Perdita's Prince: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  ‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t you know I have fallen in love with you?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she answered. ‘I know that – or you have for me what passes for love. But where could it lead? My parents will never allow me to be your mistress and yours would never allow you to be my husband.’

  ‘Ah, my dearest angel, I am not so easily defeated.’

  But she was firm, and although she was undoubtedly attracted by him she was not so much so that she would forget discretion.

  The Prince was not going to lose heart because he had failed after one banquet and ball. He had a new excitement in his life.

  He had amusing Dally; intriguing Mrs Armistead; and now he sought to add Lady Augusta to his reason for finding life enjoyable.

  *

  The Prince sat in his apartments at Windsor writing a poem to Lady Augusta Campbell.

  Oh! Campbell, the scene of tonight

  Has opened the wound of my heart;

  It has shown me how great the delight

  Which charms of thy converse impart.

  I’ve known what it is to be gay,

  I’ve revelled in joy’s fleeting hour,

  I’ve wished for the close of the day,

  To meet in a thick-woven bower.

  He laid down his pen and thought of Perdita whom he had met not exactly in a thick-woven bower; but an inn room on Eel Pie Island could be as romantic.

  When Lady Augusta succumbed to his pleading would it be the beginning of a great love affair, such as he had once believed there would be with Perdita?

  He forced himself to believe it would be so. He was at heart romantic. Fox might imply that he would be much more content if he did not allow himself to become deeply involved with one woman; but he knew that it was something more than a passing appeasement that he desired. He enjoyed being in love, being ready to die – or at least renounce a great deal – for love.

  So he would continue to write letters and poems to Lady Augusta and if she returned his passion he might insist on marrying her. The Argylls were a great family; but his father, he knew, would never consent to a marriage; it would be some plain German frau for him.

  He shivered at the prospect and picked up his pen.

  ’Twas there that the soft-stolen kiss,

  ’Twas there that the throb of our hearts,

  Betrayed that we wished for the bliss

  Which love, and love only imparts …

  He sighed, thinking of her beauty.

  He did hope she was not going to remain aloof, insisting on preserving her virtue as Mary Hamilton had. In any case she, with Grace Elliott and Mrs Armistead, were helping him to forget Perdita; and that was what he wanted almost as much as Lady Augusta’s surrender – to forget Perdita completely, to forget her reproaches, her sacrificial sermons; he wanted to wash all memory of Perdita from his mind for he was heartily tired of her.

  But as the days passed it became clear that Lady Augusta would cling to her virtue.

  ‘There could be no future for us,’ she said. ‘Your Highness cannot imagine that my parents would allow me to become another Perdita Robinson.’

  By such words she irritated him. The very thing he did not want was to be reminded of Perdita.

  So he decided to give up the pursuit of Lady Augusta and devote himself to those ladies who appreciated his attentions. There was no doubt that Grace did – gay abandoned creature. Though she was not entirely satisfactory because she kept on her old lovers at the same time.

  Mrs Armistead was perhaps the more comforting of the two. She was always so delighted with some small diamond trinket that he found pleasure in making her little gifts.

  Perhaps Charles James Fox was right. It was better not to become too involved.

  *

  The King sent for his son to tell him that he had come to a decision.

  ‘I cannot give my consent to these proposed trips of yours.’

  ‘But why not?’ The King looked surprised that the Prince should address him so curtly. ‘I can see nothing wrong in visiting some of Your Majesty’s most highly respected subjects.’

  ‘I have a treat for you,’ said the King. ‘Something you will enjoy more than these rounds of draughty country houses.’

  ‘A treat.’

  The King nodded smiling. ‘You’ll see, eh? Patience … a virtue, eh, what?’

  The Prince was disgusted. Treats? As though he were a boy.

  His frustration was strengthened when he reminded himself that he could not disobey the King and accept invitations which His Majesty did not wish him to.

  It was maddening. Let him wait, thought the Prince, until I’m twenty-one.

  *

  The ‘treat’ which the King was offering his son as a compensation for refusing his permission for the country visits was a trip to the Nore.

  When the Prince heard of this he was disgusted. This in place of those country visits where he would have been fêted and treated according to his rank, entertained lavishly and enjoyed good conversation and the company of pretty women.

  But such was his position that it was useless to protest. The King had decreed that he should go and go he must.

  The King and the Prince rode in their separate yachts down the river and were saluted by the ships they passed. Through Woolwich, Tilbury and Gravesend they went accompanied by numerous small craft and cheered along the way until they anchored in Sea Reach for the night. They set off again at five in the morning for Blackstakes; and here the King and Prince left their yachts and toured the dockyards, then proceeded to the Nore where they went on board Admiral Parker’s flagship.

  There officers and men were presented to the King and the Prince and after these ceremonies, which were somewhat tedious in the Prince’s opinion, he and his father returned to their yachts. This, fumed the Prince, was his treat for being denied the ability to accept invitations when he wished. It was too humiliating. Particularly as before long what had happened was the talk of the town. A verse was circulated to commemorate the occasion.

  The King and the Prince went to the Nore,

  They saw the ships and main;

  The Prince and King they went on shore

  And then came back again.

  The people were laughing at the King. Couldn’t he see it? And until the Prince was considered of an age to make his own decisions and cut himself free of his father’s control he would be laughed at too.

  Returning to Windsor he went to the Magpie for the solace of Mrs Armistead’s company. She might lack the obvious beauty of Lady Augusta Campbell but she never irritated and she always knew how to soothe him.

  No grande passion this – but eminently satisfactory.

  Humiliation in Hyde Park

  BILLS! EVERY DAY they were coming.

  ‘Madame Duvernay regrets she must call Mrs Robinson’s attention to this long overdue account.’

  Perdita frowned and read the long list of articles. That pelisse which she could have done without. The muff. The cloaks. The gowns … numerous gowns. They had all seemed so essential at the time. And Armistead had been so good at planning them.

  Armistead! She did not wish to think of that woman. Traitor. Spy in her own house. Going off for personal reasons … which meant to the bed of the Prince of Wales!

  Bills for wine. How could they have consumed so much? The poulterers, the butchers, the bakers … There was no end to it.

  She started to attempt to add up the amounts but she was no good at it and it was so depressing in any case. And what good would it do to know how much she owed? There was one fact which she knew well enough now. She had not the money to pay them.

  Oh, God, she thought. What shall I do?

  There was Maiden, dear faithful Malden; he would be the Earl of Essex one day but he had no money now. He could not help her.

  Cumberland?

  ‘Oh, no, never, never,’ she cried dramatically. ‘I would rather die.’

  And then suddenly she was aware of t
he desperate position she was in and broke down and wept.

  *

  Lord Maiden called. He looked very anxious.

  ‘Have you any news?’ she implored.

  He could only shake his head.

  ‘You have seen him?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘And has he spoken of me?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘But that does not mean he does not think of me.’

  Lady Augusta Campbell the elusive one; Dally the Tall the gay one; Mrs Armistead the cosy one … How could he tell Perdita that the Prince no longer needed her? And that all he asked of her now was that she should cease to bother him and forget him as quickly as he was forgetting her.

  ‘If I could but see him,’ sighed Perdita.

  ‘He will not see you. He was annoyed that you came to Windsor.’

  ‘I risked my life in doing it.’ Dramatically and with some embellishments she told the story of how she had crossed Hounslow Heath and had by a miracle escaped.

  ‘Surely if he knew I did that for him …’

  Lord Maiden sighed. How could he tell her that all the Prince wanted was that she should go out of his life and stay out.

  ‘My dear lord,’ she said, ‘if I could only see him. You are close to him. You could do so much … if you would.’

  ‘You know there is nothing in my power I would not do for you.’

  ‘I know it. And you will arrange a meeting. If I could but see him once …’

  She might be right, thought Maiden. She was very beautiful. Dally and the Armistead women were nothing compared with her. Nor was Lady Augusta. Surely he must be moved if he could see her looking as appealing as she did now?

  And if he could bring them together again … if they could be happy together. And surely Perdita would have learned her lesson. Then they would both be very grateful to him.

  ‘Rest assured that I will do everything … everything.’

  ‘But you will speak with him?’

  ‘I will take the first opportunity, and if it is at all possible I will bring about that meeting.’

  When he had gone Perdita felt greatly relieved. She thrust all the bills into a drawer out of sight and gave herself up to the contemplation of what she would wear for the meeting and rehearsed what she would say. She would not reproach him; she would be humble, pleading, assuring him of her complete submission and devotion.

  She was sure then that he would find her irresistible.

  *

  A few days later Lord Maiden called again.

  ‘I have good news for you. The Prince will see you.’

  ‘My dear friend, how can I thank you!’

  What should she wear? Lilac satin … pale green silk … one of the many dresses which had not yet been paid for? No need to worry herself on that score. All would soon be well. No one would worry her for money when they knew she was back with the Prince of Wales.

  ‘When is he coming?’ she cried. ‘I must have time.’

  ‘He will not come here.’

  ‘But why not?’

  ‘Er … I think it better if you were to come to my house in Clarges Street. The Prince could see you there.’

  She took his hand and kissed it. ‘Oh, how can I thank you.’

  His ardent gaze was enough to tell her how. But he could say nothing as yet, of course.

  *

  Surely she was as beautiful as ever. Hope had restored the beauty she feared she had lost. Her carriage rattled through the streets and she was happy for the first time since she had quarrelled with the Prince and been aware that she was losing him.

  That should never happen again. She would be so careful. She would never reproach him again; she would be sweet and loving and ever grateful for being given a second chance.

  Lord Maiden received her with the admiring looks which he had never failed to bestow upon her. What a good faithful creature he was I Especially as by being her friend he incurred the displeasure of the King – and perhaps would risk losing the Prince’s favour if all did not go well between him and her. Dear, good faithful Maiden, who would even now have paid her debts for her had he been able!

  ‘His Highness is here,’ he whispered.

  And he took her into his drawing room where, his back to the door, stood the Prince.

  She stood waiting and he, being aware of her, slowly turned.

  ‘My … Prince …!’ she cried and went towards him, her hands outstretched.

  As he took them and kissed them, great floods of relief swept over her.

  ‘I … I feel as though I am alive again,’ she said.

  ‘I am happy to see you,’ he told her. And taking her hand drew her to a couch where they sat side by side.

  ‘I have been so unhappy,’ she told him.

  ‘My dear Perdita!’

  ‘I thought you would never forgive me. I thought you hated me.’

  ‘Do you think I could ever hate Perdita?’

  ‘But you went away …’ Careful, she thought. No reproaches.

  ‘It was a state affair in fact,’ he said easily. ‘My birthday had to be celebrated in the heart of the family at Windsor.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He began to chat of the festivities at Windsor, describing the public celebrations and the review in the Park; the banquet and the ball; but he made no mention of Lady Augusta.

  She was longing to ask him questions about Mrs Armistead but she dared not. She had learned one lesson at least.

  They talked of mutual friends and it was a most pleasant hour. Then the Prince said he must go; he had an engagement. She suppressed the desire to ask if it was at Cumberland House; and he said an affectionate goodbye to her in which she was certain that he meant to imply they would meet again soon.

  Lord Malden conducted the Prince to his coach and came back to Perdita.

  ‘I can only tell you how grateful I am.’

  ‘His Highness was friendly.’

  ‘Extremely so.’

  ‘That I can see, for you are radiant.’

  ‘It was just a little misunderstanding. I shall see that it does not happen in the future.’

  Poor Perdita! thought Maiden. She did not know how difficult it had been. The Prince had most certainly not wished to see her and Maiden was sure had no intention of renewing the acquaintance.

  Still let Perdita be happy for a little longer.

  *

  She returned to Cork Street, played a little on the harpsichord and sang softly. She retired to bed and lay listening, wondering whether he might call.

  The next morning she dressed with the greatest care. She wore one of her fantastic hats, all ribbons and feathers; and a lavender silk gown which was exquisite. And taking her carriage with the coronet-like wreath went into the Park.

  She felt intoxicated by the sunshine. It was a beautiful morning; the grass had never seemed so green, the flowers so beautiful. People gazed at her, nudged each other and whispered together. Perdita was about again.

  And suddenly she saw him. He was walking with a crowd of his friends about him laughing and chatting; and as usual he was the centre of attraction. Now the moment was at hand. He would come to her carriage, take her hand, kiss it, perhaps ride with her. They would be together again.

  She stopped the carriage. The Prince and his group were approaching. She smiled. He looked at her blankly as though he did not know her; and then turning his head began to talk animatedly to one of his companions.

  She was stunned. It was a deliberate cut, a deliberate insult.

  He had seen her and pretended he did not know her. He had shown her publicly that he had finished with her.

  But after their meeting yesterday …

  She could see it all now. He had been persuaded to it; it had meant nothing. He did not wish to resume their relationship. More than that he did not wish to know her.

  No one could have been told more clearly.

  She was aware of curious eyes on her; she could hear
the sounds of laughter floating back to her. His laughter! And she wanted to die.

  Love letters of a prince

  BACK TO CORK STREET.

  This is the end, she said. He will never come back now.

  She took the bills from the drawer and looked at them. It was better to do something than nothing.

  How can I pay all these debts? she asked herself. They were all incurred for him. But for him I should be a famous actress, earning a good living from the theatre. I gave up everything for him. Everything.

  She forced herself to add up the amounts she owed. No, it was impossible. Seven thousand pounds. They could not be so much. She had been extravagant … for him, she repeated bitterly. But surely not as extravagant as that.

  ‘Where can I find seven thousand pounds?’ she asked herself.

  Where indeed?

  And then she remembered. She took a key from the drawer and opened a box which she kept in her bedroom.

  From this she took out a piece of parchment. It was the Prince’s bond for £20 000, and it was sealed with the royal seal.

  She remembered his giving it to her, and how she had declared she would not have it and he had had to persuade her to accept it.

  It was the answer, of course. It would be the only way in which she could pay her debts.

  And yet she shuddered to think of asking him to honour it.

  Yet … £7000! How could she produce that sum of money unless he did.

  If it were possible I would work, I would do anything, she told herself. I would not take a penny of his … if I could help it.

  Work. There was a possibility.

  In a feverish haste she put on her cloak. She could not bear to sit down and think quietly. The only way in which she could endure to live through this terrible day was by taking action.

  She sent for her carriage and drove to Bruton Street.

  *

  The Sheridans had moved to Bruton Street when Richard had become a Member of Parliament and so frequently entertained the Prince of Wales.

  Perdita asked if Mr Sheridan was at home, for she wished to see him urgently. She was taken into an elaborately furnished room and while she waited there the door opened and Elizabeth Sheridan came in.