"We're fashionable Brighton now," they said to each other. "Brighthelmstone is gone. It's Brighton. Royal Brighton."
There was an air of expectancy in every street. The local people grew accustomed to seeing fine ladies and gentlemen strolling about Brighton. Once a week there was a grand ball at the Castle Rooms and the people would stand outside to see the glittering jewels and the fine gowns of the ladies and the magnificence of the gentlemen, under the Prince's leadership, rivalled them. The Prince loved the play so therefore he visited the play house; but the local show, once he had become accustomed to its rural flavour, was not good enough for him, so companies had to come down from London. There was cockfighting in the Hove Ring; and boxing matches too, for the Prince greatly favoured this sport; and of course there were constant expeditions to the races.
Adventurers crowded into Brighton. Cardsharpers, strolling musicians, gipsies ... they all believed they could make their fortunes in the town which the Prince had made his own.
Each day during the summer the bathing machines could be seen being pulled up and down the shingly beach; and the shouts of the bathers as they were seized and dipped by the stalwart attendants could be heard all along the front. Each morning when he was in Brighton the Prince went into the sea.
His friends were always thinking of some new practical joke, which might amuse him, some new form of gambling. They wagered on every conceivable occasion. They would command the local people to run races that they might wager together who would be the winner; they performed wild mad exploits if someone bet them they could not do them.
Brighton had certainly changed with the coming of the Prince.
But as he told Weltje, Grove House was all very well and his majordomo had undoubtedly found him the best available house in Brighton, yet still it was not quite a royal residence.
"We'll never get that, sir, till we build our own," Weltje told him.
The Prince agreed it was true and began to think about a house of his own more seriously than ever.
Sometimes at dusk the Prince liked to take off his fine coat on which he wore the dazzling diamond star and, changing into an ordinary buff-coloured jacket such as might be worn by any noble gentleman, take a solitary stroll alone along the beach.
He was not sure whether on these occasions people did not recognize him or respected his privacy; but it was pleasant to escape now and then from the perpetually watchful eyes of subjects, however loving.
It was during one of his lonely walks that he saw a young woman sitting on the beach, her back against a groin, engrossed in the aimless pastime of throwing stones into the sea.
She wore a cloak, but the manner in which she lifted her arm to throw the stone was graceful and the Prince ever ready to investigate feminine charms, approached her.
"Good evening," he said, "Are you alone then?"
"Until this moment, sir" she answered with a pertness which assured him that his identity was certainly unknown; even strange young women do not speak to the Prince of Wales in that manner.
"You are too pretty to be alone."
"La, sir, and I see you are too forward to be."
The Prince was amused. "A very good reason why you should allow me to exchange a few words with you."
"I could scarcely prevent it," she retorted.
He sat down beside her and was delighted, for the hood had fallen back a little to disclose an extremely pretty face.
"Should you be out alone at this hour?"
"Clearly not, sir, since it enables strangers to believe that they can ... accost me."
She made as though to rise but he held out a hand and laid it gently on her arm. "Please do not go ... just yet. Stay and chat awhile. There is no harm done."
She hesitated. "If my guardian knew that I was out..."
"So you have escaped?"
"I cannot bear to be caged. I ran away ... but only for an hour or so. I shall have to go back."
"You live in Brighton?"
She shook her head. "We are here because it is so fashionable to be here ... now that the Prince of Wales favours it."
"So your family is here because he is here."
She nodded. He saw that she was very young. That was piquant; he had never been in love with a woman younger than himself before.
She grimaced. "Oh yes, we must go to Brighton because His Royal Highness is at Brighton. I wish His Highness anywhere than at Brighton, I can tell you."
"Thank you for the information. But why are you so set against His Highness's coming here?"
"Because if he weren't here I shouldn't be here, and if I weren't here I shouldn't have met..." She stopped.
"A chance stranger on a beach?"
She burst out laughing; she had very pretty teeth. "Oh, I wasn't thinking of you."
"How cruel of you!"
"Why should it be cruel? I don't know you."
"We are going to change that, are we not?"
"Are we?" She was on her feet, for as he had spoken he had made an effort to take her hand. But she was too quick for him. She turned gracefully on her toes—not easy on the shingle, and poised for flight looked over her shoulder at him. He was on his feet.
"You are not going?"
"But I am. Goodbye ... stranger."
"But"
"But I may be here tomorrow ... at the same time ...if I can get away."
She ran off swiftly.
A rather amusing adventure, he thought, as he walked back to Grove House.
Her name was Lottie, she told him; but she would tell him no more. Where was she staying? Where did she live?
"Women" she answered pertly, "should be mysterious. I'm not very old, but I know that."
"You succeed in being very mysterious."
"Tell me, do you know the Prince of Wales?"
"I would say I was on reasonably good terms with that gentleman."
"Then doubtless you know my guardian."
"Tell me his name."
She shook her head. "Oh, no, I daren't do that."
"Dare not? Why?"
She was mischievous suddenly. "It would spoil the mystery." Then she was suddenly in tears. She was afraid they were going to marry her to an old man ... a rich old man. He was a suitable match and she hated him and what was she going to do about it? What could she do?
"You could run away" said the Prince.
"How?" She was all excitement; and suddenly, so was he.
Why not? Her guardian was at Brighton. Someone in his entourage? Suppose he set her up in a little house. There should be no obstacle. He knew enough of her to realize that she was not of the nobility; perhaps her guardian as she called him—or her, perhaps—had a post in his household. In that case the aforesaid guardian could be made to realize that the patronage of the Prince of Wales could be as comforting as marriage with a rich old man.
"We could elope" suggested the Prince.
"Oh, how, when?"
It would not be impossible. Suppose he had a post-chaise waiting for her? All she would have to do was slip away as she did when she came to the beach and into the chaise where her lover would be waiting for her. He would give the order to drive and they would go away ... together. She would be out of danger.
She was excited about the plan; but, she declared mournfully, her guardian would be watchful of her; she would never escape.
He would have a footman's uniform procured for her; she could put it on and leave her guardian's residence disguised in it.
She was enchanted with the idea and clasped her hands with excitement. She agreed to meet him the following night and complete their plans.