The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (23 page)

‘You mean enough money to settle these creditors of mine?’

‘But certainly.’

‘And to set me up afresh.’ Mary Anne’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. This might be treachery towards poor Fred, but what had he done to her – left her with a pension of four hundred a year after teaching her to live at the rate of thousands! A woman had to look after herself in this world.

Mary Anne would do what she could.

From then on it was easy.

Frederick’s first action when he realized what accusations were
going to be brought against him was to call on the Prince of Wales.

The Prince was in a mood of despair. Lady Hertford had not become his mistress and Maria was being what he called extremely unreasonable.

Ever since the end of the Seymour case he had been constantly in the company of the Hertfords. It was maddening. No matter how much he pleaded with that frigid lady she would not relent. It was no use offering her jewels or riches; she had plenty from the long-suffering Lord Hertford. She cared for three things only: her appearance, her reputation and the Tory Party. The Whigs were watching anxiously, for they knew that Lady Hertford intended to interfere with the Prince’s politics; in fact it was only through politics that he stood the slightest chance of gaining his ends. Maria Fitzherbert was a Tory, but Maria had never sought to force her views on anyone. The Whigs were hoping that Maria would continue to hold sway.

The Prince would not have been so unhappy if she had. He was not averse to this platonic relationship with Lady Hertford. It gratified the sentimental romantic side of his nature which was strong. He wanted Maria, though, to remain in the background of his life. The last thing he wanted was for Maria to leave him.

And this was exactly what Maria was suggesting she would do.

He had just received a note from her.

He had read it through several times, refusing to accept what it conveyed. It was true he had seen less of her lately. She should understand that. Lady Hertford kept him dancing continual attendance; and she always insisted that for ‘propriety’s sake’ Maria should be present when they met. Why could not women be reasonable?’

It was ironical that women who to him were the most delightful of all God’s creations should plague him so. He had always loved women more than anything else on earth. Better than horses, better than drinking, and the conversation and companionship of men like Fox – ah, why had that genius had to die! Why was he not here to give him the benefit of his advice now? He forgot that his relationship with the brilliant statesman had deteriorated in later years – but then he always forgot what it was convenient to. Now it soothed him a little
to think of Fox who had been his mentor and his friend. Why could not the women in his life be more kind and understanding? There was his wife … Ah, no, he could not bear to think of that creature! There was his daughter, always difficult, not what he would have wished for a daughter to be, and he could see trouble increasing from that quarter as she grew older; there was Maria behaving now in an aloof manner and with her quick temper which had been responsible for that other regrettable break in their relationship, and even Isabella Hertford frustrated him because she was so pure that her reputation meant more to her than the devotion of the Prince of Wales. Who could have believed that women whom he had always idolized as a sex could bring so much anguish to a man who only wanted to please them and make them all happy?

He read Maria’s letter once more:

The constant state of anxiety I am perpetually kept in with respect to your proceedings, and the little satisfaction I experience when occasionally you make partial communications with me, have determined me to address you by letter.

You must be well aware of the misery we have both suffered for the past three or four years on a subject most painful to me, and to all those who are attached and interested about you. It has quite destroyed the entire comfort and happiness of both our lives; it has so completely destroyed mine that neither my health nor my spirits can bear it any longer. What am I to think of the inconsistency of your conduct when scarcely three weeks ago you voluntarily declared to me that this sad affair was quite at an end and in less than a week the whole business was begun all over again? The purport of my writing to you is to implore you to come to a resolution upon this business. You must decide, and that decision must be done immediately, that I may know what line to pursue. I beg your answer may be a written one to avoid all the unpleasant conversations upon a subject so heartrending to one whose whole life has been dedicated to you, and whose affection for you none can surpass.

He threw the letter down and stamped on it. He wanted to burst into tears and would have done so if there had been anyone there to witness the depth of his emotion. How could Maria behave like this? Why could she not be patient with him? All he asked her to do was act as chaperon because Lady Hertford insisted.

His page was at the door. His brother the Duke of York was asking to be admitted.

The Prince picked up the letter, put it into a drawer and turned to greet Frederick.

Frederick’s woebegone face told the Prince immediately that his brother had troubles and he was probably going to be denied the luxury of bemoaning his own.

Frederick burst out as soon as they were alone: ‘George, I’m in the most fearful mess. It’s that fellow Wardle. He’s one of Edward’s men. They’re going to ask a question in the House.’

‘What about, for God’s sake?’

‘Well, there was a woman I was on terms with … pretty creature. It’s a long time since we parted but it seems they’ve got hold of her. She’d been selling commissions in the Army.’

The Prince stared at his brother. ‘Good God, Fred. What have you got yourself into?’

‘That,’ said Frederick, ‘remains to be seen.’

‘Can nothing be done to stop this?’

Frederick shook his head. ‘Wardle’s determined. Behaving like a self-righteous martyr. Nothing is going to stop him. This is Edward’s doing.’

‘Our own brother – surely not! I can’t believe it.’

‘Oh, Edward’s changed. He’s become embittered. It was that Gibraltar business. He doesn’t forgive me for recalling him. He wants to show he’s a better soldier than I am. He’d like to be Commander-in-Chief, I don’t doubt. George, what am I going to do?’

The Prince was silent He would do anything for his brother, but what help could he offer? Once they started asking questions in the House one had to take the consequences. He remembered when a question had been asked in that holy of holies by some bumbling old country member which had led to Fox’s denial of his marriage with Maria. And look what trouble that had caused.

He looked at Frederick helplessly. ‘Fred, if there’s anything I can do …’

Frederick grasped his hands. They could always rely on each other; of all the brothers they had been the closest, and they were almost as horrified by Edward’s treachery as by the situation itself.

They both knew that the least that could happen to Frederick would be to lose his position in the Army.

Trouble, thought the Prince. Just trouble all round.
So the storm broke. There had rarely been such a scandal in the royal family. Colonel Wardle, as he had threatened, delivered his bombshell in the House, doing as he declared ‘his duty’ to the Army and the country.

The people were both outraged and amused. Yet another indiscreet love affair of the royal family. One had to admit they were entertaining. Even the stolid Duke of Kent had a mistress, although he lived most respectably with her, as did Clarence with Dorothy Jordan. Now they were going to hear something of the adventures of the Duke of York.

Within the royal family as throughout the country the main topic of conversation was the Army scandal.

The King had grown visibly older and more incoherent.

‘I can’t believe this of Frederick,’ he told the Queen. ‘If it had been George …’

‘George would never have been such a fool as that,’ insisted the Queen. But would he? she wondered. These sons of hers seemed capable of the utmost follies over women.

‘Frederick,’ babbled the King. ‘Hope of the House … Best of the bunch, eh, what?’

‘It’s to be hoped not,’ retorted the Queen. ‘If he is the best, heaven help the rest.’

‘Why do they do these things, eh? What happens to them? They have no sense of duty. It makes me think we failed somewhere … in the way we brought them up, eh, what?’

‘Your Majesty was always the strictest of fathers,’ replied the Queen, determined not to take the blame. He was the one who had laid down the laws; he had never allowed her to disagree with him. Often she had wanted to protest against the canings that had been administered. It had turned them against him, she was sure; it had made them wild. It was never good to restrict high-spirited young people too much. Yes, it was his fault, silly old man. She could scarcely be sorry for him; she had never loved him; but she was concerned now for his health for if he broke down it could mean a Regency and when that had almost happened before (and would have been established but for the King’s recovery) she and her eldest son had become the bitterest of enemies.

So she tried to soothe him.

‘This woman seems to be an adventuress. Perhaps she is not telling the truth.’

‘Adventuresses! Why do they get themselves mixed up with adventuresses, eh, what?’

‘I don’t think William’s actress is exactly that. From all accounts she seems to be keeping
him.
And Edward’s Madame de St Laurent is a very worthy creature. As for Maria Fitzherbert, Your Majesty has always had a certain admiration for her. And Lady Hertford, whom George seems to be pursuing now, is very jealous of her reputation. So they are not all mixed up with adventuresses – although I do agree with Your Majesty that these liaisons are not exactly desirable.’

‘And there’s the Princess of Wales …’

‘Oh, she is a monster! And to think that she is Charlotte’s mother. I hope and pray the child doesn’t take after her. Although I must say Charlotte often causes me misgivings.’

‘She’s a sweet child. I am fond of my granddaughter.’

‘She needs a great deal of correction, I do assure Your Majesty. The Princesses and I are deeply concerned. Now if you please she has shown a tendency to make
particular
friendships. We shall have to watch over her very carefully.’

Anything, thought the Queen, any topic to turn his mind from this terrible affair of Frederick’s.

And she had managed it. The King’s mind wandered so much nowadays. She had set him thinking of Charlotte who for all her faults was a pleasanter subject than Frederick’s horrible affair with this low woman.

The Princesses whispered together.

‘Have you heard the latest news? She is to appear before the Select Committee. She will have to give evidence at the Bar of the House. What a scandal.’ Augusta had left her embroidery to fall to the floor in her excitement.

‘Even George has never given us such a scandal as this,’ added Elizabeth.

‘They say she has produced his love letters,’ said Mary.

‘Just fancy having your love letters read in public.’ Sophia was aghast.

‘And I daresay Frederick’s are rather silly,’ put in Elizabeth. ‘He could never spell.’

The sisters started to laugh; but Amelia said: ‘I tremble to think what effect this is going to have on Papa.’

Mary Anne was rather pleased with all the limelight.

‘It’s somewhat different from the dreary life in the country,’ she said.

Mrs Thompson, her mother, who had ceased to marvel at the adventures of her daughter, asked timidly: ‘Isn’t it something of a disgrace?’

‘For poor Fred. Not for me. Do you know, gentlemen are writing me notes making me the most attractive offers.’

‘Oh, Mary Anne! Will you take them?’

‘I have so much to consider,’ she replied. ‘In the meantime I must make a good impression at the Bar.’

She did. She chose her costume with care. Blue silk – to bring out the blue in her eyes – edged with white fur. Her muff was of white fur, too. She looked exciting, very pretty and quite ten years younger than she actually was. Excitement always improved her; and she had never been at a loss for words. In fact it was her quick wit – often quite clever – which had helped her to her place in society as surely as her beauty had. On her fair curls she wore a white fur hat with the most tantalizing veil. And thus she was ready to face the assembly.

She enchanted most of them. She was so completely feminine, both demure and saucy; and she successfully dealt with those who tried to bully her, scoring over them to the amusement and delight of so many onlookers. If this was disaster for the Duke of York, it was triumph for Mary Anne.

Corruption there had been. That much was evident. The point was how much had the Duke of York been involved in it? Had he been completely innocent of it? This was hardly likely but it was of great importance to the royal family and to Frederick that he should be proved a fool rather than a knave.

Mary Anne, urged by her supporters to bring her former lover to ridicule, produced some of his letters, which were read aloud in the court. This was the highlight of the case, for Frederick was no scholar; his letters were ungrammatical, ill-spelt but intensely illuminating; and gave a picture of his intimate relationship with his fascinating Mary Anne. They were quoted in all the coffee-houses and the taverns.

The King ranted for hours at a time. He sent for Frederick; he demanded to know what he thought he was doing. ‘No sense of duty, no sense of propriety. Can’t settle down like a
good husband. Got a wife … what was wrong with that? All those animals it was true. Barren … No children. Very unsatisfactory, eh, what? But not as unsatisfactory … as
criminally
unsatisfactory as trafficking with this woman and undermining the discipline of the Army, eh, what?’

Frederick was wretched. He couldn’t understand how he had got himself so entangled. He went to Carlton House and talked endlessly to the Prince of Wales who while he sympathized had to admit that it was the worst scandal that had hit the House. He reckoned it was this sort of thing which could start a revolution. They hadn’t to look very far back across the Channel. Mary Anne was a beauty – the Prince conceded that; and he was no stranger to the sudden and irresistible passions for a woman which could beset a man, but Frederick had gone a little far in letting her become involved with the Army. So there was no great comfort even there.