Виктория Холт - Sweet lass of Richmond Hill

"I admit it," said Knight. " I cannot tell you how deeply I regret my conduct."

The Prince arrived and was cordial though disappointed. He did not believe that it would be impossible to find a clergyman who would comply with his wishes, although the first two had defaulted.

"I should like to know," said the Prince, "who this friend is who extracted this promise from you."

Tour Highness, I could not tell even you that and I beg of you not to ask me."

"It was Lord North, I'll swear. You were at his house when I sent for you."

"Sir, I do assure you that it is not Lord North."

"Well," said the Prince, "you have shown us that you are a man to respect a promise. Now I shall ask one of you. I want you not to speak to anyone of what has passed between us and to destroy any correspondence concerning this matter."

"Your Highness," cried Knight fervently, "I give you my word."

"I accept your word," replied the Prince.

It was dismissal, and thankfully the Reverend Johnes Knight came out into the cold December air.

When he had gone the Prince turned mournfully to Colonel Gardner.

So," he said, "we are still without our officiating clergyman."

But this was soon rectified. Colonel Gardner had discovered a man who would do what was asked.

"Your Highness," explained Colonel Gardner, "I have on this occasion taken a different approach. I believe that had we offered Rosenhagen a sum of money in the beginning we should not have had these unfortunate incidents. I am therefore offering £500 to this man and Your Highness's promise of preferment."

The Prince nodded. "And he has accepted?"

"With alacrity, sir. He is not a worldly rogue like Rosenhagen, nor an honest man like Knight. He is a young curate, ambitious, eager to marry, and looking for honours in the Church. Just the man to be prepared to take a risk in the hope of getting them."

"And you think there'll be no hitch this time?"

"None at all. He is the Reverend Robert Burt who has but recently taken Orders. I am sure that it is now safe to go ahead with our plans. I have impressed on this man the importance of secrecy."

"Importance indeed!" agreed the Prince. "You know, Gardner, that if this got to Pitt's ears he could have it stopped."

"Yes, sir. But I do not think we shall have trouble from Burt. He is most eager to serve Your Highness and for ... preferment. He will have to be given a living after the ceremony."

"He shall have it."

"And a good one, sir."

"There is one at Twickenham ... a very comfortable one ... in Mrs. Fitzherbert's own parish there. That would be most appropriate, Gardner. He shall have that."

"Then I am sure we need have no fear. If Your Highness's enemies had wind of the affair and tried to bribe him they could not give as much as that."

"I would have preferred to deal with a man like Knight."

"It is difficult to find men like Knight who will act in circumstances like this."

" That infernal Marriage Act. By God, that will go as soon as I'm on the throne."

Colonel Gardner was silent. The Prince, by marrying a Catholic, might very well have forfeited his right ever to mount the throne.

"I will give him his instructions, Your Highness. The ceremony will take place at night. That will be safer, I'm sure."

"At night" agreed the Prince.

"Say between seven or eight o'clock ... at Mrs. Fitzherbert's house in Park Street."

The Prince nodded.

"I will tell Burt that he must be walking along the street with an air of casualness. He will be met by a gentleman who shall make a comment ... as yet to be decided ... and who will bring him to the house where we shall be waiting for him."

"That is good. Ah, Gardner, my dear friend, we are moving at last. It will not be long now."

On the evening of the 15th December the little party was gathered in Park Street.

The Reverend Robert Burt walking slowly down Oxford Street and turning into Park Street was stopped by a man who greeted him as he had expected, and together they walked down Park Street to the house of Mrs. Fitzherbert which they unostentatiously entered. Assembled in the drawing room was Mrs. Fitzherbert with her brother John and her uncle Henry.

As soon as the clergyman had been ushered into the drawing room the Prince arrived. He had come very quietly on foot from Carlton House and with him was his friend Orlando Bridgeman. He had chosen Orlando who was about the same age as he was himself and had been a friend of his for some time; he was the Member of Parliament for Wigan and therefore one of the Prince's more serious friends. Moreover, being a Shropshire man he was acquainted with the Smythes, and Maria knew him well, so he seemed an admirable choice.

The Prince had explained to him that it was a friendly act to take part in this ceremony and that he was not allowing Colonel Gardner to be present because if it were discovered later that he had been party to it, it could jeopardize the Colonel's relationship with the King.

"As for you, my dear Orlando, I shall ask you to wait outside the house while the ceremony is performed, then you will not be directly involved. Also, we must be warned if anyone attempts to come into the house. It is a possibility, for if this should reach Pitt's ears, as Prime Minister he would have the right to stop the ceremony. I have waited so long, my dear friend, that I should go mad I am sure if anything happened to prevent my marriage now."

Bridgeman replied that nothing should if he could help it. He would take up his stand in the shadows at the door of the house and would immediately report if any stranger came near and sought to enter.

"Then let us waste no more time," said the Prince.

He went into the house declaring that he was there and that the ceremony should proceed without delay.

In that drawing room of the House in Park Street the Prince and Maria made their vows; and after the ceremony the Prince wrote the certificate which confirmed that on the 15th day of December of the year 1785 Maria Fitzherbert was married to George Augustus Prince of Wales.

He embraced his Maria with rapture. He had decided where the honeymoon should be spent.

Marble Hill, of course. Was she not his sweet lass of Richmond Hill? Had he not been ready to renounce a crown for her sake?

This was going to be the beginning of such happiness as she had never known. Maria believed him. This romantic marriage was so different from the others she had experienced. As the coach took them out of Park Street to Oxford Street and along the road to Richmond he told her what he would do for her. Every hostess would have to receive her if they wished to see him. She was the Princess of Wales and he would know how to deal with anyone who attempted to deny this. All that she wanted should be hers. He would give her a carriage with the royal arms on it; he would give her priceless jewels. None of which she wanted, she told him; all she wanted was his love.

An enchanting reply which delighted him. But then when did his Maria not enchant him?

He was happy; he was in love; he was married to the most beautiful woman on earth; he had eluded the fat German Princess they would have chosen for him. He had his sweet lass.

How slow the coach was! But he did not greatly care; she was there beside him, with her perfect complexion, her cloud of curly fair hair and that pure white bosom to be caressed and wept on.

The coach stopped. He looked out. Where were they?

"Hammersmith, I believe, my dearest."

"Why have we stopped?"

The coachman was at the door.

"Begging Your Highness's pardon, the roads are so blocked with snow, the horses have broken down. It will be necessary to rest here for a while, sir. There is an inn here, sir, where you could stay while we see what can be done."

So they alighted and by candlelight they supped at Hammersmith.

It mattered not where they were, said Maria, since they were together.

And fervently the Prince agreed.

The Court was at Windsor where it was housed most uncomfortably. The Castle itself was in a state of deterioration and as repairs were done now and then the King and Queen with their elder children stayed in what was known as the Upper or Queen's Lodge while the younger ones were housed in the Lower Lodge. These Lodges were gloomy and cold, the rooms small and old fashioned; there were numerous cupboards and small alcoves; the staircases were steep and dangerous; and there were so many pairs of stairs and so many passages that attendants new to the place were constantly losing their way. The fires in the small rooms during winter overheated them but the blast through the corridors was icy. Most of the household suffered from colds; and every morning during the coldest weather they were expected to attend a service in the unheated Castle chapel which was colder even than the corridors.

Still the King and Queen preferred Windsor to St. James's, and Buckingham House which had, not so long ago, been made into a home for them at great cost. "Dear little Kew' was of course the favourite residence, but as both the King and Queen liked living in the country they were often at Windsor.

One knew exactly what was going to happen each day, said some of the bored members of the Court. No one would believe this was a royal household for it was conducted as many houses were in remote districts throughout the country. There was no ton, no excitement, nothing royal. The Queen examined her household accounts with a fervour she showed for nothing else except her habit of taking snuff; the King walked about the neighbourhood like a squire, interesting himself in what crops his tenants were growing and had even been known to take a hand at the butter-making. They were parsimonious both of them, and no one was ever allowed to be late for meals or the King wanted to know the reason why. Every evening there was music—and even this varied very little. There was always some composition by Handel and all the Princesses had to be present—even baby Amelia who must, said the King, be brought up to appreciate the right kind of music—which was of course the kind which appealed to him.

The Royal Court was in the greatest contrast to the Prince's entourage at Carlton House. Often the King and Queen heard their son's establishment spoken of almost reverently. There was the centre of gaiety; there the fashionable, the erudite and the witty gathered. The Princesses listened eagerly for news of their brother; they envied him; they wished he would come to Windsor or Kew or wherever they were. But he rarely did; he was too busy living his exciting life.

The King thought about him constantly and disliked him more intensely every day. The Queen fretted about him. Why had he made this gulf between them? Why could he not be the dutiful son she longed for him to be? She was torn between her love and pride in him and her resentment towards him, and she thought of him more than she did the rest of her children put together. There were very disturbing rumours about him and the Catholic widow, Mrs. Fitzherbert. The only pleasant thing about those rumours was the good opinion everyone seemed to have of the lady.

The Queen discussed him with Lady Harcourt, one of her closest friends as well as one of her Ladies of her Bedchamber.

"I think it is a very good friendship ... nothing more," she said. "I remember he had such a friendship with one of the Princess's attendants—Mary Hamilton. She was a pure girl and I hear that this Mrs. Fitzherbert is the same."

"I've heard it too, Your Majesty," agreed Lady Harcourt, "but..."

Yet how could she disturb the Queen who had so much to disturb her? Lady Harcourt knew how anxiously the Queen watched the King for a return of that strange malady which had attacked him once and in which he had rambled so incoherently that both he and the Queen had thought he was going mad.

Lady Harcourt—who was devoted to the King as well as to the Queen—sincerely hoped that the Prince would not provoke his father so much that he made him ill.

On one cold morning early in the year 1786 the Queen arose as usual, and when she had undergone the ceremony of the early toilette, which took about an hour, had been to the service in the icy chapel and had taken breakfast in the company of the King and her elder daughters she returned to her apartments for the morning toilette, a lengthy matter for her hair had to be dressed and powdered and this was one of the two days in the week when it had to be curled, and this took an hour longer than usual.