Perdita's Prince: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  She sighed. But young men would be young men and until they found a wife for him he must she supposed have a mistress.

  She wished though that he would choose some good quiet young woman – someone at Kew so that he could call and see his mother often – and perhaps confide in her.

  She had to prevent the King becoming too excited and she said something of this to him.

  ‘Young men will be young men. They must not be judged too harshly.’

  And oddly enough this did seem to soothe. Then she suggested a little walk or a drive in the carriage round ‘dear little Kew which I know Your Majesty loves as much as I do.’

  This was indeed a success, for he agreed to go. It was so pleasant riding in Kew, for the place was like a little village with the houses round the Green which were occupied by the children’s governesses and tutors, the ladies-in-waiting, doctors and gardeners. ‘Dear little Kew,’ murmured the Queen; and the King echoed her sentiments, for to him this little world seemed far from the ceremonies of St James’s or Buckingham House; and here George was the Squire – the benevolent landlord, beloved of his tenants. Farmer George, in fact, who delighted in the people who came out of their cottages to curtsey and pull a forelock as he and the Queen rode by.

  The river flowed peacefully by and there on Strand-on-the-Green the Queen saw Mrs Papendieck about to go into the painter Zoffany’s house where she had lodgings, but when she heard the royal carriage she turned and curtsied; the King raised his hat and inclined his head. He liked Mrs Papendieck and Charlotte could see that he was forgetting his troubles momentarily, as she had intended he should.

  *

  The Queen thought a great deal about the play actress, trying to remember what she looked like. She recalled the performance of The Winter’s Tale in which the woman had played Perdita. What a pity they had ever gone to see that play! But then they would have seen something else and it would probably have been another play actress.

  If only he could have found a nice lady – not an actress. There had been Mary Hamilton to whom he had been devoted and had written charming letters and looked upon as a sister. And that had taken him often to his sister’s apartments and no one could say that wasn’t a good thing! But a play actress! Suppose he had fallen in love with someone in the Queen’s household and it was all very discreet. The Prince would visit his mother often – and that could do nothing but good.

  How pleasant if he would break this association with the play actress and find a kind, clever and above all discreet lady in his mother’s household.

  *

  At the Queen’s robing Madam von Schwellenburg was ordering the women to do this and that in her hectoring manner.

  Charlotte had been helped on with her gown and her powdering robe was being put about her. While her hair was being dressed she read the newspapers and looked for references to the Prince and Mrs Perdita Robinson. She always tried to keep these from the King.

  She was well aware that her women discussed this matter; in fact she believed that the whole Court was discussing it.

  Perhaps she should ask Schwellenburg. Not that she wanted to talk of it, but at least Schwellenburg was German and she would be honest. She never chose her words with much care and would be as outspoken to the Queen as to anyone else.

  While her hair was curled and crimped she was thinking of the women of her household. It would have to be someone young and there was no one young. It would have to be someone beautiful and there was no one really beautiful … at least not that a young boy of eighteen would think so; and most important of all discreet. The trouble was that people who possessed youth rarely had discretion and vice versa.

  Should she speak of the matter to the King? She imagined his dismay at the thought of providing a mistress for his son. She wondered at herself. But she was desperate; and she proved in the past that, docile as she might seem, when she was determined she could act boldly.

  She wanted to save the Prince from folly and the King from anxiety and surely it was worth while stepping outside one’s usual moral code to do that?

  The thought of intrigue was exciting. This was one of the rare times in her married life when she was not pregnant. And the King had agreed with her that in view of the fact that Alfred was their fourteenth and that neither he nor Octavius were as strong as the others, perhaps the time had come to call a halt to child-bearing.

  Just suppose she were successful in finding the right sort of woman who would lead the Prince away from his wicked uncle and bring him back into the family circle? Whatever means were necessary, the result would justify them.

  She decided that she would choose an opportunity to speak to Schwellenburg to discover what was being said among the women; and she might even find out through her if there were any women of the household who combined enough beauty to please the Prince and enough discretion to satisfy his mother.

  *

  Madam von Schwellenburg was in her room surrounded by her caged toads when Madam Haggerdorn came to tell her that the Queen requested her presence.

  Before obeying the summons she insisted on Madame Haggerdorn’s witnessing the cleverness of her favourite toad by tapping on his cage with her snuff box.

  ‘He know. He know,’ she cried animatedly. ‘Listen … see, he croak. You hear?’

  Madam Haggerdorn said it was a wonderful performance, for like everyone else in the Queen’s household she was afraid of offending Schwellenburg. The woman was heartily disliked; the King had made two mild attempts to have her sent back to Germany; but for some reason the Queen – although she herself did not greatly care for the woman – had insisted that she stay; and because the King was determined to keep his wife out of important affairs he conceded her complete sway in her own household. Consequently Schwellenburg remained, growing more objectionable and arrogant every week.

  Schwellenburg’s repulsive face was softened by her affection for the animals – the only living creatures who could soften her; and Haggerdorn reminded her that the Queen was waiting.

  ‘Go when want,’ said Schwellenburg and deliberately went on tapping the cages and listening ecstatically to the croaking of her pets.

  When Haggerdorn had left, with a studied leisureliness, Schwellenburg made her way to the Queen’s apartments.

  Charlotte was alone and invited her Mistress of the Robes to be seated.

  ‘I want you to talk to me about the Prince of Wales,’ said the Queen.

  Schwellenburg’s features formed themselves into the sort of smile she bestowed on her pets. She liked to think she was the confidante of the Queen.

  ‘Is vild,’ she said. ‘Very vild. Drink too much; too much gamble; too much vimen.’

  ‘I fear so,’ mused the Queen. ‘And the King is most distressed.’

  Schwellenburg nodded, well pleased; she was glad the King was distressed. He had tried to send her back to Germany.

  ‘What have you heard? That he keeps a play actress?’

  ‘Everyvon talk. Everyvon know. Is dronk … has house in Cork Street. Herr Prince very vild.’

  ‘I fear there is truth in the rumours. Do the women talk much about it?’

  ‘All the time. Everyvon talk.’

  ‘Do any of the women er … envy this play actress?’ Schwellenburg opened her eyes in surprise. And the Queen went on: ‘Perhaps some of the younger and prettier ones … perhaps they feel that they would … like to be in her place.’

  ‘There vos von. Harriot Vernon …’

  ‘I know about her. She was dismissed from Court.’

  ‘He like very much Mary Hamilton … but no more. Never see now.’

  Mary Hamilton! thought the Queen. Oh, no, that was no use. One could not expect to revive an old attraction. He had given up Mary Hamilton when the play actress came along; he could not go back to her.

  ‘I do not like his friends. I think this play actress is having a bad effect on him, taking him to his uncle. If there was someone here at Court … at Kew … I am not
condoning immorality, of course, but young men are such that they need a … a friend, a female friend. You may know what I mean, Schwellenburg.’

  Schwellenburg knew. She muttered: ‘These girls … they are vild. Like Herr Prince. All they think is … dance … and patch and rouge and white lead … That is English girls. German fräuleins do as told. Much better.’

  The Queen was suddenly excited. A German mistress for the Prince. What an excellent idea. But where? The King had dismissed all the German women who came over with her – except Schwellenburg and Haggerdorn. There might be one or two others, but they were old, old as herself. No, what they wanted was a young, buxom German girl who was disciplined and discreet and would do as she was told.

  ‘Thank you, Schwellenburg.’

  She was indeed grateful. Schwellenburg had given her an idea. When the Mistress of the Robes had retired she sat down and wrote home to Mecklenburg-Strelitz. In that poor little province there were always people who were longing to get to England and enjoy the patronage of Queen Charlotte.

  *

  In Cumberland House the Duke and Duchess were discussing the Prince on similar lines.

  ‘Do you fancy,’ asked the Duchess of her husband, ‘that he is quite so happy in our company as he was?’

  ‘He comes here.’

  ‘But not so often. And he is always in a corner with Fox or Sheridan. They often leave early together to go off to Devonshire House I believe.’

  ‘I’m sure we have entertained him lavishly.’

  ‘He’s certainly lost a lot of money at our tables.’

  ‘It’s at his wish.’

  ‘But he is drifting. I sense it. And I think that Propriety Prue is at the bottom of it. She doesn’t like us.’

  ‘She fears you outshine her.’

  ‘And she remembers that you once chased her. She may still think you have designs on her virtue. Have you?’

  ‘Pah!’ cried the Duke. ‘Does she think she’s so irresistible?’

  ‘I’m sure she does. Otherwise she might be a little more careful with H R H. Because I think that we are not the only people who have had the misfortune to weary him now and then.’

  ‘You mean Prue is on the way out.’

  The Duchess nodded slowly. ‘I have seen the writing on the wall. She won’t last more than a few more months.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘That is what we have to be prepared for.’

  ‘And knowing you, my love, I am prepared to stake a thousand guineas that you are already prepared.’

  ‘Dally the Tall,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why so surprised? Have I not seen your lustful eyes studying this tall one appraisingly? You must admit your tastes are not dissimilar to those of your amorous nephew.’

  ‘Well, Dally’s a charmer.’

  ‘I know you think so; and I am sure the Prince will too.’

  ‘What do you propose to do?’

  ‘See that they have the opportunity they desire.’

  ‘You mean that you desire.’

  ‘Dally has a reputation for er … pleasing men.’

  ‘So has Perdita.’

  ‘And I’ll tell you something else. I am not the only one who has noticed a falling off in His Highness’s devotion. The jackals are gathering round … hopefully. Malden is ready to leap in as soon as H R H retires. Poor Malden. His faithful service should be rewarded. And Fox is biding his time. Malden should take care. He is rather lamblike and what chance has a lamb against a fox?’

  ‘And such a fox! So he is waiting to drag Perdita into his lair, is he?’

  ‘And I hope you, my lord, will have enough respect for your Ducal rank not to join the patient throng.’

  ‘What are you going to do about Dally?’

  ‘From now on she should be treated with respect. Mrs Grace Elliott, one of the most amusing and beautiful young women in London! She is perfect in every way. Three years his senior – as Propriety Prue is. Have you noticed how His Highness likes his women to be older than himself? And she will be a complete change from Prue because there is no propriety about Grace Elliott.’

  ‘When does the battle start?’

  ‘Tonight, my love. We dare not delay. Don’t imagine because you are blind to what is happening about you others are. Depend upon it, many people are noticing that the chains of love are slackening. But she could do harm to us before she goes. And others will be bringing forward their candidates for his approval. It is always best to be the first, my love. Leave this to me.’

  This the Duke was very happy to do.

  *

  Perdita was far from tranquil. Mr Robinson was constantly threatening and he demanded his payments promptly. She wished that she could have had her mother and daughter to live in Cork Street. What a comfort that would be! The little girl adored her and Mrs Darby was so proud of her beautiful daughter and on her visits to them, taking costly presents, Perdita was really happy.

  Then she would come back to Cork Street and rest for a while and submit herself to the ministrations of Mrs Armistead to be prepared for the night’s company. There were times when she would have given a great deal to go to bed and stay there. But the Prince’s energies were unflagging.

  She had returned from a visit to her mother and daughter and had rested and been powdered and rouged and dressed in a gown of rose coloured velvet when the Prince arrived.

  He kissed her absentmindedly and made no comment on her appearance, but sprawling in a chair said he had only come to stay an hour or so.

  She was disappointed, although a short while before she had been longing for a restful evening. What she had meant was a quiet evening with the Prince.

  She said: ‘I had hoped we could have been together … just the two of us … for one evening. I have a new song I want to sing to you. We can sing it together, too.’

  ‘Another time,’ he said.

  She looked mournfully up at the ceiling and pressed her lips slightly together to imply resignation and restraint. This annoyed the Prince. He would rather she had openly protested. He was becoming a little exasperated now and then with this martyr’s role which was such a favourite one of hers.

  There was a pause. The Prince was thinking it was a mighty long hour.

  She said: ‘I saw little Maria today.’

  ‘I trust she is well.’

  ‘And so delighted to see me. She wept when I left. Sometimes I wonder …’

  The Prince said nothing.

  ‘It was a great sacrifice to make,’ she went on. ‘Perhaps I was wrong to give her up. After all, I am her mother. I think sometimes she wonders … One day I shall tell her of how I suffered because I could not give her the time which most mothers give their children. I hope she will understand.’

  The Prince yawned. It should have been a warning.

  ‘Yes.’ She was warming to her role now. She had risen, and putting her hand to her throat gazed before her. There were tears in her eyes. ‘It was a great decision to make … this renunciation. Husband, child … and virtue … all I abandoned.’

  ‘I did not know,’ said the Prince coldly, ‘that you so regretted leaving your husband.’

  ‘He was not good to me but at least he was my husband.’

  ‘Then perhaps, Madam, you feel you should return to him?’

  Danger signals. She changed her tactics. ‘I would never return to him. You must know that better than anyone.’

  ‘Yet you sounded as though you regretted his loss.’

  She went to him and put her arms about his neck. ‘You … you are handsome … all that a Prince could be. How could any woman be blamed for not being able to resist you?’

  This was more like it.

  ‘My angel,’ said the Prince, but he was still a little absentminded.

  ‘Pray come and sing a little.’

  ‘Not now. There is not the time. I but called in to see you for an hour.’

  ‘You used not to be so eager to get awa
y.’

  ‘Eager? I’m not eager. Or if I am it’s because of all this damned melancholy.’

  ‘And you promised me not to use bad language.’

  ‘I only do so in your presence when goaded.’

  ‘Goaded!’

  ‘Oh, Perdita, stop being the tragedy queen. You came here because you wanted to. And there’s an end to it.’

  She was silent, and going over to the harpsichord played a melody. Even her tunes were melancholy, thought the Prince. Why be melancholy when there was so much in the world to be gay about?

  She looked over her shoulder. ‘And where are you going to in such haste? Or would you rather not tell me?’

  ‘I have no reason to hide my actions. I am going to Cumberland House.’

  Cumberland House! And they had not invited her. She knew they called her Propriety Prue and mocked her behind her back. And when she thought that the Duke had once pursued her so relentlessly and had admired her so! Of course it was the Duchess, the woman was jealous.

  ‘My dear George, do you think you should go to Cumberland House?’

  ‘In God’s name, what do you mean?’

  ‘I do not think the Duchess behaves in a manner which could be called ladylike.’

  ‘She doesn’t have to ape ladies. She’s a duchess … and a royal one at that.’

  ‘I still think she is a little coarse. And I do not like to hear you talking as she does.’

  ‘Madam,’ said the Prince, incensed now, ‘I have been treated like a child by my father for eighteen years. I have no intention of allowing my mistress to do the same.’

  Mistress! That dreadful word which always unnerved her. She felt the tears brimming over on to her cheeks. They were splashing on to the red velvet. She hoped they would not mark it. It was too good and too new to be given to Armistead just yet. But she could not hold back the tears.

  The Prince saw the tears and said in a shamefaced way: ‘Well, you should not attempt to dictate to me, you know.’

  She could never stop play acting; she wanted all the best lines. So she said: ‘I have angered you, but I cannot let that influence me when I speak for your own good. The King and Queen do not wish you to go to Cumberland House. This distresses them.’