Georgian: The Prince and the Quakeress Part 10

'The lady apparently went willingly.'

'But to set her up... to have planned such an enterprise.'

'No doubt he has had help.'

'That's what worries me... that he should have had help from anyone... not ourselves.'

Lord Bute comforted her. 'We have perhaps been careless. We thought we knew him. We believed him to be the innocent boy. But nature a.s.serted herself. He fell in love and so he grew up suddenly.'

'My dearest, what shall we do?'

'We shall simply be more observant in future. We shall keep a close watch on George and his fair Quaker. In the meantime we should perhaps congratulate ourselves. How much better that he should have fallen under the spell of a woman like this, not of the Court. It could have been some scheming woman in our midst. Imagine that!'

The Princess shuddered.

'As it is there is this harmless woman,' went on Lord Bute. 'No, we should rejoice that it is who it is. Although, of course, we have had our little lesson. All to the good. We will learn from it. We have been warned. George is not the child we thought him. He is capable of taking strong action. It is good we learned that... in time.'

'You are such a comfort to me, my dear.'

'It is my purpose in life... to please and comfort you.'

The tall house in Tottenham was an ideal setting. It was surrounded by gardens completely isolated. It was furnished luxuriously; cared for by many soft-footed servants, well paid, all aware that their high wages were the reward of discretion.

There was a sewing-woman to make beautiful dresses for the mistress of the house. There was a music teacher; there were books for her to read. She had her carriage a closed one in which she could ride out when she wished. Everything had been planned with care.

When she had first arrived here Hannah had been bewildered. For twenty-three years she had lived more quietly than most girls and then, since a young boy had smiled at her as she sat in her uncle's window, she had been swept into an adventure so romantic, so incredible, that when she awoke in the night she had to convince herself that she had not dreamed it all.

When she had stepped into the carriage and found the Prince waiting for her she had been too overcome by joy for anything else. She and the Prince had clung together as they rattled along, a.s.suring each other of their undying love. She asked nothing more; nor did he. Both of them refused to look beyond the immediate future. They were in love; they were alone; Hannah had successfully escaped to him; they asked nothing more.

He took her to the house. 'It is planned for you.'

'It is a palace... it is an enchanted place.'

'Your being here makes it so,' he told her.

They went through the house together.

'It is so large for one.'

'But I shall be here often, as often as I can.' He turned to her suddenly. 'I intended to marry you. It is only if I married you that I could be completely happy.'

'Thou marry me! The Prince of Wales marry me... the linen-draper's niece!'

'I wanted to marry you. It was what I planned.'

She embraced him tenderly. He was a child after all. He really believed that the Prince of Wales could marry the niece of a tradesman.

'Once we were married,' he insisted, 'they would have to accept it.'

She shook her head. They never would. Unworldly as she was, she knew that. Did he really think that he could make her Queen of England?

'But they married you to that man Axford.'

Perhaps, she thought, it was as well, otherwise what folly would he have been prepared to commit?

'I had to save you from that...' he went on.

She kissed his hands. 'How can I thank thee...'

'No... no,' he cried. 'It is I who should thank you. Oh, Hannah, they were too quick for us. I should never have let them marry you to Axford. Now, you see, we cannot marry.'

She felt old and wise; she led him to a sofa and drew him down beside her. She held his head against her breast as though he were indeed a child.

She said tenderly: 'My love, marriage is impossible, so we must needs do without it. It was no fault of ours. The intention was there. I had no love for Isaac Axford, so I count it no marriage... nothing but a few words spoken before a priest who in a short time will have no power to marry people in this way. We will call it no marriage. Thou stood beside me in spirit... it is to thee that I consider myself married this day.'

He lifted his head to look at her wonderingly.

'Oh, Hannah,' he whispered, 'how wonderful you are!'

She went about the house like a young married woman in her new home. She sang as she never had before. She was happy. She had thrown aside her old beliefs. Uncle Wheeler thought that we were not put on earth to be happy and that if one felt an excess of happiness one should be wary and ask oneself if the devil was not looking over one's shoulder. Well, Hannah was happy. And she no longer believed in Uncle Wheeler's doctrines. She had come to a new and glorious understanding that human beings were put into the world to find happiness and the ones that did so should remember this and do all in their power to keep it.

The Prince came regularly. He was now the lover no longer the boy. He was turned sixteen, but he seemed several years older than the boy who had brought her here. He was a husband for that was how he saw himself. Nothing else was possible to him. He told her that there was much profligacy at his grandfather's Court and it shamed him. When he was King he would set up a new standard of morals. He would see that the sanct.i.ty of marriage was respected.

Hannah did not look as far as that. She wondered what would happen when he became King and his ministers insisted on his marrying; there would have to be a Queen of England and it would not be Hannah Lightfoot. But that was a long way off. In the meantime she was happy; she must stay happy; and happiness was here in the present not in the vague and distant future.

He wished that he could live here. What fun it would be. Mr and Mrs... Guelph. Or perhaps Colonel and Mrs George. That was the name in which he had taken the house: Colonel George. Guelph was too dangerous.

He was happy. There was only one regret, that he could not have been legally married to Hannah and could have told the world so.

However, as Hannah said, they had so much. They had each other, the chance to meet frequently; they had love; and they knew that their intentions were honourable; they could rely on each other's fidelity; and they were married in the sight of G.o.d.

They must not ask more. If they did, Fate would consider them greedy and perhaps decide to deprive them of some of their blessings.

They must be happy. And while they could be together, safe from discovery, she was happy; she asked nothing more.

A carriage came to the door of the house.

Hannah was horrified. It was not her lover. Then who? No one called at the house. She must shut herself away, refuse to see any visitors. What if it were her uncle come to take her away... or her husband!

From behind a curtained window she saw a woman get out of the carriage; she was veiled, but she was relieved to recognize her as Jane.

She rang for her servant. 'There is a lady below,' she said. 'Please bring her to me without delay.'

Jane came into the room, throwing back her veil, and they embraced affectionately.

'But it's magnificent,' cried Jane. 'Oh... it's quite magnificent. You lucky creature!'

'Jane... what brings you here?'

'To see you, of course. And... to warn you.'

'To warn me of what?'

'Let me sit down. And what about a dish of tea? I'm thirsty.'

Hannah rang for the maid and gave an order, while Jane looked on with admiration.

'Different from the Market, eh?'

'Jane, tell me of what thou wishest to warn me.'

'They are searching for you. There's a great stir among the Society of Friends.'

Hannah grew pale. 'They may have followed thee here...'

'Not they! I was careful. Never fear that I would lead them to you, Hannah. I was questioned: "Where is she?" "What do you know?" Mr H. came to my rescue. He swore I knew nothing... and they couldn't go against a girl's husband, could they? He knows which side his bread's b.u.t.tered. We shall soon have our own shop, think of that. And all due to Mr H.'s clever wife. So you can rely on him... and me... me for friendship, Hannah, as well as the money. That's why I came to tell you that you must be careful. I'm to be the go-between... and I'm to be careful, they tell me. If there's anything you have to know, I shall be bringing you news of it. And now I've got to tell you, Hannah, that they are all searching. Isaac, he was near demented. "Where is my wife Hannah?" he kept asking, and he was running through the streets looking into carriages.'

'Oh dear,' cried Hannah aghast.

'You have become important, chortled Jane. 'A cause celebre. Where is the fair Quaker of St James's Market? everyone is asking.'

'They must not find me, Jane. They must not.'

'Of course they mustn't. And they never shall.'

Jane sat contentedly sipping her tea.

'My, how I've come up in the world,' she murmured. 'Tea with a cause celebre and my own mistress and all because of you, Hannah.'

Hannah could not share Jane's pleasure. She was very uneasy.

Although the search went on and in the St James's Market area there was constant speculation about the disappearance of Hannah Axford, Lightfoot that was, Hannah continued to live without disturbance in her tall quiet house, visited frequently by her lover who became more and more devoted as the months pa.s.sed.

George was happy: he constantly reminded himself that he considered himself married to Hannah, which was the only way in which he could enjoy such a connection. He had intended to marry Hannah; he would be faithful to Hannah; and she to him.

There were very few people in the secret, but these he could trust. Elizabeth Chudleigh was one; she had been of great help to him and had shown him how to make this liaison possible. It had changed him from a careless boy to a man of responsibilities and if he still had to sit in a schoolroom and learn history and mathematics, in one phase of his life he was a man and this gave him confidence. There were two others with whom he shared that confidence and who in the family circle were closer to him than any other; this was his brother Edward and his sister Elizabeth. Edward had declared that in George's place he would have done exactly the same; in fact, Edward had applauded his brother and swore he would always support him.

So while George sat in the schoolroom and wrote his account of English history he was thinking of Hannah.

'Charles I did not regard the laws of the land,' he wrote, 'but violated them when they thwarted his interest or inclination.' It was no way to rule; and Charles I had discovered that too late. It was something to remember.

George understood that he must prepare himself for kingship. The old King was growing more feeble every day, more irascible. It was said that one of these days the old man would go off when he was in one of his violent outbursts of temper; and when he does, thought George, I shall be King.

His mother was anxious about him. He loved her dearly; he admired Lord Bute as much as any man he knew; and both of them were constantly telling him: 'You must learn to be a King.'

It was comforting to ride out to Hannah, to tell her of the ways of the Court, of the trouble in his household, of his mother and Lord Bute pulling against the tutors the King had chosen for him.

'I have two ambitions,' he told Hannah, 'to be a good King and to be a good husband to you.'

George was delighted to find that his dear friend Lord Bute did not blame him for his affair with Hannah.

'It is natural that Your Highness should have a mistress,' he explained. 'You should feel no sense of guilt.'

'But Hannah is not a mistress. I do want to make that clear.'

'Of course not,' soothed Lord Bute. 'Do you not realize that I understand your feelings... perfectly.'

'I knew you would if I had an opportunity to explain.'

'Your Highness can always explain everything to me. Have I not always a.s.sured you that any skill I may have is at your disposal.'

'You have... no one more.'

'Then when you are in any difficulties I can expect you to come to me. Now that you are no longer a boy I can talk to you freely. There are two people whom you can trust: one is your mother; the other is myself.'

George nodded. 'And fortunate I am to have you.'

'I think of this nation and I can see no one who can care for you as your mother does. You have this delightful lady, your beautiful Quaker. She loves you as a wife but she knows nothing of the malice and intrigues which always surround a Court, Your mother does; and she is here to protect you. She wishes you well for your own sake. Others have interested views; they wish for riches or honours; they are ambitious not for your good or that of the country but for themselves. The advice they give you will be contaminated by these considerations. So her advice alone is the advice you should follow, for you will know it is given with your own good in mind solely, and for no other reason.'

'I do know it; and I thank G.o.d for her care.'

'I too care only for your good. You will find many to speak against me. They will try to represent me to you as a villain.'

'I would not believe them.'

'You say that now; but some are skilful. I am certain that in the future, when you are King of this realm, attempts will be made to vilify me. They will use all their arts to win you over. If they do you will be ruined.'

'I know this. I know it well. I am young. I am without experience and I want advice now and shall in the future. I trust you as I trust no other man.'

'If you failed to trust me I should contemplate leaving the country.'

'I beg of you do not speak so. I need your friendship. I am so young and I know so little.'

'If you married you would not feel the need of my friendship so strongly.'

'I am married... and I still feel it.'

'There will come a time when you will have to make a state marriage...' began Bute tentatively.