‘An interesting age,’ said the King; and he had begun to make a practice of visiting their nursery. The strange thing was that he contrived to do this when the children were not there, and thus he was ensured a private tête-à-tête with their governess.
Lady Deloraine was a very pretty and very frivolous widow, whose husband Henry Scott, Earl of Deloraine, had died a few years before. She was coquettish, indiscreet, and rather silly; but her extremely feminine charms had attracted the King when, having lost Lady Suffolk, he thought it was necessary to his prestige as a man to look round and find a new mistress.
Lady Deloraine had opened her eyes very wide as he entered the nurseries, had swept a deep curtsey and been very respectful, although at the same time implying by the fluttering of her eyelashes and the little giggle with which she punctuated her speech every now and then that she was aware of the King’s motive.
George lapsed into English when he addressed her, which was a language he used rarely now. If people did not understand French or German, he often said, they must not expect to understand him. It was all part of the growing dislike of the country of which he was king.
Tell,’ he said, ‘you are von pretty voman.’
‘Your Majesty is gracious.’
He took her ear and pinched it very gently, at which she sprang back as though in dismay.
‘And were are your charges?’
‘They are walking, Your Majesty, in the gardens. If you would wish me to have them sent for ...’
‘No ... no.... You shall tell me about them. You are the governess. Ve vill sit down and you vill tell.’
So they sat side by side and the King put his arm about her. She had a good body, he thought; not too thin. He did not like them thin. He liked a good ample figure like his dear wife’s.
‘I fear I am not very learned, Your Majesty.’
‘Oh, for shame and you a governess!’
She pretended to look downcast and he patted her hand. ‘I have no respect for all this learning. Boets! Vat are they? Scribble scribble. It is all very yell for people like little Mr Pope. He has no other things to do. But I alvays felt learning was something below me. Nor for a man ... like going to var or ... making love.’
Lady Deloraine squealed with horror.
The King laughed and looked at his watch.
‘Come,’ he said, ‘ye have the time.’
So he rose and gave her his hand; and squealing with pretended horror and assuring His Majesty that she was a very virtuous woman, she allowed herself to be led into one of the bedchambers.
* * *
The Queen was very sad when her daughter departed. Lord Hervey called to find her in the long drawing room with her daughter Caroline.
‘What, Madam,’ he said, ‘drowning your sorrows in chocolate! Ah well, parting is such sweet sorrow, the poet tells us and you, having some respect for boets … er poets ... believe the truth of this.’
The Queen’s face brightened at the sight of her favourite.
‘Come here, you wicked infant,’ she said, ‘and make me laugh, because I am truly sad to think of my dear Anne going back to that creature of hers.’
‘Oh, Mamma, he is her husband.’
Lord Hervey turned his eyes to the Princess Caroline and basked for a few seconds in her adoration.
‘The Princess Caroline has the best heart in the world,’ he said.
‘I think we are all sorry for poor Anne.’
‘Which happily is more than she is for herself. The Princess Anne pities her sisters.’
‘How I wish the dear child were with me. It is so sad when one’s daughters are taken from one. I am glad I have dear Caroline.’
Caroline took her mother’s hand and kissed it. She looked forward to these meetings for three as much as the other two. She wanted to be the constant companion of the Queen and her adored Hervey; and since she knew that he being married and she a Princess, nothing could come of her devotion, she believed it was preferable that her mother share their interviews.
Lord Hervey declined the chocolate they offered him. ‘It would be too rich for my digestion, Your Majesty.’ ‘Are you still living on nothing?’
‘I cling to my diet. It is the only way of keeping me on my feet.’
‘Oh, then you certainly must. What should we do if you failed to visit us.’
‘For Your Majesty’s sake I would live on husks for the rest of my life.’
‘Does he not say charming things, Caroline?’ asked the Queen.
‘I think Lord Hervey knows,’ said the Princess gravely, ‘that he is the most charming man in the world.’
‘The best heart in the world. The most charming man in the world. What a worldly pair you are! And how much travelled to be able to make such comparisons. I would content myself by saying of the Court ... of England ... but for you it must be the world.’
This pleasant raillery was interrupted by the arrival of the King.
He scowled to see the chocolate, but he was clearly too disturbed to give it the attention he would otherwise have done.
‘Anne is back in England,’ he said.
The Queen had grown pale and risen from her chair; the Princess Caroline gave a startled exclamation and Hervey, head bowed, was alert.
‘Yes,’ said the King, speaking rapidly in French. ‘She has come back. I have had notice of this.’
‘But why ...?’ asked the Queen.
‘She had taken off and the sea was rough, so she says, and she feared for her life and that of the child, so she ordered the captain to return to England. She is at Harwich now … abed. And says she cannot stir for fear of a miscarriage.’
‘We must have her brought here ... or we must go to her,’ began the Queen; but the King interrupted angrily: ‘She talked of lying-in in England. It is what she wishes. Orange wishes her to go to Holland, of course.’
‘It is only natural that he should wish the Prince of Orange to be born in Orange, Your Majesty,’ said Hervey.
The King looked at Hervey and grunted. Then he nodded. ‘Natural,’ he said. ‘Natural, of course. She’ll have to go back.’
‘But if she is ill ...’ began the Queen; the King silenced her with a scowl.
‘She can’t lie-in here,’ said the King. ‘It wouldn’t be right and ... think of the expense! We have had enough with her marriage. She shall rest awhile and then . . . back to Holland for the birth of the baby.’
A great deal of correspondence was going on between Harwich and London.
The Princess Anne remained in her bed at Harwich and wrote to her parents that she must stay in England. She must lie-in there. It was imperative for her own safety and that of her child.
The Queen was distraught and the King growing more and more angry every day; but the Princess of Orange was using all her powers of persuasion to remain while the Prince of Orange, realizing that as a matter of honour his son should not be born in England, insisted that his wife return to Calais where he would meet her and take good care that she suffered no ill effects from the journey.
‘She must go without delay,’ said the King.
The Queen wanted to remonstrate with him but dared not. Lady Deloraine was his mistress and she was not a very important woman, but Walpole had pointed out that although she was a silly, empty-headed creature, fools were often very easy to handle by scheming men, and the fact that the King had now a more or less settled mistress would make them watchful. The Queen must not lose her hold on the King.
Therefore what could the Queen do but side with her husband, particularly as she knew from reports that Anne’s malady was largely due to a desire to stay in England, and not go back to Holland.
Poor Anne! She had her husband and her title; and soon she would have her child; that was all she needed. She did not want to have to go to a strange land and live with a monster when there were her own dear family in England. Not that Anne had ever held her family very dear. But, reasoned the Queen, familiarity was always dear, par
ticularly when it was about to be lost.
If only Anne could have stayed for the confinement she would have been happy.
‘She must go,’ thundered the King. ‘Her place is with her husband.’
The people took sides and of course were on Anne’s. She wanted to stay in England naturally enough, said the English. She did not want to go back to that deformed husband of hers. Well, who could blame her?
The lampoonists had a new theme.
‘Got dam the boets,’ said George, and took action. The Princess Anne was to return to Holland, but she was not to come to London. He was not going to have the people lining the streets and cheering her. She was to take the nearest route from Harwich to Dover.
A letter came back from the Princess with the plaintive comments that her advisers had told her that the roads between Harwich and Dover were impassable by coach at this time of the year and that if she went to Dover the only route would be by way of London.
The King was furious, but was assured by his advisers that what the Princess said was true and if she was to go to Dover she must come by way of London.
‘Well then,’ said the King, ‘she may come and go over the bridge, but she shall not lie-in in St James’s, nor shall she stay in London but just pass through.’
‘Does Your Majesty mean,’ asked the Queen, ‘that none of us are to see her?’
It is what I mean, Madam,’ he said, growing irascible. It seems ... hard....’
‘You are criticizing my conduct of this affair?’
‘Of course not.’
‘I am glad of that,’ he cried, ‘for I would have you know, Madam, that you would do better to stuff your chocolate and grow as fat as a pig though I own this is bad for you ... than interfere with what I decide shall be done.’
His face purple he strode from the apartment and the Queen, her face tinged with pink, her downcast eyes filled with tears, was silent.
And so the Princess of Orange passed over London Bridge and through London without seeing any of her family, and as the journey had been kept a secret there was none to cheer her as she passed along. At Dover she embarked in the vessel which was waiting to carry her to Calais; and there Pepin was waiting for her, looking even more hideous than she remembered him because of the sourness of his expression.
They made a somewhat sullen journey through Flanders to Holland.
* * *
In his lodgings in St James’s Lord Hervey was waiting for the arrival of his mistress.
He had not yet tired of her for she was amusing and of course her greatest charm in his eyes was her relationship to the Prince of Wales. He needed such a fillip to rouse his desire for a woman.
For I do believe, he said, studying his reflection in the mirror in his bedchamber, I have a greater preference for members of my own sex. Dear Stephen!
They were still the best of friends, but since his deeper friendship with the Queen, his platonic but extremely enjoyable flirtation with the Princess Caroline, and his intrigue with Anne Vane, he had little time for further outlets. Stephen must understand this.
Oh dear, he thought, it is a very feminine entourage at the moment!
He was looking pale. He pulled down his lids and looked at his eyes. Not as clear as they might be! Was he taking too much rich food? His figure was as elegant as ever. He would hate to be like le gros homme. What a figure! And the man’s legs were very swollen. Weighed down with all that weight doubtless. But he had his love affairs. The one with the Skerrett woman was quite notorious.
Well, each to his taste, and now my little Vane you are overdue and I long to hear the latest exploits of His Royal Highness.
He had taken to receiving her here in his own apartments because he did not care for her house when all the servants were away—and of course they must be away for her to receive him there.
A man needed a little refreshment after the exertions of love-making. A dish of tea, a little fruit, neither very harmful for the figure and so reviving!
He smiled to think of Anne opening the door of her house for him and ushering him in. What risks they ran—at least she did. If this liaison were discovered he would merely be laughed at and perhaps admired in some quarters. He could not be more disliked by the Prince of Wales than he was at present. But she, poor girl, would be ruined. If Frederick discarded her what could she hope for? Some other man perhaps to set her up? But no one, of course, could give her the standing which the Prince of Wales could. Yes, she faced ruin for the sake of receiving him. A pleasant thought, for it was gratifying to have such devoted friends.
His wife, Molly, was away on the Continent with some friends and she would be there for some months. Well, if she knew that he were entertaining the little Vane she would only shrug her shoulders and laugh. She had never expected fidelity from him. She was faithful, but not out of love for her husband; simply because love-making—marital or extra-marital—had no charm for her.
He couldn’t have made a more successful marriage.
And here was his mistress, be-cloaked and be-hatted, to hide herself so that no one would see the Prince’s mistress entering the lodgings of that scandalous fellow, Lord Hervey.
‘My dear Anne! ‘
‘My dear lord, I thought I should never get here.’ ‘Don’t tell me His Royal Highness made difficulties?’
‘He stayed longer than I believed he would, and so delayed me.’
‘He is coming back tonight?’
‘No. I have the evening free.’
‘Then let us make the most of the time at our disposal. I have had a little supper prepared before I dismissed my servants.’
‘Supper for two?’ she asked. ‘I hope so, for although you eat like a bird, I eat like an ox.’
‘I prefer the lion and the lamb because they lie down together.’
Anne laughed and said she hoped he didn’t say such things to the Queen ... or the Princess Caroline.
‘You would be surprised if you heard what I said to them.’
‘Everyone is surprised.’
They sat down at the table and he told her that his wife would not be back for several months and as there was no danger of her coming here he did not see why they should not make his lodgings their meeting place.
‘It’s comfortable ... as far as I can see,’ she said. ‘Well, let us sup.’
‘I’m ready.’
Over supper they talked of the latest development in the estrangement between the Prince and Bubb Dodington.
‘Of course, when he bought Carlton House with money borrowed from Bubb he told his dear friend that he wanted it because it was next to his house in Pall Mall and he gave Bubb a key to the door in the wall which separated their gardens. “Call any time you like, dear Bubb. Don’t stand on ceremony in the house you have bought! “ For bought it he had. Bubb will never see his money, you can be sure. In fact Fred boasts of it and laughs every time he comes into the house. But those days are over. No more free and easy for Mr Bubb! Do you know what Fred has done?’
‘I can’t wait to hear.’
‘He’s had the door bricked up. Not secretly. He had more workmen than he needed hammering away there. He didn’t want anyone to have any doubt what it was all about. Poor Mrs Behan . . . really Mrs Bubb, you know.’
‘Interesting situation,’ commented Hervey. ‘The wife parading as the mistress. Now the other way round ...’
‘Oh, there’s some other woman in it who’d get money from him if she knew he was married to someone else.’
‘So he is a romantic after all, our poor Bubb. And two women love him! ‘
‘Love his money you mean.’
‘Well, they are only following the royal example. But the Prince is not even faithful to poor Bubb’s money!’
‘Bubb has Mrs B. She’ll look after him. He’ll never face Court after this. I think she’ll make him retire to the country.’
‘The best place for him. There is a great deal to be said for the country.’
&nb
sp; ‘There are some who think that’ll soon be my lot.’
‘What’s this?’ There was real alarm in Hervey’s voice.
‘Several of my friends are pointing out to me that Fred is seen very often in the company of Lady Archibald Hamilton.’
‘That woman! She’s all of five and thirty. She’s been married for years! Imagine it! Years of lying beside a man old enough to be her father! ‘
‘But not too old to give her ten children ‘
‘And you are afraid of a mother of ten—five and thirty years old at that! ‘
‘It’s not I who am afraid. It’s my friends who are afraid for me.’
‘Hamilton,’ mused Hervey. ‘He’s so quiet I can hardly remember what he looks like. He’s a Lord of the Admiralty, I believe.’
‘That’s so. Lord Archibald Hamilton, Scottish and complacent.’
‘Would he be complaisant too?’
‘No one ever seems to have seen him put out.’
‘A born cuckold. Beware. Some men choose their mistresses for their husbands.’
‘Not my Fred. He’d never be wise enough.’
So they chatted over the meal, and when they had finished, retired to the bedroom.
They made love and as they lay talking Anne suddenly cried out in pain.
Hervey sat up in alarm. ‘What ails you?’
‘The colic,’ she said. ‘I’ve been having it more frequently lately. I’ll be all right in a moment.’
‘Lie still,’ he said, and she lay back and closed her eyes.
She looked very ill and was suddenly seized with convulsions. Hervey remembered what she had told him of these fits to which she was subject, but he had never seen her in one before. She had once said that a physician had told her that she could die during one of her fits.
‘Anne,’ cried Hervey, ‘for God’s sake ... tell me what I can get you?’
She did not answer and he stood by the bed in dismay, looking down at her writhing body.
She is going to die, he thought. Here in my bed she is going to die. What can I do? The Prince’s mistress found dead in my bed! This will be the end of everything. Even the Queen and the Princess Caroline could not get me out of this trouble.
Caroline the Queen Page 29