Humble houses were hastily transformed into mansions. Not only were the builders of Brighton making fortunes but so were the lodging houses and shop-keepers. Everywhere the Prince of Wales's feathers were displayed; and the theme was God Bless the Prince of Wales'.

The Prince constantly reiterated that he had never been so happy in his life and Maria echoed those sentiments. The Prince was full of high spirits yet Maria was having a decided influence on him. Her dignity was undeniable. She might not have been the most beautiful woman in Brighton but her grace and regality were unique. No one could doubt which of the ladies bore the title of Princess Fitz; Maria, said the people of Brighton, looked like a queen. Seated on a garden chair in the Pavilion grounds she was indeed like a Queen on the throne. There she would watch the Prince play cricket in his flannel jacket, trimmed with blue ribbon, and very tightly fitting white trousers, his face under the white beaver hat beaming with pleasure in the game while his eyes were constantly going in Maria's direction to make sure she was not missing any part of his performance. He was proud of the costume which he had designed himself, proud of his game, proud of Maria, proud of the way he had arranged skilfully his life so that he could keep his place as the prospective King and at the same time his hold on Maria and the people's affections.

That was doubtless a glorious summer.

Throughout troubled France there was sweeping a wave of admiration for the old enemy England, and the aristocracy from across the Channel must come to see Brighton. So not only was Brighton visited by the fashionable world of London but that of Versailles was also in evidence.

The people of Brighton were amazed by the French fashions. The English had been startling enough; but now came the exaggerated headdresses, the enormous hooped skirts; and the latest "simplicity styles' set by Marie Antoinette in her artificially created "natural' village known as the Hameau. Ladies in muslin dressed as shepherdesses, even carrying crooks, appeared in the Brighton streets; but the men were the most extraordinary; they appeared to mince in a manner new to Brighton; they threw their hands and arms about and chattered wildly; and jewels scintillated on their persons, so that they glittered even more than the Prince of Wales himself.

There were no dull moments in Brighton that summer.

And the French nobility, no less than the English, did honour to Maria; she could be seen riding in her carriage, with the Princesse de Lamballe, kinswoman of the King of France and reputed to be one of the greatest friends of Marie Antoinette.

The Prince had quickly replenished his stables and now racing was one of his greatest pleasures; he loved his horses; in fact it was said of him that the two things which delighted him most in the world were women and horses. He was constantly going to the Lewes races—though it was said not as often as he would have gone if Mrs. Fitzherbert had really enjoyed it.

During the hot summer days along the seafront and away to the downs was one moving panorama of glitter and colour; and in the centre of it was the man who was known as the First Gentleman of Europe, hardly ever seen without Maria Fitzherbert at his side.

* * *

In the Marine Pavilion one night at the beginning of August the Prince was supping with a few friends. On one side of him sat Maria and on the other the Princesse de Lamballe. The Princesse was chatting in her somewhat inconsequential manner of Versailles and her dear friend the Queen when one of the footmen came in to announce that a message had arrived for the Prince from Windsor. Would His Highness receive it now or wait until after supper?

"Windsor!" cried the Prince; and he thought of the last lime he had seen his father. "I will have it now."

He turned to the Princesse and craved her indulgence. Then to Maria, and did the same.

He read the message and exclaimed with joy. "This is wonderful news. My brother Frederick has come home from Germany. I haven't seen him for seven years. I cannot tell you how this news pleases me." He smiled at Maria. "I thought that I had all I desired. Now I know that I wanted just this to make my contentment complete."

"This is your brother?" said the Princesse de Lamballe.

"My brother Frederick. One year younger than I. We were brought up together ... never apart. We are the best friends in the world and it is seven years ... think of that, Madame, seven years since I have seen him. I remember the day he left for Germany."

"For Germany ..." echoed the Princesse.

"You may well look surprised. He was to have Army training. Why not in England? To answer that question, Madame, you must not turn to me, but to my father."

The Prince's eyes narrowed; but one did not of course discuss the King derogatorily with members of another nation. The Prince shrugged his shoulders and was content to talk of the friendship between himself and his brother.

As soon as supper was over—and Maria noticed that the Prince, who set the pace, had hurried it somewhat—he told his guests that he was all impatience to see his brother and that he was going to lose no time in leaving for Windsor.

It was a hint. They left, Maria only remaining.

"You will go to Windsor in the morning?" she asked him.

"In the morning! A fine way that would be to greet Frederick. No ... no. I am leaving at once, my love. I shall drive to Windsor tonight."

"What ...in the dark?"

He laughed aloud. "My dearest you cannot surely think that I'm afraid of the dark."

She knew that it was no use trying to dissuade this self-willed boy, although she thought it would have been more dignified for him to leave next morning in befitting style.

He called for his phaeton and at once set out, driving himself at great speed through the night from Brighton to Windsor.

* * *

They embraced. They wept.

"My dear Frederick, is it indeed you?"

"It is, George. And is this the Prince of Wales whose adventures have been startling all Europe?"

They began to laugh suddenly. "Frederick, this is a happy day. You must tell me of your affairs."

"Oh, you admit I have some. Then you do not think the Prince of Wales is the only one to have ... affairs?"

They were laughing again, embracing, weeping, examining each other.

"George, you've grown fatter."

"So have you."

"The curse of the family."

"Never mind. It shows contentment."

"You are contented George?"

"Never more in my life. You must come to Brighton. Wait till you see Brighton ... and Maria."

"I can't wait," declared Frederick.

The King was delighted with his second son. He talked to the Queen about him. "He's not like his elder brother. Oh, no. There's a difference. You've seen it, eh, what?"

"No one could be quite like George," said the Queen half admiringly, half resentfully. And she added: "I should hope."

"Frederick is a good boy at heart. He'll be able to give us some tales of battle, eh? I'm glad I sent him to Germany."

The Queen looked dubious. The people hadn't liked it; and she believed that the Prince of Wales might have behaved a little better to them if they had not robbed him of the brother he had loved. And wouldn't the Duke of York have been able to learn how to be a soldier as well in England as in Germany? Now he was returned to them—and although he was their son, they hadn't seen him for seven years and that did, in a way, make him seem like a stranger.

"Frederick," mused the King, "he's the Hope of the House. That's how I think of him. You understand ... eh, what? Now that George seems bent on giving us trouble ..."

"George seems to have reformed a little under the influence of that ... of that..."

"He'd never reform. He's putting on a show. He knows how to act a part... the rip! No, Frederick is a good boy. He's done well in Germany; he'll do well at home. Come. We'll go to your drawing room. He'll be there now."

It was not often that so many of the family were assembled. There were the six princesses, even baby Amelia, all standing solemnly about the Queen's chair awaiting the arrival of their parents; the equerries and some members of the household were there, and George and Frederick were together, deep in conversation, heads close, laughing as though no one else in the drawing room existed for them.

They all stood to attention at the arrival of the King and Queen; the Princesses curtsied prettily, including baby Amelia, who for once was too impressed by the glittering personalities of her two big brothers to assert her right to be the centre of attention.

The King and Queen took their places. Frederick stood by his father's chair, George by his mother's. The conversation was stilted. Why was it they never knew what to say to each other?

The Queen saw the glances which passed between her two sons—eyes raised to the ceiling, affecting to suppress yawns.

George was bored with his family. Could it be that Frederick —the King's Hope of the House—was going to be his brother's ally?

Oh why, why, thought the Queen, in this family is there always a state of war!

"We'll have some music," said the King. "Til swear you've heard some good music in Germany, eh, what?"

The Duke of York said that he had heard excellent music in Germany.

"Well we will try to give you some here." He raised a hand and his equerry was at his side. He asked that the musicians be sent for.

"I doubt you've heard a better pianist than Cramer," said the King. "And Fischer is a genius with the hautbois."

"I look forward with immense pleasure to hearing these gentlemen, sir."

"And the rest of the band," said the King with a smile.

The concert started.

Oh, God," whispered the Prince of Wales to the Duke of York, "did you think it would be so deadly!-"

"The music's good. It's the company."

"You should come to Brighton."

"So I've heard."

"You shall come to Brighton."

"When?"

"As soon as we escape from this funereal gathering. Tonight .. . I'll drive you there in my phaeton. I'll take a bet with you. A thousand guineas. When you get to Brighton you'll find excuses why you must stay there."

The King was frowning in their direction. Concert time was not the occasion for conversation.

But that evening the Prince of Wales drove the Duke of York down to Brighton.

"Frederick, this is the lady I want you to meet and love as a sister. Maria, my brother Frederick Duke of York and Bishop of Osnaburgh ... Now Bishop!"

The two brothers were laughing. "You remember those cartoons of you, Fred. Maria, he was made a Bishop before he took his first tottering steps and the cartoonists always drew him balancing a mitre that was as big as himself."

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Madam," said the Duke of York, bowing.

Maria replied with the regality of a Queen receiving visiting royalty that it gave her the utmost pleasure to see him and she trusted that he intended a long stay in Brighton.

"We have a bet on it," said the Prince. "He's going to be as reluctant to leave Brighton as I always am."

"My God, George." said the Duke of York, "you have made yourself a pleasant place here."

"Nothing to what I intend to make it. I'm going to show you round. Come on ... now. You shall inspect Marine Pavilion and I'll tell you of the schemes I have for the place."

He slipped one arm through Frederick's and another through Maria's; but as they went from room to room and the brothers shouted and laughed together and recalled to each other the ridiculous and tragic scenes from their youth Maria began to feel that she was a little less close to the Prince than she had been.

* * *

Frederick's coming did put an end to the halcyon days. Maria was still the Prince's "dear love'; he must know that she was there to return to; but that did not mean that he wished to be in her company all the time.

Frederick was full of high spirits in which George joined; and this meant driving madly about the country, drinking, gambling, playing practical jokes on each other. Maria's dignity did not fit into this; and while the Prince wanted the home atmosphere he also wanted the sort of horseplay so beloved by his brother.

Maria was realizing the difference in their ages; never before had those six years seemed to represent such a gap. He seemed to her very childish, such a boy, and she thought regretfully of the days immediately following their reconciliation when he had seemed more sober and as though he had really grown up. But he was after all a lighthearted boy; and he must, she supposed, have his fun.