Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill: (Georgian Series) (48 page)

But it was not going to be so with Lady Jersey.

The Prince sensed this and in spite of his quarrels with Maria, in spite of those moments when he told himself that all his troubles came through his association with her, he regarded her as the wife to whom he had made his vows and believed in
his heart that however much they quarrelled she would always be there in the background waiting to comfort him when he, penitently, returned to her.

He was a little afraid of this quick-witted woman with the alluring body, with the beautiful intelligent eyes – this clever Lady Jersey. He believed that if she finally took possession of him she would never wish to let him go – and how was he going to explain that to Maria?

Lady Jersey had her own ideas. He would not
have
to explain, because this was going to be the end of Maria Fitzherbert – the end of that ridiculous marriage which was no marriage. Fat, complacent Maria could say goodbye to her Prince and go back to being the virtuous widow she had been before she met him.

The Prince avoided Lady Jersey, but she would not allow that. She contrived to be wherever he was; and she began to fascinate him so that he looked for her at every house he visited. In time hostesses knew that unless she was present he was bored and listless.

The whole of London was watching the effect the mercurial Frances was having upon the Prince of Wales.

There followed the inevitable result which the Prince had sought. Now, he had thought, it would be like every other affair. He would enjoy it for a while, grow tired of it, and with satiety would come repentance. He would go back to Maria; there would be reproaches and recriminations, then they would be reconciled and he would be the good and faithful husband until the next charmer came along.

But it was not quite like that. The more he made love with Frances, the more he wished to. It was a strange emotion which he felt for her. By no means the romantic love he had felt for Maria … nor even that which he had known with Perdita Robinson. This was different; this was an irresistible fascination which astonished him because he was not in love; and he was a romantic who had always looked for love.

This was different. It repelled and attracted, yet he could not resist it. When he was with Frances he was enslaved.

Maria knew of the relationship between the Prince and Lady Jersey.

Another of them! she thought. When it is over he will come back to me full of repentance. And I shall forgive him. Why does he behave in this way?

But what was the use? What could she do? Only wait for the attraction to pass as it had passed so many times before.

Lady Harcourt talked to the Queen.

The Queen felt at peace with Lady Harcourt who was one of her oldest friends. She had confided in her during the old days – the time before she had become an important figure at the Court. Lady Harcourt knew of the slights she had suffered when the King had kept her shut away from Court, and she had lived quietly at Kew, bearing children. So now if anyone could speak to the Queen of the intimate affairs of her family, that woman was Lady Harcourt.

‘Well,’ said Charlotte, ‘what is the news of my son’s latest amour?’

‘It progresses, Your Majesty.’

‘Mrs Fitzherbert cannot be very pleased,’ said the Queen with a smirk.

‘Pleased, Your Majesty? She must be well nigh frantic.’

‘So Frances Jersey has really replaced the woman?’

‘He has not abandoned her … yet.’

‘Frances should work harder,’ said the Queen with a wry laugh.

Lady Harcourt was surprised. The Queen had changed so much recently that her friends scarcely recognized her. A short while ago she would have been deeply shocked by Frances Jersey’s behaviour; now it seemed to amuse her.

‘Frances
must
work harder,’ she amended. ‘It is long since I saw her.’

‘She is a little disturbed as to what effect these rumours may have had on Your Majesty.’

‘She thinks I am shocked by her conduct with my son?’

‘She does think that, Your Majesty.’

‘It might be exceedingly patriotic conduct. I do believe that Lady Jersey could be of great use to the country.’

Lady Harcourt was silent and the Queen went on: ‘It is imperative that the Prince take a wife. I wonder the King does not insist. But he is a sick man … a very sick man. Sometimes
I fear . . But we were talking of the Prince. He
must
marry and I have the very bride for him. Until that ridiculous liaison with Maria Fitzherbert is broken he never will. It must be broken. You see that?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

‘Once he has repudiated the woman … left her … well then everyone could be prepared for his marriage to a suitable wife.’

Lady Harcourt was silent and the Queen went on: ‘You must speak to Lady Jersey,’ she said. ‘Tell her of my regard. Tell her that I wish her to turn the Prince’s thoughts
completely
from that woman. Frances should be able to do it. She is a most fascinating creature. And when it is done … and he is married to the wife of my choice … Frances shall still hold her place. She will not lose by it.’

Lady Harcourt was astonished. That the Queen should be capable of such cynical deductions was amazing; and yet, she reasoned, for the good of the country, for the Prince’s own good, he should marry. And what did the means matter as long as the end was achieved?

‘I will see what can be done, Your Majesty,’ she said.

The Test Case

THE FATES WERE
against Maria.

While the Prince was at Carlton House brooding on his relationship with the fascinating Frances and at the same time longing for the comfort Maria alone could give, his brother Augustus, the Duke of Sussex, came to see him in a state of great agitation.

The Prince was alarmed at the sight of his brother. Augustus had always been one of the weaker members of the family and as a child had suffered acutely from asthma, which the King had tried to cure through constant canings. Augustus had always aroused George’s pity; and the
camaraderie
between the brothers had persisted through their lives, so that it was natural
that when they were in trouble they should consult each other.

‘Augustus,’ cried the Prince of Wales, ‘what on earth is the matter with you?’

‘I’m in trouble, George. Great trouble. I’m married.’

‘Oh, God!’ cried the Prince of Wales.

‘Yes. I can’t imagine what the King will say.’

‘It’s the Queen you have to placate now. You’d better tell me about it from the beginning.’

Augustus nodded. The Prince knew that he had been to Rome to escape the English winter. Staying there, were the Countess of Dunmore and her family and Augusta was the eldest daughter.

‘And Augusta is the lady you have married?’

Augustus nodded. ‘Lady Augusta Murray. She is beautiful and witty, George.’

‘Of course,’ said George sympathetically.

‘I asked her to marry me and at first she refused, but at last she gave in. We were married by a clergyman of the English church there … a man named Gunn.’

‘Whatever his name was is not going to help you, brother,’ said the Prince sadly.

‘We were married without witnesses and when we told Augusta’s mother she talked about the Marriage Act and said we should keep it a secret and we did … and as Augusta was going to have a child when we came to England we were married again in St George’s in Hanover Square. George, what am I going to do?’

The Prince said: ‘If I were King you would be in no difficulty whatsoever. But I’m not, Augustus; and I think there is only one thing you can do and that is to go to the King and beg his leniency. After all, you’re the fifth son. It’s not like being myself or Fred or even William.’

‘Is there nothing else I can do?’

‘I cannot see what, Augustus. If I could help, I would, but you know how I am received there. I should go and see the King. Explain to him and for God’s sake try to keep out of our mother’s way. She’s become a virago. If you try to persuade the King that he must accept this marriage, who knows, you might succeed.’

‘I might explain,’ said Augustus, ‘that Augusta is of royal
blood; she’s connected with Henry VII and William of Orange. Surely that should count.’

‘Of course it will, Augustus. Go and talk to our father. I am sure you will put your case to him in a way he will understand. And the best of luck. I wish I could do more. When I am King I will do something for my family … find husbands for the girls and repeal that obnoxious Act. You see.’

‘George, if only …

The brothers clasped hands, and with George’s good wishes ringing in his ears Augustus set out to face his father.

It was impossible to see the King alone and when he and the Queen heard Augustus’ story they made no secret of their anger.

The King wailed to Heaven, asking what he had done to deserve such sons. George, living with Mrs Fitzherbert, married or not he did not know – and either was equally disgraceful; William was living with a play-actress. And now Augustus had dared to do this wicked thing. Even Frederick was creating scandals by not living with his wife and letting it be known that she preferred dogs and monkeys to him. But this was shocking, quite shocking. Had Augustus never heard of the Marriage Act?

Augustus had.

And did he not know that by going through a ceremony of marriage without the King’s consent he was breaking the law?

Augustus did know it.

And yet he had done it. He had defied the law and his father!

Well, he would see what would happen. This marriage would be annulled.

The Queen said. ‘I suppose this is the influence of the Prince of Wales.’

‘George has been kind to me,’ stammered Augustus. ‘No one could be kinder than George.’

It was the worst thing he could have said. So the Prince of Wales was behind this, was he? He was supporting Augustus in his disobedience. It was to be expected.

‘It is his example,’ said the Queen. ‘You are making the King ill.’

Augustus began to breathe with difficulty and the King was alarmed for his son, so the Queen peremptorily dismissed him; and when he had gone she led the King back to his apartments and said he should not be worried by such affairs and should leave them to her and his ministers.

The whole Court and the whole of the country was talking of the marriage of the Duke of Sussex and Lady Augusta Murray; but while the fate of the two was considered, that of the Prince and Maria was in everyone’s mind.

The King had announced his intention of having the marriage annulled as it could not be legal since it was a breach of the law. The Court of Privileges was instructed to give a verdict and it became a test case; the Court agreed that the ceremonies which had taken place in Rome and in England were null and void. Augustus was deeply distressed; he implored the King to allow him to give up any right to the succession, but this the King refused.

Augustus was not married and his child was illegitimate.

His brothers consoled him, particularly the Prince of Wales.

‘Ignore the ruling,’ said the Prince. ‘Set up house together. I will see that you are received wherever you wish to go and once I have ascended the throne …’

Augustus thanked him, but he was bitterly unhappy.

Throughout the Court they discussed the case.

Then, it was said, if the Prince and Maria actually did go through a form of marriage they are not, by the law of the land, man and wife.

What could be clearer than that?

Lady Augusta belonged to one of the highest families in the land; she could trace her descent to royalty; and yet she was not acceptable because the King had not given his consent.

How much less acceptable would be Maria Fitzherbert, for her so-called husband was the Prince of Wales.

This was indeed a test case. Maria Fitzherbert would never be regarded in law as the Prince’s wife.

No one was more aware of the implications than Maria herself, who saw clearly that she would never be acknowledged.

She was worried. Her position was becoming unendurable.
The Prince was growing closer to Lady Jersey. She saw him rarely now, and when they did meet there was friction between them. He, because he wished to placate his conscience, seemed eager to make a shrew of her; and she, anxious and fretful, could not control her temper.

The happy days were over. Crisis loomed ahead.

The Fateful Decision

THE PRINCE DROVE
his phaeton through the Park. People standing about in groups looked at him in silence. There were no cheers. How different it had become. He remembered how they used to jostle each other for a glimpse of him.

‘God bless the Prince of Wales!’ He had heard it so constantly that he had grown tired of it. How he would like to hear it now!

He heard a shout of ‘Papist woman …’ and he urged the horses to a greater speed.

It had all changed. The people no longer loved him.

He called on Lady Jersey. When he had embraced her she regarded him with some amusement and asked him what had happened.

‘Happened?’ he cried. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I can see you are disturbed. Pray tell me.’

She knelt at his feet and raised her beautiful eyes to his face in a gesture of mock supplication. How different from Maria who would have been truly concerned. But when he tried to imagine Maria in such a position he thought how ridiculous she would look. Frances was so willowy, so graceful.

‘It’s nothing,’ he said, ‘Merely that riding through the Park just now I thought the people looked hostile.’

Frances was on her feet and perching on the arm of his chair.

Maria would have soothed him. Frances said: ‘Of course they are hostile! They’re learning to hate Your Highness.’

She was indeed a disturbing woman – like a wasp … no, a
beautiful dragonfly whose wings are of the most exquisite colours, who flies and hovers with a fascinating grace and has a sting in the tail.

‘Why in God’s name?’

‘Very, very simple. Because you have displeased them.’

‘I … what have I done to them? I have always smiled on them, talked to them whenever possible. I suppose it is my mother’s spies who have been circulating stories about me.’