by Jean Plaidy
‘You can say this to me … who would do anything in the world to please you?’
‘The only way in which you could please is by leaving me … this moment.’
‘Oh, my fierce Maria!’
She threw him off impatiently. The charm, the tears, the protestations of undying affection – they were no good now. She did not believe in them any more.
‘Maria, I will do anything in the world for you …’
‘Except acknowledge me as your wife?’
‘Fox made that declaration in the House … because … because he had to. It was Pitt who was making trouble. Don’t you see … if they had admitted to the marriage, on account of your religion there would have been trouble … about the succession, Maria.’
‘That was an aspect I pointed out to you before our wedding.’
‘This was in the House of Commons.’
‘Of course it was the House of Commons. Where else would such an issue be brought up? You knew it when you married me and now you pretend to be surprised. I want to hear no more. Go … I will not listen.’
‘You shall listen, Maria. Very soon I may be King and my first action will be to abolish the Marriage Act. I will make you a Duchess. We will have another ceremony, and then …’
‘You talk like a child or a fool. Do you think a Catholic Queen would be more acceptable than a Catholic Princess of Wales? But that is not the point. You have denied our marriage. This is an outrage to my honour and to my religion. I have nothing more to say, except that I shall do nothing to betray your perfidy. Your secret is safe with me. But I do not wish to see you again.’
‘Maria,’ he cried piteously, but she had gone.
The Prince went back to Carlton House and summoned several of his friends, among them Sheridan, Grey, Sir Philip Francis and Lord Stourton.
When they arrived they found him pacing up and down in a distraught manner.
‘It’s Maria,’ he cried. ‘I have never seen her like this before. She is like a tigress. She has said she won’t see me again. What am I going to do?’
Sheridan said: ‘It will pass. In a few days she will be ready to be friends again.’
The Prince shook his head. ‘I know Maria. She is determined. She has these damned principles. I know she means what she says.’
‘She is devoted to Your Highness. She will never refuse to see you.’
‘I know Maria,’ said the Prince blankly. ‘You remember how she left England … and stayed away for a year? Oh, my God, what if she goes away again. What am I going to do? Some of you must see her. Explain …’
‘Explain what, Your Highness?’ asked Grey. ‘The only explanation she will accept is your repudiation of Fox’s statement. Your Highness will see that that is impossible.’
‘I did not give him authority …’ cried the Prince.
Grey was a man who spoke his mind. He said: ‘Fox had a letter from Your Highness four days before the marriage was alleged to have taken place. That is his defence for speaking as he did.’
‘A letter …’ said the Prince, his dismay apparent. He remembered now. He frowned at Grey. That man had always been too frank for him. Not like Sherry, who always said the pleasant thing whatever he was thinking.
‘Your Highness had to make the choice,’ said Grey bluntly. ‘Acknowledging your marriage or facing the threat of losing the Crown. Fox chose the only course.’
‘I did not direct him to do so. That’s what Maria must be made to understand. One of you must explain to her. You, Francis … You go … You go now … Now, this minute … and come straight back here.’
Sir Philip Frances looked uneasy but could not very well disobey the Prince’s command.
He went, and during his absence the Prince and his friends discussed the affair; the Prince, seeking loopholes, by which he could persist in keeping quiet about his marriage and so keep his chances of the succession, storming and weeping, telling his friends how he could not live without Maria and that something would have to be done.
They listened with apparent sympathy, but there was not one of them who did not know that to own publicly to the marriage would be fatal to the Prince and the Whigs – however much that party had attempted to dissociate itself from the affair.
The Prince must see reason; he must get over this mad infatuation for a religious woman; or she must cast aside her principles and allow herself to be accepted as his mistress.
In due course Sir Philip Francis returned to Carlton House.
‘Well, Francis, well?’ cried the Prince.
‘She is furious. She says she has no wish to see Your Highness ever again.’
The Prince wailed and threw himself on to the couch, covering his face with his hands.
‘She said that Fox has rolled her in the kennel like a street walker and that he has lied. Every word he had said was a lie.’
‘She believes every word Fox said was a lie,’ said the Prince hopefully.
‘Even so,’ Grey pointed out, ‘Your Highness would have to make a public declaration that this was so to satisfy her.’
Trust Grey to dash all hopes to the ground.
‘What am I going to do? I must do something. Sherry, what can I do?’
Sheridan said soothingly: ‘I doubt not in time it will blow over. She will forget it. She will realize that this is the only way …’
The Prince was looking trustingly at Sheridan.
Then he said: ‘If it was brought up in the House again. If it could be modified …’
Lord Stourton said that he did not see how it could be modified. It was a statement which unfortunately could only have one answer: Yes or No.
‘There must be some way. Touch on the marriage lightly … and make sure that Maria is spoken of with respect. Charles went too far. There was no need for him to go so far. Gray, you could explain it to the House.’
‘Your Highness, it would be an impossibility.’
The Prince’s eyes were angry. Grey frustrated him at every turn. ‘It seems you are determined to make difficulties,’ he said coldly.
‘Your Highness, the difficulties are already made.’
‘You could do it. You could modify …’
‘Modify,’ cried Grey. ‘Will Your Highness explain what you mean by modify? I fear I cannot see how this could be done.’
‘But you will think of something.’
‘I regret Your Highness that I cannot do so and I think it a grave mistake to bring this matter up in the House again.’
‘You seem determined not to help, Grey,’ said the Prince coldly.
He turned to Sheridan who, during the altercation between Grey and the Prince, seemed to have been trying to shrink further into his chair.
‘You’ll do it, Sherry?’
Oh, God, thought Sheridan. What am I let in for now?
‘Your Highness, let us consider the matter.’
The Prince brightened. ‘Dear Sherry, I knew I could rely on you.’ A snub to Grey, but Grey was not a man to fawn on princes. Not like poor old Sherry, thought Sheridan, who has come up in the world, from theatre manager to Prince’s crony on Irish blarney and an ability to juggle with words. He had to think quickly now: Face the House on this matter which was already concluded or lose the friendship of the Prince of Wales, who would one day be King. Grey had already chosen. Well, Grey was a man of background and political ambitions; Grey could doubtless afford to throw away the friendship of the Prince. Sheridan could not. He was a born gambler in any case. He would back the Prince.
‘I will do what I can,’ he promised.
‘Dearest Sherry!’
‘But I think Your Highness will agree with me that the matter should not be brought up until after Fox has secured the payment of your debts.’
The Prince reluctantly agreed to this. He knew his dear friend Sherry was right; and no one had such a way with words as he had.
When Sherry had spoken in the House, Maria would feel happier. She would see him again. She would g
ive him a chance to explain. All would be well between them. They would go down to Brighton together; and if his debts were paid he would give her a fine house of her own; he would make some alterations to the Marine Pavilion.
It would be wonderful to live like a Prince again … with Maria.
Mr Pitt called on the King.
‘Your Majesty will share my relief,’ said the Prime Minister, ‘that this unfortunate matter of His Royal Highness’s affairs has come to an end. He has, through Mr Charles James Fox, given us a complete denial of the marriage with Mrs Fitzherbert. Therefore he has not, as we feared, acted in defiance of Your Majesty’s own Royal Marriage Act.’
‘It is a relief, eh?’ replied the King. ‘I feared he might have married the woman. He’s capable of it, Mr Pitt. Quite capable.’
‘I feared so, too,’ said Pitt. ‘And now this matter of his debts. They amount to £161,000 which I propose shall be paid by Parliament; and £60,000 shall be set aside for His Highness’s expenses at Carlton House. If Your Majesty is agreeable to this, I feel the time has come to raise His Highness’s income and suggest an additional £10,000 a year.’
The King said he thought this was very generous and the young rip ought to be satisfied with that.
‘There is another matter which I wished to discuss with Your Majesty,’ went on Mr Pitt, ‘and that is the discord which exists between Your Majesty and His Highness. This is undesirable and it seems that now is a good moment to change it. It has been publicly stated that the Prince, contrary to rumour, has not defied Your Majesty’s Marriage Act. You have sanctioned the payments of his debts and increased his income. There is therefore no reason for discord in the family. There should be a reunion – a making-up of differences. This, I think, Sir, is very important and the moment is ripe for it.’
The King looked proudly at his Mr Pitt, and silently thanked God for him. Momentarily he compared him with dear old North – good friend, but what a blunderer! – and what the King felt he needed more and more as the weeks passed was a good steady prop. Mr Pitt enabled him to get away to Kew and Windsor. Mr Pitt was fast becoming a power in the land. Mr Pitt kept the Fox at bay. Good Mr Pitt!
‘You are right I am sure, Mr Pitt. There shall be a family reunion. The Prince shall come to Windsor and I will make such that the family receive him with friendship.’
Mr Pitt bowed and took his leave.
Parliament had agreed to settle the Prince’s debts and Alderman Newnham rose to say that he was happy that the motion he had been proposing to bring forward – that of the Prince’s debts – was now no longer necessary.
Members of the House expressed their satisfaction.
‘I readily concur in the joy the honourable gentleman has expressed,’ said Mr Pitt.
‘We must all feel the highest satisfaction,’ added Mr Fox.
Mr Rolle, however, while commenting on his satisfaction, added: ‘But I temper that satisfaction by making it clear that if it should hereafter appear that any concession has been made, humiliating to the country or dishonourable in itself, I would be the first man to stand up and stigmatize it as it deserves.’
There were groans through the House. Why could not the blunt old countryman leave the matter alone.
Mr Pitt, however, suavely rose to assure the honourable member that this was not so and he need have no fears.
Sheridan knew that this was his only opportunity. He must speak before the matter was closed. How much better, he thought, to let it alone. But he dared not. He must speak. His friendship with the Prince was at stake.
He stood up. He was aware of Fox watching him warily. Fox would know exactly why he was doing this.
‘I cannot believe,’ began Sheridan, ‘that there exists on this day but one feeling and one sentiment in the House, that of heartfelt satisfaction at the auspicious conclusion to which the business has been brought. His Royal Highness wishes it to be known that he feels perfect satisfaction at the prospect before him and he also desires it to be distinctly remembered that no attempt has at any time been made to screen any part of his conduct, actions or situation …’
The members were looking askance at Sheridan. This had all been said before. Why repeat it? Sheridan himself hurried on to the purpose of his speech.
‘While his Royal Highness’s feelings have been doubtless considered on this occasion, I must take the liberty of saying, however much some may think it a subordinate consideration, that there is another person entitled in every honourable and delicate mind to the same attention. I will not otherwise attempt to describe this person except to affirm that ignorance or vulgar malice alone could have persevered in attempting to injure one on whose conduct truth could fix no just reproach and whose character claims, and is entitled to, the truest and most general respect.’
Eyebrows were raised; lips were curled in cynical smiles. What was Sheridan suggesting? Mrs Fitzherbert was the Prince’s mistress, yet at the same time she was a paragon of virtue, an example to all women?
Even the jaunty Sheridan could not hide the fact that he was embarrassed as he sat down to silence.
But when he presented himself at Carlton House the Prince embraced him.
‘My dear friend,’ he cried. ‘I knew I could rely on you. I have had a report of your speech in the house. Maria will be delighted, I know. I but waited to see you and thank you in person before I go to call on her.’
Sheridan went home in high spirits. He had made a bit of a fool of himself in the House, but that could not be helped. He stood higher with the Prince than ever before; and that was good because Fox’s influence was waning fast.
Meanwhile the Prince was calling on Maria; and he had the discomfiture to be told that Mrs Fitzherbert was not at home.
Not at home to the Prince of Wales! It was incredible. But she had meant it when she had said that she would not live with him. A few words spoken by Sheridan would not influence her. She thought they were absurd. Did they really think that Sheridan’s getting up in the House and referring to her as a pattern of womanhood could affect her when Fox had stated on direct authority that she was living in sin with the Prince?
No, Maria was wounded. She had been betrayed.
The Prince was mistaken if he thought he could treat her so and be forgiven. She had made it clear in the first place that she would not live with him without marriage; and since by his action he had shown that he considered himself not married to her, she could not live with him.
Fox at Chertsey was in a mood of resignation.
‘What a mess, Liz! What a mess!’
‘You regret having denied the marriage?’ asked Lizzie.
‘It was the only thing to do. If it had come out that they had actually gone through a ceremony the Commons would be in an uproar. God knows what would have happened. The people always fancied the Stuarts more than the Guelphs, though our Prince is more popular than most of them have been. But they would never have accepted a Catholic marriage. No, it had to be said; and it was my lot to say it.’
‘Our Little George is something of a coward, is he not?’
‘You know him as well as I, Liz.’
Lizzie smiled, remembering that time when she had briefly been the Prince’s mistress and had accumulated quite a little fortune out of the adventure which was now helping to keep a home together for herself and Charles.
‘Perhaps not quite,’ she said. ‘He has a kind heart but he hates trouble. He’d help anyone out of a difficulty if he could without too much trouble, but he’d go to a great deal of trouble to protect himself.’
‘He’s no fool. He realizes what’s at stake. He knows that what has happened was the only way to get him out of a dangerous situation.’
‘But he has, by all accounts, lost his Maria.’
‘A temporary loss. She’ll come round.’
‘She’s no ordinary woman.’
‘A paragon of virtue according to Sherry.’
‘He did very well in the circumstances.’
‘He was thinking of his own future, that was why. He has to keep the Prince’s favour … for what is he going to do without Mr Fox there to support him.’
‘Eh?’
‘Well, Mr Fox will, I prophesy, no longer be the close associate of His Royal Highness. Maria would think it rather strange, would she not, that one who had so displeased the Prince should continue to enjoy his friendship.’
‘You’re too clever, Liz.’
‘How can one be too clever? I merely state the obvious. If he wants to keep Maria he has to be displeased with Mr Fox – and you can bet even higher than your usual stakes that Mrs Fitzherbert, who never did love Mr Fox, will now regard that gentleman with loathing. And since His Royal Highness must placate Maria … well, you don’t need me to go on, do you?’
He took her hand and smiled at her.
‘No need at all,’ he said. ‘That is why I propose leaving the country. A change of scene will be very desirable.’
She tried to hide her fears and he held out his hand to her.
‘Liz,’ he said, ‘how would you like to go to Italy? We could study the art treasures of that country. I’ll show you the Sistine chapel. We’ll sit in the sun and drink their wine.’
She was smiling; intensely happy.
‘Oh, my God, Liz,’ he said. ‘You didn’t think I would go without you … anywhere?’
The Prince in Despair
THE KING WAS pacing up and down the Queen’s drawing room. How I wish he would stay still! thought the Queen. This excitement is bad for him.
‘Although I am receiving him,’ the King was saying, ‘I shall expect deference from him. He’ll have to drop that arrogance, eh? He may be a little king in Carlton House but I’m the King here at Windsor.’
‘He’ll remember that,’ said the Queen. ‘I’m sure he has learned his lesson.’
‘What’s that, eh, what? His lesson? Do you think he’ll ever learn? But we’ll show him that if he’s going to be received back into the family he has to deserve it, eh, what?’