The Prince and the Quakeress

Journey in a Closed Carriage

THE DOWAGER PRINCESS of Wales was where she liked to be best in the world; in the company of her dear Lord Bute.

So handsome! So clever! What should she do without him? Now even more than ever, for she was by no means old, and since poor Fred was dead there was nothing to keep them apart.

Her lover and her children – they were her life.

‘Dearest John,’ she was saying, ‘I was just asking myself what I should do without you.’

‘What a monstrous thought. Why should you?’

‘Because we are always fearful of losing what we most value.’

‘If you lose me it will be of your own choosing, for it will never be mine.’

‘Ah, dearest John. What happiness you give me! Is there much scandal about us, do you think?’

‘Whatever we did there would be scandal, so…’

‘We may as well earn it?’

They laughed and embraced.

‘The old man could scarcely complain of us,’ she said.

‘His Majesty complains of everyone, so what would it matter if he did?’

‘At his age! You would think he were past such adventures.’

‘Perhaps he is, and won’t admit it.’

‘I remember when my mother-in-law was alive, how he used to write to her about Walmoden from Hanover. How should he proceed with the seduction? And his father with those two grotesque women of his – one tall and thin, the other short and fat. They were a laughing-stock. John… I am afraid for George. I am afraid he will take after them and if he gets a fondness for women…’

‘It will be natural enough. He’ll soon be thinking of taking a mistress, I’ll swear.’

‘But George is different. He is not like his father, his grandfather or his great-grandfather. Frederick… well, you knew Frederick as well as I; and George I always had his women, plenty of them. Our present King has always been chasing them, even when in fact he preferred his wife he felt it necessary to his dignity as a King to have his mistresses. George I was a dour man and people were afraid of him – even his women. George II is irascible and a silly little man easily deceived, but his women fear to offend him. George III will be different.’

‘There is an innocence about him,’ admitted Bute.

‘Yes, I fear what would happen to him in the hands of some scheming woman.’

‘He is a boy yet.’

‘Fifteen! His father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were already experimenting in sexual adventure at that age.’

‘But not our George.’

‘No, not our George. He is an innocent boy. I want to keep him so. I want to make sure that he does not mix with people of his own age at the Court. The young are especially dissolute nowadays. I want to keep George and his brothers and sisters innocent.’

‘For a while, but they must learn something of the world. Although as you say, they are young yet.’

‘I do not care for the behaviour of some of your young people.’

‘We will keep our eyes on him,’ said Bute, ‘together…’

‘Together,’ she murmured smiling at him.

Bute had left her. Augusta yawned contentedly. There was no one in the world like him, no one whom she could trust to help her with the bringing up of her family – and particularly George.

Dear George. Poor George. She thought almost as much of him as she did of dear Lord Bute. Nobody was going to take her son from her. She was going to guide him and make sure that he was protected from the world.

One of her women had come into the apartment. It was Elizabeth Chudleigh, a handsome girl but one who had, according to rumours, lived rather more recklessly than a young unmarried woman should. Elizabeth was not so young, being round about thirty. She was gay and amusing, and at one time everyone had thought she would make a brilliant marriage with the Duke of Hamilton. That had gone wrong, however. Why, Augusta was not sure; but of one thing she was sure, and that was that Elizabeth Chudleigh was a very experienced young woman indeed.

‘Elizabeth,’ she called.

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?’

‘I have friends…’

‘You would… Oh, Miss Chudleigh!’

She curtsied and raised her mischievous eyes to his face. ‘Did I not tell Your Highness that I wished to serve you. Now you tell me all you can and I will see what can be done. Only this must be a secret. If you told your mother… Heaven knows what would happen to the young lady.’

‘I fear my mother would not wish me to meet her.’

‘Ah, mothers! It is the same with my own. Do you know she regards me as an infant in arms even now. But we have to remember that we are grown up, although it does no harm to let our mothers go on believing we are babies if it pleases them. Why shouldn’t everyone be pleased?’

‘That is what I want… to please everyone.’

‘Let me discover what can be done. I think I can promise you that, very soon you will have been able to tell your beautiful Quakeress how much you admire her.’

‘And you will tell no one?’

‘Trust me. As soon as I have news I will give it to Your Highness.’

‘I do not know how to thank you, Miss Chudleigh.’

‘It is I who should thank you for giving me a chance to be of service.’

Elizabeth was enjoying her part in the Prince’s first love affair. Intrigue fascinated her; and it was quite right, she assured herself, that the poor boy should be cut free from his mother’s apron strings; and who more able to do that than a mistress.

He was young, but not too young. It was a man’s desires which decided for him when he should begin his love life; and George’s had evidently decided for him. Let him have a mistress or two and the Princess Dowager and her paramour Lord Bute would find they could not guide their little Prince as easily as they had hoped. It would be fun to watch the breakaway.

In the meantime the rendezvous with the fair lady had to be arranged. It was not so easy as she had at first imagined. The girl was a Quakeress and therefore it would be impossible to call at the linen-draper’s and explain the Prince’s interest in the fair inmate of that establishment. First of all she must sound the young lady’s inclinations. If she were agreeable it would be so much easier; not that Elizabeth would entirely dismiss the possibility of abduction. After all it was for the Prince of Wales; and reluctant ladies could becoming willing ones in certain circumstances.

This was a project after her own heart. She paid a visit to the linen-draper’s where she was treated with great respect. These Quakers were good business-folk and Mr Wheeler paid due homage to ladies of quality in his shop no matter how he might disapprove of them in his back parlour.

His wife was present and it was easy to indulge in a little conversation with her about her children. They all seemed so young. Then she made the discovery that the young lady in question was not a Miss Wheeler; she was Miss Hannah Lightfoot, niece of the linen-draper who had been sheltered under his roof from an early age. Fortunately before she left Hannah came into the shop. She was a beauty; there was no doubt about that. George had chosen well. He had better taste than his father or grandfather – as for his great-grandfather, every man in England had better taste than he had! But Hannah was indeed a beauty. What luminous dark eyes, what grace! Even the austere Quaker gown could not hide her charms. Worthy… indeed worthy to be the mistress of the Prince of Wales.

Elizabeth spoke to her. Her voice was low and soft; yet, thought Elizabeth, there was sparkle in her; she might well be ready for adventure. And why not? This sombre shop was no place for a beauty like that.

It’s my duty, Elizabeth told herself, to bring her out of it. If I needed to salve my conscience, which I don’t because I don’t possess one, but if I did, I should have a very good reason for proceeding with this most amusing affair.

She graciously took her leave.

What next? There was a man of whom she had heard who kept a house in Pall Mall; he had worked for several people at Court and she had heard that he could supply certain services as efficiently as any. He could arrange meetings in the most secret and unlikely places; he was discreet; ready to help any in need of help. He was expensive, but this after all was the Prince of Wales.

Masked and cloaked she called on Mr Jack Ems of Pall Mall – an assumed name doubtless, which added to the excitement. Not that she would give her name. He received her in a beautifully furnished apartment and she told him that she wished to arrange a meeting between two people.

Nothing could be simpler. Was the meeting to take place in London?

Most decidedly. The gentleman concerned was very young and of very high degree. Mr Ems would be surprised if he knew how high.

Very young and very highly placed. Her ladyship could rely on Mr Ems’ discretion.

‘I must,’ said Elizabeth. ‘If I could not this could cause consternation in very high circles, in roy…’ She pretended to stop herself in time and Mr Ems was duly impressed. A man of his alertness would know that she was referring to the Prince of Wales; and he would bring forth all his ingenuity to execute this commission with all his power and skill.

‘The difficulty is the lady. She must be sounded. Not even the exalted young gentleman has an idea of how she will receive this proposal.’

‘I am to… er… sound her?’

‘You are to find some means of sounding her.’

‘I will do it.’

‘Don’t be too optimistic. She is a Quakeress, very sternly brought up. You will have to go to work very carefully.’

‘Ah.’ He was shaken. He could deal with most difficulties, but this was a big one. ‘If your ladyship will give me all particulars I will do whatever is possible and I can tell you this: if Jack Ems can’t bring about the desired result, then, my lady, no one can.’

‘I am sure of it. She is Hannah Lightfoot, niece to the Quaker linen-draper of St James’s Market.’

He nodded grimly.

‘Do not attempt to approach me. I will call on you in three days time and I hope that by then you will have something to tell me.’

Jack Ems was in a quandary. He had visited the linen-draper’s and made some purchases, for his wife, he explained, who was unable to leave her home. The linen-draper himself served him. Jack Ems knew the type. Stern, upright, moral; if he made the sort of proposal he had come to make to such a man he would promptly be shown the door. No bribes would suffice. If the King himself commanded Mr Wheeler to hand over his niece Mr Wheeler would firmly refuse. A weighty problem, and Mr Ems was searching his mind to find some way out.

He had walked far, he said, having come from Hammersmith. The roads were so bad and the mud of Piccadilly was unbelievable. Might he sit down for a moment? He was given an opportunity to observe Quaker hospitality when Mrs Wheeler brought him a glass of ale.

He sat sipping it, listening to the conversation of Mr Wheeler and his customers – ladies from Knightsbridge and Bayswater who had been dealing with Mr Wheeler for years. They enquired after the family. And how was Miss Rebecca’s toothache? Little Hannah was growing fast…

Little Hannah! Jack Ems pricked up his ears and hoped for some comment on that other Hannah. None came.

If she would appear in the shop, if he had a chance of seeing her… He went on sipping his ale, desperately seeking to form a plan.

Good luck was with him. A young woman came into the shop, and he was immediately alert. She was pretty and young, and being a student of human nature – as his business demanded he should be – he detected a certain petulance about her.

‘Good afternoon, Jane. Hannah is sewing in her room. Thou mayest go up.’

Mrs Wheeler came over to him to ask if he would like more ale.

‘You are most kind, but no thank you. That will suffice. I have been listening to the enquiries after your children. You are fortunate to have a family. My wife and I… alas, we have no children.’

Mrs Wheeler was all compassion. That was sad, very sad. Yes, they had a full household, and she counted that a blessing from God. Two boys and three girls.

Surely not the young lady who had just gone in. Mrs Wheeler could not possibly be the mother of a girl of that age!

Oh no, that was Jane. She had worked for them and had left to be married. A good girl but a little flighty, so it was well she was married.

And married well?

Mrs Wheeler put her head on one side. ‘She married an apprentice to a glass-cutter in Cockspur Street. My niece misses her. They were of an age.’

‘So you have a niece living here too?’

‘Oh yes, my husband brought her and her mother here before our marriage. Hannah is like a daughter to us.’

Jack nodded and said they were singularly blessed indeed. And so, he believed, was he, to have gained so much information. He was pinning his hopes on the flighty servant.

It was not difficult to strike up a conversation with Jane. Jane liked to go about the streets of London and Mrs Betts gave her plenty of free time. She would shop for her mistress and enjoyed conversing over the counter with the younger and gayer shop assistants. Sometimes she met Hannah in Ludgate Hill and they would go into Axfords together – Hannah to shop for the Wheelers, Jane for the Betts.

It was in a shop that Jack Ems made Jane’s acquaintance. It was very easy to knock into her, upset her purchases, apologize profusely, pick them up and that gave the opportunity.

What was such a pretty girl doing as beast of burden? Would she allow him to carry her purchases for her?

‘As far as Cockspur Street?’

‘To the ends of the earth.’

Jane was enjoying herself. Her apprentice was a good man but unexciting. He would never be able to provide the laces and ribbons she saw in shop windows. It was a pity, because they were so becoming. Jack Ems summed up her frivolous nature and decided that she would be ready to go a certain way for a little reward and some excitement, so he lost no time in coming to the point.

She had a friend, Miss Hannah Lightfoot, the niece of her old master.

Jane was a little disappointed that the man she had thought was her admirer was after all interested in Hannah; but she was practical enough to realize the inevitability of this and there was a strong streak of kindness in her nature. If she were dissatisfied with her own lot she believed it to be an improvement on Hannah’s. So she thrust aside her disappointment and was ready to tell all she could of Hannah.

Hannah was beautiful… anyone could see that. It was a shame that she should be shut away in the Quaker’s shop. Hannah was twenty-three years old… no longer so young. And Hannah had never had a chance.

Hannah was soon going to have a miraculous chance. If Jane would help him.

Jane would like to help him, but she would have to be careful.

It was also a shame, he pointed out, that Jane did not have the pretty things she craved for. If she helped she would be so well rewarded that she could buy some of them. What would Jane have to do? First she must find out from Miss Lightfoot whether she would be prepared to make an assignation with a very important young gentleman who had fallen in love with her.

‘She never would,’ cried Jane. ‘It is against everything she has been taught.’

‘You could explain to her…’

‘She wouldn’t listen. There’d be terrible trouble if they found out. Suppose Hannah told her uncle? He might consider it his duty to speak to my husband…’

‘Your husband is an apprentice, is he not?’

‘Yes.’

‘Suppose your husband had a chance of setting up his own business.’

‘What?’

‘I can see you are a sensible girl. The young gentleman involved is of very high nobility. If you would help me and if together we were able to bring about the desired result I can see no reason why there should not be big rewards in this for you. Not just a pretty gown or two… which your beauty deserves and which you shall have in any case… but I see no reason why, if we are successful in this affair your husband might not be in business on his own.’

Jane’s eyes were sparkling. No longer to be a servant! To be mistress in her own house, ordering her own servants . . and all for helping her dear friend Hannah to escape from that dreary linen-draper’s shop.

‘I’ll do it,’ she said.

‘Then it’s a bargain. But you do understand the need for secrecy, don’t you? Not a word to anyone. And you must be discreet. First find out how Hannah feels about this young man. She will know to whom you refer, because although they have not spoken he has made his interest clear.’

‘She never told me.’

‘So you will have to tread carefully. Remember what is at stake.’

Jane nodded; and after having made an arrangement to call on Mr Ems at an early date, bemused, she went into the glass-cutter’s.

Hannah was astounded. The Prince of Wales wished to speak to her! No one had mentioned the Prince of Wales, but she knew. He was the young man… the boy… who had looked at her so earnestly as he had passed in his chair. He had been so moved by the sight of her that he had wanted to talk to her.

‘Thou art making it up,’ she accused Jane.

Jane swore that she was not. ‘There can be no harm in it. Why shouldn’t you meet him? You only have to talk to him.’

‘But where…how …?’

‘You don’t have to worry. You only have to go out with me… we’re supposed to be shopping… In Jermyn Street a closed carriage is waiting for us… We get into it and together we go to this address. There you will speak to this young nobleman and together we come back to Jermyn Street. What harm can there be in that?’

‘There could be great harm.’

‘Really, Hannah, you are a coward. Are you going to stay in your uncle’s shop all your life, or possibly marry Grocer Axford and go on and on through life never having any fun.’

‘Isaac Axford would be a good husband.’

‘I’ve no doubt but you owe it to this young gentleman to see him.’

‘How can I know what will happen when I get to this house?’

‘You have seen the gentleman. You could trust him.’

Yes, thought Hannah. I have seen him – an innocent young boy. Of course she could trust him. He was no lecherous roué out for a new sensation with a prudish Quaker girl. She knew she could trust him. So since he so desired to see her, she must go to him.

‘I will come,’ she said.

Jane was jubilant. She could scarcely wait to call on Mr Jack Ems to tell him that the first step had been taken.

George left the Palace for the Haymarket where Miss Chudleigh had engaged a suite of rooms for him. As his chair was carried to its destination no one glanced at him as he was travelling incognito, just an ordinary gentleman with his private chair, his chairmen and his footman.

He was very excited. He had been daring. It was the first time he had acted without the approval of his mother or Lord Bute, and he did wonder very much what they would say if they knew what he was doing. Miss Chudleigh had warned him not to betray his actions, for his mother and Lord Bute would surely try to stop him if he did.

‘I should not really go against their wishes,’ said George. ‘Everything they do is for my own good.’

‘And for their own,’ retorted Miss Chudleigh.

‘But mine is the same as theirs,’ replied George.

How well they have trained their little tame pet, thought Miss Chudleigh. Well, there were going to be some surprises in Court circles when it was discovered that little George had suddenly become a man.

‘Everything,’ Miss Chudleigh said quickly, ‘will depend on Miss Lightfoot.’

‘Oh yes, everything must depend on her.’

George’s heart was beating wildly as he opened the door of the suite. A man was waiting to bow him into a room which was pleasantly though not luxuriously furnished. With him was a young woman, obviously Hannah’s servant.

‘My lord, the young lady will stay for half an hour and then she must be gone.’

‘It… it shall be as she desires,’ stammered George.

‘If your lordship will excuse me… the lady will be here immediately.’

For a few seconds George was alone in the room; his throat constricted, his sight blurred. Nothing like this had. ever happened to him before; it was like something he had dreamed. And it was all due to clever Miss Chudleigh.

The door opened and she stood there – the beautiful vision from the linen-draper’s window. He gasped and she came towards him, serene – she would always be serene – and only the faint colour in her cheeks betraying the fact that she was excited.

‘I… I trust you are not displeased,’ he stammered.

She curtsied. ‘Your Highness must forgive me. I have never been taught how to behave with royalty.’

What simply charming words! How graciously spoken.

Some impulse made him kneel before her.

‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘Thou must not.’

Thou must not. What a delightful manner of expression. It suited her. He wanted to kiss her hand, but he felt that he should not touch her yet. She might object and he did not want her to go away before he had had a chance to speak to her.

He rose to his feet rather clumsily. ‘You are more beautiful close than in the window.’

‘Your Highness is very kind to me.’

‘I want to be. I wish I knew how.’

‘Shall we sit down and talk?’

Everything she said seemed to him so wonderful, so wise.

They sat side by side on a sofa; he was careful not to sit too close for fear she should object. ‘I have never talked much to ladies,’ he said.

She was moved by his sincerity and honesty. Nothing could have charmed her more. He was incapable of pretence; he was charmingly innocent. And he was the Prince of Wales!

She said: ‘I know thou art the Prince of Wales.’

‘I hope that does not displease you.’

‘No, but it makes it difficult for us to be friends.’

He was alarmed. ‘I feared so. But Miss… er… a friend of mine has told me that it is possible for us to meet.’

‘As we have now.’

‘I hope that this will be the first of many meetings.’

‘Is that what thou wishest?’

‘I wish for it more than anything on earth. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you are. I would be happy if I could look at you for the rest of my life.’

She smiled gently. She was almost as inexperienced of life as he was; and it was pleasant to sit beside him and talk.

She talked more than he did for he was so fearful of offending her. She told him of how she had come to the linen-draper’s shop and of her life there. He listened avidly as though it was a tale of great adventure. They could not believe that the half-hour was over when Mr Ems scratched discreetly on the door.

George seized her hands; he could not leave her without her assurance that they would meet here again… within the next few days.

If it could be arranged, Hannah said, she would be there.

Jane looked at her curiously as they jolted back to Jermyn Street in their closed carriage. She seemed more excited than Hannah; but Hannah had changed; there was a quiet radiance about her. She knew she was loved, devotedly and unselfishly by no less a person than the Prince of Wales.