Perdita's Prince: (Georgian Series) (34 page)

It was the answer he wanted. In fact when he thought of his father’s approaching Perdita he saw how improbable that was. Dear Aunt Cumberland! It was her concern for him, of course
… and her fear of losing him. She need not have feared. He would remain faithful to her
and
to Perdita. As for the King, he could go to the devil.

It reminded him that the King’s Birthday Ball would soon be taking place. He told Perdita of this and said: ‘You will come.’

She clasped her hands in ecstasy. Pink satin? White perhaps, as she had worn at the Oratorio. Lavender? Blue?

‘Why not?’ cried the Prince. ‘You cannot join the dancers, but you will be watching in a box of course … and you will be there.’

The Prince specially noticed Mrs Armistead that evening. A strange woman who, while she did not immediately catch the eye, remained in the mind. How gracefully she moved! And there was an air of assurance about her. He had often wondered why a woman who had such an air of breeding should be a lady’s maid. A disloyal thought occurred to him. One would have thought she was the lady of the house rather than Perdita, but for Perdita’s fine clothes.

And then a thought suddenly struck him.

*

He called at Cumberland House to see the Duchess who received him with arms outstretched.

‘Prince of Princes!’

‘Most enchanting and incongruous of Aunts.’

They embraced.

‘I have come to speak to you about our recent conversation.’

The black feathery fans shot up to disclose the glitter of the green eyes.

‘There may well be a spy in Cork Street.’

‘So you have discovered …’

‘The lady’s maid. Her name is Mrs Armistead.’

The Duchess threw back her head and laughed. ‘Now there is a woman.’

‘You know of her?’

‘She is becoming rather well known.’

‘For what reason?’

‘The usual reasons.’

‘Dear Aunt, pray explain.’

‘Dear Nephew, certainly. She is a very unusual and attractive
lady’s maid, is she not? You think so. So do other gentlemen … Mr Fox, Dorset, Derby … so I’ve heard.’

‘By God, but why does she continue to serve Perdita?’

‘She is no ordinary woman. She wishes to preserve her independence.’

‘In being a lady’s maid!’

‘In rather special circumstances. I … who make it my pleasurable duty to keep a close watch on all that concerns my Prince …’

‘At least a very charming spy.’

She curtsied. ‘But I love you as a mother, as an aunt … as anything you care to name. And so I learn these things. No, you must look elsewhere for your spy. It’s not the lady’s maid. She is a Whig … a good Whig. A friend of Mr Fox. She would never spy for the King.’

The Prince was laughing. ‘I had always thought there was something unusual about her.’

‘So you must look elsewhere, dear one.’

She was thinking: Armistead. Not a bad idea. If Grace cannot do, why not Armistead?

*

It was a scene of splendour at the Haymarket theatre where the King’s birthday ball was being held, and although as many members of the royal family who were of an age to attend were present, it was the Prince of Wales who attracted all the attention. As usual he was dressed in the height of fashion, augmented by inventions of his own which would be copied immediately to become the very pinnacle of good taste and elegance.

Watching him from her box Perdita’s feelings were mixed. Pride, pleasure, gratification, apprehension and humiliation. She herself came in for a good share of the attention; in fact it was divided between her and the Prince and whenever he gazed up at her box, which he did frequently, many were aware of it.

It had been most galling to arrive to find that she was to share a box with Mrs Denton who was the mistress of Lord Lyttleton. It was, she felt, a humiliation – as though she were judged to be of the same calibre. Why, when she had been at the theatre Lord Lyttelton had pursued her and offered her a luxurious house and
a good income if she would become his mistress, and she had refused him. Mrs Denton had accepted – and here they were in a public place – grouped together as it were.

Mrs Denton was leaning forward in the box pointing out this person and that, excited and
honoured
to be present. How difficult life was! sighed Perdita. She wished she had not come.

‘There is the Duchess of Devonshire,’ whispered Mrs Denton. As if I did not know the creature, thought Perdita. ‘Is she not beautiful? And her gown! No wonder she is the leader of fashion.’ Is she! thought Perdita. Indeed she is not. I can outshine her any day. And I will. The arrogant woman snubbed me in Pall Mall. I shall not forget it.

And the Prince was talking to the Duchess and showing so clearly that he admired her and was delighted with her company.

‘Of course she is very clever and her house is the meeting place for the Whig opposition. His Majesty won’t be too pleased to have her here, but it’s clear the Prince is delighted. And look … Oh, is she not beautiful! The tall one with the golden hair. I know who she is. Mrs Grace Elliott. There was a big scandal about her. I wonder the Queen allows her to come to Court.’

‘She is too tall,’ said Perdita.

‘Do you think so? They call her Dally the Tall. It’s because her name was Dalrymple before she married Mr Elliott … who divorced her, I might say.’

Perdita pursed her lips. Such a woman could mingle with guests while virtuous people must be seated in boxes!

‘Oh … look.’

Mrs Denton had no need to direct Perdita’s attention for she had already seen. The tall Mrs Elliott had selected two rosebuds from her corsage and had approached the Prince, curtsied and offered them to him.

‘What … blatant impudence!’

‘They say she is very free in her manners, but … at a public ball …!’

‘It is quite shocking.’

‘He’s taking them.’

‘He’s too chivalrous to do anything else.’

The Prince was standing smelling the rosebuds while Grace
Elliott remained before him, smiling complacently. Then the Prince looked up at the box and caught Perdita’s eye.

He called to one of the members of his suite and handed the rosebuds to him.

‘What does it mean?’ twittered Mrs Denton.

Perdita was silent. It was a direct insult to her. This tall woman with the golden hair was telling her, and the Court, that she was ready to be – or already was – the
friend
of the Prince of Wales; and the fact that he had taken the flowers was almost an acknowledgement of this.

There was scratching on the door of the box.

Perdita did not look round; she felt too mortified.

Then a voice said: ‘Er … Mrs Robinson …’ And she saw the gentleman of the Prince’s suite to whom he had handed the flowers standing there in the box and holding in his hands the rosebuds.

‘With the compliments of His Royal Highness, Madam.’

Perdita felt almost hysterical with joy. She took the roses. She was well aware of the watching eyes. Dramatically, as though acting for an audience, she put the rosebuds into her corsage making sure that they were very prominent.

She sparkled. It was a successful ball. No matter that she must sit in a box while others danced with her lover. He had shown his regard for her publicly.

She was happier than she had been for some time.

*

The King and Queen were at Windsor – not so homely and comfortable as ‘dear little Kew’ but preferable to St James’s.

The Queen was pleasantly excited and the King was pleased to humour her.

She explained to him: ‘It is always pleasant to see people from one’s native land even though it has ceased to be one’s home.’

The King could see this point.

‘Herr von Hardenburg and his wife are charming people. I trust you will honour them with an audience.’

‘Pleased to, pleased to,’ said the King.

‘They have with them a young woman … about eighteen years
of age. She is very pretty and of good family. I wish them to be comfortable during their stay here.’

Any such problem pleased the King. There was nothing he enjoyed more than planning domestic details. So he threw himself wholeheartedly into the matter and questioned and cross-questioned the Queen about the arrangements which had been made for the Hardenburgs.

She had asked that a house be found for them in Windsor; and she believed that they were very happy there. They had several small children and Fräulein von Busch, the young lady whom they had brought with them was such a pleasant creature … very handsome but modest; the Queen was sure that His Majesty would find her a pleasant change from some of these garish women who seemed to be considered so fashionable nowadays … women like the Duchesses of Cumberland and Devonshire …

‘Dabbling in politics,’ grumbled the King. ‘Never should be allowed. Women … in politics, eh I what?’

The Queen did not answer, but her resentment on that score was appeased a little. There were ways in which women could play their part in state affairs – for the amours of a Prince of Wales could be state affairs, witness the way he had fallen into the hands of Mr Fox – subtle ways; and because she was not pregnant she now had the time and energy to exert herself in her own particular brand of statescraft. And the King knew nothing about it. Comforting thought.

She suggested that they go for a drive and ordered the coachman which way to go. This took them past the house occupied by the Hardenburgs and as Frau von Hardenburg was in the garden with her children and swept a most demure and becoming curtsey, the Queen ordered the coachman to stop.

‘Would Your Majesty allow me to present these pleasant people to you?’

The King was happy that this should be so. Beaming with goodwill he even condescended to dismount and go into the house.

It was pleasant to talk in German again. Even the King spoke in it as though it were his native language. The Hardenburgs were delighted and honoured. The wife, the King noticed, was a
very pretty woman indeed, and as for the children they were quite enchanting. The King sat down and took several of them on his knee, questioning them and smiling at their bright answers.

‘Charming, charming,’ he muttered.

And there was Fräulein von Busch. What a pleasant creature! Plump, pink and white, golden haired and so modest.

When the visit was over and they rode off the Queen was smiling complacently. As for the King he declared himself to have been enchanted.

‘Must make friends from Germany welcome. Very nice people. Homely … pleasant … eh, what?’

The Queen agreed that the Hardenburgs – and Fräulein von Busch – were indeed homely and pleasant and she could wish that there were more like them.

*

The Prince came down to Windsor. This was what the Queen had been waiting for. The King had gone to London on government matters, and she had taken advantage of his absence to summon the Prince.

Windsor, thought the Prince. What was there to do in Windsor? There was only one place to be and that was London.

He was bored; he could not think why his mother had sent for him.

Did she want to chatter to him of what a bonny baby he had been while she did her tatting or sewed for the poor (Pious Person in the Palace of Purity). If so he would return to London at the earliest possible moment. He would do that in any case.

‘You should drive with me,’ said the Queen.

‘For what purpose?’

‘Because the people would like to see us together.’

So he rode with her and the carriage stopped at the Hardenburgs’ house and there was Frau von Hardenburg in the garden making a pretty domestic scene with her children which would have delighted the King, but the Queen feared it would not make the same impression on the Prince of Wales.

‘I should like to present you to these visitors from Germany.’ She spoke quickly knowing that the Prince did not care to be reminded of his German ancestry.

The Prince was however extremely affable – and how charming he could be when he wished to!

He stepped down from the carriage and went into the house; and there was the enchanting Fräulein von Busch, flushing with her realization of the honour and looking so pretty and modest.

The Prince was clearly impressed. On the drive back he asked a great many questions about the Hardenburg
ménage
.

*

The Prince stayed at Windsor to make arrangements, was his excuse, for his birthday ball in August. He would be nineteen – only two years off his majority. In the last year he had changed considerably; in the next two years there would be more changes.

In the meantime he was happy – yes, really happy to stay at Windsor, and the Queen was so pleased with the success of her little bit of diplomacy that she was looking forward to telling the King about it when the Prince had given up that play-acting woman and his Whig friends and settled quietly down with that young German girl who would do as she was told and help to guide the Prince to a better life. How amazed His Majesty would be! Perhaps he would realize then that women were not such fools. After all it was the Duchess of Cumberland who was the leading light in Cumberland House. But one did not have to be a bad woman to be clever.

She knew that the Prince was calling frequently on the Hardenburgs, and about two weeks after she had introduced the Prince to them, Schwellenburg came bustling into her room in a state of some excitement.

‘Haf news. Said vill tell Her Majesty selfs. Herr and Frau von Hardenburg left … is gone.’

‘Gone?’

‘To Germany. The childs are there. He come back for them.’

‘You mean that Herr von Hardenburg and his wife have gone away and left their children behind?’

‘Come back for them, Fräulein von Busch stay and look after them.’

‘So Fräulein von Busch is here. But how strange. Why have they gone?’

Schwellenburg looked sly.

‘Herr Prince,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He likes too much vimen.’

‘But … Fräulein von Busch …’

‘It is Frau von Hardenburg he likes … so her husbint say. There is von I can do … I take her vay from Herr Prince. So he go in night … and come back for the childs.’