‘I want you to talk to me about the Prince of Wales,’ said the Queen.
Schwellenburg’s features formed themselves into the sort of smile she bestowed on her pets. She liked to think she was the confidante of the Queen.
‘Is vild,’ she said. ‘Very vild. Drink too much; too much gamble; too much vimen.’
‘I fear so,’ mused the Queen. ‘And the King is most distressed.’
Schwellenburg nodded, well pleased; she was glad the King was distressed. He had tried to send her back to Germany.
‘What have you heard? That he keeps a play actress?’
‘Everyvon talk. Everyvon know. Is dronk … has house in Cork Street. Herr Prince very vild.’
‘I fear there is truth in the rumours. Do the women talk much about it?’
‘All the time. Everyvon talk.’
‘Do any of the women er … envy this play actress?’ Schwellenburg opened her eyes in surprise. And the Queen went on: ‘Perhaps some of the younger and prettier ones … perhaps they feel that they would … like to be in her place.’
‘There vos von. Harriot Vernon …’
‘I know about her. She was dismissed from Court.’
‘He like very much Mary Hamilton … but no more. Never see now.’
Mary Hamilton! thought the Queen. Oh, no, that was no use. One could not expect to revive an old attraction. He had given up Mary Hamilton when the play actress came along; he could not go back to her.
‘I do not like his friends. I think this play actress is having a bad effect on him, taking him to his uncle. If there was someone here at Court … at Kew … I am not condoning immorality, of course, but young men are such that they need a … a friend, a female friend. You may know what I mean, Schwellenburg.’
Schwellenburg knew. She muttered: ‘These girls … they are vild. Like Herr Prince. All they think is … dance … and patch and rouge and white lead … That is English girls. German fräuleins do as told. Much better.’
The Queen was suddenly excited. A German mistress for the Prince. What an excellent idea. But where? The King had dismissed all the German women who came over with her – except Schwellenburg and Haggerdorn. There might be one or two others, but they were old, old as herself. No, what they wanted was a young, buxom German girl who was disciplined and discreet and would do as she was told.
‘Thank you, Schwellenburg.’
She was indeed grateful. Schwellenburg had given her an idea. When the Mistress of the Robes had retired she sat down and wrote home to Mecklenburg-Strelitz. In that poor little province there were always people who were longing to get to England and enjoy the patronage of Queen Charlotte.
In Cumberland House the Duke and Duchess were discussing the Prince on similar lines.
‘Do you fancy,’ asked the Duchess of her husband, ‘that he is quite so happy in our company as he was?’
‘He comes here.’
‘But not so often. And he is always in a corner with Fox or Sheridan. They often leave early together to go off to Devonshire House I believe.’
‘I’m sure we have entertained him lavishly.’
‘He’s certainly lost a lot of money at our tables.’
‘It’s at his wish.’
‘But he is drifting. I sense it. And I think that Propriety Prue is at the bottom of it. She doesn’t like us.’
‘She fears you outshine her.’
‘And she remembers that you once chased her. She may still think you have designs on her virtue. Have you?’
‘Pah!’ cried the Duke. ‘Does she think she’s so irresistible?’
‘I’m sure she does. Otherwise she might be a little more careful with H R H. Because I think that we are not the only people who have had the misfortune to weary him now and then.’
‘You mean Prue is on the way out.’
The Duchess nodded slowly. ‘I have seen the writing on the wall. She won’t last more than a few more months.’
‘And then?’
‘That is what we have to be prepared for.’
‘And knowing you, my love, I am prepared to stake a thousand guineas that you are already prepared.’
‘Dally the Tall,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Why so surprised? Have I not seen your lustful eyes studying this tall one appraisingly? You must admit your tastes are not dissimilar to those of your amorous nephew.’
‘Well, Dally’s a charmer.’
‘I know you think so; and I am sure the Prince will too.’
‘What do you propose to do?’
‘See that they have the opportunity they desire.’
‘You mean that you desire.’
‘Dally has a reputation for er … pleasing men.’
‘So has Perdita.’
‘And I’ll tell you something else. I am not the only one who has noticed a falling off in His Highness’s devotion. The jackals are gathering round … hopefully. Malden is ready to leap in as soon as H R H retires. Poor Malden. His faithful service should be rewarded. And Fox is biding his time. Malden should take care. He is rather lamblike and what chance has a lamb against a fox?’
‘And such a fox! So he is waiting to drag Perdita into his lair, is he?’
‘And I hope you, my lord, will have enough respect for your Ducal rank not to join the patient throng.’
‘What are you going to do about Dally?’
‘From now on she should be treated with respect. Mrs Grace Elliott, one of the most amusing and beautiful young women in London! She is perfect in every way. Three years his senior – as Propriety Prue is. Have you noticed how His Highness likes his women to be older than himself? And she will be a complete change from Prue because there is no propriety about Grace Elliott.’
‘When does the battle start?’
‘Tonight, my love. We dare not delay. Don’t imagine because you are blind to what is happening about you others are. Depend upon it, many people are noticing that the chains of love are slackening. But she could do harm to us before she goes. And others will be bringing forward their candidates for his approval. It is always best to be the first, my love. Leave this to me.’
This the Duke was very happy to do.
Perdita was far from tranquil. Mr Robinson was constantly threatening and he demanded his payments promptly. She wished that she could have had her mother and daughter to live in Cork Street. What a comfort that would be! The little girl adored her and Mrs Darby was so proud of her beautiful daughter and on her visits to them, taking costly presents, Perdita was really happy.
Then she would come back to Cork Street and rest for a while and submit herself to the ministrations of Mrs Armistead to be prepared for the night’s company. There were times when she would have given a great deal to go to bed and stay there. But the Prince’s energies were unflagging.
She had returned from a visit to her mother and daughter and had rested and been powdered and rouged and dressed in a gown of rose coloured velvet when the Prince arrived.
He kissed her absentmindedly and made no comment on her appearance, but sprawling in a chair said he had only come to stay an hour or so.
She was disappointed, although a short while before she had been longing for a restful evening. What she had meant was a quiet evening with the Prince.
She said: ‘I had hoped we could have been together … just the two of us … for one evening. I have a new song I want to sing to you. We can sing it together, too.’
‘Another time,’ he said.
She looked mournfully up at the ceiling and pressed her lips slightly together to imply resignation and restraint. This annoyed the Prince. He would rather she had openly protested. He was becoming a little exasperated now and then with this martyr’s role which was such a favourite one of hers.