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Authors: Barbara Ewing
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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Pelham Clinton, had a certain kind of confidence with His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales that others did not. She knew perfectly well of his passing actresses and courtesans and foolish young married women; she was his confidante as well as his mistress.
She even knew of the Prince’s personal and private physician, Dr Oscar Clayton, who was called upon should any of these alliances become medically troublesome, and not many people except the Prince’s private secretaries knew about this man. The Prince did not know that Lady Susan had even met him. Quite by chance she had arrived early at a soirée at Marlborough House just as the doctor was being discreetly and hurriedly shown out; she heard him being quietly addressed, so she addressed him herself with some curiosity.
‘Dr Oscar Clayton, I think,’ she had said.
The man had bowed over her hand – and from his dark oily hair she was almost overpowered by the emanation of strong-smelling pomade of roses, something the lower classes were apt to wear. (The idea of such a man bending over ladies filled her with distaste: she ever after felt sorry for any of the Prince’s women medically attended by Dr Clayton.)
Lady Susan Vane-Tempest knew many of the secrets of the Prince of Wales.
Now, this Sunday, she suddenly stubbed out her long thin cigarette and laughed. ‘My dear Sir! You know my brother perfectly well!’ She leaned towards him and put her hand to his cheek. ‘Arty will surely have flown away if there is the likelihood of danger to himself of any kind!’
He looked at her, so beautiful there before him, her familiar, knowing face; he took her hand in his for a moment. ‘Arthur never has the funds to fly away, dear Susan, and he is bankrupt still! Have you had contact with him lately?’
‘Your Royal Highness knows very well I hardly ever have contact with him. I have not seen him for months. Perhaps he is in Paris with our mother.’ (She never told the Prince she did sometimes meet Arthur; she gave him money: whatever her brother’s predilections, she had brought him up, and she loved him.)
‘Have you ever seen these particular female-dressing gentlemen?’
‘Of course not!’ she answered immediately (remembering the pretty, pretty boy, who sang).
‘I have seen them,’ he said. For a moment he leaned back in her comfortable armchair and smiled slightly. ‘Across a crowded theatre only, I need hardly say! One of them was most attractive, hardly seemed a man at all!’ But then he shook his head and sat upright again. ‘Arthur is of course, as we know, unreliable and unpredictable, as he has been since he was a child, and his choice of friends is not always what one would wish. You know I do not want to lose you – I absolutely do not – but I would have no option but to do so if scandal threatened. You must obey me in this matter while all is uncertain. You will attend thecourt soiréesas usual for I will not be deprived of the sight of you. But that will be our only contact.’
Immediate tears formed in her eyes. I cannot not lose him now . The Prince of Wales might have had no real power while his mother lived on, but in his own Marlborough House circle his authority was absolute.
‘I must insist on this,’ he said. ‘For a short time at least. But I will speak to Mr Gladstone. He will, of course, be disturbed by this news.’
She pulled herself together with an effort. ‘Arty was always Mrs Gladstone’s favourite when he was a small boy. And she was so good to me also.’
‘I will talk to the Prime Minister, my dear Susan. Something must be done.’
And she smiled at him. ‘Your Royal Highness is always so very, very kind.’ Her voice was demure but her eyes offered something entirely different. ‘Kind, although often very naughty… ’
She looked so lovely, and so – willing, and just a little wild, as she had always been. He took his watch from his waistcoat. ‘However, since I am here…’
Lady Susan smiled at
She even knew of the Prince’s personal and private physician, Dr Oscar Clayton, who was called upon should any of these alliances become medically troublesome, and not many people except the Prince’s private secretaries knew about this man. The Prince did not know that Lady Susan had even met him. Quite by chance she had arrived early at a soirée at Marlborough House just as the doctor was being discreetly and hurriedly shown out; she heard him being quietly addressed, so she addressed him herself with some curiosity.
‘Dr Oscar Clayton, I think,’ she had said.
The man had bowed over her hand – and from his dark oily hair she was almost overpowered by the emanation of strong-smelling pomade of roses, something the lower classes were apt to wear. (The idea of such a man bending over ladies filled her with distaste: she ever after felt sorry for any of the Prince’s women medically attended by Dr Clayton.)
Lady Susan Vane-Tempest knew many of the secrets of the Prince of Wales.
Now, this Sunday, she suddenly stubbed out her long thin cigarette and laughed. ‘My dear Sir! You know my brother perfectly well!’ She leaned towards him and put her hand to his cheek. ‘Arty will surely have flown away if there is the likelihood of danger to himself of any kind!’
He looked at her, so beautiful there before him, her familiar, knowing face; he took her hand in his for a moment. ‘Arthur never has the funds to fly away, dear Susan, and he is bankrupt still! Have you had contact with him lately?’
‘Your Royal Highness knows very well I hardly ever have contact with him. I have not seen him for months. Perhaps he is in Paris with our mother.’ (She never told the Prince she did sometimes meet Arthur; she gave him money: whatever her brother’s predilections, she had brought him up, and she loved him.)
‘Have you ever seen these particular female-dressing gentlemen?’
‘Of course not!’ she answered immediately (remembering the pretty, pretty boy, who sang).
‘I have seen them,’ he said. For a moment he leaned back in her comfortable armchair and smiled slightly. ‘Across a crowded theatre only, I need hardly say! One of them was most attractive, hardly seemed a man at all!’ But then he shook his head and sat upright again. ‘Arthur is of course, as we know, unreliable and unpredictable, as he has been since he was a child, and his choice of friends is not always what one would wish. You know I do not want to lose you – I absolutely do not – but I would have no option but to do so if scandal threatened. You must obey me in this matter while all is uncertain. You will attend thecourt soiréesas usual for I will not be deprived of the sight of you. But that will be our only contact.’
Immediate tears formed in her eyes. I cannot not lose him now . The Prince of Wales might have had no real power while his mother lived on, but in his own Marlborough House circle his authority was absolute.
‘I must insist on this,’ he said. ‘For a short time at least. But I will speak to Mr Gladstone. He will, of course, be disturbed by this news.’
She pulled herself together with an effort. ‘Arty was always Mrs Gladstone’s favourite when he was a small boy. And she was so good to me also.’
‘I will talk to the Prime Minister, my dear Susan. Something must be done.’
And she smiled at him. ‘Your Royal Highness is always so very, very kind.’ Her voice was demure but her eyes offered something entirely different. ‘Kind, although often very naughty… ’
She looked so lovely, and so – willing, and just a little wild, as she had always been. He took his watch from his waistcoat. ‘However, since I am here…’
Lady Susan smiled at
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