The Lady In Red: An Eighteenth-Century Tale Of Sex, Scandal, And Divorce (16 page)
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Authors: Hallie Rubenhold
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BOOK: The Lady In Red: An Eighteenth-Century Tale Of Sex, Scandal, And Divorce
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Another explanation, however, may exist for his grand gesture of selflessness. When Deerhurst departed for Southampton in the company of Sir Richard’s wife, her intentions may have been more serious than the Viscount suspected. A brief visit to the port town across the Solent soon became a progress to London which lasted for three days and at least two nights, taking the pair as far north as Godalming before separating. When Lady Worsley set out, it is possible that she did not intend to return to her husband. However, having already suffered the repercussions of one elopement, the Viscount was not likely to make such a regrettable error again. Though sympathetic to Seymour’s situation, Deerhurst had no choice but to leave her; perhaps with a promise that he would aid her in future. Interestingly, in December 1781 as Deerhurst was assisting Seymour and Bisset, he was also orchestrating his sister, Lady Maria Bayntun’s affair with Jack Cooper, so that she and her husband might ‘obtain a divorce with as little trouble and expense as possible’. Frequent exposure to the unhappily married and a healthy store of guilt had turned a libertine into the defender of malcontent wives.
Although Lord Deerhurst’s attractions had been enough to entice Lady Worsley to abandon her husband, it was not the first time that she had been tempted by another man. Her entry into the arena of adultery had occurred over a year earlier, at some point during the late winter and early spring of 1778. Whilst the Viscount had been introduced to Lady Worsley by her husband, Sir Richard played no part in the relationship that blossomed between his wife and the Honourable Charles Wyndham. When they met, the eighteen-year-old brother of the 3rd Earl of Egremont was wavering on the threshold of a fully-fledged career in profligacy. Though the circumstances of their acquaintance are unknown, Wyndham was to be Lady Worsley’s first truly passionate love, the man who remained ‘foremost in her affection’ and who drew her off the path of virtue. Her influence in all likelihood had a similar effect on him.
Wyndham receives little mention in the era’s gossip columns until the early 1780s, by which time he had fallen in with a pack of rowdy dissolutes led by the Prince of Wales. By mid-decade, Wyndham’s name had been paired with that of the courtesan, Grace Dalrymple Elliott, and proposed as the father of her child. He had also been linked to the Duchess of Devonshire’s married sister, Harriet, Lady Duncannon. In addition to earning a reputation for drunkenness and gambling at high stakes, Wyndham was noted for causing a fracas at the town house of the Marquess of Buckingham, where ‘all sorts of outrages … were committed’. Where Charles Wyndham ventured, trouble followed, or at least impropriety. Walpole complained that the young man and his friends had offended Mrs Keppel, the hostess of a ball by not arriving ‘until 10 at night’. ‘The violins were ready,’ he grumbled, ‘but could not play to no dancers.’ Throughout the 1780s, little could curtail his dissipation, and by 1791, after impregnating Mrs Anna Sophia Hodges Wyndham found himself the defendant in his own criminal conversation suit.
If the author of
The Genuine Anecdotes … of Sir Richard Easy
is to be believed, Lady Worsley and Charles Wyndham’s ‘first and last interview … was in and near Kensington Gardens’, the haunt of the fashionable set, who promenaded along the tree-fringed Broad Walk. At that time, the area surrounding the Gardens was known for its discreet establishments where trysting pairs might meet. ‘There is a very commodious house not far distant from the palace,’ the pamphlet explained, ‘where any loving couple may, without ceremony, sacrifice at the altar of the Cytherean goddess.’ It was
here that Wyndham and Seymour ‘often repaired for frequent appointments’. Such locations were not uncommon throughout London. Many upmarket brothels and bagnios (or bathhouses) maintained a sideline in letting out rooms to a wealthy and adulterous clientele, who found it more practical to conduct their assignations outside their matrimonial home or away from the notice of their servants.
The Genuine Anecdotes … of Sir Richard Easy
is to be believed, Lady Worsley and Charles Wyndham’s ‘first and last interview … was in and near Kensington Gardens’, the haunt of the fashionable set, who promenaded along the tree-fringed Broad Walk. At that time, the area surrounding the Gardens was known for its discreet establishments where trysting pairs might meet. ‘There is a very commodious house not far distant from the palace,’ the pamphlet explained, ‘where any loving couple may, without ceremony, sacrifice at the altar of the Cytherean goddess.’ It was
here that Wyndham and Seymour ‘often repaired for frequent appointments’. Such locations were not uncommon throughout London. Many upmarket brothels and bagnios (or bathhouses) maintained a sideline in letting out rooms to a wealthy and adulterous clientele, who found it more practical to conduct their assignations outside their matrimonial home or away from the notice of their servants.
Of those who have written about Lady Worsley’s liaison with Charles Wyndham, from Horace Walpole to the hacks of Grub Street, all agree that it was an especially heated relationship. Their ‘agreeable intercourse’, as it was described, ‘continued for several months’, into the autumn of that year. Emotionally thrilling and dangerous, this illicit romance left an enormous impression on Sir Richard’s young wife. Her devotion, described as ‘a violent attachment’ and ‘an extravagant fondness’, caused devastation when her lover’s military duties required him to go abroad.
In 1777, after the outbreak of hostilities in the American colonies, an ensign’s commission had been purchased for Charles Wyndham in the Coldstream Regiment of the Foot Guard. Having entered the Guard in December of that year, with some good fortune he had managed to avoid being deployed for at least another twelve months. ‘Ordered for America’ in the spring of 1778, Wyndham was back in London by early 1781, drinking with the Prince of Wales at Lord Chesterfield’s house and being mauled by a dog after trying to pull out its tongue. Later that year, his antics were still raising eyebrows when he received a letter from his former mistress, requesting that he come to the rescue of her current lover.
Whilst Sir Richard would not have found Deerhurst’s appearance as a witness unexpected, it is likely that he regarded Wyndham’s presence, and the attendance of a number of other gentlemen, truly distressing. The raffish young man with whom Worsley had only a passing familiarity stepped into the witness box. Henry Howorth was waiting, ready to coax the damning disclosures from Wyndham’s mouth. There was one incident the lawyer was insistent that his witness relay to the jury.
‘Pray Sir,’ he began, ‘do you remember, about the time of your going abroad, that anything particular passed between you and Lady Worsley, respecting any particular favour you received in Kensington Gardens?’
‘No,’ answered Wyndham.
‘Do you remember anything respecting a ring?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘What was that?’ The lawyer dug more deeply but, like Deerhurst, Wyndham was growing uncomfortable under the spotlight.
‘My acquaintance ceased before I went abroad,’ he answered.
‘What ring was it?’ Howorth insisted.
‘A gold ring.’
‘Was that her wedding ring?’
Wyndham now became quite anxious. ‘How can I answer that?’ he pleaded nervously to the lawyer. Howorth assisted him:
‘She took it off her finger, and made it a present to you?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ Wyndham was forced to respond.
As they strolled through Kensington Gardens, passing friends and acquaintances on their constitutionals, Charles Wyndham announced to Seymour that he would be embarking for America. The news ‘had proved almost fatal’ to her. In speculating on their final encounter, one hack claimed that
In their last interview, to testify to her fondness, her friendship and esteem, she presented … [it] … to him, as a token of remembrance of those happy hours of amorous dalliance which they had so often experienced … she took it off her own finger and put it upon his, to signify that it might be there riveted, as she wished her image might be to his heart. ‘Farewell’, said her Ladyship, with an involuntary sigh that bespoke the anguish of her mind, ‘Farewell’ (she repeated) my dear beloved Wyndham; and whenever you look on that ring, remember me, and consider it as a certain pledge of my unbounded love …
By all accounts, the conclusion of her love affair with Wyndham was difficult for Seymour to bear and resulted in ‘many dreary hours’ and ‘melancholy reflections’. The couple were not to resume their relationship. At Wyndham’s return several years later, much had altered in both of their lives.
In 1778 the ripples created by the conflict in the colonies were felt by a variety of individuals in the most unexpected corners. When the orders came to embody the local militias Edward Rushworth stepped forward to defend the Isle of Wight and the County of Hampshire from the marauding French. Although he was the son of naval captain, Rushworth had not imagined a military career for himself. He was described as a man ‘of very small fortune’ but one whose ‘education and abilities, added to the connections he had formed in life’ destined him for a prosperous future. Ambitious and bright,
he had only recently completed his training as a solicitor before purchasing a lieutenancy in the South Hampshire Militia that July.
he had only recently completed his training as a solicitor before purchasing a lieutenancy in the South Hampshire Militia that July.
Lieutenant Rushworth arrived at Coxheath camp during the height of the summer excitement. To the regiment’s latest recruit, the encampment, with its light-hearted entertainment, its dinners, card parties and balls would have seemed more like a pleasure garden than a military training ground. It was in this carnivalesque atmosphere that Rushworth was introduced to his commanding officer’s wife. Unlike her previous lover, Wyndham, the Lieutenant was not a rake, but neither was he immune to temptation. According to the author of
Sir Finical Whimsy
, the duration of their affair was ‘of a very temporary date’ and did not exceed the period of their encampment in Kent. By the time the South Hampshire Militia had moved to quarters on the Isle of Wight in 1779, Rushworth was preoccupied with other matters. He had fallen in love with the daughter of the infamous election-fixer, Reverend Leonard Troughear Holmes, and was determined to bury his past and establish his name. Within a year he had abandoned his aspirations to practise law and went to study divinity at Oxford. Shortly thereafter he eloped to the continent with Catherine Troughear Holmes (whom he later married again in front of her father on the Isle of Wight) before being elected as an MP for Yarmouth with Holmes’s assistance. From the start, Edward Rushworth’s successful career had been a tale of perseverance and skilfully managed opportunities. At his death in 1818, the
Gentleman’s Magazine
referred to him as ‘a truly respectable gentleman … of pure and virtuous principles, steadily and zealously attached to the Establishment in church and state and eminently distinguished for a sense of duty in every relation of his life’. It is little wonder that when Lady Worsley requested Rushworth’s presence at the Court of the King’s Bench, he declined. Unlike Wyndham or Deerhurst, this former flame had neither the family name nor the finances to soften any repercussions of his revelations.
Sir Finical Whimsy
, the duration of their affair was ‘of a very temporary date’ and did not exceed the period of their encampment in Kent. By the time the South Hampshire Militia had moved to quarters on the Isle of Wight in 1779, Rushworth was preoccupied with other matters. He had fallen in love with the daughter of the infamous election-fixer, Reverend Leonard Troughear Holmes, and was determined to bury his past and establish his name. Within a year he had abandoned his aspirations to practise law and went to study divinity at Oxford. Shortly thereafter he eloped to the continent with Catherine Troughear Holmes (whom he later married again in front of her father on the Isle of Wight) before being elected as an MP for Yarmouth with Holmes’s assistance. From the start, Edward Rushworth’s successful career had been a tale of perseverance and skilfully managed opportunities. At his death in 1818, the
Gentleman’s Magazine
referred to him as ‘a truly respectable gentleman … of pure and virtuous principles, steadily and zealously attached to the Establishment in church and state and eminently distinguished for a sense of duty in every relation of his life’. It is little wonder that when Lady Worsley requested Rushworth’s presence at the Court of the King’s Bench, he declined. Unlike Wyndham or Deerhurst, this former flame had neither the family name nor the finances to soften any repercussions of his revelations.
Lieutenant Rushworth had not been Lady Worsley’s only acquisition during the warm months of 1778. Among the thousands encamped at Coxheath was George James Cholmondeley, the 4th Earl of Cholmondeley, (later the 1st Marquess Cholmondeley and Earl Rocksavage), who commanded the Royal Cheshire Militia. At Coxheath, Cholmondeley could not have been more in his element. Surrounded by the flirtatious and bored aristocratic wives of his fellow officers, the Earl was like a bee in a garden at full flower. At a period when Wyndham and Deerhurst were still earning their rakes’
spurs, Cholmondeley reigned supreme among the roués of his generation. The Earl was already so renowned for his philandering that he had been lampooned the year before in a pamphlet entitled
The Torpedo, a Poem to the Electric Eel
. While the
Torpedo
poked fun at his conquests it also sang the praises of that which was believed to have won Cholmondeley such acclaim among women;
spurs, Cholmondeley reigned supreme among the roués of his generation. The Earl was already so renowned for his philandering that he had been lampooned the year before in a pamphlet entitled
The Torpedo, a Poem to the Electric Eel
. While the
Torpedo
poked fun at his conquests it also sang the praises of that which was believed to have won Cholmondeley such acclaim among women;
What tho’ Lord Ch——lm——d——ly may conceal
A most enormous length of Eel,
Admir’d for its size and bone;
This mighty thing when lank, depress’d
A mere noun adjective at best,
Is useless when alone.
A most enormous length of Eel,
Admir’d for its size and bone;
This mighty thing when lank, depress’d
A mere noun adjective at best,
Is useless when alone.
In addition to his rumoured assets, the Earl was tall and athletic and known for his ‘great physical strength’. His good looks and daring behaviour inspired feverish gossip. For roughly two years, the London newspapers had been speculating about relations between the Earl and his acknowledged inamorata, the
demi-mondaine
of the moment, Grace Dalrymple Elliott. As their public appearances grew more frequent, whispers of a possible (and deeply unsuitable) marriage increased in volume. However, his connection with Mrs Elliott was by no means an exclusive one. The Earl had never been known for restricting his passions and pursued numerous liaisons, often simultaneously. At any given time, according to one chronicler, he was ‘associated with a variety of women without discrimination’ and made a habit of engaging in ‘intrigue without attachment’. In a perpetual state of motion between the continent, London and his northern estates, Cholmondeley alighted at every racecourse, spa, and centre of diversion between Cheshire and Berlin, making frequent detours to chase a potential amour or placate a sulky mistress. The Earl had a gift for scenting acquiescent women, however coyly drawn to him, whether these were actresses, courtesans or the wives of other men. He could not have failed to notice Seymour, and with his dangerous reputation, she would have found him equally alluring.
demi-mondaine
of the moment, Grace Dalrymple Elliott. As their public appearances grew more frequent, whispers of a possible (and deeply unsuitable) marriage increased in volume. However, his connection with Mrs Elliott was by no means an exclusive one. The Earl had never been known for restricting his passions and pursued numerous liaisons, often simultaneously. At any given time, according to one chronicler, he was ‘associated with a variety of women without discrimination’ and made a habit of engaging in ‘intrigue without attachment’. In a perpetual state of motion between the continent, London and his northern estates, Cholmondeley alighted at every racecourse, spa, and centre of diversion between Cheshire and Berlin, making frequent detours to chase a potential amour or placate a sulky mistress. The Earl had a gift for scenting acquiescent women, however coyly drawn to him, whether these were actresses, courtesans or the wives of other men. He could not have failed to notice Seymour, and with his dangerous reputation, she would have found him equally alluring.
Curiously, Lord Cholmondeley’s success at intrigue was attributed less to wit or charm than to ‘his generosity, attachment and inviolable secrecy where love and honour are concerned’, a reputation which made him a particular favourite ‘among fashionable ladies’ who were eager for illicit romance without
arousing their spouses’ suspicions. In keeping with the Earl’s code of confidentiality the duration and details of his affair with Lady Worsley appear to have been quite closely guarded, though many within a select circle knew of their attachment and that Seymour had become spellbound by him. His uncle, Horace Walpole wrote that Cholmondeley ‘has been most talked of for her’, while the author of
Finical Whimsy
claimed that he ‘cut no inconsiderable figure in the history of her amours’. It was reported that after their separation Seymour found ‘his absence insupportable; a confirmed melancholy took possession of her mind,’ to the extent that Worsley would ‘send for Cholmondeley to
divert her
’. ‘Diversions’ which, the wag continues, ‘became so frequent as to raise the envy and spleen of all the frail sisterhood at the happiness of the poor dejected lady’.
arousing their spouses’ suspicions. In keeping with the Earl’s code of confidentiality the duration and details of his affair with Lady Worsley appear to have been quite closely guarded, though many within a select circle knew of their attachment and that Seymour had become spellbound by him. His uncle, Horace Walpole wrote that Cholmondeley ‘has been most talked of for her’, while the author of
Finical Whimsy
claimed that he ‘cut no inconsiderable figure in the history of her amours’. It was reported that after their separation Seymour found ‘his absence insupportable; a confirmed melancholy took possession of her mind,’ to the extent that Worsley would ‘send for Cholmondeley to
divert her
’. ‘Diversions’ which, the wag continues, ‘became so frequent as to raise the envy and spleen of all the frail sisterhood at the happiness of the poor dejected lady’.
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