by Jean Plaidy
Sheridan’s eyes were shining and Fox knew that he would achieve his purpose.
He leaned forward. ‘This, Mr Sheridan, sir, is a turning point in British politics. Our monarchs carry a certain power. True they cannot act without the backing of their governments but the power is there. The King – between men of good sense – is far from clever. I won’t say he’s a fool … not for fear of committing lèse-majesty but because it is not entirely true. George is a simpleton. He should have been a farmer. A good man let us say … who has never known the pleasures of life, and who feels it his duty to see that these are kept from others. A failing of the virtuous, Mr Sheridan, as I’m sure you will agree. But what HM fails to see is that the pleasures a man indulges in are not his whole life. A man can be a brilliant politician in the House, a lecher in the bedchamber and a gambler at the clubs. A politician can set the country’s economy to rights while he’s at his wits’ end to know how to placate his own creditors. Mr Pitt happened to be a model husband and a great politician at the same time. That in itself provided his downfall. He didn’t become Lord Chatham for his own sake … but that of Lady Chatham. And that, one might say, was the end of his career. So you see, Mr Sheridan, this is the greatest gamble and I know that your fingers are itching to have a throw of the dice.’
Sheridan was silent, turning over the possibilities in his mind. It seemed a glittering prospect because this was not merely going into Parliament – it was going in arm in arm with Mr Fox.
Mr Fox continued: ‘As I was saying, the King has a certain power and the King is my enemy, and that of the Whigs. But a new star is rising and to this star shall we hitch our wagon. The Prince of Wales will be eighteen in August. He will be to us what the King is to the Tories.’
‘The Prince! A young man bent on pleasure!’
‘Don’t underestimate him. Bent on pleasure certainly. Young, lusty and so far kept under the stern eye of their Majesties. “Eat this. Don’t eat that.” “Get up at this hour. Go to bed at that.” Now what effect is this going to have on a young fellow whose high spirits are higher than average? There is one answer: Rebellion. Believe me, Mr Sheridan, the Prince has a very good reason to support the Whigs. His father is a Tory. That is the only reason he needs at this stage. Later he will find others. Don’t make old George’s mistake of thinking that because young George frolics with the ladies, selects his shoe buckles with care, has a passion for gold frogged coats and exquisitely cut breeches, that he’s a fool. He has been educated and significantly has made no effort to elude that education. He has the power to make his father feel a dunce in his presence. He is a boy … not yet eighteen … but time does not stand still. In three years time he will be the most powerful man in the country and … our friend.’
‘Our friend, Mr Fox?’
‘Yours and mine.’
‘But I have not yet made up my mind to go into politics.’
‘You will.’
Mr Fox drained his glass and rose.
‘So turtles pair’
WHILE SHERIDAN WAS thinking of Fox’s proposition he received another visitor.
Very different this one – a vision of beauty in muslin and ribbons and a dark silk coat.
‘Perdita!’ Like everyone else he called her by that name nowadays. The Prince had given it to her and it was an indication that everyone was aware of the relationship between them.
He kissed her hands with a fervour which she was too distraught to see was absentminded.
‘Oh, Sherry, I have something to say to you, and I fear you may be a little angry with me.’
‘Never,’ he declared gallantly.
‘I scarcely know how to begin.’ A faint smile curled Sheridan’s lips. Of course she would have been rehearsing the scene for hours before she came. He knew his Perdita.
‘My dearest, you look distrait. Is all well between you and the Prince?’
She threw back her head and a smile illuminated her face. By God, he thought, how beautiful she is when she smiles. She should smile constantly. What a fool she is to cultivate this melancholy aspect! He won’t like it. She won’t last if she is not careful.
‘The Prince is magnificent. The grace of his person … the sweetness of his smile …’
‘Yes,’ said Sheridan. He had heard that before.
‘He is quite … irresistible.’ That was the excuse clause, he thought. She was his mistress – but only because he was irresistible.
‘But you have not come to tell me of his perfections, I am sure, because, as you know, I am well aware of them. Come, Perdita, what is on your mind?’
‘The Prince can be very masterful.’
‘Naturally. He is a Prince and in spite of Papa’s restrictions I’ve no doubt he gets his way with everyone else.’
‘Believe me, Sherry, this distresses me. Not on my own account … oh, no, I am ready to make any sacrifices … but I do wonder how you will receive this news. Oh, my dear, what are you going to say?’
‘I will tell you when I hear what it is.’
She lowered her eyes and stood before him in a pose of abject distress.
‘The Prince insists that I leave the stage.’
Sheridan was silent. He pictured it; the falling off of business. There was Abington and Farran. Perhaps he could revive The School; but although it was a favourite the people were crying out for new plays – though while Mrs Robinson paraded the boards, particularly in breeches, they did not so much care what the play was.
He could not pretend that this was not a disaster.
‘Oh, Sherry, Sherry, what could I do? I remonstrated but he was most emphatic. “No,” he said, “I cannot have other men’s eyes feasting on the charms of my loved one.” You must confess, Sherry, that he has a point.’
‘So,’ said Sheridan, ‘you are leaving the stage.’
‘Oh, Sherry, Sherry, you know I don’t want to. You know that I fought against it. But the Prince was adamant … and in the circumstances you must admit that I could not … with decency … remain.’
Oh, God, he thought, what a woman! She decided on the angle from which she would view life and made everything fit into her cosy pictures. What was she dreaming of now? One would think from her attitude that the Prince was proposing to marry her. Was she thinking that he would behave as his uncles Gloucester and Cumberland had? Did she realize that their Duchesses were very different women from herself? He could imagine her drawing herself up to her full height and declaiming that she hoped she did not resemble the Duchess of Cumberland whose morals and bawdy wit were the talk of the town. In one thing only, misguided Perdita. She is beautiful … and so are you. You lack her mental agility, her wit, her brilliance, her knowledge of the world … everything that has put her where she is. And dear Perdita, have you ever heard of the Royal Marriage Bill? No descendant of George I is allowed to marry without the consent of the sovereign. And do you think His Most Holy Majesty will agree to his son’s marriage with a play actress? Silly little Perdita … moth dancing round the candle. How many months … weeks … before your pretty wings are singed and you fall to the ground? And then … what will you have? A career that is over. Do you think the theatre will allow you to throw her aside and then meekly take you back?
He should warn her, of course. He had been quite fond of her once. Not that it would be of any use. Her mind was made up. She, with all her reluctance, with all her mock propriety, wanted to be set up in that establishment, wanted the whole world to know that the most eligible bachelor in Europe had chosen her. Briefly, Perdita, briefly! But that thought of course must not be allowed to disturb her golden dream.
Sheridan sighed. ‘I could almost thank God that Mr Garrick is not here to see this day.’
‘Mr Garrick? What has he to do with this?’
‘What indeed! Did he not teach you what you most needed to know when you most needed it? Mr Garrick would never have understood your throwing away a great career.’
‘Mr Garrick understood the theatr
e so well, but did not understand love.’
‘I’ll warrant he did. Could he have been the greatest actor otherwise? So you will leave us.’ He looked at her. He must warn her. He would not forgive himself otherwise.
‘Perdita, this is a big step you are taking.’
She nodded dramatically.
‘Princes are perhaps more fickle than most men.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘What if this love should not last?’
‘He has sworn to be faithful till death.’
‘By the moon, the inconstant moon, Juliet?’
‘He swore by all he holds most sacred.’
‘What a man holds sacred one day he finds profane the next. I am an old friend, Perdita. Take care. Consider before you throw away a certain future for an uncertain one.’
‘I cannot grasp your meaning.’
‘Because you will not. Has it not occurred to you that the Prince might desire another woman?’
‘I see you make the common mistake of presuming this is an ordinary light affair.’
‘I hope I am making that mistake, Perdita.’
‘But I know you are. And I know you, Sherry. You are angry with me … that is why you say these things. I am not ungrateful. I know what you have done for me. Mistake that not. But this is my future. I must obey the Prince.’
‘For if you did not he would cast you aside?’
She flushed. ‘Never. But I must think of him … first. I owe it to him.’
‘You mean the Prince’s mistress should not appear on the boards.’
‘Sherry!’
He laughed inwardly. What a woman. She could not bear the use of that word which was commonly used to describe what she was. He felt an affection for poor Perdita. She was such a fool. And this was particularly noticeable after one had so recently been in the company of Mr Fox.
Mr Fox! His mind was alert. This very day Mr Fox had called to offer a dazzling prospect … this day when Perdita had come to offer her resignation.
Could there be any significance in this? Could Mr Fox have known she would come? But how could he? He was only just acquainted with Perdita. And she would never have confided in him. And yet … here was this new proposition side by side with the certainty that theatrical business must suffer a setback.
Suppose Mr Fox wished no obstacle to be put in the way of this love affair between the Prince and Perdita – suppose it was Mr Fox’s desire that the Prince should set up his mistress in a fine house and the whole world know of the relationship between them? Then he would not wish Mr Sheridan to persuade Perdita of the follies of leaving the stage, of the inconstancy of princes. He had not said so, but politics was a game of innuendoes. And surely it was a strange coincidence that Mr Fox had called on this very day when Perdita was handing in her resignation?
Had the subtle game of intrigue already begun? It excited him to think so. Rarely, he supposed, had he been so flattered in his life.
Mr Fox planned to use the Prince … and perhaps Perdita.
She was looking at him earnestly. ‘If, as you so unkindly suggest … But Sherry I know you do not do it from unkind motives for you have always been my friend … If the Prince should … If the Prince and I should no longer be together … why then, Sherry dear, I should most certainly come back to the stage.’
He did not explain to her once more that he doubted she would be able to do that. He was concerned with his own affairs which seemed to him of far greater importance than the amours of a Prince and an actress.
‘Thank you, Sherry, for taking it so … magnificently.’
She held out her hand for him to kiss, a pretty, wistful expression in her beautiful dark eyes.
Then she returned home to report to Mrs Armistead: ‘Mr Sheridan was certainly distressed, but he took it better than I thought he would. I have always known that he was my very good friend.’
The Duke of Gloucester drove out to Kew to see his brother. When he asked for an audience the King received him immediately. He had always been fond of Gloucester. Cumberland was the brother he detested. But there had certainly been a breach between them over his brother’s marriage. The King had been hurt to have been kept out of his brother’s confidence, yet he had to admit that had Gloucester asked his permission to marry Lady Waldegrave he would have refused it. He would have told Gloucester that a Prince of the Blood Royal could not marry a woman who was not only illegitimate but was said to be the daughter of a milliner.
So Gloucester had married without his sovereign’s consent and kept the matter a secret until the passing of the Royal Marriage Act had forced him to reveal it.
And then … George had refused to receive him officially and Charlotte had said she would never make a milliner’s daughter welcome at her Court. But the King was a sentimental man, a family man, and although the Duchess was not received, the King was always pleased to see his brother.
‘Well, well, William,’ said George. ‘Be seated, be seated.’
William sat and thought poor old George looked older than when he had last seen him. That affair of the Gordon Riots must have upset him. What a decision to make and fancy old George having the guts to make it. Firing on his own subjects, eh? Right, absolutely right in the circumstances and George had earned the approval of his grateful capital – which was something rare for the poor old fellow.
William – content with his life and his Duchess – felt sorry for George’s hard lot. Not much fun in being the King, particularly for a man like George who took himself seriously. It would be different when the Prince took over. Not for many years yet, he trusted. Couldn’t help being fond of good old George although he was a pompous, self-righteous old devil now and then.
‘I’ve come to talk with you, George, about the Prince.’
An expression of anxiety crossed the King’s face.
‘What? Eh? What’s he been at now, eh? You’ve heard something. Rumours … rumours … there are always rumours. Some of them true too … about that young puppy …’
‘He’s been up to nothing that I know of, George. Only pleasing the people. I hear nothing but praise for him wherever I go. He’s won the people’s approval without doubt.’
‘Because he’s got a handsome face … not yet marked with evil living. Because he’s been well looked after all these years … diet, exercise, discipline. All very necessary, eh, what?’
‘He certainly does his upbringing credit. The point is, he’ll be eighteen in August.’
‘A fact I’m not allowed to forget.’
‘With his own establishment …’
The King grunted.
‘I should like to have an opportunity of seeing him, George. It’s a long time since I have.’
‘People who act rashly take the consequences. Why, your marriage has given offence to all the royal families in Europe. Marrying a woman who …’
‘I am happy in my marriage, George, and regret nothing.’
The King’s eyes were momentarily clouded with emotion. ‘Wouldn’t have wanted to hear you say aught else,’ he said gruffly. ‘Still, you must understand. I can’t have the Duchess at Court. The Queen wouldn’t hear of it.’
‘Don’t expect me to believe that if the King gave the order, the Queen would not obey.’
‘There are some matters she must be the judge of, eh, what?’
Gloucester said: ‘I came to ask your permission for an interview with my nephew. Don’t you think that we should have a chance to know each other? Should members of families be kept apart?’
‘I never wanted to part families. But if people will make reckless marriages there’s no help for it.’
‘I hear that Cumberland has met the Prince.’
‘What, eh?’
‘In the Park. They met by chance and there was a touching scene. The people looked on and cheered the avuncular embrace.’
‘The fellow’s a rogue,’ muttered the King, ‘for all that he’s my own brother. And more so because
of it. Ingratiating himself with the Prince. I’ll put a stop to that.’
‘It still remains that he has spoken with Cumberland and not with me. Don’t you think that I should have a chance of congratulating my nephew.’
‘There’s nothing to congratulate him about, I do assure you.’
‘On his approaching birthday. A milestone in the life of a young prince. Eighteen. The age when he ceases to be a boy and realizes he’s only three years off his manhood.’
‘He has not only just realized it, I can assure you. He’s been thinking of it for months.’
‘Perfectly natural, George.’
‘You seem determined to defend the puppy. Well, you shall see him. I don’t see why not. Cumberland waylaid him in the Park. If you come to Kew next Friday, you can call on him and stay for half an hour.’
Gloucester was well pleased.
*
The Queen sent for Colonel Hotham, one of the members of the Prince’s household. She was disturbed because the Duke of Gloucester was going to spend half an hour with her son. The Prince’s visits to her were growing less and less: he never came until commanded to do so. It was very sad. When he was in her presence she longed for him to show a little affection. He never did; all he showed was his longing to get away.
And his uncle was going to see him. She would not have allowed it; but the King was weak where his brother was concerned. She imagined how Gloucester would put his case to the Prince; his version of the reason why he had been banished from Court would sound very romantic to young ears. She could imagine the Prince’s sympathy; and he would not feel very kindly towards his mother, she knew, if Gloucester should tell him that she had said she would not receive a milliner’s daughter at her Court.
Oh, dear, her darling son’s growing up did create problems. And just now she was feeling the heat very much, for in a very short time now her child would be born.
