Perdita would have been astonished if she could have read the thoughts of her lady’s maid. She would not have been able to imagine that the woman’s affairs could be thought of-even by herself – when they were on the brink of this stupendous adventure.
Was her gown suitable? Indian muslin and not too decorated with ribbons.
‘So becoming, Madam,’ had soothed Armistead. ‘I have never seen you look so beautiful.’
And what would he say when he saw her?
She was rehearsing what she would say to him over and over again. A woodland scene in Kew Gardens. There was a moon and the weather was fine. It would be like a Shakespearian scene. She would play it with the utmost emphasis on romance.
And the Prince … what was he doing at this moment? She pictured his impatience. She could already hear his impassioned words. How handsome he would look and the diamonds flashing on his coat would be real, not paste as worn by mock princes on the stage.
This was romance.
The coach had come to a stop at Lord Maiden’s door. He was waiting. He seated himself beside Mrs Armistead so that he could gaze in rapture at Perdita throughout the journey. Very little was said. Mrs Armistead’s presence was a restraining factor; but Perdita saw that although Lord Maiden was disappointed that there should be a third member of the party he applauded the wisdom of it.
Silence prevailed for most of the journey; each occupant busy with his and her own thoughts. Mrs Armistead continued to think of Mr Fox, Perdita of her Prince and Lord Malden of Perdita; and at length they arrived at Brentford where the boat was waiting to take them over to Eel Pie Island.
At the island inn a room had been prepared that Perdita might use before taking dinner, and to this she repaired with Armistead, ‘to rest,’ she told Lord Malden, ‘for indeed I fear my heart may fail me.’
In the room she gave what Mrs Armistead later reported to Mr Fox a study of the doubts and apprehensions of a woman on the brink of taking a mighty decision which she had long since made up her mind to take for the adequate reward.
‘Armistead, I cannot do it. Am I right? Don’t forget who he is. If the King learned of this night, what would he do? I have to remember that the Prince will one day be the King of this country. It could happen at any moment, Armistead.’
‘I don’t think Madam should disturb herself too much on that score, Madam. His Majesty is a comparatively young man, some forty-two years old. He should have many years left to him.’
‘I did not mean to be disloyal to His Majesty, but consider my position, Armistead.’
‘Madam, I have considered it and it is one which most women would envy you.’
That pleased her, although she struck a tragedienne’s role, putting her hand to her brow. ‘The responsibility, Armistead. The responsibility!’
‘Madam, I should think only of pleasing the Prince and leave the responsibility of everything else to others. I fear you will crumple your dress. And I think your hair needs a little attention.’
She was ready to listen to such sound advice. She was at the mirror. ‘Yes, my hair, Armistead, my hair. Oh how right I was to bring you with me.’
‘There!’ Mrs Armistead had arranged the beautiful dark curls in what she considered their most becoming fashion. ‘But you look a little melancholy, Madam, as though you are going to a burial rather than to meet a Prince who adores you.’
‘It is a solemn moment, Armistead.’
‘The Prince will be so happy that he may well consider it a gay one.’
‘No, no, he will feel solemn too.’
‘I have heard that he loves people about him to be gay. He has lived so long under the eyes of his solemn parents, he will look for laughter, not for tears.’
Perdita had become suddenly aloof. Who was this woman to tell her of the Prince’s feelings?
‘I am sure the Prince will be ready to fit into my mood.’
Mrs Armistead was alarmed. How long could it last if she were going to weep for her responsibilities and remind him constantly of what she was giving up. Oh, what a fool the woman was! Her folly might mean that very soon Mrs Armistead would be serving a woman who was nothing but an actress.
She hesitated; she had always adapted herself to her mistress’s moods.
‘He is a great Prince, Madam. The people adore him. He is the most popular young man in the country.’
This was better. Perdita was smiling.
‘All his life people will have been fitting themselves in with his moods,’ ventured Mrs Armistead. ‘Everyone has fallen victim to his charm. The only one who has not is perhaps the King. But the King is important and the Prince has doubtless spent many hours in his father’s company; he will be weary of melancholy. I would like to see Madam smiling and gay … for so she looks most beautiful.’
Perdita looked at her reflection. There was something in what Armistead said. She would be the woman who laughed and was merry for the sake of her lover and kept her melancholy locked away in her heart.
And so downstairs to dine and afterwards out to the boat which would row them over to Kew Gardens where the impatient lover would be waiting.
The boat was pushed out from Eel Pie Island. Perdita sat back listening to the sound of the oars skimming the water. Lord Maiden’s eyes were fixed on the approaching bank. Mrs Armistead sat, the picture of discretion, back straight, arms folded in her lap.
Suddenly Lord Maiden said: ‘They’re here.’
And they all looked and saw a white handkerchief waving in the dusk.
The boat touched earth. Lord Maiden leaped out of the boat and helped Perdita to land. Mrs Armistead remained seated.
Two young men had appeared on the bank, one stood a little behind the other. Mrs Armistead, watching closely, saw the glittering diamond on the coat of the former and her heart leaped with excitement. The Prince of Wales in person; and behind him his brother Prince Frederick.
Then Maiden was saying, ‘Your Royal Highness, I have the honour to present Mrs Robinson.’
The Prince gave a cry of joy and gathered Mrs Robinson in his arms. Lord Maiden turned back to the boat and got in. Prince Frederick stepped back a few paces; and the lovers remained locked in a fond embrace.
‘Let us walk among the trees,’ said the Prince. ‘Oh Perdita … my beautiful Perdita, how I have waited for this moment.’
Perdita was too overcome by her emotions to play her part.
‘But … my Prince … at last … we are together.’
‘Never to part,’ declared the Prince, quite unconscious of the figures in the boat or Frederick close by. ‘This is the happiest moment of my life. But it is only the beginning, my precious Perdita.’
‘Only the beginning,’ she agreed.
‘We must find a way of meeting. I will come to you. In a very short time …’
‘Oh, my love,’ she cried, ‘you will soon be of age and then … and then … there will be no barriers.’
‘You will never regret it, I swear. I shall adore you as long as I have breath in my body. No one in the world was ever loved as Florizel loves his Perdita.’
‘George!’ It was Frederick’s voice, eager, alarmed. ‘There are people coming this way.’
‘The devil take them.’
‘This is the only path. For God’s sake, George …’
Perdita cried, ‘I must go. There will be other times … This is only a beginning.’
Lord Malden too had heard the voices. He had jumped out of the boat and was approaching them.
‘Your Royal Highness it would never do … if this were discovered …’
‘He is right,’ cried Perdita. ‘Adieu, my Prince.’