The Determined Bachelor (20 page)

“How did you like the Prince, Nicole?” asked Sir Basil, as soon as they were seated at the dinner table.

Nicole, extraordinarily, paused for a moment to arrange her ideas.

“He was very nice,” she said finally.

One eyebrow shot up. “Very nice, eh? I dare say, yes.”

“But I did not know he was so fat,” added the child. “Anyhow, he didn't look anything like what I expected.”

“No, how so?”

“He was not nearly so handsome as I thought he would be. I mean, he did not look at all like a prince, except that he was all dressed up in crimson and gold. But he did not wear a crown!”

“I expect he saves it for state occasions,” smiled Sir Basil. “But what did he say to you?”

“He pinched my cheek very hard, and would not let go for ever so long. I think he must have forgotten about it, for he began talking to his friend, and I thought he would never stop.”

“Princes are sometimes forgetful,” ventured the Baronet. “Who was his friend?”

Miss Calder intervened, “My Lady Jersey was with him, Sir.”

“And what did you think of her, Nicole?”

The child's brow puckered up. “She was exceedingly ugly, Uncle Basil. She looked just like a prune—and she was not nearly so nice as the Prince. When I asked if the King was feeling better, she gave me a great scowl and walked away.”

Sir Basil's features lit up with delight.

“You asked if the King was feeling better?”

Anne coughed and stared at her hands.

“Is this true, Miss Calder?”

“I'm afraid so, Sir.”

“And what did he reply?”

“He said it was kind of me to ask, but alas his papa was not much improved. And when I inquired if he would come to have tea with us, everyone tittered.”

“And was that the extent of your conversation?”

Nicole thought a moment, and replied:

“No, Uncle Basil. After we all had our tea, and before the games commenced, he called me over to his side and made me sit upon his lap.”

“Fortunate young woman!” breathed Sir Basil. “And what did he say then?”

“He wished to know where you had found me, and where he could get a daughter just like me! It was very odd, Sir—for his own daughter was there, and he did not speak to
her
half so much as to me. And then he wished to know if I had any idea of when you were going back to Paris, and if I would come to visit him from time to time.”

“And what did you say then?”

“That I thought we were going to Paris after Michaelmas—I thought so, at any rate, for you mentioned it the other day—and that I would be glad to visit him. Actually,” added the child in a confidential tone, “I do not really want to, but I thought it would be rude to say so.”

“And very right, too.” Sir Basil congratulated her. “You are a most dreadfully politic young lady, Nicole. I fear you shall usurp my own post, if I do not have a care. But are you sure you had rather not stay at Carlton House than go with me to Paris?”

Nicole looked very dismayed. “If you would like me to,” she murmured.

“Dear me, no! I only thought a mere embassy would be dreadfully dull after a palace. To be frank, I did not at first
think the Embassy could hold both of us—but now I am so completely of another mind that I would dread going back without you.”

Nicole, misinterpreting his remark, exclaimed eagerly:

“Oh, if there is not enough room for me, Uncle Basil, I shall be quite happy to sleep in the hall. I don't mind where I sleep, actually. Only
do
please let Miss Calder come! She may have
my
bed, and I shall just curl up in a chair, or whatever is easiest.”

Now Anne could not control her mirth. A small gurgle escaped her lips, pressed tightly together for some few minutes.

“I do not think Sir Basil was referring to a shortage of bedchambers, Nicole.”

“Miss Calder is quite right,” interjected the Baronet with a solemn look. “There is space enough for both of you, that is—” with an inquiring glance at Anne “—if Miss Calder will consent to come.”

“Oh,
do
come, Miss Calder!”

And Miss Calder, more pleased than she would admit by the enthusiasm of the child and the civility of the gentleman, admitted that she could hardly refuse such an invitation.

Anne's own impressions of the Prince, and of Carlton House, went something further than her pupil's, and as these were recorded with great faithfulness in her next letter to Ben, we shall simply set it down exactly as it was:

December 1, 1819

My dearest Ben:

I have been, since my last letter, to see the Prince. I can imagine what you must be thinking—“from governess to visits with royalty in one fell swoop!” But it was precisely my position which enabled me to go, and you must say so to my mother if she is still upset with me. You must omit telling her, however, that I had not time to have a new frock made up, and was at the mercy of my best resources to make my old gray silk as dashing as possible, with only the benefit of one or two ribbons and the cameo she gave me last year. She would never forgive me
that
: never mind that I had barely twelve hours' notice.

The occasion was a tea party, held on Tuesday at the Prince's teahouse, only for the benefit of children. I am told His Highness dotes upon little children, and having a passion
for amusing himself on a not much more elevated level than that which appeals to little girls and boys, has made a regular thing of entertaining them. In truth, the whole event was vastly entertaining from my own standpoint: I doubt not but that I was much better diverted than Nicole, who was too awe-struck to be much amused.

We went in the best carriage, with Sir Basil's family arms emblazoned upon the doors, and were set down a little distance from the gatehouse (an edifice about three times the size of our own house). From there we proceeded on foot, more or less in a parade of children and their mama's, nurses, governesses, and friends, through a variety of exotic gardens and pathways, over a tiny Chinese lacquer bridge which led over a lily pond, and through a maze of waterfalls, pavilions, gazebos, and hothouses. Wandering unrestrained throughout was the largest collection of wildlife I have ever seen gathered in one place—species, in fact, which I have never glimpsed even in pictures, and which were said to have been brought from the far reaches of the earth. Birds, some of them as tall as men, waded in ponds and fed upon the branches of trees. It was uncommonly warm for the time of year, but on cold days, I was informed, the birds and other beasts are rounded up and put into buildings where they are kept warm by innumerable fireplaces—quite like people! There is even a whole staff of servants only to oversee their happiness, which made me think that some clever poor family might do better to masquerade as wild animals and appeal to the mercy of the Prince in
that
disguise than in their natural one.

At length we came to the teahouse, which is said to be a tiny replica of the Regent's pavilion at Brighton. The Prince is said to have a passion for oriental artifacts, which dominated the whole decor of the place. The walls were hung with Chinese tapestries, the floors covered entirely in the most splendid carpets I have ever glimpsed. The roof is even made up of minarets, as are said to crown the palaces of Turkey and India. Only these are so small—to suit the size of the whole edifice—that at first it looked quite like a toy house. In point of fact, everything is on just such a miniature scale, as if an entire palace had been cut down to suit the proportions of children. The dining table at which the little guests took their tea was long enough to seat seventy children, and yet of a smaller dimension than that which would suit grown-ups.
Their chairs were small and close to the ground, but ornamented in the most extravagant detail, with as much gold and silver as must have been used in the construction of the originals. A tiny music room, complete with a stage, is used for theatrical entertainments, and after tea was served we all sat down to watch a performer playing extraordinary tricks. He made a covey of doves appear from nowhere, much to my own and Nicole's delight, poured water out of the hat which had been upon his head, and tugged gently at his sleeve, out of which there proceeded to fall about a mile of silk handkerchiefs, all knotted together.

But the best performance of all came about half an hour after we had arrived. In the meantime, we had stood about haphazardly, talking amongst ourselves, and Nicole, who would not leave my side, had been inquiring every instant where His Highness was. Well, my dear Ben—he came at last, and in such procession as you cannot imagine. First a trumpet sounded, evidently to warn us to be silent, and about five minutes later there began to arrive a stream of secondary Personages. Princess Caroline, whom I had hoped to see, was said to be aguish and had stayed at Carlton House, but alt of her ladies in waiting came. The Princess Lieven, whom I had met once before—the Russian Ambassador's wife, and a famous beauty—was with them. About fifty footmen in livery next appeared, and formed a double column between which the Prince's own retinue would pass. Meanwhile, another dozen footmen bade us form ourselves into a line, the children standing in front of their respective chaperones. Those who were familiar with the ritual commenced yawning and smiling between themselves—I soon saw why. But I was myself eager to catch every detail of the spectacle, as you can imagine, and Nicole was on tiptoes all the time.

Another trumpet sounded, and now the parade commenced in earnest. First came a servant in crimson livery, bearing a large golden chair—a sort of portable throne, I suppose, for the Prince would not sit down in the tiny chairs with which the rest of us were forced to struggle, and his weight is such that I have no doubt none would have supported him in any case. This was set down at one end of the hall in which we stood—a sort of vast entrance hall, but in miniature, the walls all lined in scarlet silk, save for some spaces which were covered with mirrors. Next came a retinue of nurses, the second major domo, and two surgeons, lest any of the guests should stuff themselves too thoroughly. Another trumpet
sounded, and in waddled a tall, almost grotesquely fat man, attired in the trappings of the most extreme dandy imaginable. For an instant I did not know who it was, but as my companions began to sink into a communal curtsey right down to the floor, I was soon enlightened: Here was the Prince! As soon as I could lift my head, I managed to examine his features, which must have been exceeding handsome in his youth, but which have now been so swallowed up in folds of flesh that his face is more like a pillow than a set of features. His eyes are still very fine, however—dark and shining, with that sort of fierce, soft brilliance which is the first sign of a passionate disposition. The object of that passion, at least for the moment, followed a few steps behind. Lady Jersey is said to be a royal inamorata; a more unlikely mistress you cannot imagine. She is about five years older man the Regent himself, being somewhere between five-and-forty and fifty years of age, her eyes are cold and glaring, her lips thin and gray (to match the rest of her features), and her figure is as skinny as a stick. She has, moreover, the reputation of fierce religiosity, which would certainly make my father laugh, as she is precisely that combination of outward virtue and actual immorality which seems to cause him so much delight, and which he is forever holding up to us, in his more playful moments, as the model for a politic life. From what I have gleaned of the Prince's history, from gossip and the cartoonists, her ladyship is only the fourth or fifth in a long line of mistresses. There was, of course, Mrs. Fitzherbert, whom many believe to be his real wife, but she has retired to the country and sees no one since she was replaced in the Prince's affections. Lady Jersey seems to be a kind of penance for the rest: No doubt she is a very awful one, for I cannot imagine looking to that pair of glaring, scowling eyes for affection or amiable companionship. But enough: I promise I should not philosophize, but faithfully recount to you the high points of my life.

His Highness commenced to make his way down the line of children, pinching a cheek here, and saying a word there, with Lady Jersey following close behind, scowling as hard as His Highness smiled. To the women he said hardly a word, for he seemed to think this the children's party, as indeed it was. I did not expect him to notice
me
, and was a little amazed when he inquired my name and spoke several civil phrases. The others took it very hard, for I was a mere governess whilst they were by and large mothers, aunts, or sisters,
and most of them countesses at the least. Miss Newsome, in particular, scowled very hard at me—she is Lady Hargate's younger sister, and had come, as I believe, only on purpose to catch a glimpse of Sir Basil, for she could not have taken less interest in her little niece and nephews. She was most seriously annoyed when she saw
me
in his stead, and asked rather rudely where “His Excellency” was, and why he had not come.

But it was instantly evident that the Prince took a great fancy to my pupil above every other child, and that made me like him at once, for I have developed such an affection for that little girl that I am become quite as horribly prejudiced in her favour as any mama you ever saw. Having uttered barely one or two phrases to each of the others, His Highness paused before Nicole and gazed at her raptly. Then, taking her little cheek between his great fat beringed fingers, he turned away for nearly five minutes to praise her to my Lady Jersey, who only scowled, and looked as if she could not have disagreed more heartily with his remarks, though curtseying and smirking as much as possible. Nicole bore up very bravely through all of this, and when the Prince turned back, gave hardly any sign that she was in pain—which indeed she must have been. He bestowed upon her several compliments and, chucking her beneath the chin, declared she was the prettiest child in the whole place and that he wished his own daughter was as bright and comely. This I thought in rather bad taste, as the Princess (who does indeed a little resemble a young cow) was standing by all the while, looking as if she would have cut off her right hand to receive so much solicitude from her papa.