* * *

Mr Fox chose a time when Mrs Robinson was out to call on her. He had his reasons for this. He had not been unaware of the lady’s maid. An extremely handsome woman he had noted, and he had a liking for handsome women; moreover, there was an air about this one which had specially intrigued him. Not only was she handsome but intelligent.

It was a matter of some importance to follow the course of Perdita’s romance with Florizel, because if the lady in fact became the Prince’s mistress and remained in that position when the Prince became a man of independence, Perdita could be a very significant person indeed.

Mr Fox had been present at the Oratorio and had witnessed the strange behaviour of the Prince; he had read the papers with those hints of the romance; he had heard rumours in Brooks’ and other clubs; and he had listened attentively.

But he wished to follow the affair more intimately and believed that if he had a friend inside Perdita’s establishment he could be completely in the picture and would not have to rely on hearsay.

A small matter in all his concerns? Not exactly. Because the Prince was destined to be in a position with relation to the Whigs that his father was with the Tories – and Mr Fox, being an ardent Whig and with nothing to hope for from the King or the Tory Party, was eager to bring back the Whigs to power – and who could be more helpful in this than the Prince of Wales?

The young man could not take his place in the Lords until he attained his real majority, that would be in 1783 – more than three years from now; but at eighteen he would gain his freedom and his own establishment and he must be drawn into the right circle before the time came for him to enter the Lords. Three years was not too long; and if Mr Fox was not ready, others would seize the advantage. Therefore the affair between the actress and the Prince was politics.

‘Madam is not at home.’ The young woman spoke coolly and none would have guessed that the sight of the famous politician had set her heart racing and her hopes soaring because she had a very strong notion that Mr Fox had been well aware that her mistress was not at home and that was why he had called.

Mr Fox had already entered.

‘Perhaps I could wait a while?’

‘I am sure that is what Madam would wish.’

‘And she would wish you to stay and have a civil word with me, I don’t doubt.’

‘It is my duty, sir, to be civil to all Madam’s friends.’

‘And mighty civil I am sure you are.’

Mrs Armistead curtsied and turned away, but he said: ‘Now, you promised to chat.’

‘I cannot imagine, sir, that a gentleman of your position would want to chat with a woman in mine.’

He smiled at her. ‘And I had imagined you to be a woman of … imagination.’

‘What would you wish of me, sir?’

‘To ask you first perhaps how a woman of your undoubted ability should be content to find herself a lady’s maid to an actress.’

‘I did not say I was content, sir.’

‘Ah.’ He smiled at her. He was a strangely fascinating man. She had thought him the most exciting of all those gentlemen who called on her mistress. Mr Charles James Fox who could make the King uneasy, who was said to be the most brilliant politician in Parliament, a rival to young Mr Pitt, to the Prime Minister, Lord North. He was scarcely attractive to the eye, for in this age of elegance he was noticeably slovenly. Now she could see the grease spots on his coat; he was too fat; he had a double chin and his paunch was obvious; he had not bothered to shave himself. She had heard that he thought nothing of losing twenty thousand guineas in a night’s gambling at Brooks’. But he was the great Charles James Fox and it excited her that he had noticed her.

‘Then I’ll swear that from your present post you are looking for a better one.’

‘Should not one always keep one’s eyes open for advantage, sir?’

‘Wise as well as beautiful.’ He moved closer to her and although she did not retreat she conveyed by her expression that she did not expect familiarities and for a moment her spirits sank, for she feared that he had come in merely for a quick physical encounter with the handsome lady’s maid who would be ready to serve Mr Fox in whatever capacity he thought fit for half an hour and then be forgotten. But that was not the intention of Mrs Armistead; nor must Mr Fox – famous as he might be – be deluded into thinking this could be.

He understood.

He said: ‘Shall we sit down?’

She led the way into the drawing room and with the utmost dignity seated herself some distance from the chair which he had selected.

‘I see that you are too clever for me to pretend my mission is other than it is.’

She inclined her head.

‘Mrs Robinson is on the way to becoming the mistress of the Prince of Wales,’ he went on. ‘I am sure you realize the significance of this.’

‘I do.’

‘The Prince is young and impressionable. And a mistress could hold considerable sway over such a romantically minded young man. It is very necessary for the heir to the throne to be guided by those who can do him most good.’

‘Such as Mr Charles James Fox?’ she asked.

‘Exactly. Exactly. The affair is hanging fire, is it not?’

‘It is many weeks since His Highness first saw Mrs Robinson in The Winter’s Tale and they have not yet met.’

‘Why.’

‘Mrs Robinson is a lady of much refinement.’ In some way Mrs Armistead managed to speak exactly as Perdita did in her most refined moments. ‘She wishes to be the Prince’s mistress but cannot bear to admit even to herself that this is so. She writes long letters telling him of his duty and urging him to consider his position.’

‘If she goes on in this way he will soon be considering some other fair charmer.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘It would be better if this matter were brought to a logical conclusion.’

‘Better for whom, sir? The Prince, Mrs Robinson or Mr Fox?’

He looked at her with admiration. ‘For all three,’ he said. ‘And possibly … for Mrs Armistead.’

‘Why should this last person be concerned, sir?’

‘Because her advancement could well depend on it.’

She nodded slowly.

‘Mrs Armistead, I should be glad to call you my friend.’

‘A simple lady’s maid is undeserving of the friendship of the greatest of statesmen.’

‘Not so simple, if I have guessed aright and it is ability at the guessing game which makes a great statesman.’

‘What is your wish?’

‘That you persuade your mistress to make the Prince a happy man and that you keep me informed of the lovers’ progress.’

‘Why should I serve you, sir, instead of the mistress who pays me?’

He felt in his pocket and she recoiled in haste.

‘I am not asking for money. I should not take it.’

He nodded. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘I would answer your question. You would serve me because you have no intention of remaining in a humble position for the rest of your days. It is you, my dear, who should have a lady’s maid. And I am sure that if you are as clever as I believe you to be, one day this will be so.’

She stood up, her eyes were bright, but she lost none of her serenity.

‘I know,’ he said, ‘I can rely on you.’

‘It will be an honour to serve Mr Fox,’ she said.

He moved towards her. She thought he was going to embrace her; but again she held him off with her eyes.

He accepted her decision, and when she showed him to the door, he bowed to her as he would have bowed to her mistress.

After his chair had carried him away she went to her room; she held the white and silver tissue dress against her.

Folly! she thought. I am being as foolish as our play actress. But from the way he looked, the way he spoke, it was obvious that he respected me.


* * *

On the evening of that day Fox made his way to Cumberland’s Mansion in Pall Mall where the Duchess received him with pleasure; and he was genuinely delighted to be in the company of this fascinating woman who had snared a royal duke and had kept her place in his affections because she was twenty times cleverer than he was. One of the most beautiful women in London – and she would have been so without the famous eyelashes – she was also one of the most witty; her wit was spiced with malice, it was true, and often expressed in the coarsest terms, but Fox admired and respected her.

‘A game of faro is what you want,’ she said.

Of course he wanted a game of faro. He could not see a gaming table without wanting to try his luck. A born gambler, always hoping for the success which never came, he had already lost a fortune. It was his sublime indifference to money which had helped to set him in his peculiar position, for it was not only money, but honours which he did not seek. It was enough to be Mr Charles James Fox – the man recognized as the most brilliant statesman of his country, and not only by his country but by all the courts of Europe. He was bold and independent, aloof from all blandishments, even of the King himself – for George had at one time known that if he could have had Mr Fox as an ally he could have left the Government in more capable hands than those which guarded it at present. For all his affection for North, the King was well aware of his deficiencies. But Fox had set himself up in opposition to Tory doctrines; Fox was a Whig; and he opposed every Tory measure with the most cutting scorn. Fox declared he was for the people and he was going to maintain their privileges in the face of all opposition.

Such a man could have been an irresistible power in the land but for the fact that he possessed a dual personality. The statesman of integrity was a voluptuary of the most blatant kind. Drink, women and the gaming table were his recreations; and as he was a man of unbounded energy he gave to these activities the same indefatigable enthusiasm that he did to politics. He took a new mistress more frequently than he took a bath; his debts ran into five figures; and it was only because through long practice he could drink most men insensible that he was rarely drunk.