Elizabeth came and stood before her. ‘Your Highness wishes for something?’
‘I feel, Elizabeth, that I should warn you. There are some unpleasant rumours going about the Court concerning you.’
‘Oh, Madam, I have heard it said that a woman should only worry when there are no rumours about her. Then it means that the world has lost interest in her.’
‘Rumours are not becoming when attached to a young unmarried woman.’
‘Do they say of me that I have another lover?’
‘I hope, Elizabeth, that that is not true.’
Elizabeth lowered her eyes and looked very demure.
‘Ah, Your Royal Highness knows chacun à son But.’
The Princess was astonished. She could find no words. Elizabeth said: ‘Did Your Highness wish me to perform some task?’
‘No, no,’ said Augusta shortly, ‘you may leave me.’
Now, thought Elizabeth, that is the end of me. And all for the sake of a bon mot. It was pretty good, though. I would never have dared if it had not been so good. Did she get the But? Or did she think I was merely quoting the French proverb? However, she was too flabbergasted to reply… just then. But that does not mean there will not be some riposte. And when it comes… Goodbye to Court, Elizabeth.
To hell with the Court! And what would happen if she were dismissed? She should have thought of that before she allowed her tongue to run away with her. She was a fool at times. Hadn’t she allowed herself to be carried away by her feelings before? If she had not been so foolish as to believe Hamilton had deserted her, if she had tried to find out why he did not write, she would have discovered the perfidy of Aunt Hanmer and waited for him. Instead she had allowed herself to be carried away by pique and had made the mésalliance with John Hervey. Thank Heaven she had kept it secret, even the birth of their child who, alas, had died when she had put him out to nurse. If Madam Augusta knew the dark secrets of her lady-in-waiting she would have been dismissed from Court long ere this. That secret she believed was well guarded and the King was pleased enough with her to have made her mother housekeeper at Windsor – a pretty profit in that; and he had helped them to acquire a farm of a hundred and twenty acres. So she had not done too badly at Court and if Augusta should decide to dismiss her no doubt there would be a place for her in the King’s Court.
Oh well, Madam Augusta could not be too high-handed – not when she herself could so easily be steeped in scandal. Her passion for my Lord Bute was a little too obvious for secrecy. One could hear it vibrating in her voice when she spoke to him or even of him; and her expression betrayed her whenever he appeared.
So perhaps the Princess who was proving to be a great deal wiser than many had thought her to be while her husband was alive, would not act rashly even where an impertinent maid-of-honour was concerned, when that maid-of-honour happened to be rather a favourite with the King.
In any case, thought Elizabeth, she and Bute are trying to keep the Prince of Wales tied to her apron strings. They treat him as though he’s a baby, both of them. It’s clear enough they want to be in command when he’s King – and he could be tomorrow. Poor old George can’t last much longer and poor young George is such a baby. It’s time someone opened his eyes, helped him to become a man, let him see that he is no longer in the nursery, that he only has to assert himself and need not blindly obey everything fond Mamma Augusta and Papa Bute command.
It was not long afterwards that she had an opportunity of speaking to George. He was calling on his Mamma and she encountered him in one of the anterooms.
She curtsied decorously and said: ‘Your Highness is in good spirits today. There is a change in you.’
George blushed and stammered that he hoped it was for the better.
She laughed in an intimate way. If she could banter with the Dowager Princess, how much more readily she could do so with the Prince of Wales.
‘I believe you are in love,’ she said.
She was astonished at the effect of these words. The faint flush in his cheeks deepened to scarlet.
‘It’s true,’ she cried.
‘Oh, please, please… you must tell no one.’
‘Your Highness may trust me. Not a word outside these walls. Who is the fortunate lady?’
‘Oh… I cannot tell. She does not know… but I assure you she is…’
‘The most beautiful at Court?’
‘Not… not at Court.’
‘Oh?’
‘I must not burden you with my affairs.’
‘Your Highness.’ Her beautiful eyes were wide with sincerity. If there is anything I can do to help…’
‘There is nothing to be done… It is impossible.’
‘Nothing is impossible, Your Highness, and something can always be done.’
‘I cannot speak of this.’
‘Oh, Your Highness… not to me!’
‘You are kind, but it is no use. And someone comes…’
‘Your Highness, I want to help you. I would do anything to help you. Could you give me an audience… In the gardens… Later.’
He looked at her appealingly, so worldly, so knowledgeable, so wise.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘please.’
Elizabeth walked beside the Prince. He said: ‘I have never spoken to her.’
‘Oh, why not?’
‘I have seen her only at a window.’
‘What window?’
‘Of a shop… a linen-draper’s.’
‘Where?’
‘In St James’s Market when I have passed in my chair on the way to the theatre. I go there often… whenever possible… without attracting attention. It has not been so easy since my father’s death.’
‘Too many in attendance on the Prince of Wales! But there is no reason why you should not meet this young lady.’
‘Oh, there is every reason.’
‘Your Highness is wrong. She will be immensely honoured and Your Highness will be immensely gratified. It is the way of the world. Your Highness is the Prince of Wales, the heir to the throne. You are not a child as some would appear to think.’
‘She is a Quaker, I have discovered that. And she sits in the window of Mr Wheeler’s shop. I think she must be his daughter. She is very beautiful, in fact I have never seen any to compare with her. Her gown is so simple, and yet all the ladies in their silks and brocades, their glittering jewels cannot compare with her.’
‘I can see Your Highness is deeply affected. But do you not wish to speak with her, to make your admiration known?’
‘I could not speak to her. She is a Quaker. I fear she would be displeased.’
‘Is it enough, then, to look?’
‘Yes, for the rest of my life I would be content if only I might look at her.’
‘Perhaps she would wish for something more from Your Highness than looks?’
He was startled. ‘You think she would?’
‘I am sure of it. I suspect that this young lady is hurt and disappointed because you have made no attempt to speak to her.’
‘Hurt! Disappointed. Oh, but I would not hurt her for the world.’
‘Then you should show your devotion by arranging to meet her.’
‘How could I do that? I could not call at the linen-draper’s.’
‘No, certainly you could not do that. But she will know that you are the Prince of Wales and she will believe that because you do not seek a means of speaking to her you feel yourself too far above her to wish to.’
‘She could not think that.’
‘How could she think otherwise? Do you really wish to speak to this young lady?’
‘It is what I long for.’
‘Perhaps it could be arranged.’
‘Who could arrange it?’