‘Cholmondeley,’ he cried, ‘I am frustrated at every turn! My father denies me the right which is every other English man’s— to fight for his country. I have offered my services and they are refused. I have pointed out that I have six brothers who could take my place if I should die in action. And what is the reply.

No! No! It has always been the same. It is not the first time I have offered to fight for my country and been refused the honour.’

‘As Prince of Wales, Your Highness—’

‘I know what you are going to say, Cholmondeley. And how can I gainsay it?

It’s true I’m the heir to the throne. It’s true that the state of my father’s health is— precarious. But I have brothers.’

‘But Your Highness is the Prince of Wales.’

But he had not summoned Cholmondeley to talk of war but of love.

‘Denied my rights as an Englishman and as a husband. Yes, my dear Cholmondeley, as a husband. Oh, I am not referring to that object with whom they made me go through a form of marriage but to my own dear wife, Maria Fitzherbert, with whom I can make no headway— no headway at all.’

‘I am sure Your Highness will in time.’

‘In time! Ever since I left the Princess Caroline, I have been trying to persuade Maria to come back to me. The answer is always No.’

Cholmondeley was thoughtful. There had been Lady Jersey, of course, and it might well be that Maria Fitzherbert was not absolutely certain that that affair was ended. But he would not remind the Prince of that lady for His Highness disliked being reminded of what he preferred to forget.

‘I do not think, Your Highness, that the lady will persist in holding out against you.’

‘She has so far. I sent her a copy of a will I made a few days after that public ceremony. In this, I left her everything I possessed and I referred to her as my dear wife, my second self, for that is how I shall always think of Maria.’

‘And still she is adamant?’

‘She does not answer most of my letters.’

‘Perhaps she fears to offend the Princess of Wales.’

‘Why should she? That woman is of importance whatsoever.’

Was His Highness unaware of the cheers which followed the Princess wherever she went? Was he unaware that the King was attached to her? And most important of all that the people of the Country were taking sides and they were supporting the Princess against the Prince.

‘And she continues to live in Ealing— Ealing, Cholmondeley— in a rather humble way when she could live in Pall Mall in splendour.’

‘Mrs. Fitzherbert has never been a woman to flaunt her position, Your Highness. She is, I think, the most regal lady I ever beheld but—’

The Prince’s eyes had become glazed with emotion.

‘Regal, indeed. If she could have been accepted as the Princess of Wales, I should have been the happiest man on Earth, Cholmondeley. As it is, I am thrust into this position and am the least happy. Although, if she came back to me—’

‘I heard Your Highness that the Princess of Wales expressed a wish that the reconciliation you hope for with Mrs Fitzherbert be successfully concluded to your mutual happiness.’

‘Did she say that? She has at least a good heart, though the most repulsive body in the world. I tell you Cholmondeley, I feel quite ill to think of it.’

‘Then perhaps Your Highness should refrain from doing so.’

The Prince was smiling. ‘So she said that, did she? It shows, does it not, that it is obviously the right solution— since even she is aware of it. To think that the one who is standing in the way of my happiness is Maria. She is breaking her marriage vows. Did she not swear to be with me for better or worse? It’s true, Cholmondeley, and I shall have no more of this. I am determined that she shall come back to me. And I will tell her that I command this. If she will not, I will make public the fact that I went through a ceremony of marriage with her. Her brother and uncle were witnesses at the ceremony. She is my wife, Cholmondeley, and by God, she shall be made to do her duty.’

Cholmondeley was startled, but he knew the Prince enough to realize that it was useless to attempt to restrain him.

Maria read the letter and turned pale. Miss Pigot was beside her. ‘What is it?

What now?’

‘You may read it,’ said Maria, and Miss Pigot picked up the letter which had fluttered to the floor.

Miss Pigot gave a short whistle. ‘So he’ll make a public statement that he’s married to you, will he? Well, I thought that was what you’d always wanted.’

‘You talk foolishly. Don’t you see that this would have been dangerous before the Princess Caroline came here. Now— It’s doubly so.’

‘Dangerous?’

‘If he proclaims our marriage then how can he be married to the Princess Caroline?’

‘That’s a question a lot of people might like to know the answer to. Perhaps if he did make this proclamation we should find out.’

‘You are not thinking of the consequences. Oh, he is mad— mad.’

‘Mad for you, my dear.’

‘You talk like a romantic fool, Piggy.’

‘It’s what I am, I suspect. But I should like to see you two happy together.

He’s a dear good man in spite of being a little naughty now and then. But think of that will of his. You see how he loves you. He calls you his wife, his angel, his soul— and that was only a few days after the birth of his daughter.’

‘Oh be silent, do, Pig!’

‘Well, I will if you want, but you’ve got to make your decision, haven’t you?

Think how he’s always looked after me. Five hundred a year he’s given me and dear boy, thinking he might be going to die, he worries about me and says I’m to have a place in one of the palaces after he’s gone. You must call that thoughtful of him.’

‘You were always his advocate. I suspect you of intriguing with him.’

‘It would only be for your happiness, my dear, and his.’

‘Oh, I know, I know. But he is driving me to distraction.’

‘I always knew you loved him.’

‘When did I ever deny it?’

‘It would have been no use, my dear I know you too well. Why, Maria, what’s the matter?’

‘It’s just struck me. If he is such a fool as to make a public announcement of our marriage you know what will happen, Pig. We shall all be found guilty of praemunire.’

‘What in the name of the saints is that?’

‘It’s offending against the Church. You see we knew of the Royal Marriage Act; we knew that the State would not accept his marriage to a commoner, and a Catholic at that, and we went through a church ceremony.’

‘You mean that that parson will be found guilty. What was his name?’

‘Burt. He’s dead so they can’t hurt him. But— oh, Piggy, I’ve just remembered. My brother and my uncle signed as witnesses. Heaven knows what will happen to them. They will be found guilty.’

Maria had risen and Miss Pigot rose too to stand beside her. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked anxiously.

Maria did not answer but hurried out of the room and into her bedroom, followed by Miss Pigot. There Maria took a strong box from a cupboard and drew out a document.

She studied it in some emotion for a few seconds. It recorded that on the 15th December 1785, George Augustus Frederick, Prince of Wales, had married Maria Fitzherbert.

Then deliberately she picked up a pair of scissors and cut out the names of John Smythe, her brother, and Henry, Harrington her uncle.

‘Maria,’ cried Miss Pigot aghast, ‘what are you doing?’

‘I am saving my brother and uncle from the disaster which would surely fall on them if my husband were so foolish as to carry out his threats.’

Miss Pigot could only stare in dismay at the mutilated marriage certificate.

‘Why don’t you give in!’ she said. ‘You know you will in the end.’

The Queen was sitting with the Princesses Augusta and Mary while they worked at their embroidery. The readers had been dismissed because the Queen wished to talk with her daughters and she did not want what she had to say to go outside the family.

The Prince of Wales was at Carlton House; so was his daughter; the Princess Caroline was at Blackheath but she was visiting Carlton House regularly to see her daughter and the child paid visits to her. The Queen would have liked to see Princess Caroline shut out completely from the family circle. She hated her daughter-in-law; this was only partly due to the fact that the Prince had chosen her in preference to her own niece Louise; the other reason was that she had hated Caroline’s mother.

When she had first come to England— a frightened inexperienced girl of seventeen— Caroline’s mother had spied on her, reported her actions to her mother-in-law and had in fact been one of the main causes for all the years of insignificance which had been hers during her long period of childbearing. Now she was discovering how exciting it was to have power. She was vindictive and she enjoyed having her revenge on her enemy’s daughter.

In any case, she assured herself, she disliked the Princess for herself alone; and she was irritated that the King should show such affection for her. He showed more for her than he did for his wife and was constantly defending her with the lady, surely it was for his sisters to play their small part in bringing about the reconciliation.

Miss Pigot was triumphant. It was clear that the royal family wished Maria to return to the Prince. But could she possibly hold out against such a weight of opinion? The Prince’s brothers had always been on his side so naturally since he wanted to return to Maria they would do their best to persuade her. But when the royal Princesses— whom she met at some of the houses to which she had received invitations it would have been churlish to refuse— actually approached her and hinted that the family wished for a reunion she could scarcely ignore such an approach. And when certain members of the Queen’s household suggested that Her Majesty had given similar hints, Maria knew that she must act.