The Prince was not going to lose heart because he had failed after one banquet and ball. He had a new excitement in his life.
He had amusing Dally; intriguing Mrs Armistead; and now he sought to add Lady Augusta to his reason for finding life enjoyable.
The Prince sat in his apartments at Windsor writing a poem to Lady Augusta Campbell.
Oh! Campbell, the scene of tonight
Has opened the wound of my heart;
It has shown me how great the delight
Which charms of thy converse impart.
I’ve known what it is to be gay,
I’ve revelled in joy’s fleeting hour,
I’ve wished for the close of the day,
To meet in a thick-woven bower.
He laid down his pen and thought of Perdita whom he had met not exactly in a thick-woven bower; but an inn room on Eel Pie Island could be as romantic.
When Lady Augusta succumbed to his pleading would it be the beginning of a great love affair, such as he had once believed there would be with Perdita?
He forced himself to believe it would be so. He was at heart romantic. Fox might imply that he would be much more content if he did not allow himself to become deeply involved with one woman; but he knew that it was something more than a passing appeasement that he desired. He enjoyed being in love, being ready to die – or at least renounce a great deal – for love.
So he would continue to write letters and poems to Lady Augusta and if she returned his passion he might insist on marrying her. The Argylls were a great family; but his father, he knew, would never consent to a marriage; it would be some plain German frau for him.
He shivered at the prospect and picked up his pen.
’Twas there that the soft-stolen kiss,
’Twas there that the throb of our hearts,
Betrayed that we wished for the bliss
Which love, and love only imparts …
He sighed, thinking of her beauty.
He did hope she was not going to remain aloof, insisting on preserving her virtue as Mary Hamilton had. In any case she, with Grace Elliott and Mrs Armistead, were helping him to forget Perdita; and that was what he wanted almost as much as Lady Augusta’s surrender – to forget Perdita completely, to forget her reproaches, her sacrificial sermons; he wanted to wash all memory of Perdita from his mind for he was heartily tired of her.
But as the days passed it became clear that Lady Augusta would cling to her virtue.
‘There could be no future for us,’ she said. ‘Your Highness cannot imagine that my parents would allow me to become another Perdita Robinson.’
By such words she irritated him. The very thing he did not want was to be reminded of Perdita.
So he decided to give up the pursuit of Lady Augusta and devote himself to those ladies who appreciated his attentions. There was no doubt that Grace did – gay abandoned creature. Though she was not entirely satisfactory because she kept on her old lovers at the same time.
Mrs Armistead was perhaps the more comforting of the two. She was always so delighted with some small diamond trinket that he found pleasure in making her little gifts.
Perhaps Charles James Fox was right. It was better not to become too involved.
The King sent for his son to tell him that he had come to a decision.
‘I cannot give my consent to these proposed trips of yours.’
‘But why not?’ The King looked surprised that the Prince should address him so curtly. ‘I can see nothing wrong in visiting some of Your Majesty’s most highly respected subjects.’
‘I have a treat for you,’ said the King. ‘Something you will enjoy more than these rounds of draughty country houses.’
‘A treat.’
The King nodded smiling. ‘You’ll see, eh? Patience … a virtue, eh, what?’
The Prince was disgusted. Treats? As though he were a boy.
His frustration was strengthened when he reminded himself that he could not disobey the King and accept invitations which His Majesty did not wish him to.
It was maddening. Let him wait, thought the Prince, until I’m twenty-one.
The ‘treat’ which the King was offering his son as a compensation for refusing his permission for the country visits was a trip to the Nore.
When the Prince heard of this he was disgusted. This in place of those country visits where he would have been fêted and treated according to his rank, entertained lavishly and enjoyed good conversation and the company of pretty women.
But such was his position that it was useless to protest. The King had decreed that he should go and go he must.
The King and the Prince rode in their separate yachts down the river and were saluted by the ships they passed. Through Woolwich, Tilbury and Gravesend they went accompanied by numerous small craft and cheered along the way until they anchored in Sea Reach for the night. They set off again at five in the morning for Blackstakes; and here the King and Prince left their yachts and toured the dockyards, then proceeded to the Nore where they went on board Admiral Parker’s flagship.
There officers and men were presented to the King and the Prince and after these ceremonies, which were somewhat tedious in the Prince’s opinion, he and his father returned to their yachts. This, fumed the Prince, was his treat for being denied the ability to accept invitations when he wished. It was too humiliating. Particularly as before long what had happened was the talk of the town. A verse was circulated to commemorate the occasion.
The King and the Prince went to the Nore,
They saw the ships and main;
The Prince and King they went on shore
And then came back again.
The people were laughing at the King. Couldn’t he see it? And until the Prince was considered of an age to make his own decisions and cut himself free of his father’s control he would be laughed at too.
Returning to Windsor he went to the Magpie for the solace of Mrs Armistead’s company. She might lack the obvious beauty of Lady Augusta Campbell but she never irritated and she always knew how to soothe him.
No grande passion this – but eminently satisfactory.
Humiliation in Hyde Park
BILLS! EVERY DAY they were coming.
‘Madame Duvernay regrets she must call Mrs Robinson’s attention to this long overdue account.’
Perdita frowned and read the long list of articles. That pelisse which she could have done without. The muff. The cloaks. The gowns … numerous gowns. They had all seemed so essential at the time. And Armistead had been so good at planning them.
Armistead! She did not wish to think of that woman. Traitor. Spy in her own house. Going off for personal reasons … which meant to the bed of the Prince of Wales!
Bills for wine. How could they have consumed so much? The poulterers, the butchers, the bakers … There was no end to it.
She started to attempt to add up the amounts but she was no good at it and it was so depressing in any case. And what good would it do to know how much she owed? There was one fact which she knew well enough now. She had not the money to pay them.
Oh, God, she thought. What shall I do?
There was Maiden, dear faithful Malden; he would be the Earl of Essex one day but he had no money now. He could not help her.