been
for some time. In the days of their boyhood they had been inseparable. They had
stood by each other and shared adventures and punishments. Frederick had
patiently kept guard during the Prince’s assignations with Mrs. Robinson; many a
time he had incurred his father’s anger in order to protect his brother; and the
bond had been strong between them. The main reason why they had resented
Frederick’s being sent abroad was because it meant they must be parted; and
when he had come back, they had resumed their friendship as though it had never
been broken.
The Prince had introduced his brother to Maria Fitzherbert whom he was then
treating as the Princess of Wales and Frederick had been charmed by the lady.
She had become fond of him too although she did deplore the wild horseplay in
which he indulged with the Prince, and she blamed Frederick for this because on
his return the Prince had reverted to the practical joking and wild ways in which he had indulged before his association with her. But a rift had come through that wife of Frederick’s— that German Princess Frederica Charlotte Ulrica— who
although she filled her house with different breeds of dogs, although she was
indifferent to their fleas and habits, was a very haughty personage and determined to uphold her position as Duchess of York. She had therefore refused to accept
Maria Fitzherbert’s right to any rank but that of mistress of the Prince of Wales—
a fact which had humiliated Maria and, infuriated the Prince; and as he was at that time deeply in love with Maria, he had pettishly blamed Frederick for not having
more control over his wife.
Frederick had considered this unfair, for he himself had always shown the
greatest respect towards Maria— but the rift between the brothers widened; and it was an indication of the depth of the Prince’s feelings for Mrs. Fitzherbert that on her account the lifelong friendship with his brother could be impaired.
But now, Frederick no longer lived with his wife— and no one blamed him—
and the friendship between the brothers was resumed, although it was clear to
them both that it would never be quite the same again.
‘Cheer up, George,’ said the Duke. ‘Lady Jersey will comfort you.’
‘That’s true,’ replied the Prince dubiously. His affairs were indeed in a tangle.
Lady Jersey— that dainty, gadfly of a woman who while she fascinated him at the
same time repelled him— was his consolation for this marriage with the German
woman— and the loss of Maria.
Ah, Maria. He could never quite succeed in banishing her from his thoughts.
Sometimes he wondered whether he ever would.
He thought now that if instead of marriage with this stranger he was going
back to Maria how delighted he would have been. But that could not be; and
another horrible thought had struck him: What was Maria, who considered herself
married to him, going to say when she heard he contemplated marrying another
woman?
He sat down on a gilded couch and, covering his face with his hands, wept.
Frederick was not unduly disturbed; like all the Prince’s associates he was
accustomed to his tears. The Prince had always wept most effectively— and in
fact, thought Frederick cynically, it was quite a family accomplishment. We
Guelphs are a weeping family , he mused— but none of us can perform so artistically as the Prince of Wales.
The Prince applied the scented kerchief to his eyes which like his complexion
had not suffered from the display of emotion.
‘Fred,’ he said, ‘the truth is I shall never love another woman as I love
Fitzherbert.’
‘Still, George?’
‘Still and forever,’ cried the Prince vehemently. ‘And yet—’
‘It’s money, Fred. How am I going to pay these damned debts without it? And
the price— marriage with a German Frau .’
Frederick nodded grimly. ‘The price of royalty, George.’
‘Why do we accept it? What would I not give for my
for some time. In the days of their boyhood they had been inseparable. They had
stood by each other and shared adventures and punishments. Frederick had
patiently kept guard during the Prince’s assignations with Mrs. Robinson; many a
time he had incurred his father’s anger in order to protect his brother; and the
bond had been strong between them. The main reason why they had resented
Frederick’s being sent abroad was because it meant they must be parted; and
when he had come back, they had resumed their friendship as though it had never
been broken.
The Prince had introduced his brother to Maria Fitzherbert whom he was then
treating as the Princess of Wales and Frederick had been charmed by the lady.
She had become fond of him too although she did deplore the wild horseplay in
which he indulged with the Prince, and she blamed Frederick for this because on
his return the Prince had reverted to the practical joking and wild ways in which he had indulged before his association with her. But a rift had come through that wife of Frederick’s— that German Princess Frederica Charlotte Ulrica— who
although she filled her house with different breeds of dogs, although she was
indifferent to their fleas and habits, was a very haughty personage and determined to uphold her position as Duchess of York. She had therefore refused to accept
Maria Fitzherbert’s right to any rank but that of mistress of the Prince of Wales—
a fact which had humiliated Maria and, infuriated the Prince; and as he was at that time deeply in love with Maria, he had pettishly blamed Frederick for not having
more control over his wife.
Frederick had considered this unfair, for he himself had always shown the
greatest respect towards Maria— but the rift between the brothers widened; and it was an indication of the depth of the Prince’s feelings for Mrs. Fitzherbert that on her account the lifelong friendship with his brother could be impaired.
But now, Frederick no longer lived with his wife— and no one blamed him—
and the friendship between the brothers was resumed, although it was clear to
them both that it would never be quite the same again.
‘Cheer up, George,’ said the Duke. ‘Lady Jersey will comfort you.’
‘That’s true,’ replied the Prince dubiously. His affairs were indeed in a tangle.
Lady Jersey— that dainty, gadfly of a woman who while she fascinated him at the
same time repelled him— was his consolation for this marriage with the German
woman— and the loss of Maria.
Ah, Maria. He could never quite succeed in banishing her from his thoughts.
Sometimes he wondered whether he ever would.
He thought now that if instead of marriage with this stranger he was going
back to Maria how delighted he would have been. But that could not be; and
another horrible thought had struck him: What was Maria, who considered herself
married to him, going to say when she heard he contemplated marrying another
woman?
He sat down on a gilded couch and, covering his face with his hands, wept.
Frederick was not unduly disturbed; like all the Prince’s associates he was
accustomed to his tears. The Prince had always wept most effectively— and in
fact, thought Frederick cynically, it was quite a family accomplishment. We
Guelphs are a weeping family , he mused— but none of us can perform so artistically as the Prince of Wales.
The Prince applied the scented kerchief to his eyes which like his complexion
had not suffered from the display of emotion.
‘Fred,’ he said, ‘the truth is I shall never love another woman as I love
Fitzherbert.’
‘Still, George?’
‘Still and forever,’ cried the Prince vehemently. ‘And yet—’
‘It’s money, Fred. How am I going to pay these damned debts without it? And
the price— marriage with a German Frau .’
Frederick nodded grimly. ‘The price of royalty, George.’
‘Why do we accept it? What would I not give for my
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