o b464705202491194

by Cheyenne

  Women! He adored them. But he had to be in pursuit of them; and he liked

  the pursuit to be difficult and not to be brought to too easy a conclusion. Maria was his life, his soul, his wife; and there would always be a place for her in his heart, but he was not meant to live a placid married life which was what Maria

  wanted. She and dear old Pigot would have liked there to have been cosy little

  domestic evenings spent at home in Carlton House. But Carlton House was not

  built for cosy evenings; nor was the Prince of Wales.

  While the Delicate Investigation had been in progress, Maria had been

  concerned in a court case of her own. A few years previously she had taken a little girl to live with her while her parents, Lord Hugh and Lady Horatia Seymour, had

  gone to Maderia because Lady Horatia was suffering from galloping

  consumption.

  Maria, one of whose greatest griefs was that she had no children of her own,

  doted on the little girl and wished to adopt her legally; but, on the death of the child’s parents, her aunt, Lady Waldegrave, also wanted to adopt her. Maria, who

  had cared for the child for a few years, was determined to keep her. The Prince of Wales had been fond of little Mary Seymour, ‘Minney’ as she called herself; and

  seemed much more interested in her than in his own daughter Charlotte. She

  would clamber all over him and christened him ‘Prinney’ to rhyme with Minney

  which amused him greatly; and he fit when the three of them were together they

  were indeed happy family.

  He had been very sorry when Lady Waldegrave claimed her; and declared that

  they must have a legal ruling on the matter, and was so upset to see his dear Maria heartbroken at the prospect of losing Minney that he offered to settle £10,000 if the child if she were left in Maria’s care.

  This case had been going on for some months and during it, the Prince

  became very friendly with the Hertfords because the Marquess of Hertford as

  head of the Seymour family agreed that he would put an end to the proceedings

  by declaring that he would adopt the child himself. Since he was the head of the

  family no one could dispute this; the case was settled and then the Marquess

  appointed Maria Minney’s guardian.

  This was very satisfactory, but during the proceedings the Prince had become

  infatuated by the Marchioness of Hertford.

  It was not that he no longer loved Maria, he was careful to assure himself. He

  did love her; but Lady Hertford seemed sylphlike in comparison. He could not

  take his eyes from her when they were in company together; and people were

  beginning to notice. Miss Pigot tried to comfort Maria. The household had

  changed since the Prince had come back. They were, according to Miss Pigot,

  living happily-ever-after. And now they had the adorable Minney.

  Maria had not noticed at first the way things were going so immersed had she

  been in the battle for Minney. Now she was elated because Minney was hers.

  But one day she said to Miss Pigot: ‘The Prince is giving a dinner party for

  the Marchioness of Hertford. It’s not the first time.’

  ‘Well, I expect he’s grateful to them for giving you darling Minney.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s that,’ said Maria slowly. ‘And he wants me there— to make

  it seem— respectable. Isn’t that just like him?’

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Miss Pigot. ‘Of course he wants you there. Doesn’t he

  always want you there?’

  But Miss Pigot was beginning to be worried. It would tragic if anything went

  wrong now that they had gain little Minney.

  ————————

  Caroline was settling into her new life. She gave wild parties at Montague

  House to which were invited all kind of people from politicians to poets. Lord

  Byron was constant visitor and a great favourite with the Princess.

  ‘A strange moody man,’ she confided in Lady Charlotte Campbell who had

  come to serve her. ‘Yet he can be the gayest I ever met. And so amusing. Such

  fun. He is two men. He is one for the people he loathes and another for those he

  loves— and I think I am one of those he loves. He is so good at my parties. I

  sometimes declare he shall come to all of them.’

  Lady Charlotte listened attentively. She had been a great beauty when she was

  young and she had married Colonel John Campbell by whom she had had nine

  children. The Princess of Wales had taken to her at once, for anyone who had had

  nine children excited her admiration and envy. When Lady Charlotte’s husband

  died Caroline had asked her to join her household and they had become great

  friends, What the Princess did not know was that Lady Charlotte kept a diary and

  recorded every little incident. Lady Charlotte fancied herself as a writer and had decided that when she had time she would devote herself to the art.

  In the meantime she could enjoy her diary which would remind her of the

  Princess if ever she should cease to serve her.

  Caroline had found her the perfect confidante because she listened so intently

  to everything that was told her and remembered too. More and more she began to

  confide in her while Lady Charlotte diligently wrote of the Princess’s penchant

  for people whose conduct was somewhat scandalous, like Lord Byron. She was so

  unconventional. When she was at Kensington she would walk in the gardens and

  talk to strangers as though she were an ordinary member of the public. Nor was

  she content to stay in the gardens but would wander out into the streets and enjoy what she called the ‘dear people’, forgetting that at any moment she might be

  recognized. She liked to wander about incognito; and if she saw a poor child she

  must immediately stop and give it money. Once she looked over a house in

  Bayswater which was to let and pretended that she was considering renting it. She did the maddest things.

  She had taken a great interest in a family of Italian musicians, the Sapios—

  father, mother and son— all excellent in their profession; but Caroline became so enraptured by their talents and their company that she treated them as friends and had them to dine and walk with her and call upon her at any hour of the day.

  And in addition to this eccentric behaviour there was Willikin, growing into a

  most objectionable boy. He was hideously spoilt, refused to learn his lessons and wanted the Princess’s perpetual attention.

  He was generally disliked in the household; the only one who could see no

  wrong in him was the Princess Caroline.

  ————————

  There were letters from Brunswick. The Duchess, now that she had no

  husband, was thinking of returning to her native land. Moreover, Napoleon had

  overrun practically the whole of Europe and exile was necessary. The Duchess

  felt that she should be in England, for there she could be near her daughter and

  see something of her little granddaughter, the Princess Charlotte.

  Caroline was not very pleased at the thought of having her mother living in

  England but she saw that she must receive her graciously. Her brother also was in exile since he had been driven from his country by the invader, so he too just

  come to England.

  It was a dreary prospect, but there was nothing to be done but bow to it. The

  royal family made no effort to welcome their relations so Caroline put Montague

  House at her mother’s disposal while she herself remained in Kensington Palace. />
  This was a hardship because the unconventional life she could lead in Blackheath

  was more to her taste than that in Kensington.

  The King, though, was a family man, and he was sorry rot, his sister who

  chattered incessantly and talked of the changes in England since she had left and all that she had suffered in Brunswick. And eventually he took pity on Caroline

  and gave the Duchess a house in Spring Gardens.

  It was by no means grand but the Duchess contrived to make it so; and she

  would sit in the dingy rooms as though in a palace and receive, for now she had

  returned to England she was very conscious of her royalty and wished everyone

  else to be so too.

  ————————

  Caroline ran through Montague House declaring how good it was to be back.

  ‘Poor Mamma!’ she said to that diligent recorder Lady Charlotte. ‘I believe

  she is so happy to be here. It reminds her of the old days when she was Princess

  Royal. And her little Court there in Spring Gardens— it is sad, don’t you think

  Lady Charlotte? Court! I call it a Dullification. I have rarely been so bored as at dear Mamma’s Spring Garden Court. Ah, you are thinking how sad it is that she

  has been driven from her home but perhaps it is not so sad as you think. She

  always had to take second place, you know, when my father was alive. Madame

  de Hertzfeldt, his mistress, was the power in the land. Dear Lady Charlotte, you

  always tempt me to shock you because you are so easily shocked. Never mind. I

  like you. You are my dear friend, my angel, and we shall entertain now. I confess I am eager to fill this place with people who make me laugh.’

  So she planned parties with amusing people and ran shrieking among her

  guests playing Blind Man’s Buff, a game which had always been a favourite of

  hers.

  One day the King called. As soon as she saw him, Caroline thought he looked

  strange. He kept telling her how pleased he was to see her, that she was a

  beautiful woman and constantly in his thoughts.

  It was pleasant to be back on the old terms of affection which had been

  interrupted by the Delicate Investigation; and she told him how happy she was.

  ‘Ah,’ he said almost roguishly. ‘I believe you love your old uncle.’

  But indeed I do. No one has been kinder to me. Why I do not know what I

  should have done without your friendship, for I have had little from the rest of the family.’

  ‘Let us sit down,’ he said and drew her on to a sofa.

  She was alarmed, for his manner had become stranger and he called her

  Elizabeth. Then he talked incoherently of his love for her and what he would do

  for her and how she was in fact his Queen.

  Caroline realized that his mind was wandering and when he fell on her she

  rolled off the sofa and ran out of the room. She stood at the door listening and

  peeping in she saw him sitting on the sofa, his head in his hands.

  Poor Uncle George! she thought. He mistook me for someone else. He is truly going mad.

  She went back into the room and when he looked up she realized that he had

  no remembrance of what had happened. ‘It is good of Your Majesty to call on

  me,’ she said.

  He stood up and as he approached, she curtsied.

  He said: ‘I should like to see a reconciliation. It’s not good, eh, what? The

  Prince of Wales and his wife living apart— not together. It’s wrong. You

  understand that, eh, what?’

  She said she did understand but it was the wish of the Prince of Wales and

  nothing could alter that.

  When he had left she was depressed thinking of him.

  He is close to the brink now, she thought. And if I lost him I wouldn’t have a friend at Court.

  ————————

  There was always scandal circulating round the royal family and the King

  lived in perpetual fear of some fresh exposure. He could not understand why his

  sons should have this habit for creating trouble. It made him all the more

  determined to see that his daughters had no chance of doing so. He was glad there were no marriages for them. Only the Princess Royal had achieved it and she

  appeared to be living quietly with her husband. No husbands for the others, he had told himself grimly. They shall be kept here— under my eye and that of their mother.

  The Prince of Wales was creating fresh scandal with Lady Hertford— another

  of his famous grandmothers. Not content with refusing to live with the Princess of Wales he had returned to Mrs. Fitzherbert— a good woman and a beautiful one

  who should have been enough for anyone. But no, now it was Lady Hertford and

  God alone knew what fresh trouble was in store there.

  And he was so anxious about Amelia, his youngest, his favourite, his darling.

  He used to tell himself that no matter what trouble the others caused him there

  was always Amelia.

  But even she caused him anxiety for she grew more wan every day. She had

  developed a lameness in her knee which he knew gave her great pain.

  He would weep when he saw her and embrace her covering her face with

  kisses.

  ‘Your Papa feels the pain with you, my darling. You, understand that, eh,

  what?’

  And she would nod and tell him: ‘But it is not such had pain, Papa,’ just for

  the sake of comforting him. His angel, his darling! How different from his sons.

  The sea bathing at Worthing had done her good but only for a time. And he had to

  face the fact that as the months passed she grew no better.

  She was his little invalid. He asked after her continually. ‘She is better today, Your Majesty,’ they would tell him; and he believed that they told him so on the

  Queen’s orders, for the Queen was determined that the King must not be upset.

  His eyes were failing and he would put his face close to hers trying to tell

  himself that she looked a little better than when he last saw her; and whenever he asked her, she would always say, ‘Much better, Papa. Much, much better.’ And

  perhaps add: ‘I took a little walk in the gardens today.’

  So even the best of his children gave him cause to worry. In spite of his

  expectations, trouble came from an unsuspected quarter.

  The Prime Minister, Lord Portland, came to see him on a grave matter.

  ‘It concerns the Duke of York, Your Majesty, and a certain Mary Anne

  Clarke.’

  ‘Mary Anne Clarke!’ He had never heard of the woman. And Frederick

  couldn’t have made one of those marriages his sons were fond of making because

  he was married already. ‘Who is this woman?’

  ‘A woman, Your Majesty, of dubious character.’

  ‘ H’m. And what is the trouble, eh, what?’

  ‘A question has been raised in the House of Commons, sir, by a Colonel

  Wardle. He brings a charge against the Duke for wrong use of military patronage

  which as Commander in Chief of the Army he has been in a position to carry out.’

  ‘And what has this— woman to do with it?’

  ‘She is the Duke’s mistress, Your Majesty, and has been selling promotions

  which she has persuaded the Duke to give.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ cried the King. ‘What next?’

  The Prime Minister said that he feared a great scandal as the House was

  insisting on an enquiry which would of course expose the Duke’s intrigue with

  this not very reputable young woman and would— if the charges we
re proved—

  result in his being expelled from the Army.

  ‘And so— there is to be this— enquiry.’

  ‘I fear so, sir.’

  So this is the next disaster, thought the King. Can so much happen in one family? Am I dreaming it? Am I going mad?

  ————————

  The great topic for the time was the scandal of the Duke of York and Mary

  Anne Clarke.

  Mary Anne was an extremely handsome woman in her early thirties who had

  begun her life in Ball and Pin Alley near Chancery Lane. Her mother was

  widowed when Mary Anne was a child and later married a compositor, the son of

  whose master was attracted by the pretty child and had her educated. Mary Anne

  in due course married a stone mason named Clarke and later went on the stage

  where she played Portia at the Haymarket Theatre. Here she was noticed and

  became the mistress of several members of the peerage. At the house of one of

  these she made the acquaintance of the Duke of York who was immediately

  infatuated, and set her up in a mansion in Gloucester Place.

  The doting Duke had promised her a large income but was constantly in debt

  and not always able to pay it; Mary Anne’s expenses were enormous and so to

  provide the large sums she needed she had the idea of selling promotions in the

  Army.

  This was the sordid story which became the gossip of London. The Duke was

  in despair, but when Mary Anne was called upon to give evidence at the bar of the House of Commons she did so with jaunty abandon.

  The Duke’s letters to her were read aloud in the House and these caused great

  merriment. All over London they were quoted— and embellished. This was the

  cause célèbre of the day.

  The King shut himself into his apartments and the Queen could hear him

  talking to himself, talking, talking, until he was hoarse. He was praying too. And it was clear that he did not know for whom he prayed.

  Amelia was sent to comfort him; and this she did by telling him how well she

  felt— never so well in her life.

  And that did ease him considerably.

  It emerged from the Select Committee which tried the case, that the Duke was

  not guilty of nefarious practices however much his mistress might have been; but

  all the same he had to resign his post in the Army.

  He broke with Mary Anne, but he had not finished with her because she