But what of the Royal Marriage Act which stated categorically that a member of the royal family under twenty-five could not marry without the Sovereign's consent? And this was not just an ordinary member of the family. This was the Prince of Wales.

The Dukes of Gloucester and Cumberland had married without the King's consent, and their Duchesses were not re-

ceived at Court—but they were recognized as Duchesses. Yes, but they had married before the Bill was made law.

He could marry her (just as she wished, with a priest, he had said) but the State would not consider it a marriage. It was not the State that she was thinking of. It was the Church. If she and the Prince made their vows before a priest in the eyes of the Church they would be married.

It was, in fact, the laws of the Church that concerned her, not those of the State.

The Prince believed, he wrote, that his father would not frown on the arrangement. He had always hated him and Frederick was his favourite son—doubtless because he had not seen him for a long time; but the fact remained that the King would rather see Frederick the heir. Frederick had always been his brother's great friend and would make any sacrifice for his sake. He would marry the woman chosen for him, produce children and even live amicably with the King and Queen, which could be the greatest trial of all.

What was Maria waiting for? She only had to return and the life of bliss would begin.

She was thinking of it perpetually. For a whole year she had lived in exile; and all that time he had never wavered. Surely that was proof enough of his devotion?

And if marriage could be arranged that would not offend the laws of the Holy Church ...

But it would, of course it would.

Two voices argued within her. She knew that one was prompted by her head, one by her heart; and it was the first to which she should listen.

But she was lonely; she was homesick; and this year away from him had taught her one thing: she loved the Prince of Wales.

It was winter in Paris and the slushy mud of the streets had turned to snow. The air of tension in the streets was growing; there were rumours about the trial of the Cardinal de Rohan and his accomplices which would take place next spring.

Maria wanted to go home. She wanted the comfort of her

house in Park Street, the rural beauties of Richmond Hill. She wanted the excitement of Carlton House.

Then she read in a Court Circular that the Marquis de Bcllois was in Paris.

She wrote to the Prince of Wales. She was coming home. She could no longer live in exile and ... without him.

The jubilant reply to this sent her into such ecstasies that she could no longer listen to the voice of reason.

She was going home; she was going to her lover—the man who was known throughout the country as the irresistible Prince Charming.

How could she—the woman who loved him more deeply than anvone else—refuse him?

Fox's Warning

Charles James Fox was very anxious. He discussed the new turn of affairs with Lizzie Armistead in their home at St. Anne's Hill, Chertsey; and she had rarely seen him so disturbed.

'It can only mean one thing, Liz,' he said. 'The lady would not have come home without a definite offer of marriage.'

'That's impossible. How can he marry her?'

'Knowing His Royal Highness I'll swear he has put up a good case to the lady. There is no one who can fit the case to suit his own personal needs like H.R.H.'

'Mrs. Fitz is no fool. He would have to offer a real marriage. No ring slipped on the finger at the point of death would suffice. He has tried that once and she wouldn't have it.'

'That's true; and it is what worries me. And there is something else, Liz. He did not tell me that she was coming home. He has kept the matter secret, it is true; but previously I have shared his secrets. He is planning marriage and he knows I can only dissuade him from it ... so, characteristically, he doesn't tell me.'

'Perhaps it is not a real marriage he is offering her.'

'It cannot be a real marriage, but it is something she—and no doubt he—are deceiving themselves is. I see the most fearful

disaster ahead, Liz. If he goes far enough he could lose the Crown.'

'What are you going to do?'

'I cannot let this pass. I cannot pretend I don't know what is going on. He is keeping his plans secret from me, which is very significant, but I must let him know how he stands. Damn it, Liz, I have always advised him in the past. I have guided him in his political life. Where would he have been without me? And in those most important steps of all.. /

'But he is only not consulting you because he fears that you will persuade him of the folly of what he proposes to do.'

'Princes like those who agree with them and applaud all their actions, however foolish. But I never did that. I have advised him honestly and he has had the good sense to appreciate this. I must let him know what danger he is in.'

'What do you propose?'

'To write to him. I will do it at once. He must be made aware of the consequences of such an act as he proposes.'

Lizzie nodded and brought out pen and paper.

'The Right Hon. C. J. Fox, M.P., to H.R.H. the Prince of

Wales. December 10th, 1785. 'Sir,

'I hope that Your Royal Highness does me the justice to believe that it is with the utmost reluctance that I trouble you with my opinion unasked at any time, much more so upon a subject where it may not be agreeable to your wishes. I am sure that nothing could ever make me take this liberty but the condescension which you have honoured me with on so many occasions and the zealous and grateful attachment that I feel for Your Royal Highness and which makes me run the risk even of displeasing you for the sake of doing you a real service.'

Fox paused. It was indeed a delicate subject; and was he presuming too much on the friendship he believed the Prince

had for him? Here was a spoilt boy just ready to grasp a long awaited treat. How would he feel about the friend who was attempting to spoil his enjoyment by explaining in detail how bad it would be for him? But I must, thought Fox. It could be ruin for him and the party. He took up his pen resolutely:

'I was told just before I left Town yesterday that Mrs. Fitzherbert was arrived; and if I had heard only this I should have felt most unfeigned joy at an event which I knew could contribute so much to Your Royal Highness's satisfaction; but I was told at the same time, that from a variety of circumstances which had been observed and put together, there was reason to suppose that you were going to take the very desperate step...'

Again Fox paused. Could he refer to the Prince's cherished dream as a 'desperate step'. But what else :ould he call it? And indeed a desperate step was a mild way of expressing it. It was disaster.

'... (pardon the expression) of marrying her at this moment. If such an idea be really in your mind and it be not now too late, for God's sake let me call your attention to some considerations, which my attachment to Your Royal Highness, and the real concern I take in whatever relates to your interest, have suggested to me, and which may possibly have the more weight with you when you perceive that Mrs. Fitzherbert is equally interested in most of them with you.

'In the first place you are aware that a marriage with a Catholic throws the Prince contracting such a marriage out of the succession of the Crown. Now, what change may have happened in Mrs. Fitzherbert's sentiments upon religious matters I know not, but I do not understand that any public profession of change has been made; and surely, Sir, this is not a matter to be trifled with; and Your Royal Highness must excuse the extreme freedom with which I write. If there should be a doubt about her previous conversion con-