Sweet lass of Richmond Hill

The Regency Bill

The Prince rode out to Bagshot from Windsor where, in the parlour of a hostelry, he found Sheridan and Maria waiting for him.

He embraced Maria warmly and Sheridan almost equally so.

"This is going to be a very big change in our fortunes," he said, looking earnestly at Maria.

"My only hope is that all will go well with you," she answered.

"A Duchess first," he whispered, "and then, by God, you shall be acknowledged Princess of Wales."

"You think too far ahead, my love," said Maria gently; but she was pleased. He knew that the dearest wish of her life was not for fine titles and riches but to be acknowledged as his wife—though of course that acknowledgement could only mean that she had a right to the second highest title a woman could attain.

Sheridan said: "We must act with care at this stage, Your Highness. It is to discuss our moves that I thought we three should meet."

They sat down and talked.

Fox must come back as soon as possible, said Sheridan.

The Prince looked anxiously at Maria who was naturally not at all pleased at the thought of the return of the man who had, she had said, treated her as though she were a street walker, but she knew of his brilliance; she knew he was the natural leader of the Whigs and she knew too how important the Whigs were to the Prince. Yes, she reluctantly agreed, Fox must be brought back.

Both Sheridan and the Prince were relieved. But one could trust Maria's good sense and her greatest concern really was for her husband's well-being even if this should be brought about ;it her own discomfiture.

"So we will pursue the hunt for Fox without delay," said Sheridan, not mentioning to Maria that the hunt had already been in progress for days and that he—and the Prince—were disturbed because the statesman seemed difficult to find. He had been traced to Geneva but had left a week or so before the messenger arrived and none there knew of his next destination.

Sheridan, whose ambition was great, realized that the task before him was one for a practised politician; he was scarcely that, and to take a false step at such an important stage could ruin his political future. He loved the excitement of politics; he was deeply in debt all round, partly because he neglected the business of earning a living in the theatre for the sake of the excitement politics offered—and he was a drinker, a gambler and spendthrift. So he dared not take a wrong step; he needed Fox.

"There are two alternatives," he said. "Your Highness could in a few weeks' time be King of England ..."

"The King seemed strong enough when he seized me," replied the Prince. "I don't think the trouble is his physical health."

Sheridan replied: "If the King were mad and still continued to live, there would be a Regency."

A Regent should have the power of a king," said the Prince.

"It would depend, Your Highness, on what power the Parliament gave him. Your Highness should not forget that we shall have Mr. Pitt to deal with."

The Prince's eyes narrowed. Mr. Pitt, the enemy! The man who had forced the denial of the marriage out of Fox!

"We can be sure," he said grimly, "that Mr. Pitt will do his utmost to deny me my rights."

Sheridan nodded. "That." he said, "is why we need Charles James Fox who, while he will serve Your Highness with all his power, will be mightily diverted to discountenance Mr. Pitt."

Oh yes, even Maria had to agree that they needed Mr. Fox.

In an easy chair in his lodgings in the town of Bologna Mr. Fox stretched himself with ease. In a few moments Lizzie would come in with a dish of tea to revive him after his afternoon's nap. It was a pleasure to watch Lizzie move across the room. What a graceful creature she was! Italy suited her; and so did this wandering existence. She was never ruffled, and such an intelligent companion. Lizzie had all the qualities he looked for in a woman. Now if he had known Lizzie when he was a young man, and if at that time he had had the wisdom to recognize her qualities, he would never have led the life he had. But then it was due to his adventures with so many members of her sex that he was able to appreciate her. Perhaps, he thought, he would marry her one day. Why not?

This was the life. Politics? Well, yes, he had to admit that his greatest ambition had been to be Prime Minister; but that affair of the marriage and the Prince's deception had made him want to turn his back on Westminster. And so here he was in Italy—and what treasures of art, architecture and music he, and Lizzie with him, had discovered there! He believed this period of travel might well be the happiest of h& life.

Where should they go from here? When Lizzie came in with the tea they would discuss the next move.

He yawned pleasurably and here was Lizzie although it was not quite time and she was holding letters in her hand.

Letters? he thought. But he had left no address in England, his sole purpose being to get away. He had not even wanted to know what was happening there so he had asked that no news sheets or papers should be sent to him. So what could Lizzie be doing with letters?

She was as unhurried as usual as she said to him: "They have tracked you down."

"London?" he said.

She gave him two letters. "There is a messenger outside. He has been chasing all over Europe looking for you, he tells me. He has lately come from Geneva and somehow traced you to this place."

"Good God!" cried Fox. "What can this mean?"

He was opening one of the letters. "Burke," he said. He read it through and handed it to her. The other letter was from Sheridan.

There was a brief silence and then he said: "The King is ill ... seriously ill. So our young Prince will soon be king. You know what this is going to mean for the Whigs."

"That Mr. Fox will lead them to power?"

He was grinning at her.

"But Mr. Fox said only yesterday that he was done with politics."

"Mr. Fox, Madam, can now and then talk nonsense."

"So I thought at the time," said Lizzie. "When do you wish to leave?"

"I shall answer these letters to tell them I am returning with all speed, then go, while you make the necessary preparations to follow me to London as soon as possible. There must be nothing to detain me."

"Nothing at all," said Lizzie, and left him.

The messenger departed with all speed and shortly afterwards Fox set out on his journey, leaving Lizzie to settle their affairs and follow. He was travelling through France when the news reached him that the King was mad.

This, he thought, will mean a Regency.

His eyes were already sparkling with the light of battle. He must press on with all speed. Lizzie would have been concerned for his health had she been here, for he was too impatient to be back to pause long enough to rest adequately. He arrived in London on November 24th, which meant that the journey had taken only nine days. Remarkable speed—but when Lizzie arrived she would see the effect it had had on him. But that was nothing. Once let him get to the House and he would show Pitt that he could not have all his own way while Fox was there to prevent him.

Mr. Pitt travelled down to Windsor. The Prince, who had returned from Bagshot, declined to see him, and Mr. Pitt therefore asked for an audience with the Queen.

Charlotte received him gratefully. It was the first time she had been included in any State matter and she was appreciative of Mr. Pitt's obvious respect for her.

He asked her questions about the King's condition and she answered as frankly as she could, for there was no possibility now of hiding the fact that the King was mad.

"Your Majesty." said Mr. Pitt, "the possibilities are that Parliament will decide that a Regency is necessary and the Prince of Wales will expect to be the Regent."

"That, Mr. Pitt," said the Queen firmly, "is scarcely a state of affairs which would please me..." She amended that immediately to, "which would please us."

Mr. Pitt admitted this. "I doubt that I should remain long in office."

"And it is essential that you should, Mr. Pitt."

The Prime Minister bowed his head. It was an acknowledgment that he and the Queen were allies and he decided to take the Queen into his confidence. "If His Highness should attain the Regency," he said, "it will be necessary to restrict his power wherever possible."

The Queen agreed that this was so.

" I had been thinking of a joint Regency ... with perhaps Your Majesty as one of its members."

The Queen's sallow face flushed a little. This was triumph such as she had never dreamed of. But she was not a fool. She did not believe for one moment that she would be allowed by Mr. Pitt or the Prince of Wales to exert her power over Parliament. But there was one way in which she could have perhaps as much influence as any; that was if she had the care of the King. Suppose this bout was like that other—as temporary as that. Why not! It was not impossible.

"I believe, Mr. Pitt," she said, "that it is better for me to take no part in politics but to devote myself to His Majesty. If I were his sole guardian for as long as this unhappy malady continues, I believe I could be of the greatest service."

Mr. Pitt was pleased. The Queen was a woman of sound good sense. They could indeed be allies.

The Queen was frightened. She was never quite sure what the King would do. He terrified her because he called for her constantly. She had moved into a bedroom which was next to his and he seemed to have an obsession that his enemies were trying to separate him from her. All night long she would hear his rambling conversations, shouting at first, and then as his voice began to fail him growing hoarser and hoarser until just a vague whispering came from the other side of the wall. She would not forget that dreadful night when he had attempted to murder the Prince of Wales. He had always been a kindly man but there had been murder in his face that night, and after witnessing that violent scene she could no longer feel safe. What if he were to turn against her} That very night he had escaped from his equerries and come into the room she occupied and, holding a lighted candle in his hand, had drawn the bed curtains and stood there looking down at her. She had feared that he had come to set the curtains alight as he cried: "Yes, you are still here. I see you are still here. I thought the Queen would be here. I know she would not desert me." And then seeing the frightened face of Miss Goldsworthy who had come hurrying in from the adjoining chamber: "Ah, my honest Gooley, you will take care of the Queen." And he had taken Goolcy's arm and paced up and down the room talking, talking, talking, until she had thought he would drive her mad too. It had seemed so frighteningly long before they took him away.

Now his illness was accepted and the Prince was trying to take over his father's authority.

She could not understand her emotions. She hated the Prince. It was incredible. This was her son, the boy whom she had loved more than all the rest of the children put together. What had come over her?

It is because I longed for his love, she told herself, and all Julias done is to despise me.

But she would not allow herself to think such a thing. She was against him because he wished to usurp his father's power.

Miss Burney came in and, standing before her, burst into tears. The Queen stared at this unusual maid of honour, and suddenly they were crying together.

"Your pardon, Madam."

"There is no need to ask it, Miss Burney. I thank you. You have made me weep ... and I think it is what I needed."

So they sat side by side and wiped their eyes and the Queen felt comforted.

"Mamma," said the Princess Royal, "Dr. Warren is here."

"Dr. Warren. I have not sent for him."

"So I thought, Mamma. But he has come and he is being most arrogant and Sir George Baker is not very pleased for he says that he is in charge of His Majesty."

Tray send someone to this Dr. Warren and tell him that I wish to see him without delay."

The Princess Royal did as she was bid and came back to the Queen to present Her Majesty with her snuff box. Absent-mindedly the Queen took a pinch; but there was no comfort in anything these days.

One of the pages scratched at the door and the Princess Royal bade him enter.

"Your Majesty," said the boy, bowing low, "Dr. Warren sends his compliments but regrets he is too busily engaged with his duties at this moment to wait on Your Majesty. He will do so at his earliest convenience."

The page bowed low and obviously after having delivered such a message was glad to escape. The Queen's mouth tightened and she said: "I can scarcely believe that I have heard aright."

"Oh, Mamma," cried the Princess, "they arc saying that Dr. Warren is the choice of the Prince of Wales and that he is here to serve the Prince ... that he has the Prince's authority for all he does ..."

"Insulting the Queen, I daresay," said the Queen grimly.

The Princess Royal sat on the footstool at her mother's feet and looked up at her anxiously. She too was remembering that dreadful scene at the dinner table when her father had attempted to murder her brother.

What will become of us all?" she asked. God alone knows," answered the Queen.

Dr. Warren and the Prince had decided that the King should go to Kew.

"There," said the Prince, "lie will be restful. He was always fond of Kew. As for my mother," he went on, "I believe she should go to Buckingham House or perhaps stay at Windsor. The King is so clouded in his mind that he will be much better alone with the doctors."

His brother Frederick agreed with him, and when his uncles Gloucester and Cumberland called they made it clear that they already regarded the Prince of Wales as the ruler.

He was gratified. No more would that mad old man dictate to him. No one should dictate to him; that was why he was going to teach the Queen a lesson for he was sure she still saw him as a little boy to be guided by his parents.

It was the Princess Royal once more who brought the news to her mother.

"I have heard them discussing it, Mamma," she said. "They are going to take the King away from us."

"Indeed they are not."

"Oh yes, Mamma, they are. George has given orders that they are to prepare for the journey to Kew."

"I will see the Prince of Wales," said the Queen.

She went to his apartments where he received her coldly.

"What is this I hear about His Majesty's going to Kew?" she demanded.

"I and his doctors think it best."

And I am not to be consulted?"

"No, Madam."

"I think you forget that I am the Queen."

"It is perhaps Your Majesty who is forgetful of my position."

He was looking at her with the cold eyes of contempt. If only he had smiled at her even then, had asked for her help, her sympathy, she would have weakened. But of course he did nothing of the sort. He just stood regarding her arrogantly, implying that she was of no account and that he was the master now.

"It is monstrous that you should propose to take the King to Kew without consulting me."

"Madam, as you will not be going with him it did not occur to us to consult you. You are to live ... at peace either at Buckingham House or Windsor. You may take your choice."

"How kind, how understanding of you to give me a choice."

"Well, Madam, I wish to please if possible."

"Enough of this. Where the King is there shall I be. You forget I am his wife."

"Madam, my plans ..."

She snapped her fingers. "My plan is to stay with the King and my place is at his side. I believe that His Majesty's ministers will agree with me, and would not take kindly to any plan to separate a sick husband from his wife."

The Prince was silent.

She went on: "It was suggested that, should there be a Regency, I should share in it, but I have said my place is to care for the King. Should I be ousted from that place, there might be another waiting for me. And if I was kept from my duty to the King I might take it."

As she walked from the room he knew she was right and that he had been foolish to talk of separating them. He would have to give way.

The first round of the battle was a victory for the Queen.

The Prince left for Kew, having given orders that his mother and sisters with their attendants were to follow. The King was to come on later.

At Kew the Prince decided which rooms should be allotted to whom and actually wrote the names of the people who should occupy them over the doors.

The Queen's apartments were immediately above the King's and he decided that she could not occupy these for fear of disturbing His Majesty; therefore he selected a bedroom and drawing room for her which were not very commodious, but, as he said to his equerry, she would come so therefore she must make do with what accommodation there was. As for some of her maids of honour, they would have to be content with the servants' rooms.

From one of the windows he saw his mother arrive, surrounded by her weeping daughters.

At Windsor the King paced up and down his bedroom and shouted: "Where do you wish to take me, eh, what? To Kew? I will not go to Kew. What should I go to Kew for if I do not wish it, eh, what? Tell me that! Kew ... I do not wish to go to Kew..." And so on in such a strain, his voice rising higher and higher until there was little of it left and he could only croak.

Colonel Digby reminded him that he had always been particularly fond of Kew.

" No longer," cried the King. "I will not go to Kew. I know what you people are after. You want to shut me up there. Do you, eh, what?"

They only wanted him to be comfortable, they told him.

"You want to separate me from the Queen, eh, what? You are trying to take her from me. Queen Elizabeth ... She's my Queen..."

The equerries looked mystified until Digby nodded, remembering the King's glances at Lady Elizabeth Pembroke. The poor old man was very far gone if he believed he was married to Elizabeth Pembroke.

"The Queen," cried the King. "I want the Queen. You have separated us. Oh yes you have. You have taken the Queen from me. You have decided that she shall not be with me, eh, what?"

Colonel Digby said: "Your Majesty, the Queen has gone ahead to Kew. She is waiting there to welcome you."

"Eh, what? The Queen at Kew?"

Digby assured His Majesty that this was indeed the truth; and thus was enabled to persuade him to enter his carriage. And so the poor deranged King came to Kew.

The Queen watched the King's arrival. Oh, God, she thought, is that poor shambling creature the King? And she thought of him as he had been when she first saw him: young, handsome in his way with his fresh complexion and his blue eyes, and kindly too, not letting her guess that he had married her with the utmost reluctance.

And now ... he had come to this. There was General Harcourt and Colonel Goldsworthy with him, helping him in; she could hear his voice, hoarse and yet somehow audible; and she wondered if he had been shouting during the journey.

"Oh, Mamma. Mamma." It was her daughter Augusta who was beside her, taking her hand and pressing it.

"My daughter," said the Queen, "your father has come to Kew. It is fitting that we should be together at such a time."

Augusta began to cry. "Everything is so different, Mamma. Everything is changed."

"Yes" agreed the Queen, "I fear nothing will be the same again."

She felt her lips tremble uncontrollably and Augusta seeing her emotion said: "Mamma, may I sleep in your bedchamber tonight? I will have a small tent bed put up and I promise not to disturb you ... only to be a comfort."

The Queen pressed her daughter's hand. "It is strange," she said, "that Queens should pray for sons. It is daughters who are a comfort to them."

Immediately on his arrival in England Fox arranged to meet the Prince at Carlton House. The Prince received his old friend with tears in his eyes.

"By God, Charles, it is a relief to see you here."

"And a relief to be here, Your Highness."

"I had feared we should never find you."

"As soon as I knew my services were required I came at full speed."

"And Lizzie?"

"She is following. I doubt her return will be long delayed."

"Now to business, Charles."

"Indeed so, Your Highness. I hear there is a little improvement in His Majesty's general health."

"That's true." The Prince spoke almost ruefully and added quickly: "In his state his death would be the best possible solution for himself more than any of us. I cannot tell you how mad he is, Charles. A raving lunatic."

"Sad, very sad. And likely to remain so?"

"Dr. Warren thinks so. The other doctors hold out hope of his return to sanity. But they arc doubtless primed by the Queen."

"Her Majesty shows unusual spirit."

"She has changed ... completely. Now she has given up bearing children I believe she fancies herself as a powerful influence on the country's affairs."

"She could have some influence, Your Highness. We should not lose sight of that."

"She seems to have formed an alliance with Pitt."

"Then we must indeed be watchful of her. Your Highness, we need Portland's assistance. It would be helpful if you could forget your quarrel with him."

The Prince scowled. "He showed himself to be no friend of mine over that matter of my debts."

"Nevertheless, Your Highness, we need him."

The Prince was silent for a moment. "Very well," he said. "Shake him by the hand and tell him that I hope everything that is past may be forgotten between us."

"Excellent," murmured Fox.

"I will ask Maria to receive him at Pall Mall."

Fox was silent. Would Maria receive Charles James Fox?

Oh, curse the woman! The pity of it was that the Prince had ever become influenced by her. She was the reason for his exile; she could now be his biggest enemy.

"Maria will see that Portland forgets his grievances," said the Prince with a fond smile.

That may be, thought Fox, but how will she behave towards me?

At least the quarrel between the Prince and Portland would be mended and that was the first step forward.

Now, he explained, they must see that the Regency passed to the Prince with all the powers of kingship, for they could be sure Pitt would do everything in his power to curtail the Prince's.

Maria had arrived from Brighton with the Sheridans whose own house was now occupied by the bailiffs.

"Guests," declared Sheridan, "whom we can scarcely call welcome."

Maria, who had herself, since her association with the Prince, suffered from the visits of such "guests', was sympathetic.

"You and Elizabeth must stay with me until something can be done to dislodge your guests," she told Sheridan, who was delighted at the prospect.

In his bedroom in the magnificent Pall Mall house he discussed the future with Elizabeth.

"A temporary embarrassment, my love. When the Prince is Regent, when we are in power, there'll be a very important place for me in the Government. Make no mistake about that."

"Will it pay our debts, Richard?"

"My dearest, who is going to worry about the debts of the ... er ... what shall it be? What post would you choose for me?"

"I would choose that of the solvent man."

That made him laugh. "Elizabeth, you have no spirit of adventure?"

He took her by the shoulders and looked into her face. Now she could see clearly what dissipation had done to those once handsome looks.

Oh, Richard, she thought, where are you going?

She released herself and made a desperate effort to restrain her fit of coughing.

Maria was concerned by Elizabeth's pallor and Miss Pigot made one of her special cough mixtures for her. Maria was very fond of Elizabeth. Sheridan was witty and amusing and she believed a good friend of the Prince, but it was Elizabeth whom she loved.

The Prince had asked her to receive the Duke of Portland and she had sent an invitation to him which he had been delighted to accept, and he had shown his appreciation of her intelligence by discussing the situation with her. After that he had called several times and he, Sheridan and sometimes the Prince had had discussions together.

It would have been useful, Portland had implied, if Fox could have joined them.

It is one thing I will not do, Maria had decided. I will never have that man in my house.

The Sheridans came into her drawing room. Delightful guests, she thought. Sheridan so entertaining; Elizabeth so charming.

"We have half an hour before my guests are due," she told him. "Pray be seated, Elizabeth, my dear. Did you take Pig's potion? You will be in her black books if you did not."

Elizabeth assured her that she had taken the evil-tasting concoction. "And I have not coughed since."

Dear Elizabeth! She needed the quiet of the country; she needed a respite from anxiety. They were of a kind. Why should they fall in love and marry—yes marry —men who were so different from themselves?

"Portland will be coming tonight, I suppose," asked Sheridan.

"My dear Sherry, he almost asked himself. He seems to regard my house as the headquarters of his party, which is comical, considering my politics."

Sheridan laughed. "Delightfully incongruous."

"And Portland is a little jealous of you, Sherry."

"I know. You are too kind to us. He would like you to be as kind to him. Perhaps if I could persuade him to pass over his fortune to me he would be in a position to entertain the bailiffs, then you might take pity on him as you are now doing on the poor impecunious Sheridans."

"I am not sure that I should, for impecunious or not I like to think of the Sheridans as my friends."

Sheridan rose and bowed as gracefully as though he were on a stage.

"One man I will not have in my house," said Maria vehemently, "is Charles James Fox. I know the Prince wishes me to, but I cannot bring myself to receive him here. When I think of the public insult he gave me, I am determined that I could never accept him as a friend of mine."

Elizabeth's heart began to beat uncomfortably. She wanted Richard to defend his friend. All the political good fortune which had come to him had been due to Fox's influence. She wanted Richard to stand up for Fox, to explain to Maria that Fox had been forced to act as he had; but to do so was of course to cast a criticism on the conduct of the Prince of Wales and that was something he dared not do.

"Fox, I think, believed he was acting for the best..." he began mildly.

Tor the best!" cried Maria. "To destroy my reputation. To speak of me as though I were a ... a street woman!"

Sheridan said soothingly: "Oh, he's a wily old Fox. I well understand why you won't have him here."

"No," said Maria, "not even for the Prince. And I do not think he is quite so fond of Fox as he once was."

"How could he be," said Sheridan, "when you dislike him so?"

Later that night in their bedroom in Pall Mall Sheridan talked to Elizabeth while she brushed her long dark hair.

"Portland is jealous of me. Think of that, Elizabeth. Portland! The great Duke himself. Maria is our friend and don't make any mistake about this: Maria is going to have a big say in affairs. When the Prince is Regent, when he gives his support to the Party, then we'll be truly in power. Poor Mr. Pitt. He will depart and in his place ..."

"Mr. Fox?" said Elizabeth quietly.

"Mr. Fox?" repeated Sheridan almost questioningly. "Maria hates him. I have rarely seen her so vehement as she was when she spoke of him. She will have great influence. Oh, yes ... great influence, and she is not very pleased with Mr. Fox ... Portland is jealous of me. Think of that Elizabeth. You see ..."

"Yes, I sec," said Elizabeth.

"The future looks very promising. So why are you worrying about those confounded bailiffs?"

Fox out of favour, he was thinking. Portland jealous of Sheridan. Could it be? Was it possible? Was Richard Brinslcy Sheridan the future Prime Minister?

Elizabeth, watching him through the mirror, knowing him so well, read his thoughts clearly.

Who knows? she asked herself. He has succeeded so well in one direction, failed so sadly in another.

And whatever the outcome, shall I be here to sec it?

When Parliament reassembled in December Pitt rose to propose a committee to examine the setting up of a Regency. The King's doctors had declared his mind to be deranged, but with the exception of Dr. Warren they believed there was a very good possibility of his recovering.

"We should examine precedents," said Pitt.

Fox was immediately on his feet. "What is the need of a committee?" he demanded. "The heir apparent is of age and has the capacity to govern. If the King were dead he would ascend the throne. The Prince of Wales has the right to govern if his father the King is unable to do so."

What had happened to Fox? The wily politician with his expert knowledge of parliamentary procedure had made a false step, and it was one which a sharp-witted statesman such as Mr. Pitt would sec at once. The use of the word right was the biggest blunder Fox could have made.

Pitt could scarcely contain himself for his excitement. He whispered to the man seated next to him; "I can't believe Fox could be such a fool. This gives me the opportunity I want. I'll unwhig the gentleman for the rest of his life."

Mr. Pitt was on his feet. He could not allow the statement of the honourable gentleman to pa^ss. He had used the word "right'. Mr. Pitt feared that Mr. Fox had put forth a treasonable doctrine. "The Prince of Wales," Mr. Pitt admitted, "has a claim, but no more right than any other member of this community."

Fox immediately saw his mistake. Oh, God, what a fool. Why did I use that word? All this time away from the House had blunted his wits; the journey across Europe had sapped his strength. Lizzie was right. He should have taken it more leisurely. What would a few more days have mattered ... another week. Anything would have been better than that he should make this blunder. And of course Pitt was gleeful. Pitt had leaped into the advantage.

Fox's friend Edmund Burke, that brilliant orator, rose to defend him.

It would seem, he said, that Mr. Pitt considered himself as a candidate for the Regency. Were they now in the presence of King William IV. They should be warned lest they be guilty of Use majeste.

At which Mr. Pitt did what he rarely had done before: he lost his temper. The debate had developed into a farce, he said. But since the question of rights had been introduced it was necessary to set up a committee to enquire into precedents.

When the debate was resumed Pitt's equanimity was restored.

All would admit, he declared, that the Prince of Wales was the most suitable person to take on the role of Regent. The situation was extraordinary; complete power could not for obvious reasons be handed to the Prince for at any moment the King might regain his health. Therefore he suggested that rules should be drawn up and that should the Prince agree to the conditons decided on by the Government the Regency should be his.

Fox, eager to put right his mistake which he realized had given Pitt time to delay a decision, declared that Pitt intended to impose such restrictions on the Regency that it would be impossible for His Highness to accept with dignity.

"The Honourable Member will realize," retorted Pitt maliciously, "that since the question of right has been raised there must be this investigation."

Meanwhile the care of the King was to be in the hands of the Queen.

At Kew the Prince chafed against the delay. "Nothing settled," he grumbled to Frederick. "If Fox had not raised that question of rights ..."

Frederick sympathized with him.

"I am beginning to think he is of no use to me," he said. "First he upsets Maria by denying our marriage. Maria won't have him in her house. Then he makes this absurd statement about rights."

But you do have a right," Frederick pointed out.

But Fox shouldn't have said it. It gave Pitt his opportunity. And Pitt is hand in glove with our mother. The Queen is now coming out in her true colours. She is not so meek as we once believed her to be. I am not sure what she is plotting with Pitt."

"Can you understand this friendship between them?"

Only that she is the Queen and that Pitt intends to use her against me. She will scarcely allow me to see the King."

"Absurd."

"But they have put her in charge of him."

You are the Prince of Wales ... soon to become Regent ... if you wish to see the King you have every right."

"His papers and jewels are all locked away. And I am made to feel an outsider."

"It's ridiculous, George. Come to the King's apartments now. He is safely locked away. If you want to examine the jewels and the papers you have ever)' right to do so."

The two brothers went to the King's recently vacated rooms and were examining the contents of drawers when the Queen appeared.

Her usually impassive face flushed with anger when she saw what they were doing.

"And what," she cried indignantly, "are you doing here?"

"I will tell you one thing we are not doing, Madam," said the Prince of Wales haughtily, "and that is explaining our actions to you."

"These are the King's apartments; and I am in charge of the King."

"You forget, Madam, that I am the Regent."

"Not yet... not yet."

"When my father is incapable of government it is my right to do so."

"Your right!" She laughed. That unfortunate word. If Fox had not used it everything would be settled now. He would undoubtedly be Regent. A curse on Fox!

"Madam, I command you to go to your apartment."

"My apartment! The servants' rooms which you have allotted to me here? Writing our names over the doors! I never heard such arrogance! You are not king yet, Prince of Wales. I should remember that."

"Madam," said the Duke of York, "I believe you to be as deranged as the King. Come, George."

The brothers left her and she stood staring after them. When they had gone she put her hands over her eyes. She wanted to shut out this room, shut out the scene which had just taken place.

What is happening to the family? she thought. It seems that we are all going mad.

Fox called at Carlton House in answer to a summons from the Prince who said he would ride from Kew to meet him there.

As soon as he saw the Prince, Fox was aware of the change of his manner. It lacked the cordiality to which he was accustomed.

"A weary business, Charles," he said. "What is Pitt up to?"

"I think, Your Highness, that he means to offer you a Regency with such restricted powers that it will be beneath your dignity to accept it."

"And then?" asked the Prince. "It may well be that the Queen will take it."

"That's something I shall not allow. But this man Pitt..."

"He is determined to make you nothing but a figurehead." The Prince's eyes narrowed. He looked at Fox—very different from the Fox of a few years ago. Where was the sparkle of Mr. Fox, that irrepressible genius with words, that quick incisive mind which would have dealt peremptorily with Pitt. Gone! Left behind in Italy ... lost in disillusion and frustration. Fox was a disappointed politician.

The Prince said: "What if the question of Maria should be brought up?"

"We must do all in our power to prevent that."

"And if it should be raised?"

Fox was silent. Then he said: "It could have grave consequences. Your Highness, may I be frank?"

The Prince wanted to shout: No, you may not if you are going to tell me truths about Maria. Yet he said: "But of course."

"Your association with Mrs. Fitzherbert can bring nothing but harm to Your Highness. I fear that during the debate on the Regency that man Rolle ... or someone like him ... might bring up the point once more."

The Prince's expression had hardened, but this was no time for prevarication and Fox went on: "If the lady received the rank of Duchess; if she were given an income of £20,000 a year"

"To desert me?" said the Prince.

Fox sighed unhappily. "It is her religion Your Highness. If she were not a Catholic ..."

"I am sure Maria would decline the offer you suggest, Charles."

"Then ..." But Fox did not finish, nor did the Prince ask him to.

The Prince walked to the window and looked out and with his back to his old friend he said: "Charles, there was a letter I wrote to you before ... Some years back. The one in which I said I had no intention of marrying. Do you remember it?"

Did he remember it? It was the letter on which he had based his denial.

"Charles, I should like you to bring that letter to me. I should like to have it back."

Fox thought quickly. While he had that letter in his possession he had every excuse for his conduct in denying the Prince's marriage. He had only to produce it and there would be evidence of how the Prince had deceived him; the letter would provide vindication for the denial.

He lied: "Your Highness, I no longer have the letter."

"You ... have lost it?"

"It is no longer among my papers. It may have been burned with others. I saw no significance in it ... at the time."

The Prince was silent for a few seconds but his manner had grown more frigid.

When Fox took his leave he knew that their friendship had suffered a severe blow.

Back to Chertsey, to consult with Lizzie.

"You see, Liz, I need not have come back post haste. Perhaps it would be better if I had stayed in Italy."

Lizzie was inclined to agree.

"Can you imagine my making such a blunder? A right to the Regency. Of course he has, but it's unethical to say so."

"It's said that you should not put your faith in princes."

"I'm a fool to put my faith in anyone but you, Liz."

"Well, where do we go from here? Back to Italy."

"What a pleasant prospect! I have no desire to go to the House and be questioned by that man Rolle. You can depend upon it he'll attempt to bring up the Prince's marriage again."

"Well, your health has suffered in the last few weeks, so what about staying at home and being sick for a while. I am an excellent nurse."

"Excellent in all things, Liz. I have blundered and have no desire to take part in this debate. Yes, Liz, I think I'll be ill for a while."

"A wise decision," said Lizzie. "I will immediately begin to nurse you."

During the early part of the year there was little talk of anything at Court but the Regency Bill.

Society divided itself into two camps—those for the Prince and those for the King. The Duchess of Devonshire was wholeheartedly on the side of the Whigs and the Prince of Wales; everyone who came to her parties wore Regency caps. The Duchess of Gordon, a staunch Tory, gave parties at which the ladies wore ribbons inscribed with the words "God Save the King'. Maria entertained more lavishly than ever before—the chief of the Prince's supporters.

When the Regency Bill was brought up for discussion in the House it was inevitable that the Prince's marriage should be referred to.

One of the clauses in the Bill stated that if the Prince resided outside Great Britain or should at any time marry a Papist the powers invested in him should cease.

Mr. Rolle moved an amendment to change the wording of this clause.

He wanted to add: "Or should at any time be proved to be married in fact or in law to a Papist."

Mr. Pitt, however, declared that the amendment was unacceptable as the clause was the same as that he had found in other Regency Bills and he believed it offered sufficient security.

Sheridan and Grey both rose to attack Mr. Rolle. The absence of Mr. Fox was commented on by their opponents and, as Fox had feared, the question of the Prince's marriage was again brought forward.

Grey stated that had Mr. Fox not been fully satisfied that his statement on a previous occasion had been true he would have risked his life—however ill he might be—to come to the house on this day.

It was an uneasy situation.

The Prince heard accounts of the debates and wondered what was going to happen next.

Maria was his great anxiety now, as she had been on that previous occasion. But for Maria he would have nothing to fear. It was entirely due to Maria that he must feel this uneasiness now. What big sacrifices he made for Maria!

He entertained guests at Carlton House or in Pall Mall every night. He went to see Fox, and finding him indeed looking in poor health his conscience smote him. Charles had been a good friend to him and when he was with him he remembered this. The ever ready tears came into his eyes as he talked to Fox of the old days. And there was Lizzie, as lovely as ever, to add a discreet word now and then to the conversation.

"When this miserable business is settled, Charles," he said, "you shall be my Prime Minister."

Prime Minister, thought Charles, after the Prince had gone. It had been the dream of a lifetime.

Then he fell to wondering whether the Prince would keep his word. And he remembered the letter which he had not given up and which should be a warning if ever anything was.

For a man of his genius he had not had very much success. He had been very little in office. But Prime Minister! That would make it all worth while.

Yet he felt tired and disillusioned; he kept thinking of the olive groves of Italy and Lizzie beside him reading to him of talking of the pictures they had seen that day in one of the galleries.

The Prince was surrounded by friends.

Each day they waited for news from Kew. The Duke of Cumberland had his spies there to report on his brother's progress further along the road to madness. The Prince had promised his uncle the Garter when he came to power. And then of course there would be no more of this absurd banishment from Court, he told the Duchess.

Sheridan should be Treasurer for the Navy. A good post, thought Sheridan, but not Prime Minister of course. Fox was still hoping for that. But it was very likely that in due course ...

He would not relinquish his dream.

So in the House the debates continued. The parties went on; the Prince made lavish promises; and while the Queen's friends prayed for a return of His Majesty to health those of the Prince talked of the Regency and looked forward to the day when it should come into force.

Then came news which was disturbing to the Prince of Wales and so pleasing to the King's supporters. His Majesty's health had shown some signs of improvement; he was now enjoying periods of lucidity.

His doctors believed that there was a very good prospect of his being restored to health.

The King's periods of lucidity had been gradually increasing during January and the early part of February, and because of his passion for fresh air his doctors agreed that he might take little walks in the gardens as long as he was accompanied by one of them and certain attendants.

The King was aware of his illness and very sad because of it; he still talked rapidly until his voice grew hoarse, and although his mind was clear, on certain occasions no one could be sure when he would act with the utmost strangeness.

When his favourite daughter, Amelia, was brought to him he embraced the little girl so fiercely that she protested and made as though to escape, but he would not allow her to do this and dung to her straining her to him until she began to scream to be released. She was forcibly removed by some of the King's attendants and ran crying from the room, leaving the King bewildered and unhappy, wondering why his beloved daughter ran away from him.

But there was no doubt that his health was improving all the time the Regency Bill was being debated.

Fanny Burney who had been suffering herself from the rigours of court life—draughty corridors, long hours of attendance on the never-satisfied Schwellenburg, and the general air of melancholy which pervaded the royal apartments these days—had been advised by her doctor to take exercise in the gardens at Kew and regularly she followed this excellent advice.

She confessed to Colonel Digby that she was terrified of meeting the King on these occasions, so if he should be walking at the same time as she was she always took the precaution of enquiring which way he had gone.

"For, Colonel Digby," she declared, "I do not know what I should do if I came face to face with His Majesty. What should I say?"

"You would not have to speak at all, Miss Burney. The King would do all the talking that was necessary."

"But His Majesty would expect some answers. Moreover, I dare not think in what state His Majesty might be."

"He is much better than he was. At times quite himself."

"So I hear ... but..."

"If my duties do not prevent me perhaps I could have the pleasure of protecting you, Miss Burney, in the gardens of Kew."

Fanny fluttered her eyelashes. Indeed, the Colonel was a gallant gentleman. Only a little while ago he had brought a carpet for her room, for there was nothing but the bare boards and the wind blowing through the ill-fitting windows was enough to chill one to the bone.

It would be pleasant to walk with Colonel Digby; but of course he had his duties. Schwellenburg had already mentioned to the Queen that Colonel Digby was constantly waiting on Miss Burney though he never waited on her; and the Queen had asked Fanny—half to her delight, half to her chagrin—why the Colonel was so frequently in her rooms. Fanny had wanted to complain then bitterly about Schwellenburg's treatment of her, but how could one complain to a poor woman who was beside herself with anxieties? If the Queen could put up with a mad husband, surely Fanny could suffer a disagreeable old woman. So she replied that Colonel Digby was a friend and they had much in common—literature for one thing. The Queen was always ready to accept an explanation of Fanny's that concerned literature. After all, was not Fanny a famous novelist?

And now Colonel Digby was unable to accompany her. She was not sure whether it was due to his duty or for some other reason. Colonel Digby had a way of avoiding duty if he wished to; and Schwellenburg had told Fanny quite frankly that Colonel Digby was as often in the company of Miss Gunning as he was in that of Miss Burney.

Fanny asked the guards at the door which way the King had gone walking, if he were in fact walking at all, and she was told that His Majesty, with his doctors and some attendants. had not long ago gone off in the direction of Richmond.

Very well, thought Fanny, then I will walk in the opposite direction. Walking, she mused on the strange behaviour of the King, the courage of the Queen, the motives of Colonel Digby —and she was thinking that it was only this last which ^ave her days some interest, for life at Court was not very exciting. Suddenly she was aware of some figures under a tree, and peered in their direction for she was very shortsighted.

Gardeners, she thought. There were always plenty of them working in the gardens. But as she came nearer, to her great consternation, she saw that the men she had mistakenly thought were gardeners were the King with two of his doctors and some attendants.

Fanny stopped short and looked at the men. She could never think quickly in an emergency. Oh dear, she thought, what have I got myself into? Why did I take this path?

And for a few seconds she and the King looked at each other; she saw the sunken cheeks, the protruberant eyes, and she thought of all the stories she had heard about the strangeness of the King. She believed there was only one thing to do: Escape. She turned and fled.

But the King had seen her. "Miss Burney! Miss Burney," he called. But she ran on. She could not face him. What if he seized her as he had seized Amelia? What if he said strange things to her? She must escape.

"Miss Burney. Wait for me, Miss Burney. Miss Burney"

But Fanny ran on. To her horror, glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the King was pursuing her, his doctors and attendants running along behind him. She heard her name called again; she heard the hoarse torrent of words; and she ran on.

"Miss Burney," called one of the attendants. "Stop. Dr. Willis asks you to."

"I cannot. I cannot," she cried.

"Miss Burney, you must. The King will be ill if he runs like this. Stop. Stop, I beg of you."

Fanny stopped, and turning, faced the King.

"Why did you run away, Miss Burney?" he asked.

What could she say? I feared your madness? So she did not answer and he came close to her and putting his hands on her shoulders kissed her cheek.

"Now, Miss Burney. I wish to talk to you." His hot hands were on her arm; he drew her a little to one side; she was thankful to have the doctors and attendants close at hand.

"Ah, Miss Burney, you think I have been ill, eh, what? Yes, I have been ill ... but not as ill as people think. Do you think I have been ill, Miss Burney, eh? what?"

Fanny answered as best she could but there was no need to be anxious on that account for the King, as Colonel Digby had said, was prepared to do all the talking.

He began discussing the American Colonies and he went on at great speed with the ehs? and whats? coming thick and fast. And Schwellenburg. He did not think Miss Burney was very happy with that woman. But she was not to be anxious on that account. He would speak to the Queen. And Colonel Digby? He feared that gentleman was a sad flirt ... oh yes, he feared that. Fanny must not take that gentleman too seriously. Oh he could be a very serious gentleman ... but he was a widower looking for a wife, and a flirt, Miss Burney, a s?d flirt, and had she heard the arrangement of The Messiah? Handel was the finest musician in the world. Her father would know that. He could tell her some stories of Handel and she could tell her father. Dr. Burney would be very interested in the stories he could tell her of Handel. A fine musician.

He began to sing, beating time to the music, and his voice which had grown hoarse with all the talking he was doing, seemed to crack suddenly and Dr. Willis said: " I beg Your Majesty not to strain your voice. Come along, sir. Do you not think we should go in and allow Miss Burney to continue with her walk."

"No, no, not yet. I have to speak to Miss Burney. I have much to say to her. I have lived so long out of the world, Miss Burney, that I know nothing. You understand, eh? what?"

Fanny murmured that she understood very well and the King gripped her arm and put his face close to hers so that she trembled at the wildness in his eyes.

"Miss Burney, I pray you tell me how your father fares. Tell your father that I will take care of him. He is a good and honest man. I will take care of him, Miss Burney. Yes, I will do it myself."

"Your Majesty is most gracious," stammered Fanny. "Your Majesty will get a chill," said Dr. Willis. "Your Majesty is progressing so favourably that it would be folly to start your illness all over again."

"Yes," said the King. "Folly, folly, folly..."

" Then Your Majesty ..."

"I will say au revolt to Miss Burncy." And with that he put his hands on her shoulders, drew her to him and kissed her cheek as he had done when at the beginning of the encounter.

Fanny was overcome with confusion, but the King's attendants were already drawing him away.

The King called over hi: shoulder. "Do not fear that dreadful woman, Miss Burney. Take no heed of Schwellenburg. You may depend on me. I am your friend. As long as I live I will be your friend. You understand, eh? what? I pledge myself to be your friend."

Fanny stood watching the King as he was drawn away, smiling and nodding to him as he turned to shout over his shoulder to her.

She made her way hastily to her apartments and when she was with the Queen repeated the conversation to her, although she said nothing of the reference to Madam von Schwellenburg.

"His Majesty still acts a little strangely, Miss Burney," said the Queen, "but I do believe he is going to get well."

The Queen was right.

In the Lords the Lord Chancellor rose to declare that in view of the improved state of the King's health it would be indecent to discuss the Regency Bill further.

The King's health improved rapidly; at the beginning of April the Prince of Wales with his brother Frederick received a summons to wait on the King at Kew in order that they might congratulate him on his recovery.

The Prince of Wales behaved with absolute decorum and was more cordial to his father than he had ever been before.

The improvement went on apace. The King looked old; his speech was quick and incoherent, but his mind was lucid again.

All the royal family attended the service which was held at St. Paul's as a thanksgiving for the King's recovery. It was April and the clement weather brought the crowds into the streets. As the King's carriage rode by the people cheered wildly.

"God save the King," they cried, throwing hats into the air and waving flags. "Long life to Your Majesty."

The King was touched by this devotion. The tears came to his eyes and this show of emotion only made the people cheer the more.

But for the Prince of Wales—silence.

He could not understand it. He was the popular member of the household. He was Prince Charming. Yet the people were greeting him with a sullen silence. It was the first time his presence had failed to rouse cheers.

He was angry. Why? What had he done but ask for that which was his right? Why should they suddenly turn against him?

It was because the people believed—in spite of the denial in Parliament—that he was married to a Papist. Maria ... and her religion ... were responsible for this.

My dear love, he thought, what I have given up for you!

The Queen was elated by the Prince's reception. She had made sure that whenever possible people should be made aware of his callous behaviour during his father's illness. She had arranged that stories should be circulated of his treatment of herself and her daughters; how he had tried to separate a wife from a sick husband, how he had sought for power at all costs, how it was the anxiety over his eldest son that had driven the King mad. Mr. Pitt and the Queen were friends; and the Prince was supporting the unpopular Whigs with Fox at their head. But most heinous of all his sins was that he lived in sin with a Papist or was married to her; and neither situation was one to commend him to the people.

Ah, Prince of Wales, thought the Queen malevolently, you would not accept my love so now you have my hate.

Strange that a mother could hate the son on whom she had once doted. But Queen Charlotte had been kept so long under restraint—treated as a woman of no importance, simply a breeder of royal children—and when such prisoners were free their actions often surprised even themselves.

The cartoonists were busy. The one which attracted the most attention was The Funeral of Miss Regency. This portrayed a coffin on which instead of wreaths was a coronet—the Prince's—dice, and an empty purse. The chief mourner was Mrs. Fitzherbert.

When the Prince saw the cartoon he thought: Yes, Maria is the chief mourner. She believed that when I became Regent I would have recognized her. And if I had what would have happened? He remembered those sullen crowds at the thanksgiving service and was alarmed.

Maria could ruin me, he thought.

Somewhere from the past came the echo of an old song:

"I crowns resign

To call thee mine."

Coming so near to the Regency had made him realize what the Crown would mean to him. He knew in his heart that he would never resign it. And if it came to the point of choosing between it and Maria ...

A few years ago he would have said unthinkingly: Maria.

And now?

I have already given up a great deal for her, he thought resentfully.