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

‘We were all that winter in Scotland,’ he said. ‘Can’t do battle in the winter, boys. It’s cold up there. Spring’s the best time for battle. But there are bigger problems for a commander than battle. Ah yes. How he’s going to feed his men? How’s he going to get them where he wants? That’s the nightmare, boys. The battle...that’s the glory.’

‘Many die...’ began George.

‘Do you know how many they lost at Culloden, boy?’

George shook his head.

‘Good God, and they’re supposed to be educating you! Two thousand rebels! And our losses? You must always set one beside the other. That’s how you calculate the extent of your victory. Three hundred and forty loyal English gentlemen lost their lives at Culloden, boys. But we got two thousand of them. It’ll be long before that scum raise a standard against our King, I can tell you.’

George was silent. ‘What is it, boy?’ demanded his uncle.

‘George doesn’t like people being hurt,’ explained Edward.

That made Uncle Cumberland rock with laughter. ‘So that’s the way they’re bringing you up, is it? Dance with Mr. Ruperti! Music with Mr. Desnoyer! French and German with Mr. Fung! By God, what you boys want is to learn to be men, I’ll teach you a few things about living.’

‘But this is dying,’ interrupted George.

That made Uncle Cumberland laugh louder. In breathless tones he told the story of Culloden and how the bloody battle had gone. Even George was caught up in the excitement, and Cumberland looking from one to the other of the flushed faces was well pleased.

‘I’m going to get Sir Peircy Brett to tell you how he encountered the Elizabeth on the high seas. That’s a story well worth hearing. You’ll learn what it means to defend your country and that’s what you’ll have to do, boy, when you’re King, which will be one day. Now the Elizabeth...she was a French ship. She was convoying the small frigate with their Prince Charlie on board and she was carrying the ammunition. Sent by the King of France, boys, to defeat good Englishmen, he hoped. Much chance he had.’

‘When there was a Cumberland to defend us,’ cried Edward, and received a warm look of approval from his uncle.

‘And not only a Cumberland, boy. There are men like Peircy Brett in England too. He was in command of the Lion...sixty guns. Elizabeth she was a ship of twenty-four. And Lion sighted Elizabeth and went into the attack.’

‘And sank her?’ cried Edward.

‘Hey, wait a minute, boy. You want it too easy. It was a bloody battle...’ George saw the gleam in Uncle Cumberland’s eyes. ‘What slaughter! It was indeed a bloody battle. Lion was a wreck when it was over. Forty-five killed and one hundred and seven wounded.’

‘But that was our ship.’

‘Yes, you have your losses in battle. But Elizabeth was fit for nothing. She couldn’t go on. She had to limp back where she’d come from...and she was carrying supplies. So...their Bonnie Prince Charlie landed in Scotland, an impoverished adventurer...not the well-equipped young conqueror the King of France sent out. That’s battle, boys. That’s war. We lost Lion, but the purpose was achieved. I can tell you this: the loss of Elizabeth was as important to our victory as Culloden.’

George was thinking of the battle at sea; the shrieks of dying men; the blood there would be blood on the decks...on the cold cruel water. No, he did not like it, although he was fascinated.

‘I’ll get Brett to tell you the full story one of these days,’ went on Uncle Cumberland. ‘It’s a tale you boys should know. I’ll take you with me to camp. You, George, should know how to defend your crown. Now...’ He had pulled the map towards him. This was the map of Europe. He was going to tell more stories of battles and blood. This was living, he was thinking; the boys’ education was being neglected; battles were of more importance than hypothetical problems about non-existent watermen.

He had the map spread out before him when the Prince and Princess of Wales came in accompanied by Lord Bute and Lady Middlesex.

‘Ha, ha, brother,’ cried Uncle Cumberland, getting up and kicking his chair back. ‘And my sister...’ He took Augusta’s hand and kissed it. George, watching, saw that his father was displeased and as his parents were always in agreement, so was his mother.

Cumberland ignored Lord Bute and ran his eyes swiftly over Lady Middlesex. He liked women; in fact, gambling and women were what he enjoyed next to making war; he had never married; and had no desire to; but that had nothing to do with his fondness for the opposite sex. Lady Middlesex he knew was a favourite of Fred’s—a clever woman but too short, too dumpy and her skin was as brown as a walnut; someone had once said she was as yellow as a November morning and by God, they were right. Fred, like his father and grandfather could not be said to choose his mistresses for their beauty.

‘We did not know that you were here,’ said Frederick mildly. He disliked his brother, but was too good-natured to show it. ‘We should have been advised.’

‘I wanted no ceremony. So I slipped into the schoolroom and gave my nephews a lesson.’

‘They look as if they’ve enjoyed it,’ said Lord Bute.

The Duke raised his eyebrows; he was surprised that an attendant should have expressed an opinion. He disliked the fellow in any case. He had heard be had a great influence unh the Prince of Wales and that he accompanied them everywhere. The Prince commanded him to attend on the Princess while he enjoyed the company of Lady Archibald Hamilton, Lady Middlesex and Lady Huntingdon. It made four some, a little bourgeois community. Frederick liked to live simply at Cliveden. It would have to be different when he ascended the throne, which Cumberland hoped would not be for a long time. Fred as King was a project which did not appeal to him.

Augusta was clearly pregnant, so Frederick was doing his duty in spite of the ladies. She looked well content with the arrangement, too. A stupid woman, thought Cumberland; but a docile one. She never raised her voice against Fred. She was very different from their mother. Cumberland was sad, thinking of the Queen’s death. She had doted on him and had done her best to have Fred passed over for him. He was the son both his father and mother would have liked to see mount the throne. But Fred was the eldest, and although his parents had done their best to keep him in Hanover and had not allowed him to come to England until he was twenty one, he was Prince of Wales, and nothing was allowed to interfere with that.

Well, Fred could keep his yellow-skinned mistress; he could keep his docile wife; but the education of the boy who would one day be King of England was surely a matter with which the family should concern itself. George was doubtless a good boy, but he was obviously a simpleton. He should be taught something about life. They should try to make a soldier and a man of him. Cumberland would speak to his father about the boy and if King George said his grandson must be educated in a certain manner, then so it would be.

Cumberland turned away from Lord Bute as though he had not spoken and said he would like to have the chance of teaching the boys something about the strategem of war.

Frederick replied that the boys had the best tutors in the country and he and the Princess were very pleased with their progress.

Cumberland nodded ironically and replied that he was sure of that—that the Prince and Princess of Wales were pleased, he meant.

Then Frederick suggested that as the time set for his sons’ lessons was not yet at an end, he and the Princess should show the Duke the gardens at Cliveden, as he was sure he would find something there to interest him.

• • •

Trouble in the family. It was distressing. George wished that they could all be friends together and that his grandfather did not hate his father, and that when an uncle called it could be an occasion for rejoicing rather than for anger, for he was well aware of the indignation this impromptu visit had aroused.