Once more Maria bent over and kissed his forehead and a smile of triumph curved his lips.

As she was leaving Carlton House with the Duchess, Southampton came hurrying after them. 'His Highness demands to see a deposition drawn up and signed by Onslow, Bouverie, Keate and myself.'

'What deposition?' asked Maria.

'What has happened is tantamount to a marriage ceremony. It must be recorded and signed by witnesses. It is the only thing that will satisfy him. We daren't cross him and he is demanding it.'

'Let us go to Devonshire House,' said the Duchess, 'and there we will draw up a document and all sign it. That should satisfy him. You will do this, I know, Maria, for we have seen what a state His Highness is in. We must give him every opportunity to recover.'

So with the four men and the Duchess, Maria returned to Devonshire House where the deposition was drawn up and signed.

It was then taken to the Prince at Carlton House while Maria went back to Park Street.

When his friends returned with the deposition the Prince had discarded his bloodstained clothes and was drinking a whiskey and soda.

'You have it?' he cried.

'Here, Your Highness.'

'Let me see. Let me see. Ah ... yes. She will not go back on her word. We have it here in writing.'

'Your Highness, if I may say so, played the part to perfection.'

'I should have done well on the boards, Keate, if I had been born into a different station. My dear Maria, she was deeply distressed.'

'And small wonder!' said Southampton. 'The idea of a Prince's falling on his sword because she had rejected him must have been alarming.'

Drama at Carlton House 109

'I would have done it,' said the Prince. 'Yes, I would have done it for Maria. So it is not really a great deception.'

He smiled complacently. The ceremony would satisfy Maria, and in no way inconvenience him. Not that he would not have gone through a true marriage ceremony with her if that had been possible. Most willingly would he have given up everything for her; but since it could be done this way and Charles thought so—and Charles was invariably right—how much more satisfactory it was than making the great upheaval through the country which an ordinary marriage would have done.

He was madly in love with her, enough to fall on his sword. He had brandished his pistols and declared he would shoot himself. And when he had been blooded because the doctors said the violence of his passions could give him a stroke and there had been so much rich red blood and he had splashed it all over his beautiful coat ... he had really felt as though he had—in a sudden access of despair—fallen on his sword.

And the effect had been to bring her to his bedside, chastened, loving, tender, ready to give way as she had never been before.

Maria would soon be his.

Back in Park Street Maria considered the strange events of the last hours and the more she thought of them the stranger they appeared.

The Duchess of Devonshire had been waiting in Devonshire House when they called. Well, she might easily have been at home at that hour. She had handed over the ring as though she had brought it with her for the purpose. Maria twisted it round and round on her finger. It was a symbol. It meant she had promised to be the Prince's wife. But how could she be the Prince's wife? It was not possible. Their marriage, even if it were valid, would be forbidden. It was simply not possible for the heir to the throne to marry a commoner; and even if she were a Princess the marriage would not be allowed because of her religion. Sovereigns of Britain were simply not allowed to many anyone of the Catholic Faith.

Why had she been so foolish as to sign the deposition?

Because one could not oppose the wish of a dying man.

A dying man. He had been very prompt with his answers.

And the deposition? She had been too agitated to read it properly, but it was, she realized now, a document which declared that she was the wife of George, Prince of Wales. But how could there be a marriage without a priest? The whole thing was a mockery.

She did not blame the Prince. He had declared many times that he would willingly forgo everything to marry her. No, he genuinely loved her and she loved him—the more because of what he had done today. He had tried to kill himself for love of her. It was a gesture that she would remember with tenderness all her life. If he were free to marry her ... if there were no obstacles between them willingly would she give her promise to love and cherish him for the rest of her life.

But she would not accept a mock marriage.

Her bags were packed. She could leave the next day, for if she left the country she would make it clear that she was determined not to be trapped into dishonour by any mock ceremony.

She wrote a note to Lord Southampton telling him that she realized she had been the victim of a trap and that she blamed him and his friends. They had prevailed on her to sign a document which had no meaning. She therefore did not consider herself to be in any way committed, and she had decided to carry out her original intention and leave the country.

Early next morning she set out on her journey.

The Prince's Dilemma

The loss of blood sustained by the Prince together with all the excitement he had undergone had weakened him considerably and Keate said that a few days rest were needed. Moreover, Maria would not expect him to recover too quickly.

'A few days in the country, sir,' said Keate, 'and you will be completely recovered.'

And then, thought the Prince, Maria.

Southampton said: 'Would Your Highness care to come down to my place in the country for those few days?'

'I would indeed, Southampton,' replied the Prince.

'We can promise Your Highness fresh air and good nursing. And then in a few days time ...'

'Maria,' whispered the Prince.

Pale and certainly a little feeble, the Prince set off for the country in the company of Southampton and Onslow and a few others of his suite. Jogging along in the carriage he made plans. As soon as he was feeling completely well—and that would be in a few days time, for with his youth and good health he was very resilient and had really only suffered from his too violent passions and rather more blood-letting than that to which he was accustomed—he would be with Maria.

She should come to Carlton House. It would be no little love nest such as that he had provided for Peidita in Cork Street.

Maria and he would live together openly. And if the King raised objections—to hell with the King.

In a few days time they would be together. How affected she had been when she had seen him lying there on the couch! He could have no doubt of her feelings then.

At last he was happy. Maria could not hide her love for him. The most happy time of his life was about to begin.

When they arrived at Southampton's place a messenger from London was there.

He had come, he said, with a letter for Lord Southampton and had been instructed by Mrs. Fitzherbert to put it into no hands but his lordship's.

The Prince smiled happily. He thought: She is writing to Southampton to thank him for the part he played in our little ceremony. My dearest Maria is as happy as I am.

'Read it now, Southampton. Read it now/ he said, smiling blandly.

As Southampton read he turned pale; as he opened his mouth as though to speak, and yet said nothing, a sudden fear touched the Prince. 'What is it? What is it?'

'Sir, she has left the country. She reproaches me for ... for taking advantage of the situation ...'

The Prince snatched the letter. Maria's handwriting danced before his eyes. She had been the victim of a hoax, she had written, but she had not been deceived. She did not admire Lord Southampton for attempting to delude her, nor for imagining she was such a fool that she could be deluded. She was therefore reverting to her original decision to leave the country, and by the time he received this letter she would be on her way.