I write to you, my Dr Br, terrified out of my sences. I have [been] in a dreadful state of agitation ever since I saw you, and now I must tell you and Mrs F. too that I never thought this wd take place, and therefore acquiesced, but it is indeed madness in both. I have not wrote to her to tell her so and will not if you will delay it and consult Charles Fox—For God’s sake do. . . . I cannot be present for it is not a marriage, and I cannot be by what I do not think one. It is not shabbyness of fear for myself, but what I fear for her and you. I always shall certainly shew her every mark of regard, but I cannot be by what I do not think a marriage. Indeed it is not. You observed something was the matter with me and indeed I have been quite wild with horror of it ever since. I never thought it could come to this—Pray see Charles Fox tomorrow or let me write to him. Let me beg you over and over to consult C.F., see him tomorrow.50
The letter had no effect except to make Mrs. Fitzherbert her lifelong enemy and to cool her relations with the Prince for a while. He did write to Fox but only to lie to him: “Make yourself easy, my dear friend; believe me the world will now soon be convinced that there not only is, but never was, any ground for these reports which of late have so malevolently been circulated.”51 A few days later the couple were married at Mrs. Fitzherbert’s house with her uncle and brother as witnesses, leaving immediately for a short honeymoon at a house near Richmond. When they returned, the whole of London was buzzing with rumours about their marriage. Fox’s naive trust in his friend led him to stand up in Parliament and categorically refute the allegations about the Prince. Mrs. Fitzherbert took the speech as a personal insult and never forgave him; for as long as she had influence over the Prince she tried to prevent the two men from seeing each other. Fox’s feelings were equally vehement when he learned of Prinny’s deception, and the friendship never returned to its old footing.
The dilemma was particularly acute for Georgiana who, like most people, was fairly certain the marriage had taken place. The Prince stayed away from Devonshire House, but he wrote to the Devonshires, inviting them to visit Mrs. Fitzherbert, adding that he was not asking them to visit “an improper person.” Georgiana understood the Prince’s anxiety, for where she led the rest of society would follow. The Spencer and Cavendish clans opposed any action which would bestow legitimacy on the union, so she had little choice but to snub them or leave London for the foreseeable future (her mother’s preferred option). She steered a middle course between keeping Mrs. Fitzherbert at bay and not excluding her from Devonshire House society. “I never will go to the Opera with her,” Georgiana declared, “I never did and never will, and she knows it. . . . I search into nothing and only wish to keep entirely out of it.”*52
Georgiana was saved from further embarrassment by the Prince’s debts. They had doubled since 1783 and even his cronies had lost patience with him. The King was not prepared to help without receiving certain concessions in return, including, not unreasonably under the circumstances, the Prince’s renunciation of the Whigs. Instead, Prinny decided on one of his dramatic gestures: he shut up Carlton House, sold his horses and carriages, dismissed the servants, and rented a little villa in Brighton. On July 15 he left London in a public coach, travelling as an outside passenger on the Brighton Dilly, much to the amazement of the other passengers. Mrs. Fitzherbert followed a short time later, and the two of them lived quietly like an ordinary couple for almost a year.53 His departure was a great relief to the Devonshires, who decided that Southampton offered a more attractive summer retreat than Brighton that year.
Two weeks later the press wrongly reported there had been a second elopement in the Spencer family. The first, which had taken place just a few months before, had involved Georgiana’s cousin Mrs. Georgiana Fawkener, known as “Jockey,” who had run off with Lord John Townshend.* Although no names were mentioned everyone knew that the latest gossip referred to Harriet and Charles Wyndham, one of the Prince’s drinking companions. They had taken so few pains to hide the affair that even Lady Mary Coke noticed something between them. In January 1785 she had written to her sister, “I am sorry to say Lady Duncannon and Charles Wyndham seem to be too good friends.”54 When the erroneous reports of an elopement appeared the faithful Lady Melbourne did her best to contradict them even before she received confirmation from Georgiana: “I was assured yesterday that Lady Duncannon was gone off, surely it cannot be true, do write me word that I may contradict it. . . . I am sure that nobody can have been in Town for these past Ten days without meeting him at every place and in every street which makes me so vastly surprised at people believing it.”55
No one felt sorry for Lord Duncannon. In 1782 the Duchess of Portland had commented sympathetically that Harriet “leads a melancholy life, at home always, and literally alone.”56 “Lady Duncannon has a good heart but a sad head,” opined Mrs. Damer, “quite unfit for all the dangers the circumstances of her life have exposed her to, wanting a protector, instead of which she has fallen to the share of a peevish little mortal who teazes without correcting her.”57 Duncannon subjected her to long periods of neglect punctuated by episodes of anger and abuse. Lady Spencer suspected him of drinking and of gambling at a faster rate than they could afford, but her preoccupation with her two daughters’ faults meant that she rarely criticized either son-in-law.
George had found out that Harriet was contemplating something rash and immediately alerted Lady Spencer. The two of them surprised Harriet and carried her off to St. Albans before Duncannon discovered anything. Less in love and less robust than her cousin, Harriet crumpled very quickly and agreed to give Wyndham up. Lady Spencer was not in a forgiving mood: Harriet was never to speak to him again. The Devonshires, who until then had stood by helplessly, intervened at this point. “Harriet has agreed a change must take place . . . and is anxious to do everything you wish,” Georgiana wrote to George, but she and the Duke both thought it would look odd for her to cut him “and would certainly make it be supposed that something had pass’d which had required our exertions. . . . as Lord Duncannon don’t know, it might be informing him of it in a very unpleasant way.”58
The Spencers allowed Harriet to return to London, having extracted a promise from the Devonshires to keep her under supervision. George was not entirely unsympathetic, but he was more concerned about the family’s reputation:
Last night I went to Devonshire House and supped en trio with them very comfortably; Harriet has scarcely been out since she left you and I understand from the Duchess is determined to act perfectly as you with her. Her sweet husband never comes home till 8, 9, 10, or 11 o’clock in the morning, and that is really poor encouragement for living at home. They were at the play last night as I understand with your leave, and their box was filled with other people. C.W. was not there I believe. I think the matter will be right, but when it is ended, her situation still continues a most dangerous one and requires the strictest attention on her own part as well as ours.59
Fortunately for Harriet the return of Bess distracted the Spencer family’s attention. “I really look upon her in every light as the most dangerous devil,” Lavinia told George.60 The Spencers had come across her while on holiday in Naples, during Christmas 1785. They found a different situation from the brilliant social life Bess described in her letters. “She is not very well liked by the Italians on account of her want of facility in speaking their language, and her wearing perfume which is here an unpardonalbe offence,” wrote George to Lady Spencer. “She lives almost entirely with the French Ambassadress, and does not seem to be much attached to her sister-in-law. . . . a great many things I have heard, many of which are certainly not true but some must be, I don’t know what to make of her.”61 In her letters home Bess made a joke of Lavinia’s rudeness: “Lady S seemed to raise herself three feet in order to look down with contempt on me. . . . The Ambassadress happen’d to be with me; Lady S., tho’ she had never seen her before, address’d all her conversation to her, [and] almost turned her back to poor me.”62 The Spencers’ ag
gressive dislike made Bess, who was already frightened about her future, seriously consider whether or not to remain abroad.
The Duke naturally understood her reluctance to return much better than Georgiana and tried to reassure her by insisting there were few, if any, rumours about the two of them. The longer she stayed away the more Bess resented Georgiana for her good fortune: her children, her rank, her popularity and, above all, her possession of the Duke. Bess’s greatest desire was to be a society hostess—like Georgiana. She knew that a respectable woman would not sleep with her best friend’s husband or with any man who happened to pay her court. She blamed her promiscuity on the fact that Georgiana had the things she most wanted, or, as she delicately described it, “had I been his, or could I live near him,” she would not need “to give way to the pernicious desire of attaching people to me.”63
In June, just before she set out for England, Bess tried to explain herself to Georgiana without admitting to the betrayal: “All my possible hopes of friendship are connected in you. Without you the World is nothing to me.
If you could forsake me, I would not bear to live, or living should never think of any other creature.”64 The Duke had not written to her since March, and she was terrified that he was losing interest in her and his daughter. Instead of going straight to Calais, she made a detour to Aix-en-Provence, where she stayed with the elderly Comte St. Jules. There is no record of how they knew each other or of what passed between them, but when she left he agreed to accept paternity of little Caroline, who became Caroline Rosalie St. Jules, illegitimate daughter of a French count and an unknown mother. Bess found a surrogate family for her daughter, and set sail for Southampton at the end of July. According to her diary, the Duke travelled to meet her: “I fear I was glad. I arrive—he had dined out but left a note; he came; Oh, heavens, such moments do indeed efface past sorrows!” There is no mention of Georgiana except possibly in the bleak aside “it was happiness mixed with fear and agitation.”65
As is so often the case in Bess’s diary, her version of events—in which she is always the centre of attention—was more fantasy than truth. The Duke was not alone at Southampton. The Duncannons, Spencers, and Devonshires, accompanied by all their children, were holidaying there when Bess landed. Furthermore the Duke was extremely ill with gout and could only move with difficulty on crutches. Half of London society had joined them, causing the Morning Post to comment: “Fashion and taste have fixed their headquarters at this place, for the Season.”66 Bess was happy for the first few days; everyone was kind to her—even Lady Melbourne, who, like all Georgiana’s friends, had previously resented the way Bess tried to exclude them.67
After spending a decent interval with her mother, Bess set off to join the Devonshires at Chatsworth. As the Duke’s health returned the guests felt easier about enjoying the entertainments Georgiana had arranged for their amusement. That summer Count Joseph Mazzinghi, the director of music at the Italian Opera, was the star attraction. He arrived to great excitement, and lived up to expectations by performing with his troupe almost every night. Georgiana frequently accompanied the entourage on her harp and made such an impression that the news reached London. The Morning Post, which had declared a temporary ceasefire, reported: “The Duchess of Devonshire’s improvement on the harp, leaves very few, out of the profession, who are able to dispute the palm of excellence on that instrument. Mazzinghi has done much, but her Grace’s genius more, towards completing this superior accomplishment.”68
Bess had not expected to find Lady Spencer at Chatsworth and she had difficulty in hiding her disappointment. There was no repeat of the flirtatious behaviour she had shown with the other guests in 1784. She did not attempt anything in front of Lady Spencer and, when Georgiana’s mother was not around, James Hare and Sheridan would tease her if she seemed too attentive to the Duke. Georgiana had other things on her mind: she had received a blackmail letter from Martindale just before Bess’s arrival. She had resumed gambling with him during the spring because she owed money to all the other faro dealers and in a short time he had cheated her into a debt of almost £100,000.* Georgiana desperately wanted to confide in Bess and could not understand why she avoided being alone with her.
The Duke of Dorset arrived on September 14, 1786, and took in the situation immediately. He had never been in love with Bess and it didn’t bother him to see her flirting with the Duke of Devonshire. On the other hand, he had always admired Georgiana. He wooed and flattered her, and before long everyone knew there was an understanding between them. Lady Spencer was so distressed by what she saw that she took the unusual step—given her mistrust of servants—of informing George in a letter. “The Duke of Dorset and Lord Thanet came yesterday, the latter is a modest well-behaved young man—the former, I think, makes a little diversion—I hope you understand me.”
“I am far from happy here,” Lady Spencer told George, but she felt she had to stay.69 After Dorset returned to London Georgiana began to suffer mysterious spasms which twisted her entire body. Lady Spencer suspected that some hidden mental anguish was behind them, but she could not make her daughter confide in her. Each attack left Georgiana exhausted, and she would remain in her room for the rest of the day. With the appearance of great sorrow, Bess assumed her friend’s role in her absence, giving orders to the servants and making it clear to everyone that she was in charge. Lady Spencer could not bear to watch her preening and joined Georgiana in isolation. “I dine every day with your sister in her room,” she told George on October 12. “She comes out in the evening—she has had no return of her spasms lately but her nerves and spirits are very weak.”70 When she revealed Bess’s behaviour downstairs Georgiana refused to believe her.
Lady Spencer left as soon as she could be sure there would be no more spasms. “I am wretched to feel that time here has been embittered by unpleasant events and anxieties,” Georgiana wrote to her afterwards. She promised “to get some resolution to take place about our affairs. . . . you do not know how I do love you—I have often feared trusting to open all my thoughts to you.”71 A week later, when the house was empty, Georgiana made a partial confession to the Duke about Martindale. Without hesitation, the Duke demanded a separation. Georgiana was devastated; she turned to Bess for support and found her friend unwilling to talk to her. In her diary Bess hardly mentions the incident except to praise the Duke’s reaction when Georgiana confessed the debt: “how nobly, kindly, touchingly did he behave.”72 She was far more concerned about her jealousy and quarrelsomeness, which the Duke nevertheless forgave. “Every day,” she wrote, while the Duke and Heaton discussed how to effect the separation, “my tenderness for him increased, and so, I think, did his confidence and affection for me. We wish for Caroline but know not what to do.”73 Heaton argued that there would have to be drastic cuts in the Cavendish expenditure to pay off the debts: houses would have to be sold, servants dismissed, and on no account was Georgiana to be allowed near London.
George rushed to his sister’s defence as soon as he heard of the Duke’s plans. The idea that the Duke and Bess might shut Georgiana away in a hunting lodge revolted him. Bravely withstanding Lavinia’s annoyance, he invited Georgiana to take the children and live with him at Althorp. The Duke, he added, would be welcome to visit whenever he liked; there was no mention of Bess. When she first heard of the proposed separation Lady Spencer complained at length about her misfortune: “It is a real consolation to me,” she told Harriet, “in all the misery I have lately gone through that your Dear Father has not shared my sufferings.”74 However, George’s offer to Georgiana revived her, and she insisted that if her daughter was to stay with anyone it should be with her. The normally placid George lost his temper:
The proposal I made to my sister was made entirely under the idea that there were none of the Duke’s houses that would be so convenient for her to be at as this . . . and not under any idea of being in competition with you for having her with me, as I should hope in case she were to accept it that you
would very frequently come too and we might live en famille very comfortably and much in the style of the French country houses where the different parts of the family all live together.75
In any case, he suspected that “there is a reason which will be equally an obstacle to her living with you or with us.” The Duke did not have any grounds for a divorce, and if he wanted an heir it would still have to come from Georgiana. For this reason he wanted to have her within easy reach. Georgiana knew that the relationship between the Duke and Bess was such that, if he could not bring her with him when he came to visit, he would never come at all, and there would be no chance of a reconciliation: “which is what of all things your sister dreads,” Lady Spencer told George.76 (On the other hand, if Georgiana was publicly separated from the Duke Bess would not be able to stay at Devonshire House without scandal, nor would the Devonshire House Circle tolerate her usurpation of Georgiana’s role at Chatsworth.) Lady Spencer thought that Georgiana ought to live at Londesborough, the third of the Duke’s houses, which was at least fitting for her rank. There was “no time to be lost in recommending it,” she wrote, “lest the Chief Councellor [Bess] should have settled any other plan.”77 At Chatsworth she could possibly help husband and wife to come to a sensible resolution but “alas, what can I do as the fourth in such a party, where two out of the three at least should think me de trop. If she was removed, I should really think all that has passed was not only retrievable but fortunate for all parties.”78
Discussions dragged on through November and into December. “I feel an uncertainty that kills me,” confessed Georgiana.79 George complained of the “enormous obstacles” that stood in the way: either Georgiana objected to some aspect of the arrangement, or the Duke did or, as was more often the case, Bess. But as time went by the Duke seemed to lose interest and he mentioned the separation less and less. Throughout the ordeal Georgiana felt so ashamed of herself that she hardly noticed her friend’s sudden quietness. Bess, who had claimed in June that their hearts were formed for each other, made no offer to follow her wherever she went: if Georgiana were to go in adversity, she would have to go alone. But to Bess’s astonishment, Georgiana never reproached her.
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