those girls here.’

‘You might find that you liked the girl when you met her. She might not take after her mother; but of course I agree that George is too young to marry.’

‘He will come of age when he is eighteen and that is not far off. He will have to marry then; but it will not be one of those Wolfenbüttel girls. Their mother is the most meddling, intriguing woman you can imagine. The father was all right… but like as not the girls will take after their mother. When George marries I should like him to choose someone from the Saxe-Gotha family – my own.’

‘It would be ideal, of course.’

‘Well, since the old scoundrel has his eyes on Wolfenbüttel perhaps he could be looking towards Saxe-Gotha.’

‘Our best plan would be to make George understand that he must never accept one of those girls whose mother you so dislike. Shall I sound him? Perhaps you could follow on from there.’

She pressed his hand. ‘As always you provide the answer.’

*

Bute found George in the schoolroom, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand the different methods of taxation which had been applied through the various preceding reigns and the measure of their success. He was very pleased to be interrupted.

‘I thought you would wish to know that the King is thinking of marrying you off.’

George turned pale. ‘It cannot be!’

‘Certainly not to the woman of the King’s choice.’

‘So he has chosen?’

Bute nodded slowly. ‘He has decided on either Sophia Caroline or Anna Amelia of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel. You are to pick which you prefer.’

‘I cannot marry.’

‘So your mother thinks. She has the strongest objections to either of these young females.’

‘It would not matter who they were. I consider myself married already.’

Bute nodded sympathetically. So the boy was still held in the Quaker web. But give him a little time.

‘Do not be unduly alarmed. I am sure that if you firmly decide not to be forced into marriage by your grandfather you will stay free.’

‘You will help?’

‘Have I not sworn always to do so?’

‘Oh, thank you… thank you. I don’t know what I should do without you.’

‘Why should you?’ Bute laughed breezily. ‘When you are King all you will have to do is to make me your chief minister and I shall always be at your side.’

‘Of course, that is what I intend to do.’

Oh, triumph! thought Bute. If you could hear that Newcastle…Pitt… Fox… you would shiver with apprehension. The old man cannot last much longer surely. And then this boy will be King and that means that I and the Princess will in fact rule this land. What a dazzling prospect for an ambitious man!

‘I shall keep Your Majesty to that.’ Spoken playfully to hide the sealing of a promise beneath a jocular guise.

‘Oh hush! Remember the King still lives.’

‘God save the King!’ cried Bute, and whispered: ‘And in particular His Majesty King George III.’

George smiled faintly and was immediately anxious. ‘So you understand that I could not consider marriage… any marriage. I am morally bound to Hannah. I want no one else.’

‘I understand. But have no fear. The King may attempt to force this marriage on you, but we will stand firm. He needs the consent of Parliament, and members will be afraid to give that consent, if you are firm enough. They remember that his star is setting and yours is about to rise. You must remember it, too. Do not give way easily to anything. Stand firm. Remember that any day you could become King.’

‘I do not like my grandfather. He is a disagreeable man and since he struck me I fear I can never feel what I ought towards him. But I do not care to speak of him as a dead man when he
is still alive. He has as much right to live as I have… that is how I see it.’

‘A right and noble sentiment worthy of Your Maj… Your Highness. But I am warning you. Stand firm. Declare your refusal to take one of these girls and your grandfather is powerless.’

‘How can I thank you!’

‘Oh,’ laughed Bute. ‘Don’t forget the promises you have made to me.’

‘I swear I never will.’

Bute was able to tell the Princess that he had persuaded the Prince to stand out against the Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel proposition.

‘We have nothing to fear from St James’s Palace. The King will see that he cannot rule the Prince from there. We are his guardians – and we must see that it remains so.’

*

The King’s face was purple with rage.

‘So the puppy won’t be bewolfenbüttled, he says. I’ll teach him whether to defy me. I say he shall be bewolfenbüttled, and like it. I’ll have him yelping to me to hurry on the marriage, I promise you, Waldegrave. He doesn’t want to marry? Well, it is his duty to marry, and I am going to see he does his duty.’

Other books

Saving Grace by Bianca D'Arc
Saved by the Single Dad by Annie Claydon
The Late Starters Orchestra by Ari L. Goldman
Deadly Obsession by Duncan, Mary
Debra Kay Leland by From Whence Came A Stranger...
The Assassin Game by Kirsty McKay