The Prince and the Quakeress

The Grave at Islington

ELIZABETH CHUDLEIGH HAD been to Winchester on a very special mission so it was not until later that she discovered what was happening at Court.

A wise woman, Elizabeth told herself, must keep her eyes open for advantages and when they came seize them; she was a wise woman, and the folly of one day could by a strange turn of fate become the wise action of another.

She lived dangerously; she expected to and she liked to; of one thing she was certain and that was that Elizabeth Chudleigh would draw the utmost advantage from life. Elizabeth Chudleigh! She was Elizabeth Hervey now; and there was going to be no secret about that.

It was many years since she had married the Honourable Augustus John Hervey; she had been piqued at the time because she believed the Duke of Hamilton, whom she had hoped to marry, had deserted her. She had met Augustus at the Winchester races whither she had gone when she was staying at the house of her uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Merrill, in Larnston, Hampshire. Knowing that Augustus came from a good family – he was a grandson of the Earl of Bristol – the Merrills had encouraged the match and she had agreed to marry him.

She soon was under the impression that she had acted rashly; and deciding to keep her marriage a secret did not mention it when she returned to Court. Augustus, who was a sailor by profession was not in England for long spells but when he was, he expected to live with his wife. Elizabeth’s plan had been to spend her time between the Court and her mother’s house in Conduit Street; and when she was there Augustus would be with her and insist on his conjugal rights. Elizabeth was nothing loath; the only condition she had demanded was that the marriage should be kept a secret.

In her heart she always believed that one day some great opportunity would come along. She intended to be a Duchess at least and when that opportunity came she did not wish to be hampered by a marriage to a nobody, which was all Augustus was at the time. Augustus did not seem to mind the secrecy as long as he was not excluded from her bed when he desired to be there. That had to be accepted and was no hardship, he being a personable young man; but there followed the inevitable result which caused her a great deal of trouble. In spite of voluminous skirts these predicaments have a way of showing themselves and it soon became clear to Elizabeth that she would have to stage a little act. She would have to leave Court to take the air, she announced; there were smiles behind fans and whispers in corridors; much Elizabeth cared. She left Court and gave birth to a boy – christened Henry Augustus – and she put him out with a suitable family to be cared for. He did not live long, poor child, and she had soon forgotten him. She returned to Court, where acquaintances were inclined to make too tender enquiries after her health.

One pert young woman, and this in the presence of Lord Chesterfield, murmured that she had heard rumours and some had dared suggest that she had had twins. Elizabeth had turned to Chesterfield and demanded to know if he could believe such a thing.

Chesterfield who prided himself on being a wit replied: ‘I never believe more than half I hear, Miss Chudleigh.’ Which remark was noted down and reported and repeated throughout the Court as an illustration of the wit of the Earl of Chesterfield and the scandalous behaviour of Miss Chudleigh.

But she cared nothing for gossip and scandal. Let them chatter to their hearts’ content. She was safe. No one knew she was married to Hervey – nor would they ever be sure of it, because even if he declared they were married she could deny it, for she had taken the precaution of forcing the parson to give her access to the register and had destroyed the certificate of marriage and torn the page from the register on which Mr Annis, who had married them, had recorded the event.

Now the position had changed. The Earl of Bristol was very ill and Augustus was next in the line of succession to the Earldom. The Countess of Bristol was a very worthy title and she was wishing now that she had not destroyed the evidence of the marriage.

There was nothing to be done, she decided, but to go to Larnston and stay with her aunt and uncle, and when there she would bully little Mr Annis into giving her another marriage certificate and rewriting the page in the register. It was a very simple matter.

So Miss Chudleigh had left Court ‘to take a little country air,’ and in due course arrived at Winchester and from thence went to the home of her uncle and aunt in Larnston.

They were delighted to see their flamboyant relative from Court who was so beautiful, so dazzling, that everyone for miles round would envy them.

Miss Chudleigh accepted their homage and was graciously charming, explained that she wished to see Mr Annis without delay for she had important business to discuss with him.

Oh dear, this was a sorry business. Mr Annis was dangerously ill.

‘All the more reason why I should see him without delay.’

‘But the poor man is on his death-bed.’

‘Then I certainly must see him before he expires.’

‘In fact, his doctor has said he is to see no one.’

Miss Chudleigh smiled. She was not no one. Aunt and Uncle Merrill, country-folk though they were, should know that.

So into the death-chamber strode Elizabeth, vital, determined, in great contrast to the sick man on the bed. She must speak with him alone; everyone must leave her; it was of the utmost importance to the saving of his soul.

‘Mr Annis, can you hear me Mr Annis?’ His eyes were glassy, but he must live until he had done his task. ‘Mr Annis, it was a wicked thing you did to destroy that page from the church register. How can you face your Maker, Mr Annis, with such a sin on your conscience? I have come to save you. You must put back that page before you die.’

Mr Annis remembered her. Who would ever forget her?

Often he remembered what he had allowed her to do. It was an offence, was it not, a criminal offence to destroy part of the church register.

‘I heard how ill you were and I could not allow you to go before your Maker until you had put this matter right. Do you hear me, Mr Annis?’

He did hear. He did remember his sin.

‘Now you must give me the keys which open the cupboard or wherever it is the books and certificates are kept. You married me to the Honourable Augustus John Hervey, did you not? Then you must write me another certificate and you must put that page back in the register… somehow. It is the only way to salvation, Mr Annis.’

Poor Mr Annis! The sheer will to save his soul kept him alive. In the death-chamber he listened to Elizabeth; he gave her the keys and it was she who guided his hand.

And when he had done as she asked, he lay back on his pillows and died.

An example she told herself of what can be achieved if one only has the will to do it.

Poor old Annis! Let him rest in peace. He had done his duty; and now if the old Earl of Bristol died tomorrow no one could deny that Elizabeth Chudleigh was the Countess.

The Earl stubbornly and most unaccommodatingly clung to life and Elizabeth returned to Court so that she might be close at hand to hear of his demise when it occurred. In the meantime she had to make the facts of her marriage known and the first person she must tell should be the Dowager Princess.

She would have to break the news gently, for Augusta would not be pleased with a maid of honour who married without her consent and kept the marriage secret for some years. It was most unconventional behaviour and Elizabeth had already offended the Dowager Princess with her manners.

Not that the Princess cared to reprimand her. Elizabeth was aware of matters which she would rather not have mentioned. Of course Elizabeth must never forget that although the Princess might not want to offend her she was the most powerful member of her own Court and she could take action which might be inconvenient to Elizabeth. She might even call her bluff and let her do her worst, which could be inconvenient. Now, if there was a little blackmail going on between them it was pleasant courtly blackmail; and that was really how Elizabeth wanted it to remain.

So she must act with care.

By good fortune – for her – she encountered the Prince of Wales when he was alone and was immediately struck by the change in him.

Our Prince has turned into a very serious young man, she thought. Something has happened.

Elizabeth must naturally find out what without delay.

She dropped a charming curtsy.

‘What pleasure to see Your Highness looking so well. It is long since that pleasure was mine.’

‘You have been away from Court, I believe, Miss Chudleigh?’

‘Yes, I had to pay a duty call on my aunt and uncle in the country and I used that opportunity to take a little air.’

‘You are looking well for the change.’

‘How gracious is Your Highness.’ She took a step nearer. ‘Oh, this is presumptuous of me… but it is out of my deep regard for Your Highness. I… I trust all is well?’

‘All is well, Miss Chudleigh.’

‘I was thinking of… that dear friend of us both.’

The Prince coloured. ‘She… she is better, thank you.’

‘So she has been ill?’

He looked at her steadily for a few moments; her lovely face was suffused with tender affection. Much as he loved Hannah he could always be deeply affected by a beautiful woman, and there was something motherly about Elizabeth at that moment.

He longed to confide in someone; he was deeply worried. He had done something which he knew his mother would consider disastrous. Only that day she and Lord Bute had talked about the day he would marry; they had talked complacently as though they were looking forward to it. He had made an effort to tell them, but he could not bring himself to do it. Lord Bute had been saying that people might like their King to have an English bride, but his mother said that he must have a royal Queen and that his ancestors had always taken their wives from Germany.

It was painful to listen to such talk and yet he could not bring himself to stop them, to explain to them. He had wanted to, but he knew – and he was realizing this more and more every day – what a shock it would be to them when they heard of his marriage to Hannah.

Therefore it would be comforting to explain to someone who would be sympathetic and he knew she would because she always had been.

‘Miss Chudleigh,’ he said quietly, ‘I wish to confide in you.’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’ She tried not to sound too eager.

‘You were so kind to me… and to Hannah.’

‘Your Highness, it is my duty to serve you with any power I have. As to Hannah… I look upon her as a very dear friend. If I could do anything… just anything… to make you two happier, I beg of you, I implore you, to let me know what it is.’

‘Miss Chudleigh, I have married Hannah.’

She caught her breath. It was incredible. Fresh from her own adventure with the church register of Larnston it still seemed fantastic. The future King of England married to a little Quaker girl – the niece of a linen-draper! Oh no. It couldn’t be true. It simply could not.

He was watching her eagerly, so she forced her features into an expression of deepest sympathy.

‘It seemed to me the only possible action, Miss Chudleigh.’

‘I understand.’

‘I knew you would. Oh… I knew you would. So you are not shocked.’

‘I think you have done a brave and noble thing.’ She forced the tears into her eyes; it was not easy, but she had taught herself this trick and in any case she was so surprised that it was not so difficult as usual.

‘Oh, Miss Chudleigh, I feel much better having confided in you.’

‘I am glad Your Highness so honoured me. Have you… told any others?’

‘Only my sister Elizabeth and Edward… my brother. Edward was our witness.’

‘And who married you?’

‘Dr Wilmot. I commanded it. They cannot blame him.’

‘Your Highness is your own master and will ere long, I doubt not, be the master of us all. So… no one else knows.’

He shook his head. ‘It is a great relief, Miss Chudleigh, to share this burden. I want to explain. Hannah is ill… she fears she may not live. It was necessary, you see. She could not die with this sin… on her soul. I had to do this, Miss Chudleigh. It was the only way.’

‘I understand. I am sure you were right. It was good and noble. I am sure of it. And Mr Axford… ?’

‘The marriage to Mr Axford was no real marriage. It took place at the marriage mill, which is illegal. Mr Axford himself believes this, for he has recently married a Miss Bartlett. Dr Wilmot helped me discover the truth of this and there is no doubt of it.’

‘So… there is a Princess of Wales,’ murmured Elizabeth.

‘I do not know whether Hannah would wish to be so described… nor that my grandfather…’

Elizabeth nodded. Here was excitement. This made her little adventure seem like a nursery prank. The Prince married – and the King in ignorance of it. And the Princess and old Bute… ! She wanted to laugh, but she smiled benignly, sympathetically and affectionately.

‘Your Highness, may I dare to advise you… ?’

‘Oh, Miss Chudleigh, please do.’

‘Say nothing of this to anyone… who does not know already.’

‘I certainly will not. And thank you for your kindness.’

‘Your Highness, you must not thank me. I have done nothing… though I wish you to know that I will do anything to serve you now and at any time.’

The Prince went to his apartments considerably comforted by the encounter; and Elizabeth went to hers in a state of great excitement.

Elizabeth presented herself to the Dowager Princess. Augusta forced herself to smile. She wished the woman had stayed in the country. There was something quite brazen about her; and when one thought how much she knew of that unfortunate affair of George and the Quaker it was really quite disconcerting.

‘So you have returned,’ said Augusta.

Elizabeth swept a demure curtsy. ‘And have come to ask Your Highness’s pardon.’

The Princess raised her eyebrows.

‘Have I Your Highness’s permission to proceed?’

‘Pray do.’

‘I have to confess, Your Highness, that I am married.’

‘And when did this occur?’

‘Some years ago, Your Highness.’

‘I see, so you have been posing at my Court as a single woman.’

‘That is so, Your Highness.’

‘I find this distasteful.’

‘Your Highness, I fear there is much going on that is distasteful.’ The beautiful wide-open eyes met those of the Princess Dowager and the Princess felt her own colour rise. A reference to herself and Lord Bute. The insolence of the creature. She would not have her at the Court. Could this clandestine marriage be used as a means of getting rid of her?

‘The name of your husband?’

‘The Honourable Augustus John Hervey.’

‘Bristol’s grandson… and heir.’ Light was beginning to dawn on the Princess. Bristol was very ill, close to death, she had heard. Now she knew why Elizabeth Chudleigh was anxious to announce her marriage. She was looking forward to being Countess of Bristol. The woman was shameless, a schemer, unscrupulous.

Yes, in spite of Lord Bute’s warnings she was going to get rid of her.

‘I trust Your Highness is not displeased.’

‘I am very displeased. I do not care for this secrecy. I find it… discourteous. I trust you enjoyed your stay in the country. Where was it?’

‘Larnston, Your Highness, not far from Winchester.’

‘A pleasant part of the country, I believe. You should enjoy staying there.’

Elizabeth was startled. Was that a command?

‘Now you may leave me.’

Elizabeth was alarmed. She knew what would happen. She had seen it before. She would retire to her apartments, and in a very short time a messenger would come to her with the news that there was no longer a place for her in the Princess’s household and she would be expected to leave within a few hours. And once out it would be hard to come back. The King? He was getting old and tired. He might have forgotten that he had once found her attractive.

She must act quickly. She had always been impulsive; it was one of her great faults; but this was definitely an occasion when prompt action was necessary.

‘Your Highness… certain information has come to me which my loyalty to you demands I pass on… without delay.’

‘What?’

‘Madam, I scarcely know how to tell you. I fear it will be a great shock. It is a matter of the utmost gravity…’

‘What are you trying to say to me?’

‘It concerns the Prince.’

The Princess Dowager’s attitude had changed. She had suddenly realized that they were no longer discussing a maid of honour’s trivial misdemeanour, and she was a frightened woman.

Dare I? Elizabeth asked herself. But it was the only way. She must not tell him that I told… I must prevent that. And if she did? Well, then she could go to him when the storm had abated and tell him she had done it for the sake of the crown, the throne, the country.

She must create a diversion now . . . she must show that she could be useful to the Princess… otherwise a greater calamity than the Prince’s marriage would occur: Elizabeth Chudleigh would be expelled from Court.

She had made up her mind.

‘Your Highness, the Prince is married.’

The Princess Dowager had risen; she was speechless and reached blindly for the arm of her chair to steady herself.

‘I am sorry it is I who must give Your Highness such news.’

‘It is not possible…’ stammered the Princess, for this was the only state of affairs she could possibly tolerate.

‘Alas… Your Highness.’

‘How? When? To whom?’

‘A short while ago, Madam. He did not tell me the date. But he was married by Dr Wilmot in Curzon Street to Hannah Lightfoot.’

‘The… the Quaker woman?’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘I do not believe it. It is some fabrication. It is quite untrue. It would not be possible.’

‘Would Your Highness wish me to summon one of the maids to bring you some… stimulant. Your Highness seems in need…’

‘Summon no one. Is the door shut? Make sure that no one is near.’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘Now… who has told you this… ridiculous falsehood?’

‘His Highness, the Prince.’

‘He has told you this?’

‘He confides in me, Madam. He finds me sympathetic. You will remember how useful I was able to be to Your Highness when he began this connection… because he himself had confided in me.’

The Princess picked up her fan absently and began to fan herself. She felt faint. It is not true, she kept telling herself. It could not possibly be true. I am dreaming, of course. This is a nightmare. I must wake up because this idea is intolerable… even in a dream.

‘He would never do such a thing,’ she said flatly.

Elizabeth was silent. If the Princess thought that she did not know her son. It was just the idiotic senseless chivalrous idealistic manner in which George would act.

‘He felt he owed marriage to the lady in view of their relationship, Your Highness. The lady is sick… and fears herself to be near death… she was in great mental torment because of this… relationship and the Prince believed that the only way to bring her peace of mind was to marry her.’

‘He has told you this… ?’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

Oh, George, you fool… you madman! thought his mother. Not only do you do this dreadful thing but you confide in this woman… this unscrupulous creature who is a born schemer and intriguer, not above a little blackmail. George, you are mad… quite mad. What are we going to do?

‘You had better tell me all you know.’

‘Your Highness, I have nothing more to tell you. All His Highness has told me is that the marriage has taken place.’

‘Has he told anyone else of this marriage?’

‘I think very few people know, Your Highness. His brother Edward…’

‘Edward!’

‘Who acted as a witness, Your Highness.’

‘Oh, my God!’

‘Then, of course, there is Dr Wilmot. He did not mention any other.’

‘Of course I cannot believe such a story.’

‘But Your Highness will wish to find out whether there is any truth in it.’

‘Such silly rumours should always be proved false.’

Elizabeth could almost feel sorry for the woman. She was really shaken; and the more she protested her disbelief the more plausible the story seemed to her.

‘Your Highness at least believes in my good faith.’

‘Your good faith?’

‘That I would not be so false or so foolish as to tell you that His Highness himself confessed this to me if he had not done so?’

The Princess was silent.

‘And may I ask Your Highness not to mention to His Highness that I have told you this?’

The insolence of this woman was past all bearing. But she must be careful. One must always be careful with blackmailers, and Elizabeth Chudleigh was an extremely subtle one; moreover, the information she had to hide was such which could make the kingdom rock.

‘If His Highness knew that I had told you he would no longer confide in me. I would wish to be loyal to His Highness and I have pondered on this; I have come to the conclusion that I can best serve His Highness by making this known to Your Highness, for I know that you will bring the discretion to settling this affair which is necessary to His Highness and the nation.’

The Princess did not answer.

‘Your Highness knows that I am entirely at your service,’ went on Elizabeth. ‘If in the action you will take you should need me to act for Your Highness in any way… if there is something which I may be able to discover…’

‘Yes, yes,’ said the Princess. ‘Leave me now and send to me…’

‘My Lord Bute?’ asked Elizabeth with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

But the Princess Dowager was too shaken to notice it.

She threw herself into his arms. ‘What are we to do? I cannot believe it… and yet I must. How could this have happened? Without telling us! He tells that… creature . . . and not us! Can you believe it?’

Lord Bute looked stunned. It certainly was disconcerting. The Prince, to whom he had believed himself to be so close, to have acted in this way and not told him!

But that was a small matter compared with the tremendous implication of all this.

‘Oh, John, do you think my son is mad?’

‘He is a fool,’ replied Bute savagely.

‘What are we going to do?’

‘We must think about it… clearly… calmly.’

‘Oh, my darling, what a comfort you are! I know you will understand how to deal with this matter. Should we send for him?’

‘By no means. That woman is right. We will say nothing to him.’

‘I could storm at him… whip him with my own hands.’

‘He is too big for that, Augusta… and he is the Prince of Wales. I fear of late I have made him realize the importance of his position. Perhaps I have been wrong. I have tried to make him into a King… which he may well be at any moment… and as a result he thinks he can act as he wishes without consulting me… us. Who would have believed he could have done this thing? But first we must prove that he has.’

‘He told her… Elizabeth Chudleigh… himself, John.’

‘And to tell that woman! What next? One act of folly on top of another!’

‘Could he have been joking, John?’ asked the Princess, piteously hopeful.

‘Have you ever known him to joke? He doesn’t know what a joke is. But we are wasting time. We have got to think of how to act.’

‘How can we act? Think of it, John! That woman… that merchant’s daughter or whatever she is, is the Princess of Wales. She could tomorrow be Queen of England. Oh, what can we do?’

‘We must stop it. That much I know.’

‘How?’

‘That’s what we must discover.’

‘Can you see a way?’

‘Not at the moment. But it’s there, of course. There’s always a way.’

‘John, you don’t think we ought to advise Mr Pitt or Newcastle.’

‘Never. No, no… no one must know of this. It has to be our secret… and, a curse on her, that woman Chudleigh.’

‘So we say nothing… not even to George?’

‘Most of all not to George.’

‘I do not know how I shall contain-myself in his presence. I think I shall plead a slight indisposition so that I do not have to see him.’

‘Perhaps that would be advisable. It is a terrible ordeal, my love. But will you leave this to me?’

‘Oh, my dearest, most willingly.’

‘I will have some plan of action, you may be sure.’

‘I am convinced of it.’

‘In the meantime, I must see this Dr Wilmot. I must get the truth from him, threaten him with dire consequences if this leaks out through him; and then I must find some means of severing this impossible connection.’

‘My darling, do you think you can do it?’

‘Have you ever known me fail you?’

‘Never,’ she cried fervently.

Lord Bute suggested that the Prince of Wales should accompany him to Kew where they would stay for a while.

‘There we can find more solitude,’ he explained, ‘and I have much to say to Your Highness.’

George had always had a particular liking for Kew; the palace was unpretentious; he liked the river and he had taken a great dislike to Hampton since his grandfather had slapped his face there.

‘I want you to get a real grasp of affairs,’ Bute had told him. ‘The country is moving forward at a great rate. In the last few years the change has been significant. You must see in every aspect this country of which you will one day be King.’

George was eager to learn. He was a little worried every now and then when he remembered his marriage. At first it had seemed so right and noble; but now that he was a little farther from the event he was beginning to realize what significant action he had taken. He would do the same again, he assured himself; but he did realize that when the news was out it was going to be a very great shock to the people he cared about – such as his mother and Lord Bute.

Hannah might say that she was prepared to live in retirement, but a Queen could not do that however much she wished it; and could Hannah ever act as a Queen of England? And if she did not, if they forced him to take another Queen… then the children would be illegitimate. How could an illegitimate son be the next King of England?

What a web he was caught up in!

There were times when he considered confessing everything to Lord Bute, but he never reached the point. He could not find the courage and Lord Bute had, it seemed to him, actually turned the subject to something quite different when he had been on the point of broaching it.

So a little rest at Kew was very desirable. A little respite, the Prince called it. Perhaps in a few weeks time he would be able to see the position more clearly and then make the right decision.

One thing he continued to tell himself: ‘I don’t regret it. I would do the same again.’

They rode every morning at Kew. It was so pleasant along by the river and people came out of their cottages to curtsy as he rode by. Some called ‘Long live the Prince of Wales!’ And he was gratified because they seemed to like him.

‘The King is growing very unpopular,’ Bute told him. ‘The people are eager for you to ascend the throne.’

‘It seems wrong to talk of Grandfather’s death so constantly.’

‘People will talk so of Kings. They consider their Kings their property.’

George shivered a little, though the sunshine was warm.

‘There is something…’

But Lord Bute was smiling at a little group on the roadside.

‘Give them a pleasant smile. They expect it.’

So he smiled and inclined his head in acknowledgment of the cheers and he told himself that when he was King he would work for the good of the people; he would be Good King George – that was what he wanted.

And before his reign he had made a secret marriage… he had children who were born before his marriage. Little John was the real heir to the throne. No, he was not… because then Hannah had been married to Axford and not to him. But had she been married to Axford? Was it a true marriage? And the sons born before marriage were illegitimate… unless marriage later to their mother legitimized them. It was indeed a tangled web and he was too ignorant to sort it out. Lord Bute would be able to. His dear friend was capable of understanding everything.

Lord Bute now began to talk about the successful campaigns. There was victory on all sides. Parades were common in the streets of London when the heroes returned from the scenes of their triumph.

‘You should share in these triumphs. The King should give you a command in the army.’

A command in the army! An escape from the problems at home! It seemed a wonderful solution. He could shelve the problem of his marriage until he returned from the wars; and while he was away perhaps he could see the position more clearly.

‘I can see that the idea appeals to Your Highness.’

‘It is what I desire.’

Bute was a little surprised, knowing that the Prince disliked any form of bloodshed. Did he imagine that he could escape that by going to war? He had thought that the young man would have to be persuaded to it. It must mean that George was anxious about this terrible situation in which he had become involved. That was to the good. The more he realized the extent of his folly the more likely he would be to accept the solution.

Bute was aware that the Prince was on the point of confiding in him; he must steer him clear of that. It was Bute’s intention to know nothing of the matter – ostensibly – until it was all over. Therefore he wanted no confidences from the Prince about a matter on which he had made sure he was already fully informed.

‘You should perhaps write to the King and tell him that you would welcome a military appointment. After all, it is only natural that the heir to the throne should want to have a share in the country’s triumphs.’

‘I will do so without delay.’

‘Would Your Highness care for my assistance in drafting the letter.’

‘I should, of course, welcome it.’

They rode back to the palace and occupied themselves with writing the letter and when it was ready a messenger was despatched with it to Kensington Palace where the King was in residence.

The Prince and Bute then settled down to study maps and talk of war; and Bute was pleased to notice that in this new interest the Prince seemed to have lost a little of his apprehension, which Bute construed as meaning he was not so deeply obsessed by his marriage and the Quaker as he had been.

When the King read his grandson’s letter he tossed it across the room.

‘Puppy!’ was his comment.

He would have torn it into pieces but he had to remember that it was, after all, a request from the Prince of Wales and that since his grandson held that position and was of age even he could not ignore him.

When Pitt and Newcastle called on him he showed them the letter.

‘Put up to this,’ was his comment, ‘by his mother and that Scottish stallion. A nice figure he would cut in the field. I hear he doesn’t like the sight of blood, but he’ll be a soldier because Mamma says he should.’

‘Your Majesty will, of course, reply in diplomatic terms to His Highness.’

‘I shall tell the puppy the answer is No.’

‘It is a reasonable enough request,’ suggested Newcastle. ‘One understands that the Prince wishes to serve the country at such a time.’

‘It’s made to embarrass us,’ said the King. ‘She doesn’t want to lose her baby. She wants to keep him at her side… making sure nobody is going to whisper in his ear but herself. I tell you this: she knows the answer is No. That’s why he’s been advised to make his request.’

Pitt was inclined to agree. It was the Leicester House set, who were trying to form a Prince of Wales’s Party, seeking a chance to play the Prince off against the King, and, counting on the Prince’s popularity with the people, hoping to make an issue of this.

Pitt shrugged the matter aside; but on his advice and that of Newcastle the King wrote politely enough that the Prince of Wales could not be spared to leave the country.

‘Insolent puppy!’ growled the King as he passed the letter over for sealing.

‘He is determined to insult me,’ murmured the Prince as he read his grandfather’s letter.

It’s taking his mind off the Quaker, was Bute’s mental note; and after all, that was the most important issue at the moment.

The Prince and Bute returned to Leicester House for the Prince’s birthday. His popularity was clearly growing, for the people of their own accord decorated the streets and prepared to make this a great occasion.

There were crowds outside Leicester House and loud cheers when the Prince appeared; and all that day and night the citizens of London celebrated the occasion.

The Prince was gratified. It was soothing to his vanity after the King had so snubbed him. What did the approval of that irascible old man mean to him while the people loved him?

His mother had recovered from her slight indisposition and was almost herself again, although he was anxious to see that she was still a little wan.

He had had no time to visit Tottenham but he would go there soon. Perhaps he would talk over his predicament with Hannah; they would pray together and she would give him her opinion.

He might then arrive at some course of action.

He felt relaxed. Perhaps it was not as bad as he had feared. The people loved him; he was sure they would be ready to accept his bride as their Queen solely because he loved her and asked them to.

A carriage had drawn up before the house. Hannah was at the window watching. At first she had thought it was the Prince for it was long since he had come, but the carriage had not come by the private drive which he had always used.

A man alighted, tall, elegant. Her heart began to beat uncomfortably; instinctively she sensed some doom.

He approached the door; and she heard the knock echoing through the house – like clods falling on a coffin.

She turned from the window and sat in her high chair, her hand to her throat where a pulse was hammering under her lavender silk gown.

A scratching at the door.

‘Madam, a gentleman begs to be allowed to see you.’

‘Who is he?’

‘He gives no name, Madam.’

‘Bring him in.’

He came. He was of the Court she knew at once by his bearing and manners.

‘I trust you will forgive the intrusion, Madam.’

‘I pray you, sir, sit down.’

‘Thank you.’

He sat and looked at her kindly. He was a very handsome man. He said: ‘I come on behalf of His Highness, the Prince of Wales.’

‘Yes.’

‘That does not surprise you, I see.’

‘No.’ She had never been able to dissimulate.

The visitor seemed relieved. It was as though he had made up his mind that he had to deal with a sensible woman.

‘You had been expecting someone to call?’

‘Yes. May I know your name?’

‘I cannot tell you that. Is it enough that I am a friend of the Prince of Wales?’

‘It is enough if he sent you to me.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘He does not know that I have come.’

She nodded and smiled faintly.

‘I see you are a lady of good sense. I know that you are – or were – a member of the Society of Friends which is a great comfort to those who wish well to the Prince, for we believe that you are a good and religious woman who will be prepared to do your duty.’

‘I shall try to do that,’ she said.

‘Let us be open and frank with each other. The Prince has contracted a marriage with you. You realize that this marriage can never be recognized.’

‘I do not understand that. But whether or not it is recognized it is a marriage.’

‘You yourself were married before to an Isaac Axford. Therefore it could be called a bigamous marriage and no marriage at all.’

‘I did not count myself married to Isaac Axford,’ she answered.

‘And you do to the Prince of Wales?’

She nodded.

‘You are devoted to His Highness, I believe?’

‘I would do anything for his happiness.’

Now the visitor’s relief was apparent. ‘Then I am sure that when you have heard what I tell you, you will agree to what I have to say.’

Hannah listened to what she was told and as she listened she felt her life crumbling into ruins about her.

It was true what she heard. She had always known it. He had made his sacrifice for her knowing all this; she must not fail him. Now was the time to make hers for him.

In his closed carriage the Prince set out for Tottenham. It was some weeks since he had seen Hannah, but she would understand. Matters of state were increasingly taking more and more of his time and she had agreed that this would become more and more inevitable as time went on.

He reached the house. He was going to tell her how glad he was that their union was at last sanctified. He would discuss with her the advisability of making the matter known… first, he thought, to Lord Bute, who had always been his friend and never showed any impatience. He reminded himself even when his father was alive – much as he had loved him – it was Lord Bute to whom he had taken his troubles.

The carriage turned in at the private drive. He alighted and looked with tenderness up at the window where she invariably watched for him. He believed that she was listening all the time for the sound of his carriage, for she always seemed to be there when he arrived. She would lift her hand in greeting as he alighted, and then run down to greet him.

On this day he stood looking up at the window. The curtains remained still. He had caught her today! She had not heard him.

He took out his key and let himself in by the door which he always used. She was not waiting for him, and he was suddenly aware of the silence of the house. It was strange. He had never noticed that before. Of course he had not, because she would be running down to meet him.

He went to the hall and called her name. He looked up the stairs.

‘Hannah? Where are you, Hannah?’

Now it was really strange, for she did not appear on the stairs.

She was ill. Something had happened. He took the stairs two at a time, calling her name. Where were the servants? Why did they not come out to receive him?

A sudden panic came to him. He was alone… alone in this house.

‘Hannah! Hannah!’ He scarcely recognized his own voice. Where could she be! There was nowhere for her to hide. He went into the room with the tall windows in which Reynolds had painted her picture. She was not there. He looked at the wall and stared, for where the picture had hung there was an empty space.

‘Oh God,’ he whispered. ‘What does it mean?’

He ran to the nursery. The little beds were there… neat and empty. The children were gone.

‘Hannah! Hannah!’ he called.

There was a cold sweat on his brow; his mind felt sluggish, unable to supply the answer he was demanding of it.

‘Hannah, where are you? Come out… if you are hiding. If this is a joke… Enough… Enough…’ He whispered her name; he shouted her name; but there was no answer. Only his own voice echoing through the empty house.

He ran through the rooms; there was no sign of her, no sign of the children, no sign of life. He would not believe it. They could not have gone.

‘Where to?’ he demanded of the emptiness.

The children? She could not have gone back to St James’s Market and taken the children with her… his children? How would that have been possible?

But she had disappeared. She had been spirited away.

He would not leave the house; he went from top to bottom, searching, calling her name, through the empty rooms which he already knew were empty because he had examined them before.

He stood in the hall looking about him.

But she was gone.

He had lost her and he could not understand how.

Dazed, bewildered, he returned to the carriage and gave orders to be driven back to Kew.

Lord Bute was waiting for him when he returned to the Palace.

‘Some business to discuss with Your Highness… Good God! what has happened? Your Highness… looks… Your Highness has had a shock?’

‘I want to talk to you. I must talk to you without delay.’

‘Come into my private apartments. We shall be quite alone there.’

Lord Bute shut the door and looked at the Prince earnestly. He was taking it badly. Well, it was to be expected.

‘Tell me what has happened to upset you.’

‘I do not know what has happened. It’s a mystery… a terrible mystery. I do not understand what it means.’

‘Pray tell me everything.’

So the Prince told – of his life with Hannah, of the children.

Lord Bute listened nodding gravely; but when the Prince came to the marriage he opened his eyes wide and exclaimed with horror.

‘I had to do it. It meant so much to her. She feared death… and the sin…’

‘Ah, I understand,’ said Lord Bute. ‘And you decided that at all costs to yourself you must relieve her of that.’

‘I knew you would understand.’

‘Certainly… certainly. There will be difficulties. Your mother had decided on a German Princess for you.’

‘What I have discovered today is what has reduced me to this state. She has gone.’

‘Gone… Gone where?’

‘That I do not know. I went to visit her and I found the house empty… I found her disappeared. Everything is gone… The children… herself… There is nothing there. It is an empty house. Yet… how could they have gone without telling me.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I went through the house… every room… the nursery, the kitchen… everywhere. There is no one there at all. And the picture has gone.’

‘Picture?’

‘Reynolds painted it. I wanted a picture of her.’

‘So you sent Reynolds to… er… this… er… house to paint her?’

The Prince nodded. So there is another in the secret, thought Bute uneasily.

‘You… told him who she was?’

‘No, no. I merely arranged that he should be commissioned to paint a picture of Mrs Axford.’

‘I see.’

‘But what can I do. Where is she? Can you explain?’

‘There is an explanation, obviously.’

‘But what? I can think of none.’

‘Nor I just at present. But if Your Highness will give me every detail of this affair I will do my best to find it.’

‘Oh, please do. I shall not rest until Hannah is safe.’

‘You said she was ill, did you not? That was the reason for the marriage?’

‘Yes, there was a change in her. After the birth of our boy she was not so well and before the second boy was born she grew very frail. It was then…’

‘Ah yes, Your Highness told me. Now you will give me leave to set about this matter in the way I think fit?’

‘Oh yes, please do.’

‘First Your Highness must tell me everything… everything remember. And then I will see what can be done.’

In a few days time Lord Bute solemnly presented himself to the Prince of Wales.

‘Your Highness should prepare himself for a shock.’

The Prince grew pale, his lips sagged and his blue eyes looked as though they would fall out of his head.

‘It is very sad. Your fair Quakeress is dead.’

‘It cannot be.’

‘Alas, it is so. You know that she was ill… it was for this reason that you married.’

‘Yes, she had a premonition… but I thought she recovered a little after the birth of the child.’

‘Perhaps knowing how anxious you were she kept the truth from you. She allowed you to marry her which perhaps had she not known she was going to die, she would not have done.’

‘Why? Why?’ George beat his fist on the table and his blue eyes were full of tears.

‘Because she loved you and she knew how difficult marriage with her would make your life. She knew you would be King of England soon and she knew that she could have no place in public life. She knew she would always have to live in the shadows as she had been doing all these years. Do you think that if she had not known she was going to die she would have allowed you to marry her?’

‘She was so happy when we were married. She said she knew how Christian felt when his burden of sin fell from his shoulders. She seemed so happy.’

‘That was because you had done the right thing by her… and she by you.’

George covered his face with his hands – and Bute allowed him a few minutes of silence.

Then George said: ‘The children… ?’

‘I have discovered where they are. They are being well cared for.’

‘But who… who has done this?’

‘She had an uncle. Did she never speak to you of him?’

‘Was it someone named Pearne?’

‘Why yes… I believe it was.’

‘I had heard her mention an uncle. He left her a little money some years ago. Forty pounds a year it was…’

‘It must be a member of his family.’

‘You have seen him?’

‘No, but I have seen a man whom I can trust. A priest – a chaplain to the King at one time: Zachary Brooke.’

‘Zachary Brooke. I do not know him.’

‘He has a living at Islington. Apparently his help was called and he was present at Hannah’s death. He has buried her in his churchyard.’

‘But why…’

‘He cannot tell me details, he says. He has been sworn to secrecy. Presumably the lady’s relations made these arrangements.’

‘And the children? What of the children?’

‘They are safe in the household of a very worthy gentleman in Surrey. John and Sarah MacKelcan will take good care of them and bring them up as their own. Your Highness can visit them whenever you wish. You can watch over them in the future. The only thing, of course, is that they will be known as MacKelcan, and it will be wise, of course, if they remain so.’

‘Everything seems to have been so efficiently taken care of,’ stammered George.

‘I doubt not this is due to that relative of the lady’s. This uncle must have had her good at heart to leave her this money.’

‘It seems so strange… I cannot believe it. Hannah to die like that… and myself not to be there.’

Lord Bute laid his hand on the Prince’s arm. ‘This is a strange affair from beginning to end. You must try to forget it.’

‘I shall never forget her. I can’t take this in. I can’t believe it. I shall never believe it. It’s so strange. Why did she not send for me? A message would have brought me to her bedside. I should have arranged these matters… not this relation.’

‘She had her reasons.’

‘I can’t understand.’

‘I can,’ said Lord Bute softly.

‘I feel bewildered. There is so much I want to know.’

‘There is one thing of which Your Highness can have no doubt. That is my affection for you, my. desire to protect you from trouble.’

‘Oh yes… yes, I know.’

‘Then this is my advice. Plead, a little sickness. I will have the doctor prepare a sedative for you… something which will make you sleep. You have had a terrible shock. When you awake tomorrow you will feel refreshed and you will be able to see these things in a new light.’

‘I shall never see Hannah’s loss in any other way than the bitterest misfortune of my life.’

‘My dear Highness, believe me, time helps. In a few months time the pain will be less acute. I can assure you of this. Pray do as I tell you. Rest now… and rely on me. I shall be with you. And when you are in any dilemma, any need of help… I beg of you trust me.’

George nodded blindly and allowed Lord Bute to send for the doctor. His lordship explained that a mild sedative was all the Prince needed and when it was administered he helped the Prince to bed and sat in his room until he slept.

‘How did he take it?’ asked the Princess Dowager.

‘As I expected. He can’t grasp it, of course.’

‘At times I think he is such a fool.’

‘Poor boy! He is too innocent for this world.’

‘When I think of what this could have led to, I shiver with fear and shudder with mortification.’

‘Let us be grateful that we learned of it in time.’

‘Do you think this will be an end of the matter?’

Lord Bute shrugged his shoulders and looked melancholy.

‘At least,’ he said, ‘now we are out of the dark. We can take care of him now.’

‘It’s clearly time he married.’

‘Clearly time. But this will mean that there must necessarily be some delay. He has to recover from his broken heart.’

The Princess made an impatient sound.

‘Poor George!’ sighed Bute. ‘But the sooner we have found a suitable wife for him the more comfortable we shall feel.’

The Princess grimaced. And what would be the effect of a wife on George? If a simple little Quakeress could lead him to such heights of folly what could a Princess, probably brought up to be a Queen, do?

Whatever happened they must keep a firm grip on their young Prince; and it was shattering to both to know that such a calamity could have occurred without their knowledge.

George should be carefully watched in future.

It was clearly very necessary with such a simple honest young man.

George could not believe that Hannah was dead. The more he thought of the extraordinary story Lord Bute had discovered, the more incredible it seemed.

‘Why,’ he cried again and again, ‘I am sure she would have sent for me. She would have wanted to say goodbye. She would have wanted to hand the children to me; she would have wanted assurances that I would care for them.’

‘She knew you would care for them,’ Bute pointed out.

And George at least agreed that that was so.

‘I must see this man… what is his name? This priest…’

‘This… er… Zachary Brooke.’

‘Yes. You have seen him. I must do the same. I must hear the story from his lips.’

‘Your Highness cannot doubt my word?’

‘Oh… no… no! But I must see him. I want to hear how it happened. I want to see her tomb. I want to pray there. Don’t you understand?’

‘Certainly I understand.’

‘Well, then, I will go and see him.’

‘Would Your Highness like me to accompany you?’

‘Oh yes, please. And today…’

‘I’m afraid that would not be possible. It will be necessary to find out when the Reverend Brooke can see us.’

‘When he can see us!’

‘You will not go as the Prince of Wales, remember. I do not think he is aware… At least I am not sure of that. Your Highness, now that this dear lady is dead, there can be no point in raising scandal. You see that, I am sure. No good can be served by making this matter public. You have your duty to the crown…’

‘Yes, I see that. I must do my duty. That at least is left to me.’

‘A high and noble destiny. You will find it will be your consolation, your solace. Allow me to investigate this matter and in a day or so we will go to Islington to see the Reverend Zachary Brooke.’

The Reverend Zachary Brooke received his distinguished guests with many expressions of respect, and it was clear that, in spite of Lord Bute’s comments, he was aware who his visitors were.

‘It is no use attempting to hide our identity,’ said Lord Bute, smiling at the Prince. ‘Your face has become too well known.’

The Reverend Zachary Brooke declared that it was his pleasure and duty to serve his future King in any capacity in which he was called upon to do so.

‘The lady you buried here…’

‘Ah yes. So young and beautiful.’

‘You were with her at the end?’

‘I was called to her.’

‘Who called you?’

‘I believe she had asked for me. The gentleman who was dealing with her affairs sent for me.’

‘Who was this gentleman? What was his name?’

The Reverend Zachary Brooke wrinkled his brows. ‘It slips my memory…’

‘Was it Pearne?’

‘It could well have been. Now Your Highness mentions it, I believe it was.’

‘I see,’ said the Prince. ‘Take me to her grave.’

He and Lord Bute were led into the churchyard to a grave above which a stone had been erected. It was clearly a very new stone and as the Prince examined it he gave a cry of dismay because the name on it was not that of Hannah but Rebecca Powell.

‘This is not the grave.’

The priest nodded. ‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘But that name…’

‘Will your lordship explain?’

Lord Bute assured him that he would.

‘This is the grave,’ he said. ‘There are reasons why the name on the stone is not that of the lady who is buried here. I will talk to you on the way back. But at the moment rest assured that you are standing at the grave you have come to see.’

It was too bewildering, thought the Prince; it was like a nightmare that was made up of one fantastic scene after another. No sooner had he entered that empty silent house than the phantasmagoria had begun and it went on and on growing wilder and more macabre with every fresh image.

Oh, Hannah, Hannah, he thought, are you indeed under that stone? Is it true that I shall never see you again?

Lord Bute touched the priest’s arm and they left him there.

On the way back to Kew, Lord Bute talked of the future. A King’s life belonged to his people. He knew that the Prince was a man who would take his duties seriously. He must put the past behind him. He must forget this episode. It was sad in the extreme; it was regrettable. But had the Prince thought of what would happen if Hannah had lived?

He was the Prince of Wales, shortly to become the King of England. His marriage was a solemn affair. Did he not realize this?

Could he have presented a lady of the people – however accomplished, however good and charming – to this people and said: ‘Here is my Queen. We have several children already, born before wedlock and although we have lived together for five… six… or was it seven years? . . . we have only just sought the benefit of clergy on our union.’

Oh no. That was not the way for a King to treat his people.

He must think first always of the good of his people. He must never for one moment act without considering them. This was one of the penalties of kingship. There were blessings; but a King’s duty to his people came before anything else.

Lord Bute believed that when the Prince had grown away from this tragedy, when he saw it in its right perspective he would begin to see God’s hand in this; and he would cease to mourn as bitterly as now he could not help doing.

‘Hannah would have made a great Queen,’ said George.

‘There is no doubt of it,’ soothed Lord Bute. ‘But it was not the will of God.’

And that was something George had to accept.