'You are aware of the state of your father's health. I could not disturb him with such a request. I will wait until Mr. Pitt arrives. The decision can rest with him.'

The Prince said coldly: 'I shall not expect to see at the ball tonight the man who wished to murder my brother.'

And with that he left his mother.

The King's birthday ball! Who, a few months ago, would have thought it could have taken place; but here was the King receiving his guests, happy to be among them, looking a little-strained and fatigued it was true, and perhaps there was a wild light in his eyes and all felt wary of him—but still he was able to attend.

He received his sons with affection; and he was delighted to have his daughters with him.

He could scarcely bear his youngest daughter Amelia out of

his sight and he kept her at his side. Amelia had forgotten how frightened she had been when he had embraced her so tightly and seemed as though he would hug her to death. She now talked lightheartedly to him in a manner which delighted him.

The Queen was triumphant. She had told Mr. Pitt of the Prince's demand that Colonel Lennox should not be allowed to attend the ball and she wished Mr. Pitt to confirm her opinion that there was no reason at all why the Colonel should not attend. This Mr. Pitt had been happy to do, and consequently the Colonel was present.

She made a point of receiving him with very special favour and during the evening was seen to kiss her fan to him. This was deliberate and calculated to annoy the Prince of Wales, which it undoubtedly did. The inevitable crisis came when the Prince was partnering his sister, the Princess Royal, in a country dance. The Prince and his sister must trip between two rows of dancers and the Prince must dance with each lady in turn and the Princess with each gentleman.

When the Prince reached Colonel Lennox and his partner he bowed low to the lady and said: 'Madam, I crave your pardon, but this dance is over. This is not meant as an insult to you. I think you will understand.' And with that he took the hand of his astonished sister and led her back to the Queen.

The Queen said: 'But what has happened? Your Highness is tired?'

'By no means,' replied the Prince.

'Then you find it too hot?'

'Madam, in such company it is impossible not to find it too hot.'

'I suppose you wish me to break up the ball.'

'I do wish it, Madam.'

The Prince bowed and left the ballroom and the Queen had no alternative but to bring the ball to a close.

In a way, a victory for the Prince.

He went back to Carlton House, angry and dissatisfied.

He knew what he would do. He would leave all this—and go to Maria in Brighton.

There was no lack of warmth in the welcome he received at Brighton. Everywhere he went he was cheered, and the people were glad to see him back. There he could forget his troubles, for his friends rallied round him and sought to make him for get his disappointment at not having acquired the Regency and the humiliations he has suffered at the hands of his parents.

There was Maria, comforting and motherly—his Dear Love waiting to give him her devotion. There was his Marine Pavilion, always a joy, and he delighted in planning new alterations to it; there were his friends. The Sheridans were there and the Barry family ready to amuse him with the wildest pranks. The Lades came to greet him and talk of horses; he was surrounded by his old friends; the only one who was absent was Charles James Fox. He was indisposed, he wrote to the Prince, and was living quietly for a while at Chcrtsey.

The King had gone to Weymouth, there to recuperate and enjoy a little sea bathing, taking with him the Queen and the three elder princesses.

Weymouth! thought the Prince with a sneer. How different from fashionable Brighton.

Brighton was wonderful. The sun seemed to shine endlessly; every morning there was old Smoker waiting to superintend the Prince's bathing, always with a wry remark to amuse him; and then there were balls and banquets, the strolling along by the sea and the races. Always the races. He enjoyed driving out of Brighton with Maria in his carriage drawn by four grey ponies and when they reached Lewes there he would be received by the High Sheriff of the County; he gambled recklessly; he was constantly in the company of the Lades; he was seen more and more often with the reckless Barrys; he seemed determined to enjoy every minute of that summer.

'Hellgate', the eldest of the Barry brothers, was constantly thinking up the wildest diversions to amuse the Prince. He often behaved like a madman and liked to drive through the streets cracking his whip and lashing out at the houses as he passed; a favourite 'joke' of his was to ride from London to Brighton with his brothers and shout as they went 'Murder!' 'Rape!' in such high pitched voices that they would give the

impression that a female was being abducted. If anyone stopped them in order to rescue the woman they imagined was being abducted, the brothers amused themselves by thrashing the would-be rescuer. Their idea of fun almost always included physical violence in which the Prince had no wish to partake; but the wildness of the brothers amused him, and although he did not share their cruel adventures, he liked to hear of them.

Not so Maria. She wished to be gay and enjoy those summer months, but as she told the Prince, she could find no pleasure in Hellgate's kind of fun.

Instead she had arranged that the Old Theatre in Duke Street should be used by amateur actors who believed they could do well on the stage if given a chance. Let them act their plays, she said, and London managers could come down and watch them and perhaps discover their talent. The people of Brighton would provide them with the audiences they needed. And since it was her idea that this should be done, they must, she told the Prince, support the theatre.

Often she and the Prince could be seen together in their box and the antics of the actors so delighted them, unpractised as they were, that they often laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks.

A much better way of enjoying life, commented Maria, than the sort of dangerous horseplay indulged in by Hellgate Barrymore.

That summer the refugees were arriving from France, for that country was now groaning under the onslaught of fearsome revolution.

The Prince and Mrs. Fitzherbert received them warmly and the influence of French aristocracy was obvious in Brighton.

Those were happy days for Maria and she felt a determination to enjoy them to the full. She sensed change. She was thirty-four—no longer young, and she was growing fat. So was the Prince; but the six years between them seemed more marked now than they had before. Perhaps it was because he so enjoyed the company of people like the Barrys and the Lades, and those who wished to please the Prince must enjoy his pleasures. It was no use urging him to spend less recklessly; she herself had her money difficulties, for she had added her

resources to his and received an income from him. This he often forgot to pay and her expenses were prodigious. This worried her, for she was the sort of woman who left to herself would have lived within her means, for the thought of owing money was abhorrent to her; and yet since she must maintain her royal style how could she do anything but fall into debt?

But for one glorious summer at Brighton she must forget such things. She must try to keep up with the pace set by her spectacular husband. She must dance, ride, laugh and be merry; and she must be there to comfort him when he needed her. Because that was what he expected of her.

She became more and more aware of the clouds... distant so far, but nevertheless showing themselves on the horizon. He was not faithful. Maria heard whispers of his amours. But he always came back to her, and although he never mentioned his infidelities she sensed his contrition. She was his Dear Love, as he constantly addressed her. She was there to receive him back into the home after his adventures. Maria must know that however many women there were in his life she would always be the first and the most important of them all—his Dear Love—the woman whom he had defied the law to marry, the woman for whom he had once been ready to resign his crown.