But George I had died and the Prince of Wales had become George II and although George II had at first rejected Walpole he had afterwards reinstated him. This meant that Walpole was the confidant of the Queen; and as Pulteney was still in opposition against Walpole, there was only one thing Hervey could do and that was change sides. He had become a Walpole man.
He was evidently not a man to be despised. His pen could be vitriolic, his tongue sharp; and Walpole was so pleased to have him on his side that he had asked the Queen to receive him in her household as Chamberlain. This was a source of great pleasure to Hervey; it meant he could be constantly near the Queen, and as he had his duties at Court he could keep in close touch with the Prince of Wales.
Very satisfactory, he was telling himself now. So, after a little respite, to Court he would go.
The carriage was approaching the Ickworth mansion. Hervey opened his eyes. Stephen looked at him anxiously to make sure he was not going to faint and with a little sigh Hervey sat up straight, adjusted his cravat, and smiled at his friend.
‘I feel better,’ he said, ‘but I should like to try the blood sweetener.’
They left the carriage and went into the big hall. Lady Hervey, looking very cool and outstandingly beautiful, was calmly waiting to greet him, her children about her and beside her to Lord Hervey’s astonishment, and some chagrin, William Pulteney.
Hervey patted the heads of his eldest son, George William, and his eldest daughter whom they had named Lepel. The children had been well trained by their mother and received him as coolly as she did. He was pleased with his family.
‘William guessed that you would be arriving today, and he and Anna Maria are staying here. William is anxious to have talks with you.’
‘Is that so?’ replied Hervey languidly. ‘Stephen will be staying until I return to Court.’
Mary gave Stephen her beautiful smile which meant that she allowed her lips to curl a little and her eyes to open wider.
‘That will indeed be a pleasure,’ she said.
‘Stephen will unpack for me,’ murmured Hervey. ‘I do not trust the servants with some of my precious things.’
‘Of course,’ replied Molly.
As he went to his rooms Hervey was wondering what proposition Pulteney had to put before him. He no longer felt so friendly towards Pulteney as he once had; his friendships did wane quickly. And Pulteney could scarcely feel so kindly towards him now that he had made it clear that he was a Walpole man. Still, it was gratifying that Pulteney should seek to bring him back to the fold. And Molly was evidently eager to help in the change.
Oh, no, thought Hervey. If I am going to Court I must be a Walpole man, for Walpole has managed to become the friend of the King and the Queen.
He turned to smile at Stephen.
‘I do wonder why Pulteney has come here,’ he said. ‘And, oh dear, he has that vixen of his with him! She’s a good looking woman but has nothing to recommend her but her looks. I should like to know the purpose of his visit.’
‘You will soon discover, however he tries to hide it from you.’
Hervey sat down on the bed as though exhausted. ‘You are feeling ill?’
‘A touch of the vertigo; I think I may have to go back to the seed and vegetable diet.’
‘Oh dear, it has such a weakening effect. Perhaps you should rest here at Ickworth for a while.’
‘The diet works wonders,’ replied Hervey. ‘I shall be well in a few days. Put out my pomade and my powder, dear boy. Then you can help me repair the ravages of the journey.’
Dinner was over and they sat in the drawing room—an intimate family party. There was Molly in flowered silk gathered up at the sides to show her very elaborate blue satin petticoat, the sleeves of her gown billowing at the elbows and ending in frills of soft lace; a patch near her eyes called attention to their beauty; she was now sitting with the utmost grace with which she performed every duty of the hostess. Anna Maria Pulteney was less elaborately dressed. She and Pulteney were very wealthy but Anna Maria did not like spending money and not only was very careful in her own expenditure but saw that her husband was too.
Pulteney was soberly dressed, but Lord Hervey looked like a gorgeous dragon fly in lavender lace and satin; and Stephen, more simply dressed but very handsome, sat back in the shadows ready to show his devotion whenever his dearest friend demanded it.
Pulteney was wondering how far he could trust Hervey. He would have to trust him because he needed him. A man with a pen like Hervey’s should be on one’s side; and the fact that Walpole had been so eager to welcome him into his fold and had secured him the post of Chamberlain to the Queen was an indication of how his services were regarded.
During Hervey’s absence abroad Pulteney had been bringing Lady Hervey to his point of view and as she disliked Sir Robert Walpole intensely she was delighted to help him.
Together, thought Pulteney, we will persuade him.
Conversation was desultory—all knew, except perhaps Stephen, that they were skirting about the subject they wished to discuss. They talked of Venice and Florence. Pulteney was a great talker, one of the most eloquent of men; and he liked to air his knowledge of the classics and throw in a latin tag here and there. Hervey was not surprised that he could not endure coarse Sir Robert. He was highly amused, waiting for Pulteney to come into the attack while he skilfully hedged him off with the beauties of the sunset on the Grand Canal and a discussion of the merits of Michelangelo and Tintoretto.
Pulteney represented Heydon, a borough in Yorkshire, and was one of the leading Whigs. When he had married Anna Maria Gumley, of low birth and high fortune, he became one of the richest men in the country; but Anna Maria had turned out to be a vixen who kept a tight hold on their income and invested it in such a manner that it increased rapidly. At the beginning of his career he had worked with Walpole until Sir Robert had offended him in the year 1721 by not offering him a post in his Ministry. He refused the peerage which was offered him and very soon afterwards became one of Walpole’s deadly enemies. He joined forces with Bolingbroke and that was indeed a formidable alliance, for between them they set up a journal which they calledThe Craftsmanand with this they began their attack. In it they wrote of a certain Robin (Sir Robert) and the object of the journal was to discredit him and to expose his sly ways to readers. Pulteney was a brilliant writer and Bolingbroke had years before discovered the power of the written word.
Sir William Wyndham, a firm Jacobite, joined with them and the three formed a new party which was made up of discontented Whigs and Jacobites; they called themselves the Patriots and their aim was, they declared, to work for the good of the country and expose the evil clings of those in high places.
And now, thought Hervey, Pulteney is here to attempt to lure me away from Walpole to his Patriots, perhaps to add my literary skill to his in The Craftsman.
Oh, no, certainly not. I have no intention of working under Pulteney and Bolingbroke. I am going to work alone and go my own way; and I shall begin through my friendship with Frederick, the Prince of Wales.
‘William has been a frequent visitor during your absence,’ said Molly at length when there was a pause in the description of European scenic grandeur.
‘How kind of him to relieve the tedium of Ickworth.’ ‘How could there ever be tedium where Molly is?’ asked Pulteney, smiling at his hostess.
Hervey saw the familiar lift of the lips, the opening of the eyes which remained cold and serene.
‘We discussed your talents,’ she said. ‘They are too great to be wasted.’