He began discussing the American Colonies and he went on at great speed with the ehs? and whats? coming thick and fast. And Schwellenburg. He did not think Miss Burney was very happy with that woman. But she was not to be anxious on that account. He would speak to the Queen. And Colonel Digby? He feared that gentleman was a sad flirt ... oh yes, he feared that. Fanny must not take that gentleman too seriously. Oh he could be a very serious gentleman ... but he was a widower looking for a wife, and a flirt, Miss Burney, a s?d flirt, and had she heard the arrangement of The Messiah? Handel was the finest musician in the world. Her father would know that. He could tell her some stories of Handel and she could tell her father. Dr. Burney would be very interested in the stories he could tell her of Handel. A fine musician.
He began to sing, beating time to the music, and his voice which had grown hoarse with all the talking he was doing, seemed to crack suddenly and Dr. Willis said: " I beg Your Majesty not to strain your voice. Come along, sir. Do you not think we should go in and allow Miss Burney to continue with her walk."
"No, no, not yet. I have to speak to Miss Burney. I have much to say to her. I have lived so long out of the world, Miss Burney, that I know nothing. You understand, eh? what?"
Fanny murmured that she understood very well and the King gripped her arm and put his face close to hers so that she trembled at the wildness in his eyes.
"Miss Burney, I pray you tell me how your father fares. Tell your father that I will take care of him. He is a good and honest man. I will take care of him, Miss Burney. Yes, I will do it myself."
"Your Majesty is most gracious," stammered Fanny. "Your Majesty will get a chill," said Dr. Willis. "Your Majesty is progressing so favourably that it would be folly to start your illness all over again."
"Yes," said the King. "Folly, folly, folly..."
" Then Your Majesty ..."
"I will say au revolt to Miss Burncy." And with that he put his hands on her shoulders, drew her to him and kissed her cheek as he had done when at the beginning of the encounter.
Fanny was overcome with confusion, but the King's attendants were already drawing him away.
The King called over hi: shoulder. "Do not fear that dreadful woman, Miss Burney. Take no heed of Schwellenburg. You may depend on me. I am your friend. As long as I live I will be your friend. You understand, eh? what? I pledge myself to be your friend."
Fanny stood watching the King as he was drawn away, smiling and nodding to him as he turned to shout over his shoulder to her.
She made her way hastily to her apartments and when she was with the Queen repeated the conversation to her, although she said nothing of the reference to Madam von Schwellenburg.
"His Majesty still acts a little strangely, Miss Burney," said the Queen, "but I do believe he is going to get well."
The Queen was right.
In the Lords the Lord Chancellor rose to declare that in view of the improved state of the King's health it would be indecent to discuss the Regency Bill further.
The King's health improved rapidly; at the beginning of April the Prince of Wales with his brother Frederick received a summons to wait on the King at Kew in order that they might congratulate him on his recovery.
The Prince of Wales behaved with absolute decorum and was more cordial to his father than he had ever been before.
The improvement went on apace. The King looked old; his speech was quick and incoherent, but his mind was lucid again.
All the royal family attended the service which was held at St. Paul's as a thanksgiving for the King's recovery. It was April and the clement weather brought the crowds into the streets. As the King's carriage rode by the people cheered wildly.
"God save the King," they cried, throwing hats into the air and waving flags. "Long life to Your Majesty."
The King was touched by this devotion. The tears came to his eyes and this show of emotion only made the people cheer the more.
But for the Prince of Wales—silence.
He could not understand it. He was the popular member of the household. He was Prince Charming. Yet the people were greeting him with a sullen silence. It was the first time his presence had failed to rouse cheers.
He was angry. Why? What had he done but ask for that which was his right? Why should they suddenly turn against him?
It was because the people believed—in spite of the denial in Parliament—that he was married to a Papist. Maria ... and her religion ... were responsible for this.
My dear love, he thought, what I have given up for you!
The Queen was elated by the Prince's reception. She had made sure that whenever possible people should be made aware of his callous behaviour during his father's illness. She had arranged that stories should be circulated of his treatment of herself and her daughters; how he had tried to separate a wife from a sick husband, how he had sought for power at all costs, how it was the anxiety over his eldest son that had driven the King mad. Mr. Pitt and the Queen were friends; and the Prince was supporting the unpopular Whigs with Fox at their head. But most heinous of all his sins was that he lived in sin with a Papist or was married to her; and neither situation was one to commend him to the people.
Ah, Prince of Wales, thought the Queen malevolently, you would not accept my love so now you have my hate.
Strange that a mother could hate the son on whom she had once doted. But Queen Charlotte had been kept so long under restraint—treated as a woman of no importance, simply a breeder of royal children—and when such prisoners were free their actions often surprised even themselves.
The cartoonists were busy. The one which attracted the most attention was The Funeral of Miss Regency. This portrayed a coffin on which instead of wreaths was a coronet—the Prince's—dice, and an empty purse. The chief mourner was Mrs. Fitzherbert.
When the Prince saw the cartoon he thought: Yes, Maria is the chief mourner. She believed that when I became Regent I would have recognized her. And if I had what would have happened? He remembered those sullen crowds at the thanksgiving service and was alarmed.
Maria could ruin me, he thought.
Somewhere from the past came the echo of an old song:
"I crowns resign
To call thee mine."
Coming so near to the Regency had made him realize what the Crown would mean to him. He knew in his heart that he would never resign it. And if it came to the point of choosing between it and Maria ...
A few years ago he would have said unthinkingly: Maria.
And now?
I have already given up a great deal for her, he thought resentfully.
The Duke's Duel
The Queen was savouring her newly found power. The King's illness had shattered his confidence and he lived in constant terror of his malady returning. He had become an old man—a frightened old man—and the Queen, after years of submission, was now the ruler of the Court.
Her great enemy was the Prince of Wales and she was ready to do battle against him. She had her spies everywhere. How exciting life had become! How different this was from suffering the discomforts of pregnancy, being continuously concerned with nursery affairs, dealing with the accounts and managing her own household. Mr. Pitt was her great friend. He did not despise her influence; and everyone would agree that Mr. Pitt was the greatest politician of the age. Moreover, he was Prime Minister and head of the Tory Party, and the Court was Tory. When she gave a ball to celebrate the King's recovery all the ladies were in blue—the Tory colour—and the tables were decorated with devices complimentary to the Tory party; and there were even mottoes inscribed on the sweetmeats.
"The entertainment is for ministers and those persons who have voted for the King and me," she announced, "and those who have proved themselves my friends."