Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill: (Georgian Series) (9 page)

‘Alas, even princes cannot divert the sea.’

‘No, but they might divert the town. Why not?’

‘A possibility.’

‘I like that place. I like it even more now that it has changed its name.’

‘Brighton. Charming. Well, if Your Highness decides to take advantage of the sea next summer, all the
ton
will do the same.’

The Prince danced with other ladies – including Lady Melbourne who was such a favourite at this time. He paid the usual compliments, but he was thinking of next year’s sea bathing, and how amusing it would be to have a house in Brighton where he could entertain his friends. He talked to her of Brighton and she was as enthusiastic as he was.

He danced with Georgiana. How beautiful she was on that night, always so different from all the other women, the true leader of fashion.

‘My dearest Georgiana,’ sighed the Prince, ‘how can you persist in being cruel to me?’

‘My dearest Highness, I am in truth being kind to us both.’

‘How could that be when you know that my most urgent wish is to have you love me as I love you.’

‘I intend to be Your Highness’s friend through life. It is so much easier to be a constant friend than a constant mistress.’

‘I would be constant for ever.’

‘Your Highness, I think Lady Melbourne is regarding you a little anxiously.’

‘You have but to say the word and there should be no one but you.’

Georgiana laughed and did not take him seriously. Her husband the Duke was not interested in her, nor she in him; but Georgiana had no intention of becoming the mistress of the Prince of Wales. It was a position which she did not think any woman could hold for any length of time; and it was surely better not to set oneself on such a slippery perch. Their relationship was far more satisfactory as it was.

‘I see Charles is there with Sherry and Amoret. What a beautiful creature she is. I’m not surprised that Sherry adores her.’

‘All beauties pale before your own,’ said the Prince.

And Georgiana laughed. ‘Exactly what I would have expected my gallant Prince to say. Sherry would not agree with you.’

‘He adores you, too.’

‘Dear Sherry, he is my very good friend. And Charles … I do declare his frock-coat is threadbare. How dare he come to Carlton House dressed in such a slovenly manner.’

‘Charles knows that he may dare what he will as far as I am concerned. It is not his coat I welcome but the man inside it.’

‘Right royally spoken. Fortunate Charles! I should have thought Lizzie Armistead would have taken better care of him.’

‘You must admit that he looks a little cleaner since being in her care.’

‘Let us come and talk to them. It is always such fun to talk to Charles. His great merit is his amazing quickness in seizing any subject. He seems to have a talent for knowing more of what he is talking about than anyone else. His conversation is like a brilliant player at billiards – the strokes follow one another – piff-paff.’

‘And you suggest I should frown on his coat!’

‘No, no, I do not. I merely wonder that she should wrap so much that is charming in such a disreputable package.’

The Prince and Georgiana had paused at the little group who bowed ceremoniously in recognition of royalty; and then immediately relaxed.

Sheridan, Georgiana noticed, had been drinking heavily. It saddened her; he was not as capable of carrying his drink as Charles.

‘Sherry,’ she admonished, ‘if you drink so much you will destroy the coat of your stomach.’

‘Then my stomach must just digest in its waistcoat,’ retorted Sheridan.

Oh, yes, it was pleasant to be with these people who so amused him and flattered him with their attention. They talked
politics, for they were all Whigs together, until it was time for supper. Five rooms were used for this purpose and the Prince with his special guests was accommodated in the grand escaglio room. He had Georgiana on his right and had arranged that Fox and Sheridan were not far away so that they could enjoy some enlivening conversation.

‘Your Highness must be living beyond your means,’ whispered Fox.

‘I hadn’t given the matter a thought,’ admitted the Prince.

‘Ah, what will be the end of this riotous living? Methinks we should see that the means fit the end.’

The Prince laughed. He could trust Fox. It was Fox who had tried to get £100,000 a year for him and no fault of his that he had had to be content with a miserable £62,000; it was Fox who had extricated him from that affair with Perdita when she had demanded he honour the bond he had given her and wanted £5,000 for those revealing letters.

Oh, yes, he could trust Fox.

Over supper the conversation turned to the eccentric conduct of Major Hanger at one of the balls at St James’s Palace a few evenings earlier. The Prince was telling Charles Fox about it.

‘Stab me, but he came in the uniform of an officer of the Hessian service – and mighty strange he looked among all the satins and brocades. His short blue coat was ornamented with gold frogs and there was a band across his shoulders from which his sword hung. What a spectacle! Even the King could not suppress a smile … and it is no mean achievement, I do assure you, to make my father smile. But the Major did it when he put on his Kevenhüller hat with two huge feathers – black and white – and invited Miss Gunning to join him in a minuet. Poor lady! Such a graceful, beautiful creature, but what could she do? She simply gave up. We laughed. I was convulsed … and as I said the King smiled and my mother came as near to it as she’s able. But that wasn’t the end. You should have seen the gallant Major in a country dance.’

The Prince continued to laugh at the memory of it and stopped suddenly. ‘Why should we not write a letter of congratulations to the Major. Say it was written in the name of the whole company who saw him perform. I will compile it
and it shall be written in a handwriting the Major will not know.’

The Prince gazed round the table. ‘You, Sherry. He does not know you. You shall be the writer of our letter.’

‘It has always been my aim to write for Your Majesty’s pleasure.’

‘This will be as good as a play, I promise you.’

‘Other men’s plays, perhaps, Highness. Not mine.’

‘But other men’s plays can be highly diverting sometimes, Sherry. And as you will have a hand in this affair you may lend us a touch of your genius.’

‘How can I repay your graciousness, sir, but by complying with Your Highness’s desires.’

‘It shall be done after supper and delivered to the Major first thing tomorrow morning.’ The Prince laughed, thinking of the Major’s reactions when he received the note.

He talked of the Major through supper and as soon as it was over left his guests and taking Fox, Sheridan and a few favourite companions with him retired to an ante-room to write the letter.

Writing had always given him great pleasure and he could never see a pen without wanting to pick it up and compose flowery sentences. It was this habit which had proved so disastrous in the Perdita affair.

Now he sat down and with his friends looking over his shoulder wrote:

‘St James’s, Sunday morning

‘The company who attended the ball on Friday last at St James’s present their compliments to Major Hanger and return him their unfeigned thanks for the variety with which he enlivened the insipidity of the evening’s entertainment. The gentlemen want words to describe their admiration of the truly grotesque and humorous figure which he exhibited; and the ladies beg leave to express their acknowledgements for the lively and animated emotions that his stately, erect and perpendicular form could not fail to excite in their delicate and susceptible bosoms. His gesticulations and martial deportment were truly admirable and have raised an impression which will not soon be effaced at St James’s.’

The Prince ended with a flourish.

‘Now, Sherry, Hanger does not know your handwriting, and I flatter myself there is a touch of style about that letter which could be attributed to you. So, I pray you, copy it out and tomorrow it shall be despatched to our entertaining Major and I am sure from such a character we can expect some fun.’

Sheridan sat down and copied the letter.

‘First thing in the morning,’ chuckled the Prince, ‘it shall be delivered; and soon afterwards I shall send him an invitation to dine with me. You, my dear Sherry, will not I trust take it amiss if for once you are not included in the invitation.’

Sheridan bowed: ‘Always ready to forgo my greatest pleasures in the service of Your Highness.’

The Prince could scarcely wait until morning for the delivery of the letter and its results.

Fox, watching the affair with a cynical amusement, thought: He must have his diversion, but he is young yet.

Dinner was a less glittering occasion than it had been on the previous evening and took place in the silver-walled dining room among the red and yellow granite pillars. The Prince had invited Major Hanger to sit near him and lost little time in bringing the conversation to the ball at St James’s.

‘What an effect your appearance had on the ladies, Major. There we were all dressed like popinjays and you … in your uniform. You were indeed a man.’

The Major swallowed the bait; his eyes bulged and his face grew scarlet.

‘Your Highness, I have had a most insulting letter. I have been held up to ridicule, it is more than mortal man can endure. Your Highness must forgive my anger but, Sir, I have been insulted.’

The Prince expressed concern. But how was this?

The Major brought the letter from his pocket. ‘If Your Highness would cast your eye over this you would see what I mean.’

The Prince read the letter with exclamations of sympathy. ‘No doubt whatever,’ he agreed, ‘the writer of this letter means to insult you.’

At this corroboration the Major’s anger increased. ‘
Blitz und Hölle
,’ he shouted. ‘I swear that if I could discover the writer of this letter I would demand satisfaction.’

The Prince agreed that in the Major’s position he would feel exactly the same. ‘How do you feel, Charles?’

Fox, playing up as was expected, replied that he considered it an insult to turn the Major’s stately, erect and perpendicular figure to ridicule.

‘I am determined to discover the writer,’ cried the Major.

‘I think we should try to help to bring this fellow to his deserts,’ said the Prince. He picked up the letter. ‘By God, this handwriting! I swear it is familiar to me. What say you, Charles? Does it not remind you of that mischievous fellow Sheridan. Come, Charles, you know his writing well.’

Fox took the letter and nodded. ‘No doubt of it,’ he said.

The Major’s eyes bulged with indignation. ‘Playwrights!’ he said. ‘They fancy themselves with a pen in the hand! By God, he shall regret this day.’ He turned to Captain Morris who was sitting nearby. ‘Sir, I wish you to take a challenge from me to Mr Sheridan.’

‘Major,’ said the Prince, ‘I know it is my duty to attempt to persuade you both against the action and this I do, but I am bound to say were I in your position nothing would deter me. But do consider, Sheridan has written this in one of his mad mischievous moods and he is a mad and mischievous fellow.’

‘Sir, I beg of Your Highness not to command me to forgo this duty. I have every wish to obey every command of Your Highness …’

The Prince bowed his head. ‘My sympathies are with you, Major. I will keep silent and may luck go with you.’

‘Now, Your Highness, having despatched this challenge to the fellow I will, with your permission, go to my lodgings and await the blackguard’s answer.’

‘I understand your concern. You should lose no time. If he accepts your challenge you will have preparations to make.’

As soon as the Major left a messenger was despatched to Sheridan asking him to report at Carlton House without delay so that the conspirators could plan the next move in what was to the Prince one of the most highly diverting practical jokes he had ever played.

It was daybreak in Battersea Fields. Captain Morris was with the Major, and Sheridan had chosen Fox as his second. In a carriage muffled up, hat well over his eyes, his face made up to resemble an older man, sat the Prince of Wales in the role of the surgeon who, Fox and Morris had agreed, must be in attendance.

The opponents faced each other; their seconds loaded the pistols; the signal to fire was given. The Major, a crack shot, aimed at the playwright but failed to hit him. The pistols were loaded a second time with the same result.

‘God damn the fellow!’ cried the Major. ‘What’s wrong? Should have got him first time.’

‘The third time generally is effective,’ said Captain Morris and glanced towards the carriage in which the ‘surgeon’ was seated trying to muffle his laughter.

The order was given to fire and Sheridan fell.

‘By God, you have killed him, Major,’ cried Captain Morris. ‘Quick. We must get away while there is time.’

Before the Major could protest he was hustled into a carriage and the Prince alighted and reeling with laughter went over to the fallen playwright.

‘Well played, Sherry,’ he said. ‘Get up. By God, I’ll swear you never had a better scene in any of your plays.’

The Prince drove back to Carlton House laughing hilariously with Fox and Sheridan; but suddenly he was serious.

‘What can it feel like to have killed a man?’

‘The first emotion would be gratification for having avenged an insult,’ said Fox.

‘Then remorse for having taken life, perhaps,’ added Sheridan. ‘But perhaps fear of the law would come first.’

‘Remorse,’ mused the Prince. ‘I like the fellow in a way. He’s grotesque but he amuses me. I shall let him know at once that you are not dead, Sherry.’

‘Won’t that spoil Your Highness’s little joke?’ asked Fox.

‘My dear Charles, I have had my joke. I have rarely laughed so much. I have rarely been so diverted. But I am sure that when the Major recovers a little from his gratification remorse will set in. Also he might decide to flee the country. I shall send for him immediately and tell him that Sherry is not fatally wounded.’