Even she was cheered on occasions like that.
Sometimes he would stay away from Cork Street for several days; and then he would come in a mood of such gaiety that she could not doubt that he was happy to be with her. He would stay for several days and nights and declare that all he wanted in the world was to be with his Perdita.
She loved to ride in the Park, St James’s or Pall Mall, in her newest creation – always a different ensemble for she could never appear twice in the same; she would be most exquisitely powdered and patched; her face flowerlike with its contrast of rouge and white lead. Sometimes she was in frills and ribbons, at others she would wear a flowing cravat and a tailored coat, the very masculinity of which only accentuated her femininity. In satin and brocade, in muslin and linen, dressed simply in a hat resembling a sun bonnet or in a fashionable hat spilling feathers down her back and round her face, she always provided excitement for the spectators and there were crowds to see Perdita Robinson as they called her on parade. As she passed some called after her coarse enquiries but members of the Prince’s circle doffed their hats and bowed low as they went past on foot or rattled by in their carriages; and members of the King’s circle looked through her as though she did not exist.
She would return home, as she said, ‘exhausted’, and walk up and down her bedroom declaiming: ‘Am I a peepshow for people to peer at? How I long for the quiet and peace of obscurity.’ And, as Mrs Armistead reported to Mr Fox, savouring it all with relish.
She had ordered a new carriage and when it arrived she was delighted with it. No one could fail to notice it and to realize that its owner must be a very important person indeed. It was scarlet and silver; and the seat cloth was decorated with silver stars. It was lined with white silk and scarlet fringe. On the door had been painted a basket of flowers beneath which was a wreath and her initials M R in silver. The wreath had all the appearance, particularly from a distance, of a coronet, which was exactly what Perdita had intended.
She was delighted with her carriage and went everywhere in it. When it was seen outside shops people would gather round it, recognizing it, so that they might have a glimpse of her when she came out.
If the Prince was in love with his life so was Perdita with hers; but whereas he was all gaiety and high spirits, her method of enjoying life was to dramatize it. She would talk to Mrs Armistead of her child for whom she said she longed; and indeed Mrs Armistead believed she did miss little Maria, for she was fond of her. But it was absurd, commented that practical lady in her private thoughts, to choose a way of life and then complain because one had not chosen another.
It cannot last, thought Mrs Armistead. Most certainly it cannot last. And then what? Where shall we be? The debts which were accumulating were alarming, but Perdita was becoming like her lover and gave no thought to them. She was the mistress of the Prince of Wales and no one denied her credit.
Mrs Armistead often thought how differently she would have behaved had she been in Perdita’s position. There would have been no debts. Quite the contrary. Mrs Armistead would have had a nice little fortune tucked away by now. In her own small way she was not doing badly. Lord Derby had shown interest and the Duke of Dorset had not lost his; so she had her little house in Chertsey very pleasantly and safely waiting for her.
A refuge! How unusual it was for a lady’s maid to compare her position so favourably with that of her mistress.
But this was, of course, no ordinary lady’s maid.
Blackmail
THE PRINCE HAD sent word that he would be visiting Cork Street that evening. A quiet evening, he said, merely a few friends, Fox and Sheridan among them.
Mrs Armistead would arrange the evening; they no longer had to hire their footman but Mrs Armistead thought they should have more servants for this occasion. Because of the excellent qualities Perdita was constantly discovering in her lady’s maid she was delighted when she had suggested she should take over the arrangement of dinner parties; and Mrs Armistead performed these duties with distinction. Now she set herself to plan the meal and order the wine … plenty of it. What drinkers Mr Fox and Mr Sheridan were … and the Prince was beginning to rival them.
‘Madam,’ declared Mrs Armistead, ‘you must rest during the afternoon so as not to be too tired.’
Perdita agreed that this was so.
‘The Prince is so full of high spirits,’ she said fondly.
‘And expects Madam to be the same.’
‘Ah yes, indeed. Sometimes I long for a quiet retreat, Armistead. A little house in the country …’
‘It would not suit His Highness, Madam. He has just escaped from a little house in the country. Kew, to be precise.’
Perdita looked coldly at her maid. There were times when she thought that the woman was inclined to forget her place.
There was no time to reprimand her for there was a loud knocking on the door.
Perdita gazed at Mrs Armistead. ‘Who can it be?’
‘The footman will discover, Madam.’
They were soon in no doubt, for the visitor did not wait to be announced but strode straight into Perdita’s bedroom. It was Thomas Robinson, his face flushed, his eyes bloodshot.
The creature is drunk, thought Mrs Armistead.
‘Where is my wife, eh? Where is my lady wife?’
Perdita lay back on her pillows looking as though she were about to faint.
‘Why have you come here?’
‘Why should I not? I have a right.’ He looked at the coronet into which the curtains were gathered above the bed and sneered at it. ‘So this is the bed where you frolic with His Highness? You don’t think of your husband then, I’ll warrant.’
‘I prefer never to think of him.’
‘I daresay, I daresay. So do most whores.’
Perdita flinched and blushed scarlet. ‘How dare you! How dare you! Go away.’
‘Why? This is where I belong. It’s my wife’s house … and what’s hers is mine.’
‘No,’ cried Perdita, too upset to act. ‘Go away, Thomas. Go away, I beg of you.’
‘Would you make it worth my while if I did?’
‘Yes … yes … yes …’
‘Now you’re talking. I’m in debt. I want some money. I want it now.’
‘Armistead! Armistead!’
That excellent lady was at the door listening, and appeared immediately.
‘Bring … bring …’
‘That’s right,’ said Mr Robinson, ‘bring all you have … and that won’t be enough. Why should I be jeered at? Why should I see my picture all over the place? And not a good likeness either. Me in horns!’
‘We all have to suffer from these scandal sheets … I more than most!’
‘Well, you deserve to. I don’t.’
‘When I think of all the serving girls … the dirty sluts …’
‘Compensation, Mrs Robinson. So you’ve still got that lady’s maid. She’s a sly piece … and not all that unbedworthy either.’
‘Thomas. For God’s sake be silent.’
Mrs Armistead had overheard. So even he had noticed. She was not displeased. She had brought a few pounds for the man and she told him that this was all there was in the house. Perdita shot her a grateful glance and once more asked herself what she would do without Armistead.
When the lady’s maid had left the room, Perdita said: ‘You have what you have come for … now go.’
‘I don’t intend to go. I like this little place. Why should I live in my little hovel while the wife of my bosom has a snug place like this?’
‘Please, please go at once.’