Georgian: The Prince and the Quakeress Part 16

Elizabeth was watching her elder brother anxiously. But he had promised to let her know before he did anything rash.

The Prince was not subtle enough to hide his feelings and Elizabeth Chudleigh recognized the change in him and guessed its cause.

'A natural and not unexpected result,' she chuckled. 'What now?'

Whatever it was she decided to have a place in the centre of affairs.

As soon as she had an opportunity of speaking to him alone she told him that she was sure there was something about which she should congratulate him.

He looked startled. 'How... how did you know?'

'Oh...' she smiled wisely and with the utmost affection. 'Perhaps it is knowing Your Highness so well, having Your Highness's welfare at heart. I sensed that something of importance has happened.'

The Prince had unconsciously pressed his lips together.

'Your Highness should not imagine that I wish to pry. I only want to tell Your Highness that if at any time you should need my help...'

'You are very good, Miss Chudleigh. I shall never forget how good.'

'Then if there is anything I can do at any time...'

'Oh yes, yes, indeed. I know I can ask you because I know I can trust you.'

As she had guessed, it was not long before he was confiding in her.

Hannah was going to have a child and he naturally wanted the best attention for her. He believed that a lady might help him best in this matter.

He was right about that, Elizabeth a.s.sured him. In fact she had some knowledge of these matters. Some of the maids of honour... Oh, the Prince must not be too harsh in his judgment of these giddy young girls. They were careless, thoughtless and they found themselves in this kind of trouble. She had helped more than one.

'But how?'

'Taking them away from Court... perhaps some servant's house... and there taking a doctor to them.'

'I should want this to be very secret.'

'It could be arranged so that even the doctor did not know whom he was attending.'

'But this would have to be a very qualified doctor.'

'Naturally. Has Your Highness anyone in mind?'

'Y... yes. Dr Fothergill.'

'The Quaker!'

George nodded.

'Well, it is natural that she should wish for one of her own sect.'

'Being a Quaker he may not consent to...'

'Not a bit of it, Your Highness. I know Dr Fothergill well. He is not a very stern Quaker. He will wish to serve Your Highness.'

'But he is not to know.'

'Of course not. I will tell him it is a person in a very high place. I will accompany him in the carriage and when we reach a certain point he must consent to be blindfolded.'

'Blindfolded!'

'It is an old method, Your Highness. Doctors have attended ladies in extraordinary circ.u.mstances before. You may safely leave this to me. I will approach Dr Fothergill. I will tell him his services are needed; and then when the time comes I will take him to Tottenham, but before we reach the house I shall blindfold him, and the bandage will not be taken from his eyes until he is actually in the room with the patient. Then he will do what is necessary, we shall blindfold him again and then... when we are back in London the bandage will be removed from his eyes. He will be well paid... paid a little extra, of course, Your Highness...'

'Of course.'

'And that is an end to the matter. You have had the doctor you wished for; he has delivered the child safely; and he cannot be sure where he has been or whom he has delivered.'

'It sounds very clever.'

'But I do a.s.sure Your Highness that it has been done many times before.'

'I shall pa.s.s on this information. I am sure it will give great relief. And when the time comes...'

'When the time comes, you can count on me, Your Highness.'

So, when Hannah's time came, Elizabeth was there with Dr Fothergill, the not-too-stern Quaker, who was delighted to act as instructed. Such commissions were always very profitable and he had undertaken them before and he was becoming known throughout the Court for his discretion... not the least important quality in such a doctor's reputation.

He rode out to Tottenham in the company of that fascinating, mysterious and rather wicked young woman, Miss Chudleigh, allowed himself to be blindfolded at the appropriate moment, and entering a house, the destination of which he could not be sure but could vaguely guess, he delivered a very personable young woman, whom he quickly discovered to be of his faith, of a healthy girl.

'The Butcher's' Disgrace c.u.mBERLAND WAS COMING home to England... in disgrace. The King strode about his compartment, wig on one side, cheeks scarlet with rage.

'Hanover!' he moaned. 'Hanover in the hands of the French! And he calls himself a son of mine. Was ever a father so cursed by his children? I thank G.o.d the Queen has not lived to see this day.'

Mr Pitt had called to see the King. Mr Pitt, the man who believed that England's glory lay overseas. Here was a pretty state of affairs, a good beginning to Mr Pitt's grand schemes. Hanover, the home of the Kings of England, the sacred spot, loved by this royal family as St James's, Windsor, Hampton, Kensington had never been... and now it was in the hands of the French!

'Mr Pitt, sir, you find me low... very low.'

'Your Majesty is grieved by the loss of Hanover, I know.'

'It is the home of my fathers, Mr Pitt. I was brought up in Hanover. As you know, I have never let long periods of time pa.s.s without visiting it.'

'I know it well, Sire.'

'I was happier at Hanover, Sir, than anywhere else in this world.'

'Your Majesty's subjects have been made aware of that fact.'

'And now it is lost... lost by that fool of a son of mine. Why did I ever put him in charge of my armies... ?'

'An old custom, Sire, to keep the plums of office in the family.'

'Eh... eh, what's that?'

'Not always a wise one as Your Majesty is now perceiving, but is Your Majesty being entirely fair to His Royal Highness?'

The trouble with these geniuses, thought the King, was that they believed they had some prerogative to speak their minds. They gloried in it. They boasted of it. These honest men! The unpleasant truth was that a King could not do without them. Mr Pitt was such a one.

'The puppy was caught asleep, I heard, at Hastenbecke... The French surrounded him and he would have been taken but for the prompt action of Colonel Amherst.'

'One of the officers I recommended to Your Majesty, you will remember. Yes, he did good work. The Duke's position was not a happy one at Hastenbecke, Sire, and I dareswear you knew that some compromise would have to be made. Bremen and Verden had to be saved and the troops brought out of danger. It was the loss of the duchies and all those men... or Hanover.'

'Hanover,' wailed the King. 'It has a special place in my heart, Mr Pitt. I spent the first years of my marriage there, you will remember.'

Aye, thought Pitt, and courted Madame Walmoden there too, and sent the Queen accounts of your courtship in that delectable spot.

'You will, then, understand my feelings.'

'Indeed yes, Sire.'

'So that is why I can't wait to get my hands on that... puppy.'

'Sire, Hanover is temporarily lost. It is a small electorate. I believe Your Majesty penned your signature to the orders which were sent to the Duke to sign the convention.'

'I thought the Duke would make a stand.'

'Against orders from home, Sire?'

'The Duke calls himself a soldier, Mr Pitt. I had not thought he would lose Hanover. I believed that he would have fought to the last man to save Hanover.'

'But, Sire...'

The King glared at his minister. 'That was my belief, sir.'

Mr Pitt despaired. What could one do with a man who believed what he wanted to believe, who twisted the facts to suit his own taste. Bremen and Verden had had to be saved at the cost of Hanover... why did he not admit it? Because he could not face the fact that Hanover was lost, and that he had agreed to its loss. Why? Because he was sentimental about Hanover. Because there he had lived in the first days of his married life, because there he had courted Madame Walmoden.

Pitt despised the little man, but shrugged aside his duplicity. There were more important matters ahead than the a.s.sessing of a King's character which would doubtless prove not worth the trouble.

'It is a small electorate, Sire,' he repeated, 'and there is Canada and America... needing our attention.'

Hanover lost! It was terrible. It was unthinkable. The King wept with emotion, thinking of the Alte Palais where he had lived in his boyhood; the old Leine Schloss where a.s.sa.s.sins had murdered his mother's lover, the Count of Knigsmarck, Herrenhausen where his grandmother had lived for so long and dreamed of becoming Queen of England. In the hands of the French!

I cannot bear to think of it, he mourned.

He had given his consent that it should be signed away. It was like betraying his family. He could imagine Caroline's eyes regarding him sorrowfully. What would she have said could she have been here? He could hear his father's voice cursing him in German.

George II of England who had lost Hanover to the French! He would not admit it... even here in the seclusion of his own apartments. It was not he who had lost it. It was that blockhead... Willie... who had been Caroline's favourite son. Her Duke of c.u.mberland whom she had said so many times she wished had been the eldest of the family instead of Fred. They had agreed that Willie would have been the better King. Willie had been brought up in England; he spoke English like an Englishman. He had always wanted to be a soldier. Willie had been their darling as a child. So bright... so loving. Different from the canaille Fred Caroline had declared. And now William was the one who had sold Hanover to the French. But the fault was William's, for no one was going to blame him, the King.

He had already forgotten that he had agreed with his German Council to save Bremen, Verden and the armies. The English had known nothing of this. None of their business, snorted George. But Mr Pitt had known. Mr Pitt was one of those men who were aware of everything.

It was a false step. He saw that now. Willie should have fought. He should have ignored the instructions of the German Council backed by his father.

It was true that after his agreement with the Council the King had had his misgivings and had even drafted a letter to Willie telling him to fight to hold Hanover at all costs.

He rummaged in a drawer and found a draft of the letter. It had never been sent, but its existence seemed to exonerate him, since it was a command to the Duke of c.u.mberland to fight and hold Hanover.

'I wrote that,' cried the King triumphantly. 'I told him to fight.'

The Princess Augusta was secretly delighted. 'Hanover lost!' she cried. 'This is c.u.mberland's doing.'

'It will be interesting to see His Majesty's reactions to Billy the Butcher now,' replied Bubb Dodington who was often in her company and that of Lord Bute.

'This is the son he would like to have seen King,' added Bute.

'Constantly comparing him with Fred,' agreed Bubb. 'I remember Fred could not stand the sight of him.'

'And I don't blame him. The Butcher! He would like to get our George under his wing.'

'And teach him how to be a soldier, I don't doubt,' retorted Bute with a sneer.

'And throw away his kingdom to the French,' put in Augusta.

'It strikes me,' said Bubb, 'that we're well rid of the place. It was constantly draining the exchequer and was not much good to us.' He shrugged and changed the subject. 'The Prince seems to have grown up lately.'

'Grown up!' cried the Princess, alert. 'What do you mean, sir?'

'I thought I detected a change in His Highness. A certain dignity... which wasn't there before. He seems to carry his head higher... Pleased with life and yet...'

'And yet, sir?'

'Well,' said Bubb 'he seems a little preoccupied with his thoughts.'

'George never has any thoughts,' said the Princess sharply. 'At least, if he has any misgivings he would bring them at once to one of us.'

'Then I daresay he has already told you of his... cares.'

'He confided in us,' said the Princess shortly.

'In everything!' added Bute.

When the Duke of c.u.mberland arrived at Court he was dumbfounded to find the cold reception which awaited him. He did not expect the welcome of a conquering hero naturally, but he had acted on orders and had obeyed the King's command, although it was contrary to his own inclinations. He was no coward; he had never been one to withdraw from a battle, even when the cause was hopeless. And in this instance he believed there had been a chance.