Jean Plaidy - Perdita’s Prince

‘How pleased I should be,’ the Duchess whispered to her, ‘if our beloved Prince could be here.’

Perdita blushed becomingly; and the Duchess continued in the most friendly manner: ‘Perhaps in the future I shall have the pleasure of being hostess to you both … together.’

If that was not an indication that she would be accepted in some of the family circles, Perdita was not sure what was.

She went home flushed with triumph and confided in Mrs Armistead during her disrobing.

* * *

The Prince’s impatience was increasing. When, oh when, was he going to see her, to hold her in his arms, to tell her by word of mouth of his devotion. He could not live on letters for ever.

‘Patience,’ she replied. She would not have him act rashly. He must never forget that he was heir to the Crown.

To which he replied impetuously that he was ready to forget – and forgo – everything if he might but be the lover of Mrs Robinson. It was now May, nearly six months since he had seen her in The Winter’s Tale and he had not yet kissed her lips. Something must be done.

She was kept busy at the theatre. She played Mrs Brady in The Irish Widow and went on to a stupendous success in the part of Eliza Camply in The Miniature Picture. People crowded to the theatre to see her in this part because during it she masqueraded as Sir Harry Revel, which meant that she appeared on the stage in breeches. These set off her fine figure to perfection, revealing her shapely limbs, and the people went mad with joy over her, and demanded Mrs Robinson in more breeches parts.

When she appeared at Ranelagh or the Rotunda and the Pantheon, she was surrounded by people who came to look at her. She was becoming notorious, for many people believed that she was in fact the mistress of the Prince of Wales.

And then Lord Maiden came with a very special gift for her.

‘Madam,’ he said, ‘it is imperative that you give His Highness some satisfaction or I fear for his health. He is pining away. He has sent you this gift as a sign of his devotion and good faith. I beg of you accept it and help to restore His Highness to his former robust health.’

‘He is ill?’ She was all concern.

‘Pining for you, Madam.’

She opened the package and turned pale and then red as she glanced at it. It was a bond for twenty thousand pounds which His Highness would honour at his coming of age. This was sealed by the royal arms.

Twenty thousand pounds! How long would it take her to earn so much in the theatre with Mr Sheridan always hinting at cuts in salaries because in spite of full houses he could not make ends meet.

Twenty thousand pounds! It sounded almost as joyous as wedding bells in her ears.

There was a letter from Florizel. He implored her to take this gift because it would show her confidence in him. He hoped he had not offended her by offering it but it was given from the depth of his heart. He would like to lay all he had at the feet of his fair Perdita.

Her eyes filled with tears, but she did not let them fall; they were so disastrous to the complexion and she never for one moment forgot what an ardent admirer Lord Maiden was.

‘The Prince is the most generous of men, but I could not accept such a gift.’

‘But Madam, it will break His Highness’s heart if you don’t.’

‘Wrong constructions could be placed on such a gift.’

‘His Highness would be desolate if you placed any but the right ones.’

‘I know … I know … I never for one moment doubted his intentions. But if it were known …’

‘Why should it be known?’

‘You must take it away. Tell him the whole notion is repugnant to me.’

‘I dare not, Madam. You cannot believe how deeply upset the Prince can be on your account.’

‘How I wish he could have all he deserves.’

‘It is in your power to give it to him, Madam. I fear he will become ill if he does not see you soon.’

‘Take this away!’ She picked up the bond. Maiden laid his hand lightly on it but did not take it – nor did she release it.

‘At least do not make a hasty decision, Madam. Think of the Prince.’

‘I am thinking of him … constantly. Not what would be best for me but for him.’

‘Hold the bond here for a while, I beg of you. To return it now would be such a blow to him.’

‘Very well, I will do that. But I have no intention of taking it.’

Lord Maldon left and Mrs Armistead learned from her mistress that she had received the bond. She was even allowed to study it. ‘You are so clever at that sort of thing, Armistead.’

A bond sealed with the royal seal, for £20 000 to be paid when the Prince came of age. There was no doubt about it. There it was in black and white.

At the earliest opportunity she reported to Mr Fox.

‘She says she will not take it but she will. She studies it even more constantly than she does his letters … and more lovingly. She will accept it.’

‘And once she has,’ mused Mr Fox, for he was finding Mrs Armistead worth a confidence or two, ‘the meeting will take place. The Prince will gain a mistress and I shall lose a thousand guineas.’

He kissed Mrs Armistead lightly on the forehead as though to say, Well done, thou good and faithful servant.

Their relationship was changing. Attraction was springing up between them which might have seemed incongruous. She was so neat, fastidious in her cleanliness; he so slovenly; she a servant in the house of an actress and he a welcome guest in high society.

They were both aware of the incongruity of this attraction because it was of the mind as well as the body; but it was none the less irresistible because of this.

* * *

She would keep the bond, she explained to Lord Malden, because she feared that to return it would hurt the Prince’s susceptibilities.

‘It is true,’ replied Malden.

‘I fear it to be a little indelicate to take it … but I see no alternative.’

There was no alternative, Malden assured her.

And she bowed her head.

And each day she looked at it, at those magic words: ‘Twenty thousand pounds’, and the royal seal. It is after all, she told herself, a measure of his devotion to me. I must try to see it in the spirit in which it is meant.

* * *

And after accepting the bond it was a short step to a meeting.

When? the Prince was constantly demanding, and Perdita knew that she could hold out no longer.

She explained to Lord Malden.

‘The Prince is asking me to give up my career, my husband … my reputation for his sake. Oh, do not mistake me. I would gladly give my life for him. I fear, though, the anger of the King and Queen. And what if he should change towards me? I should have no wish to live.’

Lord Maiden reminded her of the paper heart which had come with the miniature. ‘Unalterable to my Perdita through Life.’

‘Madam, all this time when you have refused to meet him he has been faithful. How much more so will he be when you are his.’

‘Do you believe that, Lord Malden?’

‘With all my heart,’ said Malden.

‘And when the world knows what I have done …’

‘Yours is a triumph of chastity,’ he told her.

A triumph of chastity! The expression appealed to her. Yes, she could see it that way. For nearly six months the Prince had sighed for her, implored her to meet him; and always she had replied that he must consider his position, that she must not think of her own desires but what was best for him.

And now at last she was capitulating; and it was a triumph of chastity.

THE PRINCE WAS delighted, impatient and angry. The meeting must take place, but where? Never before had he raged so fiercely against the way he was treated. Here he was almost eighteen and a Prince of Wales and he could not freely arrange a meeting with the lady of his choice! Their meeting must be a secret in case it reached the ears of his parents.

He paced up and down his apartments, raging to Frederick and Lord Malden.

‘You remember where you used to meet Harriot Vernon,’ suggested Frederick.

‘I could never meet Perdita there.’

‘My house in Dean Street is at Your Highness’s service,’ said Malden.

The Prince looked hopeful. ‘That’s a better idea.’

‘But,’ said Frederick, ‘you could never go to Dean Street and it not be known. People recognize you passing through the streets. Moreover, it is too far. You would be away too long. There would be inquiries. What if the King decided to send for you as he did for that game of chess?’

The Prince looked in dismay at his brother. Frederick was right.

‘There is only one answer,’ he said. ‘She must come to Kew.’

‘To Kew, sir!’ cried Malden, aghast.

Frederick’s eyes were alight with excitement. ‘We shall smuggle her into the Dower House. She should come in breeches – her Sir Harry Revel costume … and no one would know who she was.’

‘It’s the answer,’ said the Prince. ‘Fred, you have talent.’

* * *

‘In breeches!’ cried Perdita, aghast. ‘That would be quite out of the question. I should feel so … indelicate.’

‘It would mean,’ Lord Maiden explained, ‘that you would not be easily recognized.’

‘And if I were? Imagine! The scandal! Oh no, no. I could not do it.’

‘It was the best plan we could think of.’

‘I could never do it,’ said Perdita firmly.