The Prince and the Quakeress - Plaidy Jean (читать книги онлайн бесплатно регистрация TXT) 📗

‘I pray you, sir, sit down.’

‘Thank you.’

He sat and looked at her kindly. He was a very handsome man. He said: ‘I come on behalf of His Highness, the Prince of Wales.’

‘Yes.’

‘That does not surprise you, I see.’

‘No.’ She had never been able to dissimulate.

The visitor seemed relieved. It was as though he had made up his mind that he had to deal with a sensible woman.

‘You had been expecting someone to call?’

‘Yes. May I know your name?’

‘I cannot tell you that. Is it enough that I am a friend of the Prince of Wales?’

‘It is enough if he sent you to me.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘He does not know that I have come.’

She nodded and smiled faintly.

‘I see you are a lady of good sense. I know that you are—or were—a member of the Society of Friends which is a great comfort to those who wish well to the Prince, for we believe that you are a good and religious woman who will be prepared to do your duty.’

‘I shall try to do that,’ she said.

‘Let us be open and frank with each other. The Prince has contracted a marriage with you. You realize that this marriage can never be recognized.’

‘I do not understand that. But whether or not it is recognized it is a marriage.’

‘You yourself were married before to an Isaac Axford. Therefore it could be called a bigamous marriage and no marriage at all.’

‘I did not count myself married to Isaac Axford,’ she answered.

‘And you do to the Prince of Wales?’

She nodded.

‘You are devoted to His Highness, I believe?’

‘I would do anything for his happiness.’

Now the visitor’s relief was apparent. ‘Then I am sure that when you have heard what I tell you, you will agree to what I have to say.’

Hannah listened to what she was told and as she listened she felt her life crumbling into ruins about her.

It was true what she heard. She had always known it. He had made his sacrifice for her knowing all this; she must not fail him. Now was the time to make hers for him.

• • •

In his closed carriage the Prince set out for Tottenham. It was some weeks since he had seen Hannah, but she would understand. Matters of state were increasingly taking more and more of his time and she had agreed that this would become more and more inevitable as time went on.

He reached the house. He was going to tell her how glad he was that their union was at last sanctified. He would discuss with her the advisability of making the matter known...first, he thought, to Lord Bute, who had always been his friend and never showed any impatience. He reminded himself even when his father was alive—much as he had loved him—it was Lord Bute to whom he had taken his troubles.

The carriage turned in at the private drive. He alighted and looked with tenderness up at the window where she invariably watched for him. He believed that she was listening all the time for the sound of his carriage, for she always seemed to be there when he arrived. She would lift her hand in greeting as he alighted, and then run down to greet him.

On this day he stood looking up at the window. The curtains remained still. He had caught her today! She had not heard him.

He took out his key and let himself in by the door which he always used. She was not waiting for him, and he was suddenly aware of the silence of the house. It was strange. He had never noticed that before. Of course he had not, because she would he running down to meet him.

He went to the hall and called her name. He looked up the stairs.

‘Hannah? Where are you, Hannah?’

Now it was really strange, for she did not appear on the stairs.

She was ill. Something had happened. He took the stairs two at a time, calling her name. Where were the servants? Why did they not come out to receive him?

A sudden panic came to him. He was alone...alone in this house.

‘Hannah! Hannah!’ He scarcely recognized his own voice. Where could she be! There was nowhere far her to hide. He went into the room with the tall windows in which Reynolds had painted her picture. She was not there. He looked at the wall and stared, for where the picture had hung there was an empty space.

‘Oh God,’ he whispered. ‘What does it mean?’

He ran to the nursery. The little beds were there and empty. The children were gone.

‘Hannah! Hannah !’ he called.

There was a cold sweat on his brow; his mind felt sluggish, unable to supply the answer he was demanding of it.

‘Hannah, where are you? Come out if you are hiding. If this is a joke...Enough...Enough...’ He whispered her name; he shouted her name; but there was no answer. Only his own voice echoing through the empty house.

He ran through the rooms; there was no sign of her, no sign of the children, no sign of life. He would not believe it. They could not have gone.

‘Where to?’ he demanded of the emptiness.

The children? She could not have gone back to St. James’s Market and taken the children with her...his children? How would that have been possible?

But she had disappeared. She had been spirited away.

He would not leave the house; he went from top to bottom, searching, calling her name, through the empty rooms which he already knew were empty because he had examined them before.

He stood in the hall looking about him.

But she was gone.

He had lost her and he could not understand how.

Dazed, bewildered, he returned to the carriage and gave orders to be driven back to Kew.

• • •

Lord Bute was waiting for him when he returned to the Palace.

‘Some business to discuss with Your Highness...Good God! what has happened? Your Highness...looks...Your Highness has had a shock?’

‘I want to talk to you. I must talk to you without delay.’

‘Come into my private apartments. We shall be quite alone there.’

Lord Bute shut the door and looked at the Prince earnestly. He was taking it badly. Well, it was to be expected.

‘Tell me what has happened to upset you.’

‘I do not know what has happened. It’s a mystery...a terribly mystery. I do not understand what it means.’

‘Pray tell me everything.’

So the Prince told—of his life with Hannah, of the children.

Lord Bute listened nodding gravely; but when the Prince came to the marriage he opened his eyes wide and exclaimed with horror.

‘I had to do it. It meant so much to her. She feared death...and the sin...’

‘Ah, I understand,’ said Lord Bute. ‘And you decided that at all costs to yourself you must relieve her of that.’

‘I knew you would understand.’

‘Certainly...certainly. There will be difficulties. Your mother had decided on a German Princess for you.’

‘What I have discovered today is what has reduced me to this state. She has gone.’

‘Gone...Gone where?’

‘That I do not know. I went to visit her and I found the house empty...I found her disappeared. Everything is gone...The children...herself...There is nothing there. It empty house. Yet...how could they have gone without telling me.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I went through the house...every room...the nursery, the kitchen...everywhere. There is no one there at all. And the picture has gone.’

‘Picture?’

‘Reynolds painted it. I wanted a picture of her.’

‘So you sent Reynolds to...er...this...er...house to paint her?’

The Prince nodded. So there is another in the secret, thought Bute uneasily.

‘You...told him who she was?’

‘No, no. I merely arranged that he should be commissioned to paint a picture of Mrs. Axford.’

‘I see.’

‘But what can I do. Where is she? Can you explain?’

‘There is an explanation, obviously.’

‘But what? I can think of none.’

‘Nor I just at present. But if Your Highness will give me every detail of this affair I will do my best to find it.’

‘Oh, please do. I shall not rest until Hannah is safe.’