‘My darling shall have an allowance,’ Frederick had declared; but it never seemed to occur to him that an allowance was an amount of money which had to be paid regularly.
When she asked him for it, he was bewildered. He hadn’t got it.
Mary Ann sighed, but she was experienced enough to know that constantly to demand money was the quickest way to kill sentiment. Therefore she found her own means of supplying her purse.
Through Frederick she learned a little of Army matters. He told her that his staff sold commissions and that there were regular rates for these. The money was collected and used to help orphans and widows of soldiers who had lost their lives in the Service.
What did soldiers pay for those commissions? Mary Anne wanted to know.
‘Well, for a Major it would be somewhere in the neighbourhood of £2,500, for a Captain half that … well, say £1,500.’
‘And less for lesser ranks naturally,’ said Mary Anne. ‘What a lot of money must be coming in to your fund.’
‘It trickles in, I believe,’ said the Duke. ‘I know nothing about it.’
Mary Anne went on thinking about that money. She was in the service of the Army in a way since she delightfully charmed the leisure hours of the Commander-in-Chief, so she did not see why she should not benefit from some of this money which was coming in.
The more she thought of it, the more it appealed to her. Suppose she cut the price as an inducement? That should be tempting. As adored mistress of the Commander-in-Chief she could make sure that the commissions were supplied. She could make it clear to those whose duties it was to look after these matters that if they did not work with her she would find some reason to complain against them to the Commander-in-Chief. It was so easy to whisper a word into the royal ear during tender interludes, when he would be ready to promise her anything she asked for.
It was a brilliant idea and Mary Anne lost no time in putting it into practice.
In a short time she had found a friend to help her, and so great was the flow of business that she took an office and employed a clerk or two. Business flourished and she would have been enabled to pay her debts, but the more money that came in the more extravagant she became.
Still, it was a prosperous concern. In addition to commissions, she sold transfers from one regiment to another; and she began to look for fresh loopholes in the system which would enable her to add to her activities.
All was going well when Frederick’s great passion for his Mary Anne came to an end, and once that happened Mary Anne’s creditors were at her door. What could she do? Her lucrative business had come to an end; she was heavily in debt; and what security had she to offer now? She could see no answer but in flight.
The Duke with unexpected shrewdness had called in his financial adviser to arrange for her pension; and this was to be paid to her, subject to her good conduct. Rather unfair, she thought; and not in the original bargain; but she did not underestimate her awkward position. She went to Devonshire, but Mary Anne was not meant for the country life and very soon, stifled with boredom, she was back in London. She had her children’s future to think of – always a great concern – so she went to live with her mother in Bloomsbury. Mrs Thompson took lodgers and one of her lodgers was a friend of Colonel Wardle.
Calling at Mrs Thompson’s house Colonel Wardle met Mary Anne whom he had known in the days of her glory and he expressed his concern to see her so reduced in circumstances. She was comforted to talk of her sorrows.
‘But for my creditors,’ she declared, ‘you would not find me skulking here. I should be out in the world.’
‘So you would and so you should be.’ Colonel Wardle implied that he was not unaffected by her charm. It was a sin, he said, that such beauty had to remain hidden. She had not been exactly generously treated by the Duke of York.
‘Poor Fred,’ she said with a smile. ‘He was always short of money himself.’
‘A man has his obligations. The royal Duke whom I serve would honour his commitments.’
‘Your royal Duke?’
‘Edward, Duke of Kent.’
‘So he is your friend.’
Colonel Wardle retorted airily: ‘Oh, yes, we are on terms of friendship. He is not very pleased with his brother. I have it from Major Dodd – you must meet the Major who is in close attendance on the Duke – I have it from him that His Highness of Kent would very much like the position held by His Highness of York and feels himself much more capable of fulfilling it.’
‘Fred is very popular with the men.’
‘His brother thinks discipline is very lax in the Army. What they need is a strong man at the head.’
Mary Anne shrugged her shoulders. ‘Where do I come into this?’
‘It may be that you have certain information. Major Dodd, through a higher authority, would be very willing to pay you for it.’
‘You mean enough money to settle these creditors of mine?’
‘But certainly.’
‘And to set me up afresh.’ Mary Anne’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. This might be treachery towards poor Fred, but what had he done to her – left her with a pension of four hundred a year after teaching her to live at the rate of thousands! A woman had to look after herself in this world.
Mary Anne would do what she could.
From then on it was easy.
Frederick’s first action when he realized what accusations were going to be brought against him was to call on the Prince of Wales.
The Prince was in a mood of despair. Lady Hertford had not become his mistress and Maria was being what he called extremely unreasonable.
Ever since the end of the Seymour case he had been constantly in the company of the Hertfords. It was maddening. No matter how much he pleaded with that frigid lady she would not relent. It was no use offering her jewels or riches; she had plenty from the long-suffering Lord Hertford. She cared for three things only: her appearance, her reputation and the Tory Party. The Whigs were watching anxiously, for they knew that Lady Hertford intended to interfere with the Prince’s politics; in fact it was only through politics that he stood the slightest chance of gaining his ends. Maria Fitzherbert was a Tory, but Maria had never sought to force her views on anyone. The Whigs were hoping that Maria would continue to hold sway.
The Prince would not have been so unhappy if she had. He was not averse to this platonic relationship with Lady Hertford. It gratified the sentimental romantic side of his nature which was strong. He wanted Maria, though, to remain in the background of his life. The last thing he wanted was for Maria to leave him.
And this was exactly what Maria was suggesting she would do.
He had just received a note from her.
He had read it through several times, refusing to accept what it conveyed. It was true he had seen less of her lately. She should understand that. Lady Hertford kept him dancing continual attendance; and she always insisted that for ‘propriety’s sake’ Maria should be present when they met. Why could not women be reasonable?’
It was ironical that women who to him were the most delightful of all God’s creations should plague him so. He had always loved women more than anything else on earth. Better than horses, better than drinking, and the conversation and companionship of men like Fox – ah, why had that genius had to die! Why was he not here to give him the benefit of his advice now? He forgot that his relationship with the brilliant statesman had deteriorated in later years – but then he always forgot what it was convenient to. Now it soothed him a little to think of Fox who had been his mentor and his friend. Why could not the women in his life be more kind and understanding? There was his wife … Ah, no, he could not bear to think of that creature! There was his daughter, always difficult, not what he would have wished for a daughter to be, and he could see trouble increasing from that quarter as she grew older; there was Maria behaving now in an aloof manner and with her quick temper which had been responsible for that other regrettable break in their relationship, and even Isabella Hertford frustrated him because she was so pure that her reputation meant more to her than the devotion of the Prince of Wales. Who could have believed that women whom he had always idolized as a sex could bring so much anguish to a man who only wanted to please them and make them all happy?