No Place for Mrs. Fitzherbert

THE Prince of Wales had decided to celebrate his inauguration as Regent with the most dazzling of spectacles. This was to be held at Carlton House. Many members of the French Royal family, who were in England at this time, were to be guests; and there was talk of nothing else but this extremely grand occasion.

Maria, melancholy in the house in Tilney Street, wondered whether she would receive an invitation. Miss Pigot watched her anxiously.

Thank God, she thought, for darling Minney, who made up for so much. And how could Prinney be so tiresome? What could he see in that woman Hertford?

How could he compare her with Maria?

But he was infatuated by the creature and the talk about them was growing more and more insistent and the more so it became the sadder was poor Maria.

They did not discuss this in front of Minney of course, but when they were alone Maria said: ‘I doubt that I shall receive an invitation.’

‘What nonsense!’ cried Miss Pigot. ‘How could his wife not be invited?’

‘Quite easily because it is clear that he does not consider me to be his wife.’

‘Now that’s talk I won’t listen to. He does. He’s straying a bit now, I’ll confess, but that’s because he does think of you as his wife and he thinks he can have his little games and come back to you.’

‘He could be mistaken,’ said Maria with a show of temper, But how pleased she was when she received her invitation! Her pleasure was brief, however, because she soon learned that at the fête, there was to be a royal table at which the Prince would sit with his special guests including members of the French royal family. For the remainder of the guests there would be a buffet— for two thousand people had been invited— and those who used the buffet would naturally have to serve themselves.

‘Of course you’ll be at the royal table,’ said Miss Pigot. ‘How could it be otherwise?’

‘It could very well be otherwise,’ said Maria grimly. ‘But I shall see that it is not. I am going to discover whether or not I am expected to get my own supper at that buffet.’

‘How can you find out till you get there?’

‘Oh, can’t you see that this would be the ultimate humiliation? I have presided at dinners where that woman was the guest of honour because he wished it. But I will not consent to this. And I am going to Carlton House to ask him.’

Miss Pigot was nervous, but Maria insisted and called at Carlton House where she demanded to see the Prince.

He received her with some surprise but with a show of affection.

‘I have come to ask you where I am to sit at the banquet?’ she asked.

He was embarrassed. How could he explain that Lady Hertford did not expect her to have a place at the table and that he must please Lady Hertford? Maria should understand. It was not that he did not love her; but he was under the influence of the fascinating Lady Hertford and he must obey her wishes.

Maria did not make it easy. She was looking at him with cold dislike— yes, actually dislike.

He said, ‘You know, Madam, you have no place.’

‘None, sir,’ she answered curtly, ‘but such as you choose to give me.’

With that she left him— uneasy, embarrassed and angry with her for not understanding that he could not displease Lady Hertford.

She returned to Miss Pigot in a state of melancholy. ‘This is the end, Piggy.

This is really the end. I can endure no more.’

The Duke of York came to see her. His brother’s first act as Regent had been to reinstate him as Commander-in-Chief of the Army and as he was popular and had been exonerated from guilt in the Mary Anne Clarke scandal, there was no public objection to this. He was fond of Maria and deplored the rift between her and the Prince. She must go to the fête, he told her. People would notice if she were not there. The people accepted her; did she not know that?

‘Oh what use is the people’s acceptance if my husband repudiates me.’

Frederick remonstrated with the Prince who repeated what Lady Hertford had suggested. Maria must not take such a prominent place now that he was Regent, he pointed out. It was all very well for him when Prince of Wales to have a Catholic wife, but the people would not tolerate their Regent— who was in all but name their King— having one.

She would have to accept this for the future.

To this, Maria replied that she never would. But she did not prevent the ladies of her household going to the fête and even provided them with new dresses so that they could do so in style.

The fête was very splendid. The Regent in scarlet and gold lace was a brilliant figure wearing the garter and diamond star. The state apartments were hung with blue velvet embroidered with the fleur-de-lis in honour of the French visitors; the gowns of the women— the costumes of the men, their glittering jewellery— nothing had been seen to rival this for years.

But there were the inevitable malicious whispers.

‘Doesn’t His Highness look grand? And how odd! He is a Regent with two wives— both of whom have stayed at home.’

Maria knew this to be the end. She was not going to be relegated to the position he had planned for her.

It was necessary for political reasons, he said; and she granted this. But it was also necessary for personal reasons? Lady Hertford wished it. That was what decided Maria.

‘After all,’ she said, ‘perhaps we should be happier without him.’

‘Oh, Maria!’

‘I should have said: Perhaps I shall. The uncertainties of the last years have been unbearable at times. I am never sure of him. I cannot go on like that. I am his wife. I refuse to be regarded as his mistress. I am fifty-five years old. Surely that’s an age when one should have some dignity. And I have dearest Minney and you. I shall step quietly out of his life.’

And this she proceeded to do. He was uneasy and unhappy when he thought of her, but the chase for Lady Hertford must go on— it had always been so with him. The woman he was pursuing was always the all important factor in his life.

Maria was Maria. He would always regard her as his wife and did not wish to lose her. He wanted her always there in the background, to come back to be comforted when he needed it. But Maria was proud— she had more regality than any member of the royal family— and this time Maria said no.

The Duke of York remonstrated with him. He must settle Maria’s debts which had been incurred on his account; he must see that she was well provided for. It was to be an honourable settlement.

This, the Prince was ready to do.

‘If you only knew, Fred, I don’t want her to go. If only she would be reasonable.’

But his idea of reason was not Maria’s.

It was over. She would never go back to him again, she promised herself, no matter how much he insisted. She had finished with him.

She was a wealthy woman— she had no debts and there would be no occasions to incur them in future. She had her dearest Minney and she would make the care of this beloved adopted daughter her life.

‘We will manage very well without him,’ she told Miss Pigot.

And this time Miss Pigot knew that she meant it.

Caroline had a detailed account of the fête at Carlton House, all the glitter and splendour.

‘I should have been there, she said, faintly regretful, and for a moment gave herself up to contemplating what a life she might have had if the Prince of Wales had not taken such a dislike to her when he had first seen her. Wife to the Regent!

Yes, it might have been good fun! She laughed at the description of him in his splendid uniform.

Imagine him— well-corseted! But what’s the good of corsets for a paunch like that.’

Then she started to laugh but was soon melancholy again.

‘One of her moods,’ said Lady Charlotte to Mrs. Fitzgerald.

‘And poor Maria Fitzherbert, she was not there either,’ murmured the Princess. ‘I’m sorry about that. Oh, what a fool he is. He’s chasing that woman and she’ll never be his mistress. She’s too cold. She doesn’t care for him, only for the Regency. He is a stupid man, my fat husband. And the most stupid thing he ever did was to part from Maria Fitzherbert She’s his true wife— not me. He’s a great big fat fool to have broken with her!’

Then she started to laugh and Lady Charlotte tiptoed away to make an account of this in her diary.

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