Molly was a cold woman without jealousy. Hervey could have his lovers—male and female—and Molly implied it was no concern of hers. When he came to Ickworth he was welcome. It was his home; she bore his name and his children. His preference for others was no slur on her because she had been recognized as one of the most beautiful and attractive women of her day; she could have had lovers by the score; but Molly did not want lovers. She wanted her life to go on as she had arranged that it should; that did not include any emotional disturbance, for Molly had no time in her life for emotion.

A strange ménage, some people thought. But it satisfied Molly and John Hervey. What man, he was asking himself now as the carriage was coming into Ickworth, could have gone off travelling abroad with a beloved friend, and return with that friend to his wife and be received with a cool cordiality which was more comforting in the circumstances than any warmth could have been.

His thoughts were going on ahead of Ickworth, for he had decided that it should be a short stay. And then ... to Court. It would be amusing to renew his acquaintance with the Prince of Wales. He and Frederick had become good friends when he had visited Hanover before the Prince had come to England; in fact Frederick had been quite overwhelmed by the polished manners and elegant charm of Lord Hervey. Later they had resumed that friendship and if Hervey had not had to travel abroad for the sake of his health, it would have progressed still farther.

The thought of his health made Hervey feel a little wan and Stephen immediately noticed this.

‘You are feeling ill?’

‘A little faint.’

‘My dear soul, lie back and close your eyes. I fear the jolting of the coach ...’

The jolting of the coach,’ said Hervey quietly, enjoying his friend’s concern. ‘Nothing more.’

‘Did you take your spa water before we set out?’ ‘I did, I swear.’

‘It should raise the spirits.’

‘My spirits are high enough, dear boy. It is the flesh that is weak. I think I will try that mixture of crabs’ eyes, asses milk, and oyster shells. I have reports that it sweetens the blood.’

‘I will see that you have it.’

‘My dear Stephen! ‘

Such devotion was pleasant; it was for its sake that he had taken Stephen with him on his travels. Dear Stephen! Quite his favourite person at the moment. Stephen had cosseted him, remembered his medicines, listened to his poetry, adored everything he did. He was so much warmer than Molly. Not that he would criticize Molly one little bit. Molly was just the wife for a man such as he was.

‘Close your eyes,’ commanded Stephen. The only time the dear boy commanded was when he was acting the nurse. ‘You should rest for the remainder of the journey.’

Hervey obeyed, and allowed himself to drift into a pleasant state of semi-consciousness when the impressions of Venice and Florence became slightly jumbled together and he was not sure whether he was walking beside the Arno or the Grand Canal. The sun had been so welcome, and he had written a great deal of poetry which he so enjoyed reading to the appreciative Stephen. Sometimes he felt he would ask nothing more but to stay at Ickworth with his family—and Stephen—and spend his days writing.

That would never suit him for long though. He was a mischievous sprite; he must be at the core of life; he must be at Court, stirring up trouble, seeking a high place in the confidence of people through whom he could make himself important—important in politics which played their part in history.

He was too egotistical, too vain, too mischievous to spend his days in retirement.

There would be fun to be had at Court now. Walpole was supreme some said and Pulteney was determined to pull him down. It would be fun to live close to such a battle, to work in the shadows, to use his pen as some men used their swords. Oh, yes, there was a great deal of amusement to be had at Court.

Therefore it would be just a short respite at Ickworth and then away to adventure.

He himself was no politician of fixed ideas. He had been returned as a Member of the House of Commons for Bury St Edmunds some years before and since he had in those days belonged to the Court of the Prince and Princess of Wales and Walpole had at that time been the King’s minister—and that King was George I—he had joined Pulteney’s Opposition.

But George I had died and the Prince of Wales had become George II and although George II had at first rejected Walpole he had afterwards reinstated him. This meant that Walpole was the confidant of the Queen; and as Pulteney was still in opposition against Walpole, there was only one thing Hervey could do and that was change sides. He had become a Walpole man.

He was evidently not a man to be despised. His pen could be vitriolic, his tongue sharp; and Walpole was so pleased to have him on his side that he had asked the Queen to receive him in her household as Chamberlain. This was a source of great pleasure to Hervey; it meant he could be constantly near the Queen, and as he had his duties at Court he could keep in close touch with the Prince of Wales.

Very satisfactory, he was telling himself now. So, after a little respite, to Court he would go.

The carriage was approaching the Ickworth mansion. Hervey opened his eyes. Stephen looked at him anxiously to make sure he was not going to faint and with a little sigh Hervey sat up straight, adjusted his cravat, and smiled at his friend.

‘I feel better,’ he said, ‘but I should like to try the blood sweetener.’

They left the carriage and went into the big hall. Lady Hervey, looking very cool and outstandingly beautiful, was calmly waiting to greet him, her children about her and beside her to Lord Hervey’s astonishment, and some chagrin, William Pulteney.

Hervey patted the heads of his eldest son, George William, and his eldest daughter whom they had named Lepel. The children had been well trained by their mother and received him as coolly as she did. He was pleased with his family.

‘William guessed that you would be arriving today, and he and Anna Maria are staying here. William is anxious to have talks with you.’

‘Is that so?’ replied Hervey languidly. ‘Stephen will be staying until I return to Court.’

Mary gave Stephen her beautiful smile which meant that she allowed her lips to curl a little and her eyes to open wider.

‘That will indeed be a pleasure,’ she said.

‘Stephen will unpack for me,’ murmured Hervey. ‘I do not trust the servants with some of my precious things.’

‘Of course,’ replied Molly.

As he went to his rooms Hervey was wondering what proposition Pulteney had to put before him. He no longer felt so friendly towards Pulteney as he once had; his friendships did wane quickly. And Pulteney could scarcely feel so kindly towards him now that he had made it clear that he was a Walpole man. Still, it was gratifying that Pulteney should seek to bring him back to the fold. And Molly was evidently eager to help in the change.

Oh, no, thought Hervey. If I am going to Court I must be a Walpole man, for Walpole has managed to become the friend of the King and the Queen.

He turned to smile at Stephen.

‘I do wonder why Pulteney has come here,’ he said. ‘And, oh dear, he has that vixen of his with him! She’s a good looking woman but has nothing to recommend her but her looks. I should like to know the purpose of his visit.’

‘You will soon discover, however he tries to hide it from you.’

Hervey sat down on the bed as though exhausted. ‘You are feeling ill?’

‘A touch of the vertigo; I think I may have to go back to the seed and vegetable diet.’

‘Oh dear, it has such a weakening effect. Perhaps you should rest here at Ickworth for a while.’