by Jean Plaidy
‘Your pardon, Madam.’
‘There is no need to ask it, Miss Burney. I thank you. You have made me weep … and I think it is what I needed.’
So they sat side by side and wiped their eyes and the Queen felt comforted.
‘Mamma,’ said the Princess Royal, ‘Dr Warren is here.’
‘Dr Warren. I have not sent for him.’
‘So I thought, Mamma. But he has come and he is being most arrogant and Sir George Baker is not very pleased for he says that he is in charge of His Majesty.’
‘Pray send someone to this Dr Warren and tell him that I wish to see him without delay.’
The Princess Royal did as he was bid and came back to the Queen to present Her Majesty with her snuff box. Absent-mindedly the Queen took a pinch; but there was no comfort in anything these days.
One of the pages scratched at the door and the Princess Royal bade him enter.
‘Your Majesty,’ said the boy, bowing low, ‘Dr Warren sends his compliments but regrets he is too busily engaged with his duties at this moment to wait on Your Majesty. He will do so at his earliest convenience.’
The page bowed low and obviously after having delivered such a message was glad to escape. The Queen’s mouth tightened and she said: ‘I can scarcely believe that I have heard aright.’
‘Oh, Mamma,’ cried the Princess, ‘they are saying that Dr Warren is the choice of the Prince of Wales and that he is here to serve the Prince … that he has the Prince’s authority for all he does …’
‘Insulting the Queen, I daresay,’ said the Queen grimly.
The Princess Royal sat on the footstool at her mother’s feet and looked up at her anxiously. She too was remembering that dreadful scene at the dinner table when her father had attempted to murder her brother.
‘What will become of us all?’ she asked.
‘God alone knows,’ answered the Queen.
Dr Warren and the Prince had decided that the King should go to Kew.
‘There,’ said the Prince, ‘he will be restful. He was always fond of Kew. As for my mother,’ he went on, ‘I believe she should go to Buckingham House or perhaps stay at Windsor. The King is so clouded in his mind that he will be much better alone with the doctors.’
His brother Frederick agreed with him, and when his uncles Gloucester and Cumberland called they made it clear that they already regarded the Prince of Wales as the ruler.
He was gratified. No more would that mad old man dictate to him. No one should dictate to him; that was why he was going to teach the Queen a lesson for he was sure she still saw him as a little boy to be guided by his parents.
It was the Princess Royal once more who brought the news to her mother.
‘I have heard them discussing it, Mamma,’ she said. ‘They are going to take the King away from us.’
‘Indeed they are not.’
‘Oh yes, Mamma, they are. George has given orders that they are to prepare for the journey to Kew.’
‘I will see the Prince of Wales,’ said the Queen.
She went to his apartments where he received her coldly.
‘What is this I hear about His Majesty’s going to Kew?’ she demanded.
‘I and his doctors think it best.’
‘And I am not to be consulted?’
‘No, Madam.’
‘I think you forget that I am the Queen.’
‘It is perhaps Your Majesty who is forgetful of my position.’
He was looking at her with the cold eyes of contempt. If only he had smiled at her even then, had asked for her help, her sympathy, she would have weakened. But of course he did nothing of the sort. He just stood regarding her arrogantly, implying that she was of no account and that he was the master now.
‘It is monstrous that you should propose to take the King to Kew without consulting me.’
‘Madam, as you will not be going with him it did not occur to us to consult you. You are to live … at peace either at Buckingham House or Windsor. You may take your choice.’
‘How kind, how understanding of you to give me a choice.’
‘Well, Madam, I wish to please if possible.’
‘Enough of this. Where the King is there shall I be. You forget I am his wife.’
‘Madam, my plans …’
She snapped her fingers. ‘My plan is to stay with the King and my place is at his side. I believe that His Majesty’s ministers will agree with me, and would not take kindly to any plan to separate a sick husband from his wife.’
The Prince was silent.
She went on: ‘It was suggested that, should there be a Regency, I should share in it, but I have said my place is to care for the King. Should I be ousted from that place, there might be another waiting for me. And if I was kept from my duty to the King I might take it.’
As she walked from the room he knew she was right and that he had been foolish to talk of separating them. He would have to give way.
The first round of the battle was a victory for the Queen.
The Prince left for Kew, having given orders that his mother and sisters with their attendants were to follow. The King was to come on later.
At Kew the Prince decided which rooms should be allotted to whom and actually wrote the names of the people who should occupy them over the doors.
The Queen’s apartments were immediately above the King’s and he decided that she could not occupy these for fear of disturbing His Majesty; therefore he selected a bedroom and drawing room for her which were not very commodious, but, as he said to his equerry, she would come so therefore she must make do with what accommodation there was. As for some of her maids of honour, they would have to be content with the servant’s rooms.
From one of the windows he saw his mother arrive, surrounded by her weeping daughters.
At Windsor the King paced up and down his bedroom and shouted: ‘Where do you wish to take me, eh, what? To Kew? I will not go to Kew. What should I go to Kew for if I do not wish it, eh, what? Tell me that! Kew … I do not wish to go to Kew …’ And so on in such a strain, his voice rising higher and higher until there was little of it left and he could only croak.
Colonel Digby reminded him that he had always been particularly fond of Kew.
‘No longer,’ cried the King. ‘I will not go to Kew. I know what you people are after. You want to shut me up there. Do you, eh, what?’
They only wanted him to be comfortable, they told him.
‘You want to separate me from the Queen, eh, what? You are trying to take her from me. Queen Elizabeth … She’s my Queen …’
The equerries looked mystified until Digby nodded, remembering the King’s glances at Lady Elizabeth Pembroke. The poor old man was very far gone if he believed he was married to Elizabeth Pembroke.
‘The Queen,’ cried the King. ‘I want the Queen. You have separated us. Oh yes you have. You have taken the Queen from me. You have decided that she shall not be with me, eh, what?’
Colonel Digby said: ‘Your Majesty, the Queen has gone ahead to Kew. She is waiting there to welcome you.’
‘Eh, what? The Queen at Kew?’
Digby assured His Majesty that this was indeed the truth; and thus was enabled to persuade him to enter his carriage. And so the poor deranged King came to Kew.
The Queen watched the King’s arrival. Oh, God, she thought, is that poor shambling creature the King? And she thought of him as he had been when she first saw him: young, handsome in his way with his fresh complexion and his blue eyes, and kindly too, not letting her guess that he had married her with the utmost reluctance.
And now … he had come to this. There was General Harcourt and Colonel Goldsworthy with him, helping him in; she could hear his voice, hoarse and yet somehow audible; and she wondered if he had been shouting during the journey.
‘Oh, Mamma, Mamma.’ It was her daughter Augusta who was beside her, taking her hand and pressing it.
‘My daughter,’ said the Queen, ‘your father has
come to Kew. It is fitting that we should be together at such a time.’
Augusta began to cry. ‘Everything is so different, Mamma. Everything is changed.’
‘Yes,’ agreed the Queen, ‘I fear nothing will be the same again.’
She felt her lips tremble uncontrollably and Augusta seeing her emotion said: ‘Mamma, may I sleep in your bedchamber tonight? I will have a small tent bed put up and I promise not to disturb you … only to be a comfort.’
The Queen pressed her daughter’s hand. ‘It is strange,’ she said, ‘that Queens should pray for sons. It is daughters who are a comfort to them.’
Immediately on his arrival in England Fox arranged to meet the Prince at Carlton House. The Prince received his old friend with tears in his eyes.
‘By God, Charles, it is a relief to see you here.’
‘And a relief to be here, Your Highness.’
‘I had feared we should never find you.’
‘As soon as I knew my services were required I came at full speed.’
‘And Lizzie?’
‘She is following. I doubt her return will be long delayed.’
‘Now to business, Charles.’
‘Indeed so, Your Highness. I hear there is a little improvement in His Majesty’s general health.’
‘That’s true.’ The Prince spoke almost ruefully and added quickly: ‘In his state his death would be the best possible solution for himself more than any of us. I cannot tell you how mad he is, Charles. A raving lunatic.’
‘Sad, very sad. And likely to remain so?’
‘Dr Warren thinks so. The other doctors hold out hope of his return to sanity. But they are doubtless primed by the Queen.’
‘Her Majesty shows unusual spirit.’
‘She has changed … completely. Now she has given up bearing children I believe she fancies herself as a powerful influence on the country’s affairs.’
‘She could have some influence, Your Highness. We should not lose sight of that.’
‘She seems to have formed an alliance with Pitt.’
‘Then we must indeed be watchful of her. Your Highness, we need Portland’s assistance. It would be helpful if you could forget your quarrel with him.’
The Prince scowled. ‘He showed himself to be no friend of mine over that matter of my debts.’
‘Nevertheless, Your Highness, we need him.’
The Prince was silent for a moment. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Shake him by the hand and tell him that I hope everything that is past may be forgotten between us.’
‘Excellent,’ murmured Fox.
‘I will ask Maria to receive him at Pall Mall.’
Fox was silent. Would Maria receive Charles James Fox?
Oh, curse the woman! The pity of it was that the Prince had ever become influenced by her. She was the reason for his exile; she could now be his biggest enemy.
‘Maria will see that Portland forgets his grievances,’ said the Prince with a fond smile.
That may be, thought Fox, but how will she behave towards me?
At least the quarrel between the Prince and Portland would be mended and that was the first step forward.
Now, he explained, they must see that the Regency passed to the Prince with all the powers of kingship, for they could be sure Pitt would do everything in his power to curtail the Prince’s.
Maria had arrived from Brighton with the Sheridans whose own house was now occupied by the bailiffs.
‘Guests,’ declared Sheridan, ‘whom we can scarcely call welcome.’
Maria, who had herself, since her association with the Prince, suffered from the visits of such ‘guests’, was sympathetic.
‘You and Elizabeth must stay with me until something can be done to dislodge your guests,’ she told Sheridan, who was delighted at the prospect.
In his bedroom in the magnificent Pall Mall house he discussed the future with Elizabeth.
‘A temporary embarrassment, my love. When the Prince is Regent, when we are in power, there’ll be a very important place for me in the Government. Make no mistake about that.’
‘Will it pay our debts, Richard?’
‘My dearest, who is going to worry about the debts of the … er … what shall it be? What post would you choose for me?’
‘I would choose that of the solvent man.’
That made him laugh. ‘Elizabeth, you have no spirit of adventure?’
He took her by the shoulders and looked into her face. Now she could see clearly what dissipation had done to those once handsome looks.
Oh, Richard, she thought, where are you going?’
She released herself and made a desperate effort to restrain her fit of coughing.
Maria was concerned by Elizabeth’s pallor and Miss Pigot made one of her special cough mixtures for her. Maria was very fond of Elizabeth. Sheridan was witty and amusing and she believed a good friend of the Prince, but it was Elizabeth whom she loved.
The Prince had asked her to receive the Duke of Portland and she had sent an invitation to him which he had been delighted to accept, and he had shown his appreciation of her intelligence by discussing the situation with her. After that he had called several times and he, Sheridan and sometimes the Prince had had discussions together.
It would have been useful, Portland had implied, if Fox could have joined them.
It is one thing I will not do, Maria had decided. I will never have that man in my house.
The Sheridans came into her drawing room. Delightful guests, she thought. Sheridan so entertaining; Elizabeth so charming.
‘We have half an hour before my guests are due,’ she told him. ‘Pray be seated, Elizabeth, my dear. Did you take Pig’s potion? You will be in her black books if you did not.’
Elizabeth assured her that she had taken the evil-tasting concoction. ‘And I have not coughed since.’
Dear Elizabeth! She needed the quiet of the country; she needed a respite from anxiety. Thy were of a kind. Why should they fall in love and marry – yes marry – men who were so different from themselves?
‘Portland will be coming tonight, I suppose,’ asked Sheridan.
‘My dear Sherry, he almost asked himself. He seems to regard my house as the headquarters of his party, which is comical, considering my politics.’
Sheridan laughed. ‘Delightfully incongruous.’
‘And Portland is a little jealous of you, Sherry.’
‘I know. You are too kind to us. He would like you to be as kind to him. Perhaps if I could persuade him to pass over his fortune to me he would be in a position to entertain the bailiffs, then you might take pity on him as you are now doing on the poor impecunious Sheridans.’
‘I am not sure that I should, for impecunious or not I like to think of the Sheridans as my friends.’
Sheridan rose and bowed as gracefully as though he were on a stage.
‘One man I will not have in my house,’ said Maria vehemently, ‘is Charles James Fox. I know the Prince wishes me to, but I cannot bring myself to receive him here. When I think of the public insult he gave me, I am determined that I could never accept him as a friend of mine.’
Elizabeth’s heart began to beat uncomfortably. She wanted Richard to defend his friend. All the political good fortune which had come to him had been due to Fox’s influence. She wanted Richard to stand up for Fox, to explain to Maria that Fox had been forced to act as he had; but to do so was of course to cast a criticism on the conduct of the Prince of Wales and that was something he dared not do.
‘Fox, I think, believed he was acting for the best …’ he began mildly.
‘For the best!’ cried Maria. ‘To destroy my reputation. To speak of me as though I were a … a street woman!’
Sheridan said soothingly: ‘Oh, he’s a wily old Fox. I well understand why you won’t have him here.’
‘No,’ said Maria, ‘not even for the Prince. And I do not think he is quite so fond of Fox as he once was.’
‘How could h
e be,’ said Sheridan, ‘when you dislike him so?’
Later that night in their bedroom in Pall Mall Sheridan talked to Elizabeth while she brushed her long dark hair.
‘Portland is jealous of me. Think of that, Elizabeth. Portland! The great Duke himself. Maria is our friend and don’t make any mistake about this: Maria is going to have a big say in affairs. When the Prince is Regent, when he gives his support to the Party, then we’ll be truly in power. Poor Mr Pitt. He will depart and in his place …’
‘Mr Fox?’ said Elizabeth quietly.
‘Mr Fox?’ repeated Sheridan almost questioningly. ‘Maria hates him. I have rarely seen her so vehement as she was when she spoke of him. She will have great influence. Oh, yes … great influence, and she is not very pleased with Mr Fox … Portland is jealous of me. Think of that, Elizabeth. You see …’
‘Yes, I see,’ said Elizabeth.
‘The future looks very promising. So why are you worrying about those confounded bailiffs?’
Fox out of favour, he was thinking. Portland jealous of Sheridan. Could it be? Was it possible? Was Richard Brinsley Sheridan the future Prime Minister?
Elizabeth, watching him through the mirror, knowing him so well, read his thoughts clearly.
Who knows? she asked herself. He has succeeded so well in one direction, failed so sadly in another.
And whatever the outcome, shall I be here to see it?
When Parliament reassembled in December Pitt rose to propose a committee to examine the setting up of a Regency. The King’s doctors had declared his mind to be deranged, but with the exception of Dr Warren they believed there was a very good possibility of his recovering.
‘We should examine precedents,’ said Pitt.
Fox was immediately on his feet. ‘What is the need of a committee?’ he demanded. ‘The heir apparent is of age and has the capacity to govern. If the King were dead he would ascend the throne. The Prince of Wales has the right to govern if his father the King is unable to do so.’
What had happened to Fox? The wily politician with his expert knowledge of parliamentary procedure had made a false step, and it was one which a sharp-witted statesman such as Mr Pitt would see at once. The use of the word right was the biggest blunder Fox could have made.