The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series), page 7
‘You think the ton will let it take the place of Brooks’s?’
‘By all means, when they know that it is under the management of my chef. Brummell and my brother Fred will give it their support and in a week or so there won’t be a vacant place at any of the tables.’
He was beaming with joy at the certain success of the venture and Maria thought it was the moment to introduce a subject which might not please him so much but of which she was determined to speak.
‘How devoted Minney is to you. She speaks of you continually. I can tell you that nothing is done in the right manner unless it is done as Prinney does it.’
He smiled indulgently.
‘It is Prinney this and Prinney that, all the day through. And Pig is the same. In this house you are not so much His Royal as His Holy Highness.’
‘They are a dear pair and I am devoted to them both.’
‘Dearest, I wish that you could show the same affection for Charlotte that you show to Minney.’
‘Charlotte!’ The mention of his daughter had jerked him out of his pleasant reverie. ‘How lacking in grace that girl is.’ He shuddered. ‘She is so gauche.’
‘She is overawed in your presence. Believe me, she can be so charming.’
‘To others, but not to her father?’
‘It is because she is so much in awe of you … so anxious to please.’
‘My dearest Maria is apt to believe the best of everyone. I always feel that the child is proclaiming her indifference to me, her desire to flout me.’
‘Oh, no no. That’s not so.’
He was mildly astonished. He was not used to being contradicted, although Maria did it now and then.
‘So I do not know my own daughter?’
‘Please understand me. Charlotte is so anxious to win your approval that she becomes over-anxious. She admires you greatly.’
‘How can you be sure of that?’
‘It would be impossible for her not to.’
His good humour was momentarily restored and she hurried on: ‘If to please me …’
‘Anything in the world to please my dear love.’ His hand was on his heart as it was when he bowed to the people’s cheers – a not very frequent blessing these days except in Brighton.
‘If you would smile at her, show her a little affection, indicate that you are pleased to see her, I think you would make her very happy.’
He sighed. ‘Every time I look at her, Maria, I think of that creature.’
‘Why should you? Charlotte is very like you.’
‘She may have my family’s looks but her manners … that awkwardness …’ He shivered. ‘That is her mother and anything that reminds me of that woman puts me into an ill temper. By God, Maria, this affair at Montague House! This child she has! If it can be proved that it is her own then I can surely be rid of her. She can be sent back to Brunswick. I should feel a great deal more at ease if she were out of the country.’
‘And you think it is possible to prove this?’
‘These matters are difficult to prove, but I am sure. And If only I could get the help I need, I would divorce her. You cannot imagine what peace of mind that would bring. The most unfortunate day of my life was when I allowed myself to go through that ceremony with her.’
Maria was silent and he was unhappy, for he was deep in a subject which he would have preferred to forget. There were tears in his eyes, tears of self-pity. That he, the most elegant of princes, the First Gentleman of Europe, should have been married to that coarsest and most vulgar of German princesses! Now he was on the subject he could not stop talking of it.
‘To think of her there … living that degraded life at Blackheath, receiving those men and living on intimate terms with them … as I am convinced she did. The sailors, Smith and Manby, the artist Lawrence … any one of them might be the father of that boy, and do you realize, Maria, that that boy could have been presented to the nation as a future King of England? She has actually said that she would foist him on me if need be. She has said that before he was born she had spent a night or two at Carlton House and that as I was under the influence of brandy most of the time I could not deny it. It’s treason. Oh, God, Maria, do I deserve this?’
‘The Princess of Wales is certainly a very strange woman.’
‘Strange! She’s half-mad. She behaves like a maniac. These Douglases have done the right thing in bringing this to public notice. Before this investigation is through I hope – by God, how I hope – to prove that this so-called wife of mine is an immoral creature unworthy in every way to bear any title that has come to her since she arrived in England. I am going to prove this, Maria. I am determined.’
‘You upset yourself. We can only wait for the verdict, as with Minney. Let us pray that it will be the right one in both cases. But because you have such a kind heart you will, I know, not blame that poor child for her mother’s shortcomings. You will be kind to her and make her love you. I am sure that she longs for a little kindness from you. Will you try it … to please me.’
His good humour was coming back. He saw himself as the kindly parent who would not allow the child to suffer for her parent’s wrongdoing. He would win her allegiance from her mother. And at the same time he would please his dearest love.
He took her hand and kissed it.
‘You may rely on me to do what you ask of me … at all times,’ he said.
The people on the Steyne looked up and saw him.
They were delighted with him and Maria, who had always been a favourite. It was one of the sights of Brighton to see him sitting there on her balcony, tender and affectionate. In Brighton Mrs Fitzherbert was the Princess of Wales, not that other woman who was now causing such a scandal through what was being revealed in this case they called the Delicate Investigation.
The royal lovers, how charming they were – two large, not very young figures up there, but a reminder to all who were not so young that youth was not necessary to romance.
And no one saw him leave the Pavilion; he just appeared on the balcony. They said there was a secret passage from the Pavilion to Mrs Fitzherbert’s house which he had had made so that he could visit her at all times unseen.
How romantic! How charming! Trust the Prince of Wales to provide them with some excitement.
So they passed to and fro below and occasionally they caught his eyes when he would nod or smile and on some occasions rise and give them the chance to witness the most graceful bow in the world.
Maria took an early opportunity of calling on Lady Hertford, who received her graciously. Lady Hertford was by no means a beauty but married to one of the richest Tory peers in the country, she had a very high opinion of herself. She was always elegantly dressed, her only frivolity being her interest in clothes; this was instinctive and she was reckoned to be the best-dressed woman in England.
She had been friendly towards Maria in spite of the fact that she was an ardent Protestant; it was true, Maria – as far as she was concerned with politics – had Tory tendencies, and Lady Hertford was an ardent Tory and as the two reigning passions in her life were maintaining Toryism and achieving elegance this gave them something in common. At the same time Maria’s position with the Prince of Wales was rather dubious and although Maria lived as respectably as one could wish, Lady Hertford was extremely frigid by nature and averse to the slightest scandal. Still, she looked on Maria, if not as a friend, as a worthy acquaintance.
So now she took her hand with as much warmth as she was capable of and bade her welcome.
‘My dear Isabella,’ said Maria, ‘I have come to speak to you of a matter which causes me a great deal of concern, and I am going to ask you if you can help me. The Prince will join his supplication to mine.’
‘The Prince?’ said Lady Hertford.
‘Oh, yes, he is almost as involved as I am over this because he loves the child dearly. I refer to your relative, Mary Seymour.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Lady Hertford, ‘this pitiful case. The family seems determined to take Mary away from you.’
‘And I – and the Prince – will do all we can to prevent it. You see, Isabella, Minney – our name for her – is like my own child. I have had her since she was a baby. It will break her heart and mine if they separate us.’
‘I understand that the child’s Aunt Waldegrave wants to take her.’
‘Why?’ demanded Maria. ‘If she loved the child she would want to make her happy and Minney is happy with me.’
‘Mary regards you as her mother,’ said Lady Hertford with the air of Solomon. ‘It is certainly wrong to take her from you.’
Maria was delighted for it appeared that Lady Hertford was on her side.
‘You say the Prince will be displeased if they win this case?’
‘I don’t think he will ever forgive them. You see he is very fond of Minney … and she of him. You should see her climb on his knee and inspect his clothes. She calls him her Prinney. Oh, Isabella, if you could see those two together! I know he will be desolate if she is taken from us … for her sake as well as mine.’
Lady Hertford was thoughtful. The Prince supported the Whigs. What a triumph if she could be the means of bringing him over to the Tories! The old King was ailing. In fact there were rumours that he was often incoherent. He had had one unfortunate bout when there had almost been a Regency. The Prince of today could be the King of tomorrow.
She said: ‘I think, Maria, that I might speak to my husband about this. He is after all the head of the family and if anyone should decide this child’s future it is he … and not some band of lawyers.’
‘Oh, Isabella, that is exactly what I think.’
‘I could speak to him.’
‘If you would you would earn my eternal gratitude … and the Prince’s.’
‘Leave this to me, Maria. I will see what can be done. Now, could you drink a dish of tea?’
Lady Hertford lost no time in telling her husband about Maria’s visit.
Francis Seymour, second Marquis of Hertford, was a man of great political ambition. He had spent some forty years in the House of Commons and had been Lord of the Treasury in Lord North’s administration. When his father was created Marquis of Hertford he had become Earl of Yarmouth and taken his place in the Lords.
Isabella was his second wife; she was rich in her own right and her husband respected her opinions; therefore he listened intently to what she had to tell him.
She folded her beautiful hands in her lap and said somewhat primly: ‘The child’s place is clearly with Maria Fitzherbert. It would be cruel to take her from her. She is happy there. Besides, it would displease the Prince.’
‘Yet,’ pointed out Lord Hertford, ‘it might be better for her to be brought up with her own family. It is not as though she is alone in the world.’
‘My dear Francis, Mary has been well looked after with Mrs Fitzherbert all these years. I am sure it would be most harmful to remove her now. I think the Prince will never forgive Henry for being so insistent.’
‘He’ll fare none the worse with the King for suffering the Prince’s displeasure.’
‘The Prince is but the Prince … as yet. Should we not look to the future?’
‘One should always look to the future.’
‘Maria Fitzherbert says that His Royal Highness will be speaking to you soon on this matter. I think you should shake your head and say that it is very difficult but that you will do your best to please him. Let him think that you wish to work for him, to please him. And then perhaps in due course let Maria Fitzherbert have the child.’
‘But if the law says her Aunt Waldegrave is to have her …’
‘My dear Francis, are you the head of the family or not? Let the case proceed. Let them, if they will, give the custody of Mary to Lord Henry. Then you step in as head of the family and declare that the best guardian for Mary Seymour is Maria Fitzherbert. That, my dear Francis, will bring you the Prince’s eternal gratitude … or as lasting as is possible with His Highness.’
Lord Hertford smiled at his cool, elegant wife. ‘You are right, as usual, Isabella,’ he said.
The Prince kept his word. He intimated that he would like to visit the Hertfords and was cordially welcomed at their house. He discussed at great length his desire to see Mary Seymour happily settled with Maria and the Hertfords both pledged their support.
‘Your Highness realizes the difficulty,’ Lady Hertford said. ‘For myself and my husband there is no question of what is best, but Henry is stubborn I fear and having started this case he is determined to go on with it. We must try to find a way of outwitting him.’
The Prince looked at this elegant woman and thought her enchanting. There was something about her which was so graceful. What a figure! And so well did she carry herself that it was a joy to see her walk across a room. Her gown was exquisite. She reminded him of a china ornament – a collector’s piece – cool, aloof, unattainable … almost. It was a long time since he had seen a woman who attracted him in a certain way as yet indefinable.
He was glad that this affair had sent him to the Hertfords.
They must discuss the matter in detail, said Lady Hertford, because if they did so they might discover some way out of the difficulty.
She gave the Prince her gracious smile that was completely without warmth. ‘I have no doubt,’ she said, ‘that this court will award the child’s guardianship to her family. So we shall have to work out a way from there.’
The Prince was completely fascinated.
‘I am sure we can,’ she added, ‘if we but set our minds to it, and both my husband and I feel strongly that the best solution is for Mary to remain with Mrs Fitzherbert.’
The Prince would have seized her hand and kissed it, but without seeming to do so she managed to evade him.
‘How can I thank you for showing such kindness to me?’ he asked fervently.
‘Your Highness has no need to be grateful to me,’ she told him. ‘I am thinking of what is best for the child.’
He was impressed. What an unusual woman. He admired her remoteness almost as much as her elegance.
‘May I call on you tomorrow so that we may discuss this matter further?’
‘Lord Hertford and I are at Your Highness’s command.’
‘No,’ he told her fervently. ‘It is I who am at yours.’
After that he was a constant visitor. He sometimes called when Lord Hertford was not at home, for Lady Hertford could discuss the matter of Mary Seymour as well as her husband, and this she did.
He would sit watching her glacial features, her gracious movements and marvel at their excellence. But she remained as remote as the moon and never seemed to be aware of his admiration.
Sometimes the tears would come into his eyes when he tried to tell her that he could almost be glad of this controversy over the child because it had brought him the friendship of herself and her husband; to which she replied that if it brought also the happiness of the child it would then be a double blessing.
He went to Maria and told her that although the case seemed to be going against them he had great faith in the Hertfords, particularly Lady Hertford who seemed to possess such fine feelings with regard to Minney’s happiness.
‘We are going to win,’ he cried.
‘If we do,’ Maria told him, ‘it will be due to your efforts.’
‘My dearest, you know I would not spare myself in my desire to bring you and Minney together for I am convinced that the place of two such special people is under the same roof.’
She embraced-him and wept; and he, ever ready with the tears, wept with her.
‘My dearest love, the three of us shall be together, never fear.’
Miss Pigot said that as the dear Prince was determined they were bound to win. He summoned several of his friends among the peers who would be giving their vote and told them why they must vote for the child’s being left with Maria. It was hard for them to refuse him; but there remained a contingent of those who would be only too ready to work against him.
And when the case was nearing its end he called on the Hertfords and was received by them both – a little to his disappointment – for he had been hoping for a tête-à-tête with Isabella.
‘We have had an idea,’ she told him, ‘and I trust Your Highness will think it a good one. Francis believes that it means certain victory.’ She inclined her head to her husband. ‘Pray explain it, Francis.’
Lord Hertford said: ‘I propose to make a statement in the Lords during which I will explain that this matter is distasteful to me. It is a family matter; and as there is some dispute as to who should be the guardian of little Mary Seymour, I believe that I, as the head of the house, should take over that duty myself. I shall be the child’s guardian. Henry cannot object to that. He dare not. Justice would most certainly be with me.’
‘You will take the child?’ asked the Prince.
‘I will, Your Highness. And when she is given into my care I shall appoint the one whom I think most suitable to care for her, who, Your Highness can have no doubt, will be Mrs Fitzherbert.’
The Prince had risen, tears springing to his eyes. He grasped Lord Hertford’s hand, and gripped it for a moment; then he turned to Lady Hertford. He would have embraced her, but she must have realized his intention for with skilful grace she had somehow placed herself behind her husband.
‘How can I thank you good people for all you have done?’ demanded the Prince.
‘It has been our duty and our pleasure,’ said Lady Hertford.
‘It cannot fail,’ added Lord Hertford.
‘My thanks … my warmest thanks!’ The Prince looked momentarily melancholy. ‘One thing occurs to me. This matter has brought us close together. We have discovered friendship. I hope that now it is over that friendship will continue.’
He was looking at Lord Hertford but he was thinking of his wife.
‘We are honoured,’ said Lord Hertford.
‘Honoured indeed,’ echoed Lady Hertford.
The Prince was delighted. He took his leave and went at once to Maria.
‘Maria, my dearest love, I have the best news in the world. But perhaps I won’t give it to you yet. Or shall I? Let me say this. Minney is ours … for ever.’
