‘The Princess of Wales is certainly a very strange woman.’

‘Strange! She’s half-mad. She behaves like a maniac. These Douglases have done the right thing in bringing this to public notice. Before this investigation is through I hope – by God, how I hope – to prove that this so-called wife of mine is an immoral creature unworthy in every way to bear any title that has come to her since she arrived in England. I am going to prove this, Maria. I am determined.’

‘You upset yourself. We can only wait for the verdict, as with Minney. Let us pray that it will be the right one in both cases. But because you have such a kind heart you will, I know, not blame that poor child for her mother’s shortcomings. You will be kind to her and make her love you. I am sure that she longs for a little kindness from you. Will you try it … to please me.’

His good humour was coming back. He saw himself as the kindly parent who would not allow the child to suffer for her parent’s wrongdoing. He would win her allegiance from her mother. And at the same time he would please his dearest love.

He took her hand and kissed it.

‘You may rely on me to do what you ask of me … at all times,’ he said.

The people on the Steyne looked up and saw him.

They were delighted with him and Maria, who had always been a favourite. It was one of the sights of Brighton to see him sitting there on her balcony, tender and affectionate. In Brighton Mrs Fitzherbert was the Princess of Wales, not that other woman who was now causing such a scandal through what was being revealed in this case they called the Delicate Investigation.

The royal lovers, how charming they were – two large, not very young figures up there, but a reminder to all who were not so young that youth was not necessary to romance.

And no one saw him leave the Pavilion; he just appeared on the balcony. They said there was a secret passage from the Pavilion to Mrs Fitzherbert’s house which he had had made so that he could visit her at all times unseen.

How romantic! How charming! Trust the Prince of Wales to provide them with some excitement.

So they passed to and fro below and occasionally they caught his eyes when he would nod or smile and on some occasions rise and give them the chance to witness the most graceful bow in the world.

Maria took an early opportunity of calling on Lady Hertford, who received her graciously. Lady Hertford was by no means a beauty but married to one of the richest Tory peers in the country, she had a very high opinion of herself. She was always elegantly dressed, her only frivolity being her interest in clothes; this was instinctive and she was reckoned to be the best-dressed woman in England.

She had been friendly towards Maria in spite of the fact that she was an ardent Protestant; it was true, Maria – as far as she was concerned with politics – had Tory tendencies, and Lady Hertford was an ardent Tory and as the two reigning passions in her life were maintaining Toryism and achieving elegance this gave them something in common. At the same time Maria’s position with the Prince of Wales was rather dubious and although Maria lived as respectably as one could wish, Lady Hertford was extremely frigid by nature and averse to the slightest scandal. Still, she looked on Maria, if not as a friend, as a worthy acquaintance.

So now she took her hand with as much warmth as she was capable of and bade her welcome.

‘My dear Isabella,’ said Maria, ‘I have come to speak to you of a matter which causes me a great deal of concern, and I am going to ask you if you can help me. The Prince will join his supplication to mine.’

‘The Prince?’ said Lady Hertford.

‘Oh, yes, he is almost as involved as I am over this because he loves the child dearly. I refer to your relative, Mary Seymour.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Lady Hertford, ‘this pitiful case. The family seems determined to take Mary away from you.’

‘And I – and the Prince – will do all we can to prevent it. You see, Isabella, Minney – our name for her – is like my own child. I have had her since she was a baby. It will break her heart and mine if they separate us.’

‘I understand that the child’s Aunt Waldegrave wants to take her.’

‘Why?’ demanded Maria. ‘If she loved the child she would want to make her happy and Minney is happy with me.’

‘Mary regards you as her mother,’ said Lady Hertford with the air of Solomon. ‘It is certainly wrong to take her from you.’

Maria was delighted for it appeared that Lady Hertford was on her side.

‘You say the Prince will be displeased if they win this case?’

‘I don’t think he will ever forgive them. You see he is very fond of Minney … and she of him. You should see her climb on his knee and inspect his clothes. She calls him her Prinney. Oh, Isabella, if you could see those two together! I know he will be desolate if she is taken from us … for her sake as well as mine.’

Lady Hertford was thoughtful. The Prince supported the Whigs. What a triumph if she could be the means of bringing him over to the Tories! The old King was ailing. In fact there were rumours that he was often incoherent. He had had one unfortunate bout when there had almost been a Regency. The Prince of today could be the King of tomorrow.

She said: ‘I think, Maria, that I might speak to my husband about this. He is after all the head of the family and if anyone should decide this child’s future it is he … and not some band of lawyers.’

‘Oh, Isabella, that is exactly what I think.’

‘I could speak to him.’

‘If you would you would earn my eternal gratitude … and the Prince’s.’

‘Leave this to me, Maria. I will see what can be done. Now, could you drink a dish of tea?’

Lady Hertford lost no time in telling her husband about Maria’s visit.

Francis Seymour, second Marquis of Hertford, was a man of great political ambition. He had spent some forty years in the House of Commons and had been Lord of the Treasury in Lord North’s administration. When his father was created Marquis of Hertford he had become Earl of Yarmouth and taken his place in the Lords.

Isabella was his second wife; she was rich in her own right and her husband respected her opinions; therefore he listened intently to what she had to tell him.

She folded her beautiful hands in her lap and said somewhat primly: ‘The child’s place is clearly with Maria Fitzherbert. It would be cruel to take her from her. She is happy there. Besides, it would displease the Prince.’

‘Yet,’ pointed out Lord Hertford, ‘it might be better for her to be brought up with her own family. It is not as though she is alone in the world.’

‘My dear Francis, Mary has been well looked after with Mrs Fitzherbert all these years. I am sure it would be most harmful to remove her now. I think the Prince will never forgive Henry for being so insistent.’

‘He’ll fare none the worse with the King for suffering the Prince’s displeasure.’

‘The Prince is but the Prince … as yet. Should we not look to the future?’

‘One should always look to the future.’

‘Maria Fitzherbert says that His Royal Highness will be speaking to you soon on this matter. I think you should shake your head and say that it is very difficult but that you will do your best to please him. Let him think that you wish to work for him, to please him. And then perhaps in due course let Maria Fitzherbert have the child.’

‘But if the law says her Aunt Waldegrave is to have her …’

‘My dear Francis, are you the head of the family or not? Let the case proceed. Let them, if they will, give the custody of Mary to Lord Henry. Then you step in as head of the family and declare that the best guardian for Mary Seymour is Maria Fitzherbert. That, my dear Francis, will bring you the Prince’s eternal gratitude … or as lasting as is possible with His Highness.’

Lord Hertford smiled at his cool, elegant wife. ‘You are right, as usual, Isabella,’ he said.

The Prince kept his word. He intimated that he would like to visit the Hertfords and was cordially welcomed at their house. He discussed at great length his desire to see Mary Seymour happily settled with Maria and the Hertfords both pledged their support.

‘Your Highness realizes the difficulty,’ Lady Hertford said. ‘For myself and my husband there is no question of what is best, but Henry is stubborn I fear and having started this case he is determined to go on with it. We must try to find a way of outwitting him.’

The Prince looked at this elegant woman and thought her enchanting. There was something about her which was so graceful. What a figure! And so well did she carry herself that it was a joy to see her walk across a room. Her gown was exquisite. She reminded him of a china ornament – a collector’s piece – cool, aloof, unattainable … almost. It was a long time since he had seen a woman who attracted him in a certain way as yet indefinable.

He was glad that this affair had sent him to the Hertfords.

They must discuss the matter in detail, said Lady Hertford, because if they did so they might discover some way out of the difficulty.

She gave the Prince her gracious smile that was completely without warmth. ‘I have no doubt,’ she said, ‘that this court will award the child’s guardianship to her family. So we shall have to work out a way from there.’

The Prince was completely fascinated.

‘I am sure we can,’ she added, ‘if we but set our minds to it, and both my husband and I feel strongly that the best solution is for Mary to remain with Mrs Fitzherbert.’

The Prince would have seized her hand and kissed it, but without seeming to do so she managed to evade him.