‘That’s a question a lot of people might like to know the answer to. Perhaps if he did make this proclamation we should find out.’
‘You are not thinking of the consequences. Oh, he is mad— mad.’
‘Mad for you, my dear.’
‘You talk like a romantic fool, Piggy.’
‘It’s what I am, I suspect. But I should like to see you two happy together.
He’s a dear good man in spite of being a little naughty now and then. But think of that will of his. You see how he loves you. He calls you his wife, his angel, his soul— and that was only a few days after the birth of his daughter.’
‘Oh be silent, do, Pig!’
‘Well, I will if you want, but you’ve got to make your decision, haven’t you?
Think how he’s always looked after me. Five hundred a year he’s given me and dear boy, thinking he might be going to die, he worries about me and says I’m to have a place in one of the palaces after he’s gone. You must call that thoughtful of him.’
‘You were always his advocate. I suspect you of intriguing with him.’
‘It would only be for your happiness, my dear, and his.’
‘Oh, I know, I know. But he is driving me to distraction.’
‘I always knew you loved him.’
‘When did I ever deny it?’
‘It would have been no use, my dear I know you too well. Why, Maria, what’s the matter?’
‘It’s just struck me. If he is such a fool as to make a public announcement of our marriage you know what will happen, Pig. We shall all be found guilty of praemunire.’
‘What in the name of the saints is that?’
‘It’s offending against the Church. You see we knew of the Royal Marriage Act; we knew that the State would not accept his marriage to a commoner, and a Catholic at that, and we went through a church ceremony.’
‘You mean that that parson will be found guilty. What was his name?’
‘Burt. He’s dead so they can’t hurt him. But— oh, Piggy, I’ve just remembered. My brother and my uncle signed as witnesses. Heaven knows what will happen to them. They will be found guilty.’
Maria had risen and Miss Pigot rose too to stand beside her. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked anxiously.
Maria did not answer but hurried out of the room and into her bedroom, followed by Miss Pigot. There Maria took a strong box from a cupboard and drew out a document.
She studied it in some emotion for a few seconds. It recorded that on the 15th December 1785, George Augustus Frederick, Prince of Wales, had married Maria Fitzherbert.
Then deliberately she picked up a pair of scissors and cut out the names of John Smythe, her brother, and Henry, Harrington her uncle.
‘Maria,’ cried Miss Pigot aghast, ‘what are you doing?’
‘I am saving my brother and uncle from the disaster which would surely fall on them if my husband were so foolish as to carry out his threats.’
Miss Pigot could only stare in dismay at the mutilated marriage certificate.
‘Why don’t you give in!’ she said. ‘You know you will in the end.’
The Queen was sitting with the Princesses Augusta and Mary while they worked at their embroidery. The readers had been dismissed because the Queen wished to talk with her daughters and she did not want what she had to say to go outside the family.
The Prince of Wales was at Carlton House; so was his daughter; the Princess Caroline was at Blackheath but she was visiting Carlton House regularly to see her daughter and the child paid visits to her. The Queen would have liked to see Princess Caroline shut out completely from the family circle. She hated her daughter-in-law; this was only partly due to the fact that the Prince had chosen her in preference to her own niece Louise; the other reason was that she had hated Caroline’s mother.
When she had first come to England— a frightened inexperienced girl of seventeen— Caroline’s mother had spied on her, reported her actions to her mother-in-law and had in fact been one of the main causes for all the years of insignificance which had been hers during her long period of childbearing. Now she was discovering how exciting it was to have power. She was vindictive and she enjoyed having her revenge on her enemy’s daughter.
In any case, she assured herself, she disliked the Princess for herself alone; and she was irritated that the King should show such affection for her. He showed more for her than he did for his wife and was constantly defending her with the lady, surely it was for his sisters to play their small part in bringing about the reconciliation.
Miss Pigot was triumphant. It was clear that the royal family wished Maria to return to the Prince. But could she possibly hold out against such a weight of opinion? The Prince’s brothers had always been on his side so naturally since he wanted to return to Maria they would do their best to persuade her. But when the royal Princesses— whom she met at some of the houses to which she had received invitations it would have been churlish to refuse— actually approached her and hinted that the family wished for a reunion she could scarcely ignore such an approach. And when certain members of the Queen’s household suggested that Her Majesty had given similar hints, Maria knew that she must act.
She now answered the Prince’s letters. She was moved by his professions of devotion; doubtless he knew her own feelings; but before she agreed to return to him she must have the sanction of the Holy See as to whether she was truly the Prince’s wife; and only if she were so in the eyes of the Pope could she consider returning to him.
Knowing the delays appeals to Rome entailed, the Prince gnashed his teeth in impatience But he wanted Maria and he must agree to her terms.
Each day Miss Pigot awaited the messenger from Rome.
She was almost as impatient as the Prince. Maria waited philosophically and none would have guessed the turmoil within her. To go back to that early happiness? Was it possible?
She would control her temper. She would need to, for he was the most exasperating of men. It was no use deluding herself. She loved him. Probably more deeply than he loved her. His emotions had always been of a superficial nature, but they certainly went deeper for her than for anyone else in his life. She was astonished that he had waited all this time for her to return to him. She had heard no rumours of his adventures since the dismissal of Lady Jersey. And so it had been in the early days when he had been courting her so if the Prince should decide to be reconciled to her and given her more children like young Charlotte— who was, she was forced to admit, a fascinating child with a gift for charming everybody— the odious Caroline might become very powerful indeed.
Reports were that the Prince loathed her; but the creature managed to be followed by cheering crowds every time she came to London and she knew how the Prince wanted popularity. He might feel it was politic to go back to her.
It must not be. And now that he had discarded dear Lady Jersey, one could never be sure what action he would take. It was true he was courting Maria Fitzherbert but the lady was holding aloof.
She looked at her daughters and sighed. It was distasteful to have to discuss such matters with them but she feared there was no help for it.
I believe,’ she said, ‘that Mrs. Fitzherbert now spends most of her time in Ealing, although she has taken a house in Tilney Street for her brief visits to Town.’
The Princesses were alert and more attentive now than during their readings, their mother noticed grimly.
‘She is a very good woman, I believe. I have never heard ill of her.’
‘There has been scandal about her marriage to George, Mamma,’ said Augusta, and was silenced by a look.
‘I should like to see virtuous ladies more at Court.’
‘She is a Catholic—’ began the tactless Augusta.