Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  On the way from Brighton to Windsor the Prince of Wales was thinking of the prospect before him. If rumour could be believed his father was very ill indeed, in fact near to death; and this meant of course that the Prince of Wales could shortly become the King of England.

  It was a dazzling prospect; and yet the Prince felt uneasy. He wished that he could have shown more affection towards his father. Now that the poor old fellow was so ill he felt remorseful. All the same it was an exciting prospect. He had already spoken of it to Burke and Sheridan and with such close friends and allies there was no need for hypocrisy. They were delighted by the thought of a new reign; and in his heart so was the Prince.

  ‘Your Highness will want to send for Fox,’ suggested Burke.

  Sheridan agreed that Fox would be needed; and the Prince fell in with their suggestion, although a trifle uneasily. Maria’s dislike of Fox and the fact that he had been unfairly blamed for the denial of the marriage was disturbing, but he realized that in such a crisis they needed Fox.

  ‘I’ve no idea where he might be,’ went on Burke.’ Somewhere in Italy, I believe. But I think Your Highness will agree that no time should be lost as it may be some weeks before we can find him.’

  The Prince had agreed and the search for Fox was begun.

  Oh, yes, indeed, it was a brilliant prospect. Fox would be the leader of the Whig Party, with the support of the Prince who would have become King. Although Fox had announced himself to be disgusted with English politics, although he had declared that he wished to hear nothing of what was going on at home in Parliament, although he wanted to receive no newspapers, no letters – this would bring him home.

  The Prince arrived at Windsor and went immediately to the Queen.

  He kissed her hand and looking into her face was immediately aware of the change in her. She was very anxious, certainly; but she was no longer the meek woman he had hitherto known; there was something almost militant about her.

  ‘It is well,’ she said, ‘that you should be here.’

  ‘I must see the doctors at once,’ said the Prince. ‘I shall want a detailed account from them.’

  He imagines himself King already, thought the Queen. But it has not yet come to that.

  ‘Pray do not allow the King to guess that you have come with such speed because you are waiting to take the throne.’

  ‘Madam,’ said the Prince coldly, ‘I assure you good manners would prevent me from acting in such a manner.’

  ‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘You will be shocked when you see him. His appearance has changed considerably. His voice has changed. He talks constantly … talks and talks until his voice is hoarse and in fact fails him altogether. The veins stand out at his temples and his eyes look like black-currant jelly.’

  The Prince said sharply: ‘What is his malady? There seems to be a great deal of mystery about it. Who is attending him?’

  ‘Sir George Baker, who has always attended the King.’

  ‘He’s an old fool. The King himself once said he was an old woman.’

  ‘He is reliable.’

  ‘I will send a doctor of my own choosing to see him.’

  Oh, yes, thought the Queen. He sees himself as the master of us all already. But it shall not be. He shall not ignore me.

  What had come over her? This was her beloved son.

  The Prince sought out his brother Frederick who had also arrived at Windsor.

  ‘You have seen him,’ said the Prince of Wales to Frederick. ‘What is your opinion?’

  ‘That he’s very ill indeed. You should be at hand, George. He behaves so oddly. Of course our mother has been trying to hide this but she can’t do it much longer.’

  ‘She seemed like a different woman. I have never seen her like this before.’

  ‘She’s given up having children. Perhaps that accounts for it. She does not approve of your way of life, George.’

  ‘Nor do I approve of hers.’

  Frederick laughed. ‘There may be conflicts in the family. Although I suppose we should not be surprised at that. It’s the family tradition.’

  ‘Fred.’

  ‘Yes, George.’

  ‘Whatever happens, I shall be able to rely on you?’

  ‘To the death,’ said Frederick.

  The brothers clasped hands.

  ‘By God,’ said the Prince, ‘I’m glad you came back from Germany in time.’

  While the family dined together, Frederick was watching his father and elder brother very closely. The King did not address the Prince of Wales, in fact he had given no indication that he was aware of his being present, but he was disturbed and Frederick believed that this was due to the presence of the Prince.

  The Princesses Charlotte, Augusta and Elizabeth were silent. Visits from their brother had always been exciting, but they knew why George was here this time and it was a frightening thought.

  The King had started to talk and the subject of his discourse was so involved that none of the family could understand what it was all about. On and on he went, occasionally shooting out an eh, what?

  The Queen sat clenching and unclenching her hands, feeling that at any moment she would cry out that she could endure no more. The Princesses’ eyes were on their mother expecting she would give the command to leave the table. The Prince of Wales was watching his father incredulously and thinking: He’s not physically ill. He’s mad!

  The King glared at his son. ‘Eh?’ he whispered, for he had almost lost his voice. ‘Eh, what?’

  The Prince said: ‘I cannot hear what Your Majesty says. You are whispering. If you will speak a little louder …’

  The King stood up suddenly. There was a terrified silence as he walked to that chair on which the Prince of Wales was sitting.

  The Prince was rising when the King seized him about the neck.

  ‘Puppy! Insolent dog! You would tell the King of England that he should speak out … would you? By God, I’ll kill you. I will … I will … I will …’

  The Prince tried to drag the King’s hands from his throat. Frederick sprang up and there was a scuffle which was joined by the equerries. The Prince of Wales fell back against the wall and stared at the King whose eyes were dark with rage.

  The Queen put her hand over her mouth to prevent herself screaming; the Prince was weeping and Colonel Digby asked if it were His Majesty’s wish that he should conduct him to his apartment.

  The King looked puzzled, but after a little persuasion allowed himself to be led away.

  Never had there been such a scene in the royal dining room. The Princess Charlotte ran to get Hungary water to bathe her brother’s forehead and so revive him. In her own apartments the Queen could no longer restrain her fears; she threw herself on to her bed and gave way to violent laughter and tears.

  The truth could no longer be hidden.

  The King was mad.

  The Regency Bill

  THE PRINCE RODE out to Bagshot from Windsor where, in the parlour of a hostelry, he found Sheridan and Maria waiting for him.

  He embraced Maria warmly and Sheridan almost equally so.

  ‘This is going to be a very big change in our fortunes,’ he said, looking earnestly at Maria.

  ‘My only hope is that all will go well with you,’ she answered.

  ‘A Duchess first,’ he whispered, ‘and then, by God, you shall be acknowledged Princess of Wales.’

  ‘You think too far ahead, my love,’ said Maria gently; but she was pleased. He knew that the dearest wish of her life was not for fine titles and riches but to be acknowledged as his wife – though of course that acknowledgement could only mean that she had a right to the second highest title a woman could attain.

  Sheridan said: ‘We must act with care at this stage, Your Highness. It is to discuss our moves that I thought we three should meet.’

  They sat down and talked.

  Fox must come back as soon as possible, said Sheridan.

  The Prince looked anxiously at Maria wh
o was naturally not at all pleased at the thought of the return of the man who had, she had said, treated her as though she were a street walker, but she knew of his brilliance; she knew he was the natural leader of the Whigs and she knew too how important the Whigs were to the Prince. Yes, she reluctantly agreed, Fox must be brought back.

  Both Sheridan and the Prince were relieved. But one could trust Maria’s good sense and her greatest concern really was for her husband’s well-being even if this should be brought about at her own discomfiture.

  ‘So we will pursue the hunt for Fox without delay,’ said Sheridan, not mentioning to Maria that the hunt had already been in progress for days and that he – and the Prince – were disturbed because the statesman seemed difficult to find. He had been traced to Geneva but had left a week or so before the messenger arrived and none there knew of his next destination.

  Sheridan, whose ambition was great, realized that the task before him was one for a practised politician; he was scarcely that, and to take a false step at such an important stage could ruin his political future. He loved the excitement of politics; he was deeply in debt all round, partly because he neglected the business of earning a living in the theatre for the sake of the excitement politics offered – and he was a drinker, a gambler and spendthrift. So he dared not take a wrong step; he needed Fox.

  ‘There are two alternatives,’ he said. ‘Your Highness could in a few weeks’ time be King of England …’

  ‘The King seemed strong enough when he seized me,’ replied the Prince. ‘I don’t think the trouble is his physical health.’

  Sheridan replied: ‘If the King were mad and still continued to live, there would be a Regency.’

  ‘A Regent should have the power of a king,’ said the Prince.

  ‘It would depend, Your Highness, on what power the Parliament gave him. Your Highness should not forget that we shall have Mr Pitt to deal with.’

  The Prince’s eyes narrowed. Mr Pitt, the enemy! The man who had forced the denial of the marriage out of Fox!

  ‘We can be sure,’ he said grimly, ‘that Mr Pitt will do his utmost to deny me my rights.’

  Sheridan nodded. ‘That,’ he said, ‘is why we need Charles James Fox who, while he will serve Your Highness with all his power, will be mightily diverted to discountenance Mr Pitt.’

  Oh yes, even Maria had to agree that they needed Mr Fox.

  In an easy chair in his lodgings in the town of Bologna Mr Fox stretched himself with ease. In a few moments Lizzie would come in with a dish of tea to revive him after his afternoon’s nap. It was a pleasure to watch Lizzie move across the room. What a graceful creature she was! Italy suited her; and so did this wandering existence. She was never ruffled, and such an intelligent companion. Lizzie had all the qualities he looked for in a woman. Now if he had known Lizzie when he was a young man, and if at that time he had had the wisdom to recognize her qualities, he would never have led the life he had. But then it was due to his adventures with so many members of her sex that he was able to appreciate her. Perhaps, he thought, he would marry her one day. Why not?

  This was the life. Politics? Well, yes, he had to admit that his greatest ambition had been to be Prime Minister; but that affair of the marriage and the Prince’s deception had made him want to turn his back on Westminster. And so here he was in Italy – and what treasures of art, architecture and music he, and Lizzie with him, had discovered there! He believed this period of travel might well be the happiest of his life.

  Where should they go from here? When Lizzie came in with the tea they would discuss the next move.

  He yawned pleasurably and here was Lizzie although it was not quite time and she was holding letters in her hand.

  Letters? he thought. But he had left no address in England, his sole purpose being to get away. He had not even wanted to know what was happening there so he had asked that no news sheets or papers should be sent to him. So what could Lizzie be doing with letters?

  She was as unhurried as usual as she said to him: ‘They have tracked you down.’

  ‘London?’ he said.

  She gave him two letters. ‘There is a messenger outside. He has been chasing all over Europe looking for you, he tells me. He has lately come from Geneva and somehow traced you to this place.’

  ‘Good God!’ cried Fox. ‘What can this mean?’

  He was opening one of the letters. ‘Burke,’ he said. He read it through and handed it to her. The other letter was from Sheridan.

  There was a brief silence and then he said: ‘The King is ill … seriously ill. So our young Prince will soon be King. You know what this is going to mean for the Whigs.’

  ‘That Mr Fox will lead them to power?’

  He was grinning at her.

  ‘But Mr Fox said only yesterday that he was done with politics.’

  ‘Mr Fox, Madam, can now and then talk nonsense.’

  ‘So I thought at the time,’ said Lizzie. ‘When do you wish to leave?’

  ‘I shall answer these letters to tell them I am returning with all speed, then go, while you make the necessary preparations to follow me to London as soon as possible. There must be nothing to detain me.’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ said Lizzie, and left him.

  The messenger departed with all speed and shortly afterwards Fox set out on his journey, leaving Lizzie to settle their affairs and follow. He was travelling through France when the news reached him that the King was mad.

  This, he thought, will mean a Regency.

  His eyes were already sparkling with the light of battle. He must press on with all speed. Lizzie would have been concerned for his health had she been here, for he was too impatient to be back to pause long enough to rest adequately. He arrived in London on November 24th, which meant that the journey had taken only nine days. Remarkable speed – but when Lizzie arrived she would see the effect it had had on him. But that was nothing. Once let him get to the House and he would show Pitt that he could not have all his own way while Fox was there to prevent him.

  Mr Pitt travelled down to Windsor. The Prince, who had returned from Bagshot, declined to see him, and Mr Pitt therefore asked for an audience with the Queen.

  Charlotte received him gratefully. It was the first time she had been included in any State matter and she was appreciative of Mr Pitt’s obvious respect for her.

  He asked her questions about the King’s condition and she answered as frankly as she could, for there was no possibility now of hiding the fact that the King was mad.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ said Mr Pitt, ‘the possibilities are that Parliament will decide that a Regency is necessary and the Prince of Wales will expect to be the Regent.’

  ‘That, Mr Pitt,’ said the Queen firmly, ‘is scarcely a state of affairs which would please me …’ She amended that immediately to, ‘which would please us.’

  Mr Pitt admitted this. ‘I doubt that I should remain long in office.’

  ‘And it is essential that you should, Mr Pitt.’

  The Prime Minister bowed his head. It was an acknowledgement that he and the Queen were allies and he decided to take the Queen into his confidence. ‘If His Highness should attain the Regency,’ he said, ‘it will be necessary to restrict his power wherever possible.’

  The Queen agreed that this was so.

  ‘I had been thinking of a joint Regency … with perhaps Your Majesty as one of its members.’

  The Queen’s sallow face flushed a little. This was triumph such as she had never dreamed of. But she was not a fool. She did not believe for one moment that she would be allowed by Mr Pitt or the Prince of Wales to exert her power over Parliament. But there was one way in which she could have perhaps as much influence as any; that was if she had the care of the King. Suppose this bout was like that other – as temporary as that. Why not! It was not impossible.

  ‘I believe, Mr Pitt,’ she said, ‘that it is better for me to take no part in politics but to devote myself to His Majesty. If I were his sol
e guardian for as long as this unhappy malady continues, I believe I could be of the greatest service.’

  Mr Pitt was pleased. The Queen was a woman of sound good sense. They could indeed be allies.

  The Queen was frightened. She was never quite sure what the King would do. He terrified her because he called for her constantly. She had moved into a bedroom which was next to his and he seemed to have an obsession that his enemies were trying to separate him from her. All night long she would hear his rambling conversations, shouting at first, and then as his voice began to fail him growing hoarser and hoarser until just a vague whispering came from the other side of the wall. She would not forget that dreadful night when he had attempted to murder the Prince of Wales. He had always been a kindly man but there had been murder in his face that night, and after witnessing that violent scene she could no longer feel safe. What if he were to turn against her? That very night he had escaped from his equerries and come into the room she occupied and, holding a lighted candle in his hand, had drawn the bed curtains and stood there looking down at her. She had feared that he had come to set the curtains alight as he cried: ‘Yes, you are still here. I see you are still here. I thought the Queen would be here. I know she would not desert me.’ And then seeing the frightened face of Miss Goldsworthy who had come hurrying in from the adjoining chamber: ‘Ah, my honest Gooley, you will take care of the Queen.’ And he had taken Gooley’s arm and paced up and down the room talking, talking, talking, until she had thought he would drive her mad too. It had seemed so frighteningly long before they took him away.

  Now his illness was accepted and the Prince was trying to take over his father’s authority.

  She could not understand her emotions. She hated the Prince. It was incredible. This was her son, the boy whom she had loved more than all the rest of the children put together. What had come over her?

  It was because I longed for his love, she told herself, and all he has done is to despise me.

  But she would not allow herself to think such a thing. She was against him because he wished to usurp his father’s power.

  Miss Burney came in and, standing before her, burst into tears. The Queen stared at this unusual maid of honour, and suddenly they were crying together.