Виктория Холт - Sweet lass of Richmond Hill

The answer was that she loved him.

Yes, she did. She must face the fact. Perhaps it would have been easier if she had not. Perhaps she would have been wiser in her conduct towards him. Perhaps when she heard of those infidelities she would have left him.

But how could she? She considered herself married to him; she had sworn to love, honour and obey him; and she was a woman who kept her vows.

And fundamentally—she loved him. Even sensible women did not stop loving a man who they knew was not worthy of that love.

He could charm her with his gaiety, with his gallantries, with his gracious manners, with his protestations of devotion. They were insincere, but she made herself believe them because she wanted to. She had heard a remark Sheridan had made of him which had wounded her deeply, the more so because she knew it to be true.

"The Prince is too much every lady's man to be the man of any lady."

How true! she thought. How sadly true! There was a not very characteristic recklessness about the manner in which she determined to enjoy that summer.

Debts. They were her constant thoughts.

One morning she was awakened by her maid in her house at Pall Mall to be told that two gentlemen were below and insisting on admittance.

"Two gentlemen?" she asked. Was it a joke of the Prince's?

Miss Pigot came running into the room, her face long and indignant.

"It's the bailiffs," she cried. "They're demanding immediate payment of this."

"This' was a bill for one thousand eight hundred and thirty-five pounds.

"Oh, Pig, how did I accumulate such a debt?"

"I don't know, but we've got to find it unless we want these men with us for weeks."

It was even worse than she had anticipated as she soon discovered. The debt had been long outstanding and her creditors would wait no longer. Unless she could find the required sum before the day was out she would be conveyed to the debtors' prison.

"Oh, for God's sake, call the Prince. Go to Carlton House at once and tell him what plight I am in."

He came at once. That was one of his most lovable qualities. He would always be gallant and a lady in distress would receive his immediate compassion. A lady in distress! She was his wife. And the debts incurred had been through entertaining him.

He was with her in as short a time as it took to come from Carlton House.

"My dear, dear love, what has happened? These wretched people are bothering you."

Prison! For his dear love! It was ridiculous.

But they would have to find the money, Maria told him.

"Leave it to me" he replied, embracing her; he was always lighthearted about money. He never took it seriously. Debts? Oh, they were one of the little pinpricks in the life of royalty. One incurred them and they were settled.

Perhaps for princes, Maria reminded him. But what of people like herself?

"No one is going to bother my dear love," he told her. "I will go with all speed to the moneylenders"

He was back not long afterwards with the money.

Beaming with satisfaction he paid the debt and the house was free of its unwelcome visitors.

He then explained that the Jews had refused to advance him the money until some of his own outstanding commitments had been met.

"So, my dear, what do you think I did. I've pledged some of the jewels and plate from Carlton House."

"Your jewels and plate!"

This was a situation that appealed to him. With tears in his eyes he declared that he would pledge his life for his dear love.

He stayed with her; they laughed; they were lovers as they had been in the first days after the marriage ceremony.

She was as happy as she had rarely been.

But those were uneasy times.

Early the following year the matter of the Prince's debts had become so acute that he had no alternative but to appeal once more to his father.

The King received him with sorrow. Since his illness he wanted to be reconciled to his son and as he himself had become more mellow, the reconciliation might have taken place had not the Queen been determined to present her son to his father in the worst possible light.

But the quarrel between the Court and Carlton House was having disastrous results on the Monarchy and both the King and the Prince realized that it was unwise to show their dislike of each other so blatantly. This was brought home to them afresh with news of the terrible things which were happening across the Channel.

The Princess Royal, now twenty-five years of age, was aware of the harm the family quarrel was doing and tried to reason with her mother, but the Queen, having so recently acquired her influence, was not going to allow her daughter to interfere with it. Her dislike of the Prince of Wales was like a disease. It possessed her and it seemed there was no cure. She was delighted at the scurrilous reports of his liaison with Mrs. Fitzherbert which filled the newspapers, and when the Princess Royal pointed out that that lady had always behaved with the greatest decorum the Queen poohpoohed the suggestion and said that of course the woman was a scheming adventuress who hoped to take advantage of the Prince of Wales's folly. When Maria brought an action against one pamphleteer the Queen read the accounts with glee; but when the writer was fined and imprisoned and the affair appeared to be a warning to others not to incur further penalties, the Queen was disappointed.

How like the Prince to commit the ultimate folly, thought the Queen. To marry a commoner ... and a Catholic. If he had had any sense of his duty he would be married now to a suitable German Princess and have one or two lusty sons to ensure the succession as his father had done.

The best way of disturbing the Prince was to force public enquiries into his so-called marriage with Mrs. Fitzherbert. Let him be disturbed. It was only right that he should be called on to do his duty.

When she was walking with the King in the gardens she mentioned the delicate subject which she knew would upset him, but she was determined to speak of it.

"The Prince of Wales is approaching thirty. Is it not time that he thought about giving us the heir to the throne?"

The King's brows were drawn together into a worried frown.

"There is this affair ... this woman. She seems a good woman. If he is married to her ..."

"Married to her I How can he be married to her? He cannot marry without your consent and he has never asked it. Therefore he cannot have had it. He is not married to this woman and therefore he should be married to a German Princess."

"Yes" agreed the King. "It is true ... He should marry."

The Queen nodded. She was thinking that her niece Louise, Princess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, would be a very good match. How comforting if her own niece were Princess of Wales! How grateful she would be to Aunt Charlotte who had arranged this marriage for her! She would defer to her aunt in everything. Yes, it must be Louise.

"There is another matter" said the Queen. "He sets himself up to be the patron of the Whigs. He should be made to receive Tories at Carlton House as well as Whigs. His debts are constantly settled by the Treasury and yet he turns his back on Tories. It is a ridiculous situation"

"A ridiculous situation, eh?" agreed the King.

The Queen happened to know—for now that she was a woman of influence she had her spies everywhere—that the Prince's creditors were getting so impatient that he would soon again be begging the King's help in the settlement of his debts. At such times lie was more humble—by necessity of course. Well, when he came he would have a shock waiting for him.

The King received the Prince. Mr. Pitt had suggested that there must be a formal reconciliation because the constant bickerings in the family were dangerous to the country's reputation abroad.

Tears filled the King's eyes; he wept more easily than ever nowadays, and his memory failed him so that at times he was living in the past. This was George—the precious infant, the first born, who had brought such joy to his parents—handsome, charming, healthy, sound in mind and body, the child for whom he had planned and schemed. What has gone wrong? the King asked himself.

The Prince too was moved. This poor old man who rambled frequently, who wept without reason, who was obsessed by the fear of falling once more into madness, was a shadow of the martinet he had once been; and the Prince, whose emotions were superficial, and who wept as easily as the King, found himself wishing for a reconciliation.

In a humble tone he told of his debts.

The King nodded without reproaches and said that there would have to be conditions if the debts were settled.

The Prince enquired what conditions.

"It is time you produced the heir to the throne."

"But I have many brothers."

"The country expects the Prince of Wales to provide the heirs unless he is unable to do so. I do not believe, my son, that you suffer from such a disability."

"Good God, no."

"Then ... there should be a marriage. A German Princess would be most suitable."

"A German!" cried the Prince in disgust.

"She must be Protestant. You realize that."

The Prince turned pale. "I would resist such a suggestion with all my might"

The King nodded. He understood. The Prince had gone through a ceremony of marriage with that woman, who was a good woman. She was a Catholic and had insisted on the ceremony. He understood; and he had no wish to embarrass the Prince.

"Well" he said, "since you are so set against it let us hope that we may shelve that matter for a while. But there is another."

The Prince was so relieved that he said impulsively: T will endeavour to meet Your Majesty's wishes on all other matters except this one."

"You must receive Tories at Carlton House," said the King. "By making it a Whig stronghold—and yourself nominal head of the Whigs—you offend the Government."

The Prince was thoughtful. Anything ... just anything to stop this talk about marriage. And what of the Whigs? What had they done for him? Fox ... Fox had denied his marriage in Parliament, he had ruined his case for the Regency by talking of rights. What did he owe the Whigs?

"Yes, Father," he said, "I will receive Tories at Carlton House."

The King nodded; and the two smiled at each other, on better terms than they had been for many years. But the Prince knew who had suggested those terms to his father and he hated the Queen more than ever.

Shortly after the debts of the Prince of Wales had been settled Frederick, Duke of York, presented himself to the King with a similar request.

"Money, money, money," cried the King. "Can you never have enough of it."

The Duke of York placed his hand on his heart and bowed. "Never, sir," he said vehemently.

The King eyed his favourite son with affection.

"Now," he said to him: "There is one condition I must make before your debts are settled, my son."

"Name it," cried the Duke. " I accept it."

"Without hearing what it is, eh, what?"

"The pressing demands of my creditors are the most urgent consideration in my life, sir."

"It's marriage," said the King. "You must marry without delay."

The Duke grimaced. "Well, I'm ready to consider it, sir."

"More sensible than your brother." The King's eyes were clouded suddenly. "You are all a great worry to me. There's William setting up house with a play-actress... a Mrs. Jordan ... and aping a respectable married man."

"Better than aping a disreputable one, sir."

These sons of his disconcerted him. They could not be serious when situations demanded seriousness. "There's your brother, the Prince of Wales ... Oh, I don't know ... I do not know. I can't sleep of nights thinking of you all and wondering what will become of you. You understand that, eh, what?"

The Duke said gently: "Don't fret over me, Father. I will marry when you wish and whom you choose for me."

The King embraced his son. "Frederick ... I always said you were the Hope of the House. I always knew you would not fret me as your brother does."

"George does not mean to, Father. It's easier to be the Duke of York than the Prince of Wales. Besides, George is more flamboyant than I am . . . Larger than life, that's George. He's a fine fellow at heart. You can't blame him."