This promenade continued for two hours when the bells rang for dinner.
The Prince of Wales had been at Dorothy’s side during most of the promenade and when the bells rang he took her hand and led her to her place at the top table in the dining room. He sat on her right hand and the Duke of York took the place on her left.
There could not have been any more obvious indication that in the Prince’s eyes Dorothy was his sister-in-law the Duchess of Clarence. William looked on with misty eyes at those two whom he loved so well engaged in pleasant animated conversation while he himself took his place at the extreme end of the table.
The discourse about the Prince of Wales continued witty and light-hearted while the most sumptuous foods were passed around and the bands continued to play in the garden just outside the open windows.
The Prince of Wales congratulated Dorothy on many of her performances and talked knowledgeably of the theatre so that it was a pleasure to discuss the merits of plays and players with someone of such discernment. She appreciated the more intellectual approach he could bring to the subject than William was able to; but looking at her lover at the end of the table she believed she was indeed fortunate to have won his affection.
The Prince wanted to hear about the children, particularly George.
‘I daresay they are stationed somewhere not far off,’ said Dorothy, ‘listening to everything that is going on down here.’
‘Could they not come down… for a little while… just to have a look at the company – and to give the company the pleasure of looking at them?’
‘If Your Highness would not be bored with them…’
‘My dearest Dora, bored with my enchanting nephews and nieces! But I adore them… every single one.’
So Dorothy called to one of the liveried attendants and told him that it was the Prince’s wish that the children come to the dining room.
And very soon there they were – all eight of them, led by the intrepid George with Henry marching like a soldier – Sophia, Mary, Frederick, Elizabeth, Molpuss and Augusta. A round of applause, led by the Prince, greeted them. Dorothy found herself weeping with pride in them. They were a healthy, handsome band indeed. They came and made their bows and curtsies to the Prince of Wales who had a word with each of them, and Molpuss almost succeeded in removing the royal diamond shoe buckles so the Prince took the young miscreant on to his knee and fed him with sweetmeats from the table until he was rewarded with a sticky kiss which seemed to please him. Augusta preferred to view her glittering uncle from her mother’s knee, and the children made a delightful domestic contrast to all the grand ceremony of the occasion.
The Prince asked about the youngest of the children, and Dorothy sent a servant to tell the nursemaid to bring down the baby; and young Augustus appeared, somewhat startled, from his bed and everyone exclaimed on his beautiful white hair.
William sat back in his chair, the proud father of such a family.
The public had been allowed to come into the grounds for the occasion and while this pleasant scene was enacted they strolled round and looked in at the windows. They saw the Prince of Wales with a FitzClarence on either knee and the rest of the family amusing the guests. The band went on playing. And the people of Bushy said how pleasant it was to have the Duke of Clarence for a neighbour.
The dinner over, the children retired and the Prince of Wales rose to announce a toast.
‘The Duke of Clarence.’ And when this was drunk he gave ‘The King, the Queen and the Princesses’, followed by ‘The Duke of York and the Army’. When the toasts were drunk the bands played once more and the guests strolled in to the gardens where they mingled with those members of the public who had come in to see them.
It was a happy day, they decided, a worthy celebration of a forty-first anniversary.
When all the guests had gone William and Dorothy together went into the nurseries to see their children, all fast asleep.
‘God bless them and keep them safe,’ murmured Dorothy; and she wondered what Grace would have thought had she been present on this occasion.
It was not the marriage for which she had hoped, but surely even Grace would have been satisfied.
It was hardly to be expected that the birthday party would have been allowed to escape without comment. The extravagance of the entertainment for one thing was taken up by the press.
Cobbet, the editor of The Courier who was constantly attacking the royal family, wrote:
‘The representing of the oratorio of
The Creation
applied to the purpose of ushering in the numerous family of the Duke of Clarence whereby the procreation of a brood of illegitimate children is put in comparison with the great works of the Almighty, is an act of the most indiscreet disloyalty and blasphemy. We all know that the Duke of Clarence is not married and that therefore if he has children those children must be bastards, and that the father must be guilty of a crime in the eyes of the law as well as of religion…
‘I am confirmed in my opinion when I hear that the Prince of Wales took Mother Jordan by the hand… taking his place upon her right hand, his royal brothers arranging themselves according to their rank on both sides of the table, the post of honour being nearest Mother Jordan, who the last time I saw her cost me eighteenpence in her character of Nell Jobson.’
The King read of the party and almost wept rage and frustration.
‘I help him to pay his debts and what does he do, eh, what? He immediately sets about incurring some more. What can I do with these sons, eh? All very well to honour Mrs Jordan in private… nice little woman… good actress, good mother, so I hear, eh, what? But an affair like this. Think of the cost! What was the cost of that, eh? He’ll be in trouble before long if he goes on like this. Nine children to keep, eh? That place at Bushy. He’ll be in debt, you mark my words, and then who’s going to get him out of trouble, eh, what?’
The Queen replied: ‘There’s one thing he can do.’
‘What’s that, eh, what?’
‘He’ll do what George did before him. He’ll have to marry. Then the Parliament will settle his debts and his income will be increased and he’ll be in time, I hope, to give the family some legitimate children.’
‘But it won’t do. Debts. Extravagance. The people are not so fond of us. There was that bullet. It wouldn’t take much… I think of France. Sometimes I don’t sleep all night thinking of France… and those boys. Could be a difficult situation. Should be careful. Shouldn’t have parties. Shouldn’t drink and gamble. Shouldn’t show off their women. People don’t like it.’
‘I can see the day coming,’ said the Queen, ‘when William will be in the same position as George was. Then he will have to marry – and marry the wife who is chosen for him.’
The Queen’s warning
THE IDYLLIC SCENE at Bushy was too good to last. The usual troubles arose. William could never understand that what he bought would eventually have to be paid for. The cost of his birthday party had been enormous; he had had no idea it would be so expensive.
Dorothy frowned over the bills. ‘You couldn’t possibly have spent so much.’
‘It’s all there, all set out,’ he replied irritably. His gout was bad that morning. It always was when he was agitated.
‘But we’re almost as much in debt as we were before you paid off that £20,000.’
‘Am I to be blamed because the price of things is so high?’