He understood.
He said: ‘Shall we sit down?’
She led the way into the drawing room and with the utmost dignity seated herself some distance from the chair which he had selected.
‘I see that you are too clever for me to pretend my mission is other than it is.’
She inclined her head.
‘Mrs Robinson is on the way to becoming the mistress of the Prince of Wales,’ he went on. ‘I am sure you realize the significance of this.’
‘I do.’
‘The Prince is young and impressionable. And a mistress could hold considerable sway over such a romantically minded young man. It is very necessary for the heir to the throne to be guided by those who can do him most good.’
‘Such as Mr Charles James Fox?’ she asked.
‘Exactly. Exactly. The affair is hanging fire, is it not?’
‘It is many weeks since His Highness first saw Mrs Robinson in The Winter’s Tale and they have not yet met.’
‘Why.’
‘Mrs Robinson is a lady of much refinement.’ In some way Mrs Armistead managed to speak exactly as Perdita did in her most refined moments. ‘She wishes to be the Prince’s mistress but cannot bear to admit even to herself that this is so. She writes long letters telling him of his duty and urging him to consider his position.’
‘If she goes on in this way he will soon be considering some other fair charmer.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘It would be better if this matter were brought to a logical conclusion.’
‘Better for whom, sir? The Prince, Mrs Robinson or Mr Fox?’
He looked at her with admiration. ‘For all three,’ he said. ‘And possibly … for Mrs Armistead.’
‘Why should this last person be concerned, sir?’
‘Because her advancement could well depend on it.’
She nodded slowly.
‘Mrs Armistead, I should be glad to call you my friend.’
‘A simple lady’s maid is undeserving of the friendship of the greatest of statesmen.’
‘Not so simple, if I have guessed aright and it is ability at the guessing game which makes a great statesman.’
‘What is your wish?’
‘That you persuade your mistress to make the Prince a happy man and that you keep me informed of the lovers’ progress.’
‘Why should I serve you, sir, instead of the mistress who pays me?’
He felt in his pocket and she recoiled in haste.
‘I am not asking for money. I should not take it.’
He nodded. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘I would answer your question. You would serve me because you have no intention of remaining in a humble position for the rest of your days. It is you, my dear, who should have a lady’s maid. And I am sure that if you are as clever as I believe you to be, one day this will be so.’
She stood up, her eyes were bright, but she lost none of her serenity.
‘I know,’ he said, ‘I can rely on you.’
‘It will be an honour to serve Mr Fox,’ she said.
He moved towards her. She thought he was going to embrace her; but again she held him off with her eyes.
He accepted her decision, and when she showed him to the door, he bowed to her as he would have bowed to her mistress.
After his chair had carried him away she went to her room; she held the white and silver tissue dress against her.
Folly! she thought. I am being as foolish as our play actress. But from the way he looked, the way he spoke, it was obvious that he respected me.
On the evening of that day Fox made his way to Cumberland’s Mansion in Pall Mall where the Duchess received him with pleasure; and he was genuinely delighted to be in the company of this fascinating woman who had snared a royal duke and had kept her place in his affections because she was twenty times cleverer than he was. One of the most beautiful women in London – and she would have been so without the famous eyelashes – she was also one of the most witty; her wit was spiced with malice, it was true, and often expressed in the coarsest terms, but Fox admired and respected her.
‘A game of faro is what you want,’ she said.
Of course he wanted a game of faro. He could not see a gaming table without wanting to try his luck. A born gambler, always hoping for the success which never came, he had already lost a fortune. It was his sublime indifference to money which had helped to set him in his peculiar position, for it was not only money, but honours which he did not seek. It was enough to be Mr Charles James Fox – the man recognized as the most brilliant statesman of his country, and not only by his country but by all the courts of Europe. He was bold and independent, aloof from all blandishments, even of the King himself – for George had at one time known that if he could have had Mr Fox as an ally he could have left the Government in more capable hands than those which guarded it at present. For all his affection for North, the King was well aware of his deficiencies. But Fox had set himself up in opposition to Tory doctrines; Fox was a Whig; and he opposed every Tory measure with the most cutting scorn. Fox declared he was for the people and he was going to maintain their privileges in the face of all opposition.
Such a man could have been an irresistible power in the land but for the fact that he possessed a dual personality. The statesman of integrity was a voluptuary of the most blatant kind. Drink, women and the gaming table were his recreations; and as he was a man of unbounded energy he gave to these activities the same indefatigable enthusiasm that he did to politics. He took a new mistress more frequently than he took a bath; his debts ran into five figures; and it was only because through long practice he could drink most men insensible that he was rarely drunk.
Yet he was sought by all the greatest hostesses in London and now the Duchess of Cumberland had caught the Duke’s eye and he, seeing that Mr Fox was with her, hastened to greet his guest.
‘A game of faro?’ said the Duke, his eyes glistening.
Fox replied that nothing would give him greater pleasure later; there was a little matter he wished to discuss with the Duke and if it were possible for him and the Duchess to leave their guests for a while, he would like a little serious conversation with them.
The Duchess replied that it should be arranged and if Mr Fox would slip into the anteroom near her bedroom they could be quite undisturbed there.
It was not easy for such flamboyant characters as Mr Fox and the Duke and Duchess to slip away unnoticed, but in due course they met in the anteroom and Mr Fox came straight to the point.
‘The Prince of Wales is making slow progress with his inamorata,’ he said.
‘A prude!’ retorted the Duke spitefully.
‘Dearest Henry must be forgiven a little sourness towards the lady, but he’ll make up for it in sympathy towards our nephew,’ explained the Duchess. ‘He once had a fancy for her. Poor Henry, it was such a waste of valuable time. I told you, Henry, did I not, that many other ladies would have been far more likely to provide a satisfactory end to the chase. Do you know of anything more frustrating, Mr Fox, than a hunt when the victim gets clean away.’
‘None,’ said Mr Fox. ‘But the victim must not be allowed to elude the hunter this time.’
Cumberland shrugged his shoulders. But Fox was not going to let personal resentment interfere with his plans.
‘He’ll soon be eighteen. We should not imagine that we are the only people who are aware of that. We have to get him on our side. If we don’t the Tories will have him.’