“So turtles pair,
Who never mean to part …”’
he quoted.
Then he had an inspiration. The artist should paint two turtle doves into the picture.
This was done and when it was completed he was delighted.
As soon as he had his own apartments he would have it hung in his cabinet – a constant symbol of two lovers who were never meant to part.
Cumberland House
ELIZABETH SHERIDAN WAS apprehensive. She rarely saw her husband now. The East Burnham days seemed so far off that they might never have existed. She feared the future.
The School for Scandal alone could have made Richard a rich man; the theatre brought in a good income; but what happened? The gaming tables claimed a large share of it; and women? She often wondered about women.
How different it was from those days when they had run away together. Richard was not the same man. She had known he had great talent, and had rejoiced in it; but to what had it brought him?
If only he would have allowed her to earn money by her singing, her name could have brought audiences to rival those of Perdita Robinson. But he was too proud, he said. Vanity perhaps would be a more apt term.
But she never showed her fears. She knew that that would have alienated him more quickly than ever. In his way he had an affection for her which went deep and none of his light amours could shake. She must accept him as he was. She must never attempt to change him, for to do so would be to lose him altogether.
Sometimes she thought longingly of the old days in Bath – the happy home, the musical family … the carefree days. She had visualized life going on in the same serene way when she had married Richard. She wanted to help him succeed as a playwright and she had thought that would have been the most important thing in the world to them both.
But it was not. He would start a play and tire of it. He did not want to work; he wanted to live in gay society; he was famous for his wit which came to him spontaneously; she had heard him scatter conversational gems to the right and left – to the delight of his listeners – they came and carelessly were lost when they should have been stored for posterity’s delight.
He was indifferent to such suggestions; he only lived for pleasure. He caroused half the night and rose late in the mornings; sometimes he did not come home at all and she would lie in her bed wondering where and with whom he was sleeping that night.
And now he had become friendly with Mr Fox, and she was afraid of where this friendship would lead. Fox was brilliant; Fox was influential; she had no doubt of that. He was also a gambler and a lecher. And … she had to admit it … so was Richard.
The friendship had begun suddenly and since then had ripened; and it was going to change Richard’s career, she knew.
If he had a seat in Parliament he would become the close ally of Fox. She had tried to reason with him when he had come home so excited on that day to tell her that Fox had been to see him. ‘You would be drawn into a circle, Richard, where living is high. We could not afford it. We are in debt now.’
‘You look at life through your Bath eyes, my darling. You see life provincially. This will be the making of our fortunes if I am clever. And do you doubt that I am?’
‘No, no, Richard, but there are your plays … the theatre …’
And he had laughed at her and said: ‘St Cecilia, go back to your angels.’
And if he were successful … if he won this seat. She could see it so clearly. He would be reaching for power, he would move among men who had no need to consider money – or if they had, did not – men like Fox who had been bankrupt several times. But Fox was the son of a noble house. His father had been rich Lord Holland; he was connected with the Duke of Richmond. Sheridan could not afford to move in such circles. But he would do so all the same. The mound of bills would become a mountain. The nights away from home would be more numerous; and her anxieties would increase a hundred-fold. But there was nothing she could do.
Sheridan himself came in to interrupt her brooding.
‘Elizabeth, where are you?’
She ran to him; he swung her up in his arms.
‘Now, my girl,’ he said, ‘show proper respect to the Member of Parliament for Stafford.’
Prince Frederick was dismayed, and he went at once to his brother to tell him the reason for his concern.
‘They are sending me away, George.’
The Prince stared at him in horror. Sending Fred away! Why, they had been together all their lives, shared a thousand adventures; George constantly confided in Fred; they were inseparable.
‘What are you talking about, Fred?’
‘I have just had an audience with the King. He says that before the year’s out I am to go to Germany.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘To start learning how to be a soldier. Colonel Greville is going with me.’
‘You could learn that here in England.’
‘I know. But they’re sending me to Germany.’
‘By God,’ cried the Prince. ‘Can’t he forget his ancestors were Germans!’
‘I suppose not. There’s too much German in the family for that.’
The Prince looked at his brother in amazement, trying to imagine what it would be like without him. He sensed that it would be the end of their close relationship. They would remain friends, but their lives would be so different.
‘I believe he does it just to irritate me,’ cried the Prince pettishly.
‘No, because he thinks it’s good for discipline.’
‘You could have a commission in the army here. We could both have one.’
The Prince saw himself in a dazzling uniform of his own design. He pictured himself parading before Perdita’s admiring eyes in Cork Street.
‘That would suit me very well,’ he went on. ‘And why not?’
Frederick shook his head. He was as desolate as George at the prospect of parting.
The Prince stood before the King.
‘I have come to ask you, sir, for a commission in the army.’
‘Eh? What?’
‘A commission, sir. In the army.’
The King was not altogether displeased by what he considered a show of seriousness.
‘Not possible,’ he said. ‘Government … and people … would never allow the Prince of Wales to go out of the country.’
‘A commission here, sir. Germany hasn’t the only army in the world.’
How the young dog could anger him merely by a word and a look. The manner in which he said Germany – as though it were some inferior state!
‘That’s so,’ said the King. ‘But you will not have a commission in any army. Have you understood that, eh, what?’
‘And why not, pray?’
‘Are you addressing me?’
The Prince looked round the small chamber with an air of surprise. ‘I was not aware that anyone else was present, and as I am not in the habit of talking to myself …’
‘You insolent young dog!’
The Prince realized that he had spoken to his father in person as he often addressed him in his own private thoughts.
He murmured an apology.
‘I should think so, eh, what? And let me tell you this, sir. You have to learn to be a king, not a soldier. You will need all your time and talents to achieve that. And you’ll find there isn’t time to go chasing young maids of honour round gardens, eh?’
Oh, God, thought the Prince, is he still thinking of Harriot … What was her name?
He said placatingly: ‘I had thought, sir, as Frederick is going into the army and we have always been together, we might have both had commissions and as I may not leave the country we might both do our training over here.’