He kept a mistress, it was true, but very few held that against him. It all added to the gaiety of life and after years of old George – who was not so old but had always seemed so – with his virtuous but oh so dull Queen who did nothing but bear children for the state to support … after these two, young George was a source of great amusement and delight.
He was imbibing Whig politics at a great rate from Fox and Sheridan; they had become his closest friends, with Burke a good third. Elizabeth Sheridan was growing more and more anxious at the turn in her husband’s fortune. They had been in debt before, but how could they afford to entertain the Prince of Wales? For the Prince insisted on visiting his amusing friend and was enchanted by the beauty of his wife and her singing in which he joined her for many a musical hour. A simple evening at the Sheridans the Prince might call it; but Elizabeth was aghast to realize what it cost to give such an evening to a prince. And there was Mr Fox with his careless attitude towards debts. Money was something neither of the three ever gave a thought to. It was merely a word … a magic sesame to give them what they wanted. One bought and forgot that it was necessary to pay.
The Prince had become a frequent visitor to Cumberland House. Perdita did not care for Cumberland House so she was not often asked, but that was not going to prevent the Prince visiting his own uncle. Fox took him along to Devonshire House where he met the beautiful Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, another of whom the King would call ‘those damned Whigs’.
The Prince was delighted with the Duchess as he had been with his aunt; she was gay, she was witty and there was the same sort of welcome for him at Devonshire House as there was at Cumberland.
Hostesses were vying for his company. He was half in love with Georgiana, half in love with his aunt; and it seemed to him that he was surrounded by beautiful women. If it were not for Perdita …
Perdita herself was drawn into the gay world. It was no use thinking she could hide her position. Everyone knew that she was the Prince’s mistress and the interest in her was at fever pitch. The papers mentioned her every day. Stories were told of her which at worst had little truth in them and at best were grossly exaggerated.
Tradesmen were constantly at the door with beautiful materials to be made into clothes for her; she bought lavishly. She had always had a passion for clothes and now recklessly unleashed it, for she believed there was no need to consider the expense. Several seamstresses were working for her night and day; newspaper men called to ask Mrs Armistead what her mistress would be wearing that day. Descriptions of her dresses were given to journalists and according to their accounts she was always decked out in diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds. ‘Gifts,’ the public avid for news of the Prince and his affairs were told, ‘of his Royal Highness.’
Cartoons were in circulation depicting her with the Prince; they were often ribald, often bawdy. Mr Robinson was not forgotten either; he was known to the public through the horns without which he was never depicted. Every time she went out it was to find a crowd waiting outside the house; women came forward to touch her gowns, feel the material, comment on its cost; some would make jocular remarks about the Prince’s prowess as a lover. These she ignored and she would return to the house crying: ‘Armistead. I am exhausted! Oh, how vulgar the people are!’
And Armistead would say: ‘Yes, Madam.’ And despise her mistress more than ever. She was so false, thought Mrs Armistead. No one could have loved this interest she aroused more than herself. As she did, why not admit it, for this pretence of finding it tiresome was so stupid. In fact the more Mrs Armistead felt her independence, the more she despised her mistress. Lord Dorset had been very kind and considerate. At length he had prevailed upon her to accept a little present. A little present indeed! She was mixing in the right society, for what was little to such a gentleman was a great deal to Mrs Armistead. She reckoned she had enough to invest in a little house. Why not? A roof over her head. What could be wiser? And she would furnish it with simple good taste – and it should be as different from this gilded mock palace in Cork Street as a house could be.
It was inevitable that the King should hear not only of his son’s visits to Cumberland House but that he was keeping a young actress in Cork Street.
‘Small wonder,’ he said to the Queen, ‘that I can’t sleep at night. I have had ten nights without sleep thinking of that young rake. No good, eh? What?’
‘Your Majesty will speak to him?’ suggested the Queen timidly.
‘No good,’ said the King sadly. ‘Too late. My eldest son … the Prince of Wales, is a … profligate, a rake … he keeps a play actress. You see, he’s gone over to my enemies … eh, what? Took the first opportunity. Always knew we’d have trouble with him. Keeping a play actress! Gambling! Going to see Cumberland when he knows that I …’ The King was too distressed to continue. He could only look at the Queen and whisper, ‘Eh? What?’ again and again so that she wanted to stop her ears and shout to him to stop, because she was so frightened to see him in that mood.
Perdita was faintly uneasy. Was the Prince changing towards her? Did he treat her with more familiarity? Was he using the bad language which she so deplored more frequently?
He was constantly at Cumberland House and she was not invited. Sometimes he talked of his aunt in a manner which disturbed her.
‘By God, what a woman! I’m not surprised my uncle flouted my father for her.’
It was as though he were comparing them. Surely he could not compare her with that coarse-spoken woman!
But she was at least a Luttrell … a noble family. ‘How strange,’ she had said, ‘that a woman of noble birth should be so coarse.’
‘She’s damned amusing,’ retorted the Prince.
‘For those who like vulgarity, yes.’
Had she seen the look he gave her she might have been warned, but she did not; she had a glimpse of herself in a distant mirror and was admiring the blue satin bows on her white dress.
‘I personally could never endure it.’
The Prince did not answer; he was studying the buckles on his shoes with a sullen expression.
He left early although she had expected him to stay the night. And he gave no excuse for going.
So she was anxious; but the next time he saw her he was all devotion. Gently she reminded him of all she had given up for his sake. She did not want him to take her for granted. Her husband … well he was not much to relinquish, but she had loved her child and although the little girl lived not far away with her grandmother and she could see her now and then, the devotion she gave to the Prince left her very little time.
The Prince would suggest they sing together or perhaps take the air. He liked to ride with her through the Park and the crowds came to watch them, for she must be exquisitely dressed on these occasions and they made a colourful picture.