by Jean Plaidy
She rose from the bed and put a flimsy robe over her naked body. She looked frail and very provocative. Opening a drawer she drew out a letter and began to read it to him.
He could not believe that Hervey had written so about him.
But she insisted on his reading it himself.
Then she snatched it from him and tore it into bits. She flung it up so that it was scattered over the bed; then she threw herself upon him.
‘Does he think I should ever be disloyal to my dearest Prince? Never ... never ... never!’
The Prince was overcome by such devotion, and at the moment could think of nothing but making love.
But later he began to brood on Hervey’s duplicity.
* * *
In the next few weeks the main point of discussion between Anne and Frederick was Lord Hervey, and Frederick was beginning to believe that he had been very mistaken in the man he had made his friend.
Hervey continued to write to him amusing doggerel which always made him laugh because it was directed against members of the Court. When Anne saw one of these she said: ‘It’s very funny, but I wonder how he writes about you to others!’ And that made Frederick stop to think.
All the same, as soon as he received a note from Hervey he would begin to feel the old fascination and Anne was aware of this.
Frederick needed a friend of his own sex to replace Hervey and she knew the very man.
George Bubb Dodington was one of the richest young men at Court; he was not really of very good family and would be very grateful to her if she introduced him to the Prince of Wales.
His real name was Bubb, his father being Jeremiah Bubb who had been an Irish apothecary on the look-out for a fortune, when he had discovered the daughter of George Dodington, a member of a rich and ancient family of Somerset. George Bubb was sent to Oxford and in time became Member of Parliament for Winchelsea. He added Dodington to his name and called attention to himself by his lavish spending, mostly on houses. His country mansion in Dorset, said to be as magnificent as a Palace, had been designed by Vanbrugh and contained a James Thornhill ceiling. He had also acquired two houses near London, one at Hammersmith and another in Pall Mall. He had the means at his disposal to entertain a Prince.
He was not without wit; he wielded some influence; but the nobility were inclined to despise him. It was for this reason that Anne Vane selected him to take the place with the Prince which had been Lord Hervey’s, for he was just the man Hervey would despise most, and to be replaced by him would be an additional insult.
Frederick liked George Bubb Dodington as soon as he met him in Anne’s apartments. He called him affectionately Bubb and proceeded to win money from him. Bubb seemed to be delighted to lose to the Prince; money spent in this way seemed a good investment; and as the Prince was always short of it this seemed a basis on which to build the friendship between them.
Frederick was entertained at the Hammersmith villa and was deeply impressed by the magnificence of it. Bubb, large, fleshy, vulgar, not without wit, and humble to his Prince, was the right antidote to languid Hervey.
On his first visit to La Trappe, Bubb made sure that the occasion should be impressive. He himself greeted the Prince and led him up the marble staircase to the marble and lapis lazuli gallery, and presented to His Royal Highness Mrs Behan his mistress who was as sumptuously gowned in rich brocade and jewels as the Queen might have been for a state occasion and even the Prince was dazzled.
Anything that could have been crowded into the mansion had been brought there, except good taste. All Bubb wanted to say to the world was: See how rich I am. Anything I want I can buy.
With Mrs Behan twittering her delight and the sweat gleaming on Bubb’s fleshy face, Frederick was delighted to give such pleasure.
How different from Hervey who always pretended that he were bestowing a favour.
The banquet was served on gold plate with Bubb and Mrs Behan insisting on waiting on the Prince themselves, for, as Bubb said, if it were possible to pay someone enough to do this honour he would willingly, but he reckoned that only the host and hostess should wait on the Prince of Wales.
With Anne beside him Frederick enjoyed the banquet and all the sycophantish laughter every time he made a joke.
It was a most successful evening and when he won several hundred pounds from his host at cards, it grew even more so.
‘I hope,’ declared Bubb when he escorted the Prince through the lapis lazuli and semi-precious stone studded gallery to his carriage, ‘that Your Highness will continue to honour La Trappe.’
‘You may ask me again,’ Frederick told him. ‘I shall be happy to come.’
And he and Anne, embracing in the carriage which took them back to St James’s, agreed that it had been a delightful evening.
‘I think Bubb is a much more pleasant friend than Lord Fanny,’ whispered Anne.
And they laughed together at the antics of Lord Fanny; and Frederick said that he would spend his winnings in buying a piece of jewellery for his dearest Anne.
At La Trappe, Bubb was sprawling in a chair almost bursting out of his brocade jacket.
‘All went well,’ he said.
‘It couldn’t have been better,’ agreed Mrs Behan, perching on his knee.
It’s only the beginning.’
‘Don’t lose too much to him at cards.’
‘It’ll be worth every penny I lose. When did you know me not to get value for money?’
‘The best of us can be caught.’
She was very specially privileged and very determined to see that he was not robbed. In fact she was really his wife although the world thought she was his mistress. That was a necessary subterfuge because he had once become deeply involved with a woman named Strawbridge to whom he had promised marriage. He had been foolish enough to give her a bond for ten thousand pounds which she could turn into cash if he ever betrayed her by marrying another woman.
Mrs Behan was a sensible woman. She didn’t consider the standing of wife to be worth ten thousand pounds, particularly when she had attained that position in fact.
So she was known as his mistress and would be until Mrs Strawbridge no longer existed to plague them.
Therefore to her Bubb could discuss his future plans with the utmost freedom.
* * *
When Hervey came back to London and called on the Prince of Wales it was a great shock to be met with the statement that the Prince was unable to see him. And the shock grew greater when he was informed that if he cared to wait in the anteroom with others who wished an audience it might be that his Royal Highness would favour him.
Hervey went white with rage.
‘Does His Highness know that it is Lord Hervey who waits on him?’
His Royal Highness did know, but it made no difference.
He saw the Prince come out of his apartment in the company of Miss Vane and a vulgar person of immense bulk, dressed—or rather overdressed—in brocade and embroidery, with jewels, someone whose name he did not know and, except for the fact that he was in the company of the Prince of Wales, would not have wished to know.
‘Who is the tradesman with the Prince?’ he asked. ‘A merchant in rich materials obviously.’
‘No, my lord,’ was the answer. ‘It is the Prince’s friend, Mr George Bubb Dodington.’
‘Bubb Dodington!’ cried Hervey, looking as though he were going to faint. ‘I never heard of the creature.’
Then he walked soberly away. What had happened during his absence? He knew that he had been a fool to stay away so long.
* * *
The situation became clearer to him every day. He was no more than an acquaintance to the Prince, who greeted him civilly when they met but showed no desire to be alone with him.
It was intolerable. That he, the elegant wit, could be replaced by that ... buffoon! It was unendurable. He knew who was behind this. He had seen the malice in her eyes. She had arranged this out of pique. Because he had ceased to become
her lover, because he had shown no resentment that Frederick was, she had sought to take her petty revenge.
Well, she should see what happened to those who dared behave so to Lord Hervey.
The Prince’s Mistress
IN the Queen’s apartment the company were playing quadrille. Caroline had no wish to join. She was a little tired, though determined that none should guess it. Mrs Clayton was hovering, but the Queen could not bring herself to look at her attendant—and friend.
The relationship between them had changed subtly since Charlotte Clayton’s discovery of what ailed the Queen. Charlotte never referred to this as she knew well that it was the Queen’s wish that she should not; but it was there between them. Charlotte had a great many humble relatives and it was one of her hobbies to find places for them.
The Queen sighed. It seemed that since the discovery Charlotte had brought forward a greater number of indigent relatives. ‘Your Majesty, my niece ... my nephew ... my cousin ... would like this or that....’
There was no threat. How could there have been? How could Charlotte blackmail the Queen? Besides, there was great devotion between them. But Caroline always saw that Charlotte’s wishes were gratified; and Charlotte enjoyed playing the benefactress in her impecunious family, for that must have been very pleasant to a woman who craved for power. Craved for power? Did she? As any would. She was regarded, through her place at Court, as the head of her family; and clearly she enjoyed it.
And in her heart Caroline knew that what Charlotte asked—in reason—would be hers because of the secret they shared.
Henrietta Howard was restive. She was always restive nowadays. She had no longer any desire to stay at Court. It was true her position was growing more and more humiliating. The King still called at her apartments precisely at the hour he always had. But he spent the time in abusing her, telling her of his dissatisfaction with her. Poor Henrietta! She was longing to escape. Where to? That scoundrel of a husband of hers who was being paid by the King to allow his wife to stay in the Queen’s employ? A very uneasy position for everyone. And the King was casting covetous eyes on silly little Lady Deloraine who was governess to Mary and Louisa. She was an extremely pretty woman and had a connection with royalty because her husband’s father had been Charles II’s illegitimate son, the Duke of Monmouth. A sad position for Henrietta, who was no longer even the King’s mistress; and who should have left Court long ago and would have done so if the King had been helped to break a habit of years standing.
And how can I help him, sighed Caroline, when in Henrietta’s place there might be some charming, scheming, clever woman.
Life it seemed would never run smoothly. Frederick was a constant anxiety. Charming and affectionate towards his parents as he was in public, in private he showed his dissatisfaction with what they did for him. He wanted more money; he wanted more prestige; he wanted to marry.
He must have none of these ... yet. She and Walpole could not afford to have such a rival, and rival he would quickly become with those wolves of the Opposition ready to pounce on him and make him the centre of a Party which, with Frederick at its head, might well win public support. She remembered the old days of strife between the previous King and his son. History had a way of repeating itself.
Young William was looking handsome and bright tonight; but as soon as he set eyes on his brother he would appear sullen, for he refused to hide his feelings and he deeply resented Frederick. The girls were present. Amelia looked by far the handsomest of the three, but how she favoured masculine styles and she was far too fond of outdoor sports and, Caroline knew, excelled at them. She was bold, perhaps a little brazen. One might think so now to see her openly flirting with Grafton. What a bold and handsome fellow Grafton was. Another result of the promiscuous life of that indefatigable lover Charles II. Grafton was the son of Barbara Castlemaine’s son and claimed to be the grandson of Charles Stuart. These people gave themselves airs and secretly, Caroline guessed, believed themselves to be more royal than the present German branch of the family. Grafton doubtless thought he had a chance with Amelia and Amelia would be nothing loth.
Where are we going to find husbands for the girls? sighed Caroline. It was so difficult being firmly Protestant, which they must be since it was the reason why the English had accepted them, when almost every eligible Prince in Europe was Catholic. It restricted choice so; and now that Sophia Dorothea’s double marriage scheme had come to nothing, what of a husband for Amelia, what of a wife for Frederick?
She and Walpole were not anxious to provide a wife for the Prince of course, for marriage would add to his importance. But it was certainly time Anne was married. And she was getting bitter too.
And there was Grafton trying to compromise Amelia so that marriage might benecessary.
Life was full of difficulties.
And Caroline was stooping a little, which was worrying because she was so delicate, learning to dislike her elder brother because all the others did, particularly William who would have been the Prince of Wales but for Frederick—and how she wished he had been.
She disliked her eldest son. She might as well face it, for to say anything else would have been hypocrisy. If only he had never been born there would be much less strife in the family because it was only since his coming that the trouble had been so pronounced. If she could only find suitable husbands for the girls, if William could be Prince of Wales, and being so young he would not be of age for many years which would give her and Walpole—and of course the King—years of freedom to rule as they thought fit, without interference from an Opposition which each day was seeking to draw Frederick into its net.
Troubles swirling around, conflict within the family circle! It seemed what they must always expect.
Frederick had come in and had created the usual stir. They were bowing and curtseying which was only right of course as he was the Prince of Wales. He came to her and she tried to see him dispassionately—a little man, like his father, neat as George was, and elegant too; he paid attention to the minutest detail of dress, as George did. He was so like his father that this should have endeared them to each other. It had the reverse effect. Frederick lacked his father’s quick temper. One could never imagine Frederick’s taking off his wig and kicking it round the room—a trick of George’s in the old days. Frederick was too careless; all he wanted was to enjoy life in the company of his chosen friends. And his chosen friend now was that impossibly vulgar Mr Dodington.
Frederick kissed his mother’s hand charmingly—always so charming in public. In private he would be sullen, always ready to talk of his debts, wondering why he could not have more money.
She complimented him on his healthy looks and after a short conversation he left her to wander among the guests and say a few words to each.
She watched him and saw that he had joined Anne Vane, one of her attendants, and that he stayed at her side. She knew the girl was his mistress. That was of no great Importance, except of course that the girl had not the best of reputations. She would have preferred him to have chosen a mistress as discreet and as modest as Henrietta.
She noticed that her daughter Caroline had suddenly become animated, almost pretty, a faint flush in her cheeks, her eyes brightening.
The reason was clear. Lord Hervey was presenting himself to the Queen.
Caroline’s own spirits lifted. Lord Hervey was always so amusing. She enjoyed his company more than anyone else’s —more than Walpole’s although, of course, she and the great statesman had so much of importance to discuss together.
‘My lord, it is a pleasure....’
‘Your Majesty is gracious.’
He was very handsome and most magnificently dressed. His cheeks were only faintly touched with rouge. Poor man, thought the Queen, he suffers and must disguise his pallor for he doesn’t want everyone asking after his health.
She shuddered at the thought of such a distasteful subject.
‘Pray be seated beside me,’ she said. ‘
Now amuse me with the latest gossip.’
Hervey did this so effectively that now and then the Queen’s laughter rang out. The Princess Caroline came to sit on the other side of Hervey and joined in the merriment, although not in the conversation, preferring to sit quietly listening.
‘Lord Hervey,’ chided the Queen, ‘I fear you have a wicked tongue.’
‘Alas so much more entertaining than a discreet one. Is it not sad that the discreet and the virtuous are invariably bores?’
‘One could never call you that, Lord Hervey.’
‘I have always thought that I would be wicked while I was young giving myself time in which to repent and spend my last years ... no, months ... in being virtuous, a plague to myself and a bore to my friends.’
‘I should not listen to such talk.’
‘You see, I even tempt Your Majesty to forget your habitual virtue.’
‘Are you suggesting that I am a bore since I am virtuous?’
‘It is the privilege of royalty, Madam, never to bore.’
‘What do you think of this man, Caroline?’ the Queen asked her daughter. ‘Do you not think that we should dismiss him from the Court?’
The Princess Caroline blushed and murmured that the Court would be a dull place if Lord Hervey were banished from it.
‘There’s a nice piece of flattery for you,’ laughed the Queen.
Hervey looked intently at the Princess and said: ‘I hope with all my heart that it is not flattery.’
The Princess looked uncomfortable and turned her gaze on the company. Hervey was completely assured. Why was he fretting about lost favour with the Prince when he had the undisguised approval of the Princess and—what was more important—the Queen.
But this very approval made him more angry with the Prince who had treated him so churlishly as to thrust him aside for the sake of that vulgar Bubb. And Anne Vane too! How dared they!
They were whispering together now. Could it be about him? He had made a discovery about Anne Vane. He had his friends about the Court and her secret was one which she could not expect to hide for long.
