‘Prepare myself. I have had so long to think about it that I am fully prepared.’
Yes, he was insolent. He was more so during his father’s absences because he so resented his mother’s being Regent when he believed he should be.
‘I am referring to the mistress you keep ... rather ostentatiously.’
‘You mean Miss Vane?’
‘My God, don’t tell me there are others to whom I might refer.’
‘There is only Miss Vane.’
‘Well, you must make it known that you are no longer interested in her. She should cease to become your mistress. It will be most unfair to the Princess Augusta if she arrives to find that you are prominently displaying a mistress.’
‘It seems to be a common thing prominently to display one’s mistress ... even though married.’
He was referring to the Walmoden scandal. How did these matters become common knowledge, however much one tried to keep them secret? Officials whispering to their wives? Wives whispering it to servants ...?
‘Nevertheless,’ said the Queen, ‘as a compliment to a new wife you should not be keeping a mistress ... openly. So. I beg of you, dismiss Miss Vane.’
Frederick nodded slowly and said it would be his first duty.
Caroline was surprised at his docility. It could only mean one thing. He was tired of Anne Vane.
* * *
On his way from the Queen’s apartments the Prince met, as if by accident, Lady Archibald Hamilton. She had heard rumours that the Prince was to have a bride and wanted to discover whether or not they were true.
He quickly assured her that it was so, and that his mother had sent for him to tell him that he must rid himself of Anne Vane.
‘That is quite true,’ said Lady Archibald. ‘That affair has been a disgrace because everyone has known that she wasn’t true to you.’
The Prince flinched. Like his father he hated references to the possibility of his having been duped. Lady Archibald hurried on : ‘Oh, she is a clever one. At least there were many others before ...’
‘Ah, before,’ agreed the Prince. ‘Well, I shall say my last farewell to her now.’
Lady Archibald said that with a woman like Anne Vane there would always be rumours; she did not think the Prince would be really safe while Anne was in the country. She ought to go abroad for a few years and then everything would be so discreet.
The Prince smiled at his mistress. Everything was so discreet between them. He didn’t think that Lord Archibald had the remotest idea that his wife and the Prince were lovers. He always welcomed the Prince so warmly to his house; and although certain wags had commented that the Prince’s nose seemed inseparable from Lady Archibald Hamilton’s ear that was about the extent of the gossip, for owing to Lady Archibald’s discretion no one had been able to prove that the affair had gone farther than nose and ear.
Well, this was the opportunity to be rid of a mistress of whom he had grown tired.
* * *
So quickly did the Prince act that Anne Vane had not heard the rumours and she was surprised when Lord Baltimore, whom the Prince had chosen as his envoy, called upon her at the house she had acquired in Grosvenor Street.
Anne thought he was a new admirer and prepared to receive him coquettishly when he quickly disillusioned her.
‘I come from the Prince of Wales,’ he told her.
‘For what reason?’ she asked quickly.
‘He has decided that you and he must end your friendship because His Highness is shortly to be married.’
‘I see. Why does he not come and tell me this himself?’
Lord Baltimore ignored the question. ‘His Highness is of the opinion that to avoid scandal you should leave the country for a while. He suggests that you settle in France or Holland for two or three years. Then you would be free to return.’
‘France! ‘ echoed Anne. ‘Holland! ‘
‘Precisely. Or if you do not fancy France or Holland you will be free to choose any place ... as long as it is out of England.’
‘I’ll see him in hell first! ‘ cried Anne.
Lord Baltimore looked astonished and Anne hurried on. ‘You can get out. You can tell him that anything he has to say to me he can say himself . . . You can tell him ...’
Lord Baltimore held up a hand. ‘You have not heard all,’ he told her. ‘His Highness will continue to give you £1,600 for life if you obey. If you do not, you will not receive one penny.’
‘And ... his son?’
‘The Prince will take care of his education here in England.’
‘So I am to be separated from my son?’
‘Those are the Prince’s terms. It is for you to accept or reject them. But pray consider what rejection would mean. All those who have been your friends when you enjoyed the Prince’s favour would perhaps change their feelings towards you when you were poor and of no consequence . . which you will most certainly be if you fail to agree to His Highness’s conditions.’
She did not speak. In a few moments her life was collapsing about her. She knew that the Prince was fickle; she would not have been surprised to hear of his unfaithfulness, but that he should send another man to tell her he was giving her up hurt her pride and robbed her of her dignity.
She controlled herself sufficiently to say that she could not reply to the Prince yet. She would think of what Lord Baltimore had said: and Lord Baltimore hurriedly took his leave.
As soon as he had gone Anne sent a message to Lord Hervey. She must see him without delay.
* * *
As soon as Lord Hervey reached the house in Grosvenor Street Anne threw her arms about him and told him what had happened.
He listened carefully, weighing up how best he could embarrass the Prince.
‘It is not that I care for that young fool,’ said Anne. ‘His protection was worth having ... nothing else. I’ll be glad to be rid of him, but if I go out of England how am I going to see you?’
Hervey considered this. He enjoyed their meetings, though when she was no longer the Prince’s mistress she would not be able to give him the accounts of that young man’s follies; all the same he was by no means tired of her.
He told her that he did not see why she should be banished from England. She must write to the Prince and tell him that she refused to go.
‘I write! But you know I am useless with a pen.’ A mischievous look had come into her eyes. ‘Not like you, my lord. A pen in your hand is a sword ... or whatever you want it to be.’
It was true. Hervey could scorn, wheedle, plead, and make love with words.
He sat down and wrote a letter in the name of Anne. In this he reminded the Prince of all they had been to each other. She regretted that he was to marry, but she had been prepared for this; what she was not prepared for was banishment. Her child was the only consolation she had left and she could not leave him. Nothing but death would make her leave the country in which her child was. The letter hinted at the blame which would attach itself to him when it were known how he had treated her.
When she read the letter Anne chortled with delight. She wanted to send it to the Prince immediately, but Hervey would not allow this. She must copy it out in her own handwriting before she sent it.
He suggested that she sit down and do it while he watched her and forced her to obey it. Once this was done Hervey took the precaution of destroying the original.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘we must not be hasty. Before you send this letter to the Prince you must show it to your brother and ask him whether he thinks it is advisable to send it, for if he did not and blamed you for it he might disown you and that could be disastrous since it would give the Prince the support he needs to act in this dastardly way.’
Anne looked at him with admiration.
‘I will obey you in all things,’ she told him; and while she went to her brother’s house he returned to his lodgings in St James’s to think about the matter.
The Queen was breakfasting with her family an
d Lord Hervey was in attendance when the Prince of Wales called. He was in a passion of rage and never had he looked more like his father.
He threw the letter on to the breakfast table, for since his father had gone to Hanover his manners inside the family circle had grown worse. He was very angry with his father for refusing him the Regency and with his mother for having it, and as his friends continually pointed out the injustice of this he could never forget it.
And now in addition to that he had received a letter the like of which he declared could never have been addressed to a Prince before.
‘Read that, Madam, and tell me if you think it was written by Mistress Anne Vane.’
The Queen read the letter and Amelia and Caroline stood on either side and looked over her shoulder reading it with her.
‘You should be able to tell far better than we whether she wrote it,’ said Amelia. ‘We were never on such terms of intimacy with the creature as you were.’
‘She is certainly erudite,’ said the Queen. ‘Look at this, my lord, and see if you don’t agree.’
Hervey took the letter and read it.
‘She has a way with her pen,’ he admitted.
‘What nonsense! ‘ cried the Prince. ‘The woman never wrote that letter. Some scroundrel wrote it for her.’
‘Has Your Highness any idea which scoundrel?’ asked Hervey. ‘There must be so many in Your Highness’s circle.’
The Prince was too incensed to feel the barb. ‘No,’ he cried, ‘but I am going to find out.’
‘Will she not tell you?’ asked the Queen. ‘She must be proud of a friend who would do so much for her.’
‘She swears she wrote it herself. She is showing it to all her friends and boasting about her cleverness.’
‘How difficult it is to cast off a mistress!’ sighed the Queen. ‘I pray you will not allow too large a scandal to be created over this woman. The people would not like it, nor would your bride.’
‘You can depend upon me to settle this matter to my satisfaction! ‘ cried the Prince.
And not glancing at Lord Hervey whom he detested, he flung out of the room, cursing his father for not allowing him to be Regent, Miss Vane for daring to send him such a letter, and Hervey for being in continual attendance on his mother.
* * *
Poor Frederick always seemed to get the worst of any bargain, and even in this one Anne Vane outwitted him. So piteously did she tell her story that the whole Court was humming with it. She could starve in England, she declared, if she would not go abroad and be parted from her child.
This was a dastardly way to behave, said Anne’s brother and Lord Hervey and others. The woman had been his mistress; he no longer desired her and he was about to marry; but he must remember his obligations.
Frederick floundered ineffectually. He denied that he had sent such a message; then he recapitulated and said he had written to Miss Vane because a friend of hers had intimated that the settlement he offered would be agreeable to her.
Everyone was talking about the affair of Miss Vane, and the Prince was in such a position that he could only declare that she should continue in her house in Grosvenor Street and that he would pay her her £1,600 as long as she lived.
Hervey walked to her house and was let in by Anne herself and smuggled up to her bedchamber that her servants might not see him.
She was exhilarated.
‘I’ve never been so comfortably placed in my life,’ she said. ‘All this and no encumbrances. I wish him joy of his Augusta. Poor girl, I pity her!’
They laughed over the affair and she told him that she had had some anxious moments, for after all it was dangerous to do battle with a Prince; but she had such good friends and she would always be grateful to them. However, the affair had brought on her fits of colic and her doctors had suggested she go to Bath for a few weeks.
‘I shall leave little Fitz with my brother and his family while I go,’ she said. ‘They’ll be happy to have him.’
‘Don’t stay away too long,’ Lord Hervey instructed.
She passionately assured him that she would not and that very soon they would resume their exciting adventures.
This they did not do, however, for Anne had not been long in Bath when her little son died of a convulsion fit. When she received this news Anne had an attack of what she called the colic. It was rather more severe than the previous ones and her doctor ordered her to keep to her bed for a few days.
In a week she was dead.
The Prince of Wales was overcome with grief at the loss of the little boy whom he claimed to be his son.
‘I should not have thought him capable of such emotion,’ said the Queen.
The King’s Temper
MEANWHILE the King was finding it more and more difficult to delay his departure from Hanover, for with each day Madame de Walmoden seemed to grow more irresistible.
There were despatches from Walpole. His presence was needed in England. His Majesty had not forgotten his birthday and that his subjects would take it ill if he was not in London on that day, which was one of universal celebration.
He knew it—yet he delayed. But the time came when he could delay no longer if he were to be in England in time for the birthday. He had already given himself the minimum of time to reach home, not accounting for any delays which could so easily occur on the way.
Madame de Walmoden declared that she did not know what she would do without him. He meant everything to her. He was the most handsome, charming, intelligent man she had ever met and if he were the humblest servant in his own household she would still love him.
George basked in this admiration and believed it. His mistress was so convincing. She had also told him that she was pregnant and she could not bear that he should not be there when their child was born.
‘I will soon be here again,’ he promised.
‘Do you mean that?’ she asked tearfully. ‘Will you swear?’
‘I swear,’ he declared solemnly.
‘I must have a date to look forward to.’
He sighed. November ... December ... January....
She shivered. ‘You must not attempt to cross the sea during such months. I should die of fear.’
He kissed her and assured her that that fat old man in London would try to put a chain on him and certainly not let him off it so soon. ‘But ... by May ... the end of May, then I shall come. No matter what they say, I shall come in May.’
‘Seven whole months! ‘ she sighed.
‘My dearest, they do not want me to come once a year. They are going to do everything they can to prevent me in May.’
She did not press the matter but she constantly talked of the 29th May.
The night before he left Hanover there was a banquet over which he presided with a great deal of melancholy which the Hanoverians found very flattering, although they knew that the reason why he was so sad was because he must part from his mistress. Still, she was a Hanoverian —one of them; and the King made it clear twenty times a day that he loved their country and hated the one of which he was King.
Madame de Walmoden toasted him with tears in her eyes.
‘The 29th of May!’ she cried, and everyone present took up the cry.
‘The 29th of May!’ responded George.
After a night of passionate love and protestations of fidelity on both sides, the King left Hanover next morning, realizing that if he were to make the journey in time for his birthday he must travel fast.
* * *
Caroline was returning to the Palace after morning chapel when a messenger hurried to her to tell her that the King was on his way to Kensington and would be there very shortly.
She hastily summoned the Court and went to meet him.
As George alighted from his coach he managed to suppress the pain he felt. He was wretched, uncomfortable, and unhappy. It had been a trying journey for he had made it in less than five days by riding far through the night and scarcely stopping at all for rest and
food. As a consequence this had brought on an attack of haemorrhoids from which he suffered intermittently; he was tired, and in pain, and moreover he was angry because he had left his mistress and wouldn’t see her for a long time, and as he grew farther and farther from Hanover and nearer to England he realized that there were going to be lifted eyebrows and worse still remonstrances when he suggested returning to Hanover as they would say ‘so soon’.
All this did not make a very happy homecoming.
And here he was at Kensington. Too grand, he thought. Too ostentatious compared with dear Herrenhausen. And Caroline. She was fat. Doubtless she had been guzzling chocolate more freely than ever since he had been away. His dearest Amelia Sophia managed to have exactly the right amount of warm, soft flesh without being fat.
But this was his dear wife and he loved her. She was his comfort and he would never forget that. She was smiling and so happy because he was home.
She bent and kissed his hand and with a gesture of tenderness he took her arm and they went into the Palace together.
He wondered how he managed to keep his temper while all the ceremonies went on. There were as many ceremonies in Hanover—but somehow they seemed more reasonable and in any case he was in pain and he wanted to go to bed and he hated being ill because he always felt that Was a slur on his manhood.
At last he was alone with the Queen.
She was anxious, but one did not suggest that the King might be ill.
She said that it must have been a tiring journey.
He told her exactly how long it had taken between each stage and grew quite animated doing this. He doubted the journey had ever been done so quickly.
‘It must have meant long hours sitting in the coach,’ she said. He looked at her sharply. So she guessed.
He said gruffly: ‘I had better see one of the physicians. Have him brought here without fuss. Let no one know that I have sent for him.’
Caroline the Queen Page 32