Lady of Passion

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘While I await a new commission in India, Cornwallis has suggested I spend the winter studying military science in southern France.’

  ‘But you will return to me soon, my love?’

  ‘I will,’ he agreed, lightly kissing my brow.

  Not a single person was aware of his presence in Brighton beyond my own dear family and servants, who had dutifully promised not to breathe a word, so it was unfortunate that who should come along the path towards us at that very moment but the Earl of Pembroke.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Robinson I do believe, the lady I once offered to save from the Fleet, if I recall correctly.’

  I was startled, but could not help remembering how Angelina Albanesi had told me of His Lordship’s generous offer, even as she made no apology for sleeping with my husband. I had dismissed it as yet another slur upon my virtue, but had become vaguely acquainted with Lord Pembroke since. He had often used to come to Drury Lane to watch me perform. Now I smiled politely as I struggled to sit up, helped by Ban. ‘My Lord, I did not realise you were in Brighton.’

  His face clouded with a pain I recognised, though his response was typically cool and brisk as he hastened to mask it. ‘My nine-year-old daughter is dying of consumption, so we are here to take benefit from the sea air. And yourself, Mrs Robinson? You are as pretty as ever, but illness has left its mark. Clearly, visiting the opera on the day of a miscarriage was not a good idea.’

  Quite at a loss as to how to respond to this, I squeezed Ban’s hand, warning him to remain silent too. This poor man clearly had little sympathy to spare for the pain of others.

  He exchanged a few more polite remarks upon the weather, the gardens, and the aftermath of the American war with Ban, then he hurried away, presumably back to his sick child. We looked at each other in dismay.

  ‘Do you think he will tell anyone that he saw you?’ I asked.

  ‘We can but hope not. But I dare stay no longer, dearest. With luck I shall be home by the spring.’

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘Nothing would keep me from your side. Now I must leave with all speed.’ Then he helped me back to the hotel, supporting me with tender care while I dragged my feet along with the help of my crutches. Once more ensconced in my chair on the veranda, he gave me a last farewell kiss that set my head spinning, then left. Maria held me while I wept.

  I returned to Berkeley Square in November, having stayed with relatives in Bristol for a few weeks to continue my recuperation. By then I’d given up my box at the opera, and didn’t feel ready to take it up again so attempted to concentrate upon my writing. This was not easy, my mind too clouded with pain and loss, and I struggled to find inspiration. The pity of it was that I badly needed the money, the agreed £500 annuity from the prince nowhere near enough to cover my debts and living costs.

  Setting my quill pen aside in despair, I sat instead for another Sir Joshua Reynold’s portrait, which helped pass the time without any effort on my part. I rather hoped a new set of prints and posters might restore me to society. It was, however, a far more serious, pensive portrait this time, in keeping with my mood. I took little joy in it.

  By January 1784 my pain had lessened considerably and my health was beginning to improve. Thus encouraged I accepted the prince’s kind offer to use his box, and went at last to the opera, feeling quite desperate to escape the confinement of the house, dress in a fine gown and go out into society. It meant a great fuss as my servants were obliged to convey me everywhere.

  They would pull on long white cotton sleeves before lifting and carrying me to the box, much to the fascination of the audience, returning at the end of the performance to carry me back to my carriage. Tiresome but sadly necessary. I dreamed of a time when my legs would be strong enough to walk more than a few paces without crippling pain.

  The Herald celebrated my reappearance by reporting that I was seen looking beautiful in a blue hat.

  Now winter surrounds us, and chills with frost those feelings which depend upon the blood; the Perdita comes forth to cheer us, and with the potent rays of beauty counteracts the severity of the season.

  It felt good to be noticed and admired again. Sadly, the night out in the cold air had not been a wise decision, and I paid the price with three weeks of severe rheumatic pain. However, undaunted, I had my own box back by the end of the month, and once again became a regular at the theatre. I could also often be seen taking the air in Hyde Park, being lifted carefully from my carriage so that I might walk a few paces along the path, ably supported by the nobly patient John.

  As promised, Ban returned to me in March. I was sitting by the window when I saw the carriage draw up, and thought I might explode with joy. He sprang out, glancing up to give me a jaunty wave. Had I been able to, I would have run into his arms. Instead, I pulled myself up from my chair so that when he entered the drawing room he would see how much I had improved.

  He flung open the door, took one long look at me then in two strides swept me up into his arms. To be held in his embrace once again was the answer to all my hopes and dreams.

  ‘My mother and brothers between them finally paid off my debts,’ he told me later as we lay in bed together. ‘Despite their disapproval, nothing would keep me from your side.’

  We had made love unhindered by my lack of mobility, which didn’t seem to trouble Ban in the slightest. I simply gave myself up to the pleasure of having him inside me. Even my clawed fingers obeyed as I sought to stroke his beloved face and neatly cropped head. He rocked against me, lifting my useless body to him, since I could not do that for myself. Oh, but the passion we enjoyed was undiminished, possibly even enhanced by our time apart. I wanted to savour every moment, glorying in the way I felt the power of him run through me like fire.

  As we idled away the hours and days following with love-making, parts of a poem began to grow in my head, the first time in months.

  She trac’d the passions, at command,

  Each yielded to her potent hand!

  Inspir’d her glowing breast with new and fierce delight!

  But if we had hoped to keep Ban’s arrival a secret, it was a vain one. The Morning Post wrote:

  The gallant Tarleton is again on duty in Berkeley Square. He is no longer Perditus but Restoratus. His skill is as great as ever and he can go through all the evolutions from loading to firing, with the tattoo only.

  I laughed it off, determined that no double entrendre would spoil my happiness. ‘I may have some difficulty walking, but other parts of me are still in full working order.’

  ‘I would give testament to that,’ teased Ban, and proved the truth of my words all over again. ‘However, my love, I fear that I must leave you for a short time yet again. In order to mollify my family I have agreed to stand for Parliament. I’ve always expressed an interest in politics, and I must do something since my military career seems to be languishing in the doldrums.’

  I laughed. ‘Fox would welcome you, I’m sure. He has been very irritable since his coalition with North collapsed in December over the India Bill, and the king appointed twenty-four-year-old William Pitt as the new First Minister. Poor Fox has gradually lost his majority.’

  ‘Now Parliament has been dissolved.’

  ‘But Fox is determined to fight back and the dear Duchess of Devonshire is canvassing for him, as usual, happily exchanging kisses for votes. He hopes to at least be re-elected as MP for Westminster.’

  ‘I’m sure he will succeed, while I have some doubts over my own chances. My family are doing what they can, of course, buying favours in Liverpool if not with kisses then with whatever hard cash they can afford. So it is to my home town that I must now go, dearest. I hate to leave you the moment I have arrived home, but it is necessary if I am to get elected.’

  ‘Ah, but this time you will be back in my arms within weeks, not months. Don’t worry, I shall keep busy.’ I was not half so unconcerned over his absence as I made out. Even a week apart from this man I adored was one too many.

>   While Ban was away I was delighted to find that my muse returned, and I happily occupied myself writing satirical verse in order to help Fox. When my fingers tired, as they soon did, I would drive about town in my carriage wearing his colours of buff and blue, sporting a jaunty red brush in my hat. I became known as the Cyprian divinity of Berkeley Square, which made me laugh.

  But perhaps my efforts paid off as Fox did indeed retain his seat. Ban, sadly, was not elected.

  ‘I fear my decision to stand for Parliament has also put paid to my military career. The East India Company have implied they may not now allow me to accompany Cornwallis, were he ever to go to India. They consider me too political.’

  I felt a huge relief at this news while Ban buried his disappointment by spending even more time with the prince and his brothers, engaging in tennis and cricket, and less admirable activities. He was a man who excelled at sport, not just those two favourites, but boxing, riding, horse-racing and fox-hunting, more often than not with a bet or two attached.

  The summer flew by in a whirl of fun and happiness, although worryingly, our creditors continued to gather like devilish birds of prey. To my very great delight, the Duc du Lauzun came on another visit and I was able to thank him personally for his efforts on my behalf on that terrible night of my ride to Dover. To my astonishment, he and Ban made a pair of merry pranksters about town.

  ‘How is it that you have become such fast friends when you were once fighting to the death on the battlefield?’ I asked, somewhat bewildered.

  They both looked at me in surprise, and then at each other. ‘That was a job, dearest,’ Ban explained.

  ‘Indeed, our patriotic duty which need not stand in the way of friendship,’ Lauzun added.

  ‘Not when that duty has been done,’ Ban agreed.

  ‘When it comes to war and comradeship, I find men impossible to understand.’

  Ban laughed. ‘Then do not worry your pretty head over it, my love, as thankfully the war is over. Sadly, peace is presenting even greater problems, now that my income is reduced.’

  The duke was instantly sympathetic. ‘Should your creditors become too pressing, then the pair of you are most welcome to come and stay with me at any time. The warmer climate would be good for your health, Mary.’

  Such generosity of friendship brought tears of gratitude to my eyes.

  Throughout the election campaign the papers had pilloried me mercilessly, accusing me of greed and vanity, the reason for it quite beyond my comprehension. The most hurtful caricature appeared in August 1784 in Rambler’s Magazine entitled Perdita Upon her Last Legs, in which I was shown attempting to beg money from the Prince of Wales. I thought this a particularly cruel double entendre. Why would the press never leave me alone?

  And yet …

  My situation was becoming so dire that when I visited Brighton later that month, and discovered that the prince was also staying, I did, in my desperation, write him a begging letter. His response was to offer his sympathy and good wishes, but doubted it would be ‘within the compass of my means to rescue you from the abyss you apprehend that is before you …’

  I would watch his indulgences at Brighton and elsewhere, and feel a deep resentment over his refusal to help me beyond the agreed annuity, a pitifully small sum considering all I had sacrificed on his behalf.

  By January of the following year, the inevitable could be put off no longer. ‘I fear we must take up the duke’s kind offer, as I am bankrupt,’ I mourned to Ban, who held me close in a warm hug to offer what consolation he could. But then he was in no better state himself.

  I agreed that all my effects must go to auction, save for the prince’s miniature which I always keep about my person.

  ‘Is that because you still feel a lingering love for His Highness?’ teased Ban, knowing full well that was not the case. I playfully tapped that perfect nose of his.

  ‘Not at all, but one can never be sure if and when my creditors might descend upon Berkeley Square.’

  We did not linger to watch my precious belongings come under the hammer but set off for the Continent on the thirteenth of August 1784. How could I bear to stay and watch them be virtually given away? They included the Gainsborough half-portrait, which we later learned was knocked down for thirty-two guineas. Then there was a Wilton carpet, two large pier glasses in gilt frames, double-branched gilt Gerondoles, a pair of tables with marble tops, six cabriole elbow chairs in white and gold, curtains, cushions, fire screens and goodness knows what else. All the precious items that furnished my home, wherever that might be.

  Naturally the press were crowing with delight, stating that a life of wanton dissipation had reduced me to penury and poverty. Apparently my constitution and the use of my limbs were also done for, and death stared me in the face. Not a happy thought.

  Warmly wrapped in furs and my famous Perdita Hood on the Brighton to Dieppe ferry boat with the three people I loved most in all the world, my daughter Maria, Mama and Ban, I felt sad but very much alive. And as we were heading for warmer climes I fully expected that my health could only benefit. What more could I ask?

  We settled most comfortably at the Hotel de Russie in the rue de Richelieu in Paris, living quite contentedly throughout a warm and sunny autumn, enjoying walks by the Seine and in the Tuileries Gardens. But as October came in, so did the cold winds and my rheumatic gout flared up again.

  ‘We need to make a decision on where we should spend the winter, and how to secure the extra funds we need. This hotel is deliciously luxurious, but hugely expensive. We must make more sensible provision for the months ahead.’

  ‘I agree, but let us not worry too much about money until after the auction,’ Ban said by way of comfort. ‘I’m thinking of writing a history of the campaigns, and rather hoped you might help with the project?’

  ‘Oh, that is an excellent idea. You know I will do all I can to assist. I’m sure it would sell well. And I shall write more poems, which might also bring in some much-needed cash.’

  We were happily engrossed making our plans as we entered the hotel, deciding to head further south, perhaps to the Côte d’Azur, so did not notice the young man until he clapped a hand on Ban’s shoulder.

  ‘Brother, I have found you at last.’

  Ban looked startled for a moment, then clasped the man in a rough embrace. ‘John, goodness, what a surprise.’ In stark contrast to this welcome, his tone, I noticed, was bristling with suppressed anger. We had not counted on being discovered, particularly by Ban’s family. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘Looking for you, what else?’

  Ban scowled. ‘Was that necessary? How did you find us?’

  ‘It was not easy.’ His gaze shifted to sweep over me. ‘Mrs Robinson, I’m pleased to meet you at last.’

  I saw by his eyes that he found no pleasure in our meeting at all. ‘And I you,’ I murmured, politely inclining my head.

  Later, as we dined, the tension between the two brothers was palpable despite the excellent wine and food we consumed. It was quite clear by the way he pressed Ban to return home with him, that his purpose in coming here was to bring about a separation and steal his brother away from me. Ban listened to a lengthy lecture in silence then finally snapped.

  ‘At one time Mother was anxious for me to remain on the Continent, so here I am again, and where I intend to remain. We plan to spend the winter in warmer climes for the sake of Mrs Robinson’s health, and no, I will not abandon her.’

  ‘Our mother is not well. She needs you home.’

  I could see that Ban did not believe this tale, but feeling responsible for the disagreement between the brothers, I attempted to intervene. ‘Please, there is really no need for you to stay in France all winter for my sake, Ban, if your mother needs you. I could take up my own brother John’s offer and make a home with him in Leghorn, Italy. I should be perfectly fine there for the winter, only too glad to escape the calumny and persecution of life in England.’ Living with my b
rother was the last thing I wanted as it would deprive me of my independence, and I certainly had no wish to spend an entire winter without the man I loved.

  Ban clearly agreed for he cast me the kind of telling look which said that I had broken our secret pact, which I suppose in a way, I had. ‘No, dearest, you would not be fine. Has not your physician urged you to try the spa waters of Aix-la-Chapelle? As a leading health resort he considered it far more suitable for you than Italy.’

  ‘That is very true.’ I gave his brother an apologetic little smile, feeling very far from sorry inside.

  He left the following morning, although I very much doubted their mother would welcome the message he was taking to her.

  A week later we began our progress south, staying for a time in Villefranche, near Nice. The Morning Post had reported I was wintering ‘upon the scanty pittance gleaned from the remnant of her amorous treasures’. And in January my finances were such that I was indeed obliged to write first to Colonel Hotham, then to the prince to remind him to continue to send my allowance.

  I should not have made any application to Colonel Hotham, but being in want of money (on account of Lord Malden neglecting to pay his annuity these fifteen months past) – will I trust be deem’d a sufficient apology.

  I pointed out that I dare not return to England due to the danger of arrest for debt. Nevertheless, my letter was worded with affection, as our feud was over. I received no response.

  By February we had taken up Lauzun’s kind offer and were staying at his chateau in the south of France. After a short stay we moved on to Aix-la-Chapelle in Germany, where we settled most comfortably.

  Known as Aachen by the Germans it was quite a cosmopolitan little town, welcoming guests from every corner of Europe: aristocrats and princes, bishops and politicians, whoever could afford the exorbitant costs of such luxury for the sake of their health, and even those like ourselves who could not. It boasted a delightful promenade, theatre, beautiful park and many other amusements considered necessary for relaxation and mental stimulation.