"Maria will expect to be treated as her sister-in-law."
"I will do my best," promised Frederick.
The next day at the marriage ceremony the bride was given away by the Prince of Wales. The streets were lined with people to see the bride and groom, for it was believed that since the Prince of Wales had contracted a marriage with Maria Fitzherbert which could never be acknowledged, this plain little German Princess might well one day be the Queen of England.
Frederick was soon wishing he had never married. He had believed that at least he could tolerate his wife, but that was not possible when she filled their house with animals of all descriptions. He lost count of the number of dogs, whose habits were none too clean; she had cages of parrots in every room; monkeys roamed through corridors and hung on bedposts and banisters.
Moreover, although she had received Mrs. Fitzherbert she showed quite clearly that she considered her merely the mistress of the Prince of Wales and that she had no intention of becoming on intimate terms with a woman in such a position.
Maria was incensed. It was not often that she lost her temper but she did over the Duchess of York. How dared the plain malodorous creature treat her with such haughty contempt! The Prince must insist that she stop that.
The Prince spoke to the Duke of York who declared that he had done everything in his power to make his wife treat Maria with due respect; she simply refused.
"But, Fred, you could insist."
"I do assure you, George, that I cannot make her do what she has decided not to. She is the most stubborn, arrogant creature you ever set eyes on."
"Try," said the Prince, "because it upsets Maria."
The Queen was delighted with the Duchess's attitude towards Maria and encouraged her in it because she knew it upset the Prince. As for the Duchess, who in any case was determined to have her own way, she maliciously made it more clear than ever that she regarded Maria Fitzherbert as her brother-in-law's mistress. She herself stood a very good chance of becoming Queen and she did not forget it. No one was going to dictate to her.
She quarrelled with her husband over it. But then she quarrelled with him over many things. He hated her beloved animals and was always pointing out their unclean habits. If he did not like it he could go, she told him. They Were more important to her than he was.
The Prince of Wales believed that Frederick could have insisted on his wife's accepting Maria, in spite of Frederick's vehement assurance that he could do nothing; and for the first time in their lives a coolness sprang up between the two brothers.
Frederick retaliated by leaving his wife alone as much as possible and seeking new friends with whom he could continue the life of wild extravagance he had led before his marriage, and the Prince of Wales brooded on the deterioration in his friendship with this beloved brother.
It all came back to Maria, he told himself. Memories of the mob which had surrounded his carriage; echoes of accounts told by his brother of the journey through France; he should have been a model prince married to a princess; they should have children. Children! That was what he missed. His friendship with Fred was impaired. Who would have thought that possible?
And all because of Maria.
Sometimes a thought came into his head which he tried not to examine too closely.
It was: Is she worth it?
The Prince consoled himself by going down to Brighton. He would arrive in early spring and stay until late autumn. He came to London only when it was absolutely necessary and a large portion of Carlton House was closed for the greater part of the year. Maria was constantly with him, living in the house close to the Pavilion. He made extensive alterations to the place and it was beginning to look like an oriental palace and very different from old Kemp's Farm which Weltje had discovered some years ago. The people of Brighton, in contrast to those of London, continued to treat him as though he were their king—and Mrs. Fitzherbert their queen.
Racing provided one of his most enjoyable pastimes until a scandal at Newmarket interrupted his pleasure in the sport. Two days before a big race his horse, Escape, was beaten by two outsiders, with the result that on the day of the race the odds were against it. There was great consternation in racing circles when Escape effortlessly came in first, and unpleasant comment followed when it was learned that the Prince and his jockey, Sam Chifney, had each made a fortune on the race. The murmurings were, in fact, against Chifney rather than the Prince, but when an investigation was made, nothing could be proved against the jockey. The rumours, however, persisted and the Prince, so humiliated and disgusted, sold his stud and gave up racing, although he kept a stable of hunters which he used regularly.
The scandal was repeated throughout the country to the delight of the Queen, who could never hear a word against her eldest son without showing her pleasure. As for Maria she was not sorry that he had lost interest in racing which was responsible for a large part of his financial embarrassment.
They were both disturbed by the news from the Continent which was growing worse; and when it was known that the King of France had been executed a feeling of horror swept through the whole country. Refugees began arriving at Brighton in their hundreds and the Prince and Maria agreed that every hospitality must be afforded them.
When news reached the Prince that a party of nuns had arrived at Shoreham in a pitiable condition, having been several days crossing the Channel in fishing boats, he and Maria between them arranged that they should be brought to Brighton and housed at the Ship Inn until he could make some arrangements for them.
Together he and Maria collected money for them; and when they arrived at the Ship Inn and their sad condition had been alleviated he went to see them.
They did not know how to express their gratitude and the tears fell copiously on both sides, but the Prince was genuinely sorry and it was he who arranged for the nuns to find a home in a Somerset convent.
All during that summer the refugees continued to arrive and no one was more zealous in offering them assistance than the Prince of Wales—with Maria at his side. This task of helping the refugees brought them closer together.
When the beautiful twenty-one-year-old Duchesse de Noailles was found on the beach, exhausted and shocked from the crossing, Maria took her into her home and looked after her. This the Prince applauded, but when Maria found that his interest in the beautiful Duchesse was becoming too intent, she tactfully arranged other accommodation for the lady in London.
The Prince often brooded on the fate of these refugees and discussed the conditions which had brought about the Revolution with men like the Dean of Rouen and the Archbishop d'Avranches to whom he was able to offer hospitality in their dire need.
Could it happen here? he asked himself; and the smiles and cheers of the people of Brighton were more welcome than they had ever been. But rulers must constantly please the people whom they rule for it was the people who decided how long they should continue to be rulers. It was a lesson one must never forget. And what had he done? He had displeased the people because he had gone through a ceremony of marriage with a Catholic. If it were known ...
Oh Maria, Maria, what have I done for you?
He was becoming irritable with her, and as she was aware of his increasing infidelities she was tense and nervous and sometimes unable to control her temper.
A young lady named Miss Paget was the cause of a really violent quarrel between them. She was a young woman of good family whom Maria had wished to launch into society. There was nothing extraordinary in this. Maria had launched many daughters of her friends. She enjoyed pleasing them; and she was fond of young women.
Maria had discovered the letter on the floor of her dressing room. She had read it before she realized that it was addressed to the Prince and certainly not meant for her to see.