As for the Duchess of Cumberland – there was no question of her birth. She was the daughter of Lord Irnham and one of the Luttrells; she had married a country squire, Christopher Horton, who had died leaving her very young and ready for adventure. In London she had found it – in marriage with the dissolute Cumberland soon after he had brought scandal on the family through the notorious Grosvenor case.
He didn’t regret it. She was the most amusing woman in London besides being one of the most beautiful. She was capable of acting hostess in Cumberland House and attracting all the most brilliant Whigs there – in opposition to the Tory friends of the King. For she agreed with her husband that since the King had refused to receive them at Court they must do everything they could to discomfit him. If they could, they would have set up a rival court; but this was not possible, for Cumberland lacked the intelligence and his Duchess while not suffering from this lack, while being extremely witty in a malicious way, was so coarse in her conversations that it had been said that one was forced to wash out one’s ears after visiting her. Nevertheless they did attract the Whigs to Cumberland House; and if they could only gather the Prince of Wales into their fold they could at once set up that rival court. The fact that the Prince had no establishment of his own but only an apartment in his father’s palace at Buckingham House was in their favour. They would strive to lure him to Cumberland House and keep him there so that until he had a house of his own, this might be his home. Then they could form the rival court, ‘The Prince’s Court,’ ‘The Cumberlands’ Court’ – what mattered what it was called as long as it was set up as a rival to the King’s Court and would distress that self-righteous old fool the King, who had banished them from his Court.
‘But to get back to Propriety Prue,’ went on the Duchess. ‘We must watch that young lady or she will persuade our little Prince that Cumberland House is not for him.’
‘You think she could?’
The Duchess lowered her eyes and then lifted them – a trick she had long practised to call attention to her eyelashes. If she had persuaded a dissolute Duke to marry her in the face of tremendous opposition, surely a beautiful actress could persuade a susceptible young man to discontinue visiting his uncle.
‘He was impressed with Fox … no doubt about that,’ said the Duke.
‘There are other places where he could meet the people he met here tonight.’
‘But … I am his uncle.’
‘That old mollycoddle up at the Palace of Piety is his father, but I don’t fancy he is yearning to spend his evenings there.’
‘By God, you’re right. That woman could spoil our chances.’
She leaned towards him. ‘And you know, my dear ducal lord, that we can only have one answer to that.’
He waited for it. He accepted her as the leading spirit.
‘Spoil hers,’ she spat out venomously, and her green eyes scintillated with malice.
Mrs Armistead had overheard the conversation between the Prince and Perdita.
What a fool that woman is, she thought. How long can it last? Didn’t she understand the Prince at all? He had an eye for a pretty woman. She had even caught his gaze on herself. Of course, thought Mrs Armistead, if I had gowns of silk and satin and velvet, even muslin and lawn, I could be a fair rival to Perdita.
But who is going to look at the lady’s maid? Some would, was the answer, providing the maid was good looking enough. And she was. There was no doubt of it.
And if the Prince was going to tire of Perdita, if they no longer mixed in the highest society, what of Mrs Armistead?
There was Mr Fox. She smiled, rather fondly, and she told herself foolishly. It would not serve to be foolish. She had a good example of folly before her now. She would never be guilty of that. Mr Fox would always have a special place in her life; she knew that. He had wanted to reward her but she would not accept money. Was that foolish? Did she not need money more than most. What would become of her when she was no longer young enough to work, when she had lost her handsome looks? No, she could take nothing from Mr Fox. What she gave him she gave freely.
She would tell him of course every detail of tonight’s conversation and that she believed that the Prince was beginning to tire a little of Perdita – although he was too sentimental to realize this and she too vain and stupid. And when he had tried to give her money she had always refused it. She believed he understood and in a way applauded this. She was his mistress … in a casual way. What a strange relationship, yet she would not be without it. It made her in some way long for independence. And how could a woman in her position achieve that? She must either serve a stupid woman, concern herself with rouge and powder, ribbons and patches – or seek to please some gentleman. Was one more degrading than another? It was the end which counted perhaps not the means. She was too young for a celibate existence. Mr Fox had taught her that – and of course Mr Fox was the last man to expect fidelity.
Her opportunity to win independence was now. How could she say how long it would last?
Here in Cork Street the richest men in England would be congregating. A clever woman who kept her dignity, could have a chance to win independence and a gracious middle age. All she must do was stifle a few scruples and handle the situations which arose with tact and care.
There was a young gentleman whom she had noticed and who had noticed her. He was Lord Dorset; and she did not think she would demean herself if she allowed the attraction to ripen … providing she did so gradually and above all with dignity.
Mrs Armistead had made a decision.
Now before she retired she would go over the report she would take to Mr Fox in the morning. Then to bed. But first to take out of her cupboard the white satin gown with the silver tissue and one or two other dresses which had come her way.
She held them against her. Yes, a woman was a fool who did not use the gifts a munificent nature had bestowed upon her.
Visits to Cumberland House had whetted the Prince’s appetite for gaiety. A circle was quickly forming round him. It was a wide circle, for he was ready to welcome into it men who were talented in any direction. He had quickly become on intimate terms of friendship with Charles James Fox, Edmund Burke and Richard Sheridan; but men like Lord Petersham and Lord Barrymore were also his close friends. Petersham was the best dressed man in London who would discuss for hours the right cut of a coat or what trimming should be used. He applauded the Prince’s taste and assured him that the shoe buckle he had designed was in his opinion the most elegant he had ever seen. Barrymore was a great practical joker and the Prince found this form of releasing his high spirits to his taste. But he had discernment and would not try his practical jokes on Fox any more than he would talk politics or literature with Petersham. The world was opening out for him and with his great gift for falling violently in love, he was in love with his new life. He often said that one should go to the French for fashion and the English for sport; he enjoyed both. He took lessons in boxing and fencing and excelled in them. He rode well and would drive himself in his phaeton at a startling speed. He even drove his Tilbury through the Park with his groom sitting beside him. He was beginning now to be seen not only in various houses but in public, and the people greeted him with affection wherever he went; he was always gorgeously attired and spent a great deal of time planning his toilette, very often with the help of Petersham. He could dance well, sing well, talk well; and he was undeniably handsome. He was, it was said, the finest gentleman in Europe, and the English were proud to own him as their prince.