The Prince and the Quakeress: (Georgian Series) (13 page)

‘My dear sir, it is precisely on this account that I am here now. It is the desire of everyone who wishes that your niece be happily placed in life to see her married to this worthy young man. I am here to offer him a dowry on your daughter’s behalf of five hundred pounds. Do you think that he would be persuaded to agree to an immediate marriage? That, I must insist, is part of the bargain.’

‘Five hundred pounds!’ cried Mr Wheeler. ‘I am sure there will be no difficulty.’

*

Hannah was in despair. The Axford family were dining with the Wheelers for it was an occasion for celebration. Hannah was betrothed to Isaac Axford and the marriage was to take place in two days’ time. In view of the haste it would not be advisable for the young couple to marry at the Friends’ Meeting House. There would be too much talk of the haste and the reason for Isaac Axford’s sudden affluence. The family would have to resort to Keith’s Chapel in Curzon Street where it was possible to marry speedily, no questions being asked.

It was a sorry business, Mr Wheeler reckoned. Dr Keith was a marriage-monger who would marry anyone for the sake of his fee; his method was similar to that of the notorious Fleet Marriages when people were married in the prison without licence or banns. This was a pernicious trade because it enabled scoundrels to go through a mock ceremony with innocent young girls, who had believed themselves to be truly married, and these men could, when they desired, abandon their ‘wives’ with the utmost ease and legality. Dr Keith had begun in this way, but being a shrewd businessman he had prospered so much that he had been able to buy land in Curzon Street, Mayfair, and there erect a chapel.

He had become famous; he still married people in the Fleet Prison while he officiated at his chapel, and he even advertised in the papers that people who desired matrimony could achieve it at his chapel in Mayfair with a licence on a common stamp and a guinea.

Dr Keith, it was true had been excommunicated by the Church for these practices; this was an added virtue. Those who did not wish to take marriage seriously declared that since the Doctor was excommunicated the marriage was not legal; and those who wished the marriage to be binding declared that it was so since it had been performed by a priest. Earlier he had been in prison, and in June of this very year the Marriage Act had been passed which declared that banns must be published on three Sundays preceding the ceremony in the church or chapel where the prospective bride and groom lived; that the true names of the parties concerned should be delivered in writing together with their addresses to the ministers one week before the first reading of the banns; that though either party be under twenty-one a minister would not be considered guilty of an offence if parents and guardians of the parties had given no notice of dissent to the proposed marriage. But where they did dissent, the publication of the banns should be void.

When Mr Axford reminded Mr Wheeler of this new law which would mean the delay of the marriage for at least three weeks, Mr Wheeler – who had this special information from his ministerial visitor – was able to assure Mr Axford that although the Bill had been passed and had received the Royal Assent it had not yet been embodied in the Statute Book and it would not actually be law until the following year. There was nothing therefore to delay the marriage; it should take place in Keith’s Chapel two days from now; there should be little fuss; there would be a quiet celebration at the bride’s home, and after that Isaac could take her to her new home in Ludgate Hill.

*

Jane came to see Hannah and slipped up to her room unseen by the Wheelers, for she had become unpopular in that household. Hannah was sitting by the window, a figure of melancholy.

‘Jane!’ she cried.

‘Yes,’ said Jane. ‘Here I am. They didn’t see me slip up.’

‘They will be angry if they know you are here.’

‘Oh yes, I am blamed, I know.’

‘What am I going to do Jane? I am going to be married… married to Isaac Axford!’

‘Yes, I know,’ said Jane. ‘But don’t despair. Mr Ems has been to see me.’

‘What!’

‘Now listen. The Prince refuses to lose you.’

‘He is but a boy… the dearest best boy in the world but only a boy.’

‘Nonsense! He’s a man. He must be… because he is determined to keep you.’

‘But how can he. He is romantic. They will never let me out except to go to Dr Keith’s Chapel. Oh, Jane, it is all over.’

‘It is just beginning,’ said Jane.

‘Do you realize that I am going to be married to Isaac Axford in two days from now?’

‘Yes, you are.’

Hannah shivered.

‘There’s nothing to fear. It’s better for you to be a married woman, because the Prince can’t marry you, can he?’

Hannah laughed ruefully. ‘He will be King of England.’

‘That’s so. It is why he can’t marry you, though he would if he could. So you are going to marry Isaac… but you are not going to Ludgate Hill.’

‘What dost thou mean?’

‘You are going to a place he has prepared for you.’

‘Jane, what art thou saying?’

‘It’s all arranged. Mr Ems, Miss Chudleigh… the Prince himself… they’re going to see that you don’t go to Ludgate Hill… instead you are going somewhere else… with the Prince. Oh, it’s wonderful! You are the luckiest woman alive. Loved by a Prince! Now listen. This is what I’ve got to tell you. You’ll go to Keith’s Chapel. You’ll be married to Isaac and then you will all come back here for the wedding celebrations.’

‘Yes,’ said Hannah.

‘A man will come into the Market… you must listen for him. He will be playing a pipe and a tabor.’

‘Yes… yes…’

‘The children will run to the window to watch him. Doubtless there will be a juggler with him. The children will want to see it. The elders too. While they are looking, you slip out the back way to Jermyn Street. You will find a carriage there… waiting for you.’

‘Jane. Is it true?’

‘You didn’t think the Prince would leave you to Isaac, did you?’

‘No, I did not.’

Hannah threw herself into Jane’s arms. ‘I thought I would have rather died,’ she said.

‘Don’t talk of dying. You’re just beginning to live.’

‘Jane, how can I thank thee for all thou hast done?’

‘Don’t worry about me. I’m safe enough. We’re setting up in the glass-cutting business… on our own, think of that. That’s my reward. Half already paid, and the rest when you’re safely with the Prince.’

‘Jane… I’m so happy for thee.’

‘And I for yourself too, I should think. What a happy day when you decided to sit in the window and watch the Prince go by.’

*

The ceremony was brief. Hannah was Mrs Isaac Axford. The Wheelers were a little ashamed that it had had to be such a hole and corner affair, but the Axfords were delighted. Five hundred pounds dowry! Isaac was a lucky man – all that, and a beautiful bride into the bargain!

The bride was clearly nervous, but that was to be expected.

The brief ceremony over, the guinea paid, the certificate declaring Isaac Axford of St Martin’s, Ludgate, to be married to Hannah Lightfoot of St James’s, Westminster, signed by Dr Keith’s representatives; and the entry was made in the registers of the Mayfair Chapel. The little party came back to the linen-draper’s shop in St James’s Market and there Mary and Lydia busied themselves in the kitchen.

Hannah went to her room to take off her cloak. She looked about it; it might well be the last time she would see it, if it happened as Jane said it would. If the player and juggler came into the Market.

What if they did not? That was more than she could bear to contemplate. He must come. The Prince must be waiting to carry her away.

He will come, she told herself. She thought of those conversations in the Haymarket, that adoration he had shown her, that wonderful respect. How could she endure Isaac Axford when she thought of her Prince!

But he was only a boy and he was governed by great men. They would never allow him to take her away… she had been a fool to imagine it was possible… a fool to hope!

Yet how could she endure a life with Isaac in the grocer’s shop on Ludgate Hill? I shall never never know happiness again, thought Hannah, unless the miracle happens.

‘Hannah, where art thou?’ It was her mother’s voice strained and nervous, yet somehow proud, proud because she had brought Isaac such a dowry and had been admired by the Prince of Wales.

She would have to leave her mother, but she could not help it. She would leave not only her mother but her cousins and the good home which had been hers for so many years, for the sake of the Prince.

In the big sitting-room which overlooked the Market they were all assembled. Hannah joined them, her eyes straying to the window, as she listened for the sound of a pipe or a tabor.

He will not come, she thought. It is all a dream. It is hoping for a miracle. He is only a boy without power. I shall have nothing for the rest of my life but the memory that he loved me.

‘Listen.’ It was little four-year-old Hannah. ‘Oh, Papa, listen. The pipe.’

She was at the window. Henry was beside her and Rebecca was calling out with pleasure.

There was the man with the pipe and the tabor; there was the juggler.

‘Papa, Papa, look!’

The dream was coming true. They were at the window… all of them.

She was out of the door, down the back stairs; she did not feel the cold December air, although she was without her cloak. She ran as fast as she could and there in Jermyn Street, as Jane had said, was the carriage waiting.

The door was open and she stepped in.

He was there. The Prince in person. For the first time he took her into his arms.

The door was shut; the carriage started up; and the sweetest music in the world to Hannah was the sound of horse’s hooves on the cobbled streets.

Marriage Plans

‘I FEEL,’ SAID
the Princess Augusta, ‘that nothing will ever be the same again. That George…
my
George… could behave in such a way!’

‘It is natural,’ replied Lord Bute. ‘The Prince of Wales has a mistress. It has happened before.’

‘But at his age!’

‘Oh come. He will soon be sixteen.’

‘It is not so much the fact that he has a mistress. It is the manner of his doing it. Abduction, no less.’

‘The lady apparently went willingly.’

‘But to set her up… to have planned such an enterprise.’

‘No doubt he has had help.’

‘That’s what worries me… that he should have had help from anyone… not ourselves.’

Lord Bute comforted her. ‘We have perhaps been careless. We thought we knew him. We believed him to be the innocent boy. But nature asserted herself. He fell in love and so he grew up suddenly.’

‘My dearest, what
shall
we do?’

‘We shall simply be more observant in future. We shall keep a close watch on George and his fair Quaker. In the meantime
we should perhaps congratulate ourselves. How much better that he should have fallen under the spell of a woman like this, not of the Court. It could have been some scheming woman in our midst. Imagine that!’

The Princess shuddered.

‘As it is there is this harmless woman,’ went on Lord Bute. ‘No, we should rejoice that it is who it is. Although, of course, we have had our little lesson. All to the good. We will learn from it. We have been warned. George is not the child we thought him. He is capable of taking strong action. It is good we learned that… in time.’

‘You are such a comfort to me, my dear.’

‘It is my purpose in life… to please and comfort you.’

*

The tall house in Tottenham was an ideal setting. It was surrounded by gardens – completely isolated. It was furnished luxuriously; cared for by many soft-footed servants, well paid, all aware that their high wages were the reward of discretion.

There was a sewing-woman to make beautiful dresses for the mistress of the house. There was a music teacher; there were books for her to read. She had her carriage – a closed one – in which she could ride out when she wished. Everything had been planned with care.

When she had first arrived here Hannah had been bewildered. For twenty-three years she had lived more quietly than most girls and then, since a young boy had smiled at her as she sat in her uncle’s window, she had been swept into an adventure so romantic, so incredible, that when she awoke in the night she had to convince herself that she had not dreamed it all.

When she had stepped into the carriage and found the Prince waiting for her she had been too overcome by joy for anything else. She and the Prince had clung together as they rattled along, assuring each other of their undying love. She asked nothing more; nor did he. Both of them refused to look beyond the immediate future. They were in love; they were alone; Hannah had successfully escaped to him; they asked nothing more.

He took her to the house. ‘It is planned for you.’

‘It is a palace… it is an enchanted place.’

‘Your being here makes it so,’ he told her.

They went through the house together.

‘It is so large for one.’

‘But I shall be here often, as often as I can.’ He turned to her suddenly. ‘I intended to marry you. It is only if I married you that I could be completely happy.’

‘Thou – marry me! The Prince of Wales marry me… the linen-draper’s niece!’

‘I wanted to marry you. It was what I planned.’

She embraced him tenderly. He was a child after all. He really believed that the Prince of Wales could marry the niece of a tradesman.

‘Once we were married,’ he insisted, ‘they would have to accept it.’

She shook her head. They never would. Unworldly as she was, she knew that. Did he really think that he could make her Queen of England?

‘But they married you to that man Axford.’

Perhaps, she thought, it was as well, otherwise what folly would he have been prepared to commit?

‘I had to save you from that…’ he went on.

She kissed his hands. ‘How can I thank thee…’

‘No… no,’ he cried. ‘It is I who should thank you. Oh, Hannah, they were too quick for us. I should never have let them marry you to Axford. Now, you see,
we
cannot marry.’