‘The diet works wonders,’ replied Hervey. ‘I shall be well in a few days. Put out my pomade and my powder, dear boy. Then you can help me repair the ravages of the journey.’
Dinner was over and they sat in the drawing room—an intimate family party. There was Molly in flowered silk gathered up at the sides to show her very elaborate blue satin petticoat, the sleeves of her gown billowing at the elbows and ending in frills of soft lace; a patch near her eyes called attention to their beauty; she was now sitting with the utmost grace with which she performed every duty of the hostess. Anna Maria Pulteney was less elaborately dressed. She and Pulteney were very wealthy but Anna Maria did not like spending money and not only was very careful in her own expenditure but saw that her husband was too.
Pulteney was soberly dressed, but Lord Hervey looked like a gorgeous dragon fly in lavender lace and satin; and Stephen, more simply dressed but very handsome, sat back in the shadows ready to show his devotion whenever his dearest friend demanded it.
Pulteney was wondering how far he could trust Hervey. He would have to trust him because he needed him. A man with a pen like Hervey’s should be on one’s side; and the fact that Walpole had been so eager to welcome him into his fold and had secured him the post of Chamberlain to the Queen was an indication of how his services were regarded.
During Hervey’s absence abroad Pulteney had been bringing Lady Hervey to his point of view and as she disliked Sir Robert Walpole intensely she was delighted to help him.
Together, thought Pulteney, we will persuade him.
Conversation was desultory—all knew, except perhaps Stephen, that they were skirting about the subject they wished to discuss. They talked of Venice and Florence. Pulteney was a great talker, one of the most eloquent of men; and he liked to air his knowledge of the classics and throw in a latin tag here and there. Hervey was not surprised that he could not endure coarse Sir Robert. He was highly amused, waiting for Pulteney to come into the attack while he skilfully hedged him off with the beauties of the sunset on the Grand Canal and a discussion of the merits of Michelangelo and Tintoretto.
Pulteney represented Heydon, a borough in Yorkshire, and was one of the leading Whigs. When he had married Anna Maria Gumley, of low birth and high fortune, he became one of the richest men in the country; but Anna Maria had turned out to be a vixen who kept a tight hold on their income and invested it in such a manner that it increased rapidly. At the beginning of his career he had worked with Walpole until Sir Robert had offended him in the year 1721 by not offering him a post in his Ministry. He refused the peerage which was offered him and very soon afterwards became one of Walpole’s deadly enemies. He joined forces with Bolingbroke and that was indeed a formidable alliance, for between them they set up a journal which they calledThe Craftsmanand with this they began their attack. In it they wrote of a certain Robin (Sir Robert) and the object of the journal was to discredit him and to expose his sly ways to readers. Pulteney was a brilliant writer and Bolingbroke had years before discovered the power of the written word.
Sir William Wyndham, a firm Jacobite, joined with them and the three formed a new party which was made up of discontented Whigs and Jacobites; they called themselves the Patriots and their aim was, they declared, to work for the good of the country and expose the evil clings of those in high places.
And now, thought Hervey, Pulteney is here to attempt to lure me away from Walpole to his Patriots, perhaps to add my literary skill to his in The Craftsman.
Oh, no, certainly not. I have no intention of working under Pulteney and Bolingbroke. I am going to work alone and go my own way; and I shall begin through my friendship with Frederick, the Prince of Wales.
‘William has been a frequent visitor during your absence,’ said Molly at length when there was a pause in the description of European scenic grandeur.
‘How kind of him to relieve the tedium of Ickworth.’ ‘How could there ever be tedium where Molly is?’ asked Pulteney, smiling at his hostess.
Hervey saw the familiar lift of the lips, the opening of the eyes which remained cold and serene.
‘We discussed your talents,’ she said. ‘They are too great to be wasted.’
‘How kind.’
‘If you could persuade Lord Hervey to read his latest poem to you ...’ began Stephen.
But Hervey silenced him with a loving smile.
‘Let us discuss my talents,’ said Hervey. ‘I thrive on flattery.’
‘This is no flattery,’ said Pulteney.
Anna Maria who hated prevarication said bluntly: ‘They want you to join the Patriots.’
Hervey took a kerchief from his sleeve and waved it before his face. Stephen half rose in alarm; Molly sat smiling and Pulteney was very alert.
‘That would be far from simple,’ murmured Hervey. ‘Why so?’ asked Pulteney sharply.
‘I have my appointment to serve the Queen.’
‘Why should you not continue in it?’
‘Do you think Walpole would allow one who was no longer a friend to hold a post so close to the Queen?’
‘That would be for the Queen to decide,’ said Anna Maria.
‘The Queen and Walpole share each other’s views, Madam. What Walpole thinks today the Queen thinks tomorrow.’
There was silence.
‘I should be the loser by one thousand pounds a year,’ declared Hervey languidly.
‘Your father would be delighted to give you a thousand a year,’ suggested Molly.
He smiled at his wife tenderly.
‘My dearest, you think all have as high an opinion of me as you have.’
‘I dislike Walpole,’ said Molly. ‘He is a coarse creature. He tried to seduce me once when I was at Court.’ ‘Unsuccessfully?’ enquired Hervey.
‘Certainly unsuccessfully.’
‘The fool! ‘ said Pulteney. ‘He is a disgrace to the country.’
‘A disgrace who has brought peace,’ suggested Hervey. ‘It was time for peace. There is always a time for peace after wars.’
‘He is credited for the peaceful times and the new prosperity.’
Molly said: ‘If your father would make up the loss of the stipend you receive as the Queen’s Chamberlain would you consider leaving Walpole?’
There was silence in the room.
Hervey looked at them; Pulteney so flatteringly eager; Anna Maria suspicious, the vixen; and Molly, cool, seeming impartial. She wanted him to say yes. She did not care that her husband should be the crony of the man who had tried to seduce her. Fastidious Molly, how she must have hated the coarse old man. Was she capable of feeling elated at the thought of his fury when he knew he had lost such and important adherent as Hervey? It would be interest. ing to see.
‘My father would not do so,’ he said.
‘But if he did ...’
Hervey lifted his shoulders; the assumption was that his loyalty to Walpole hung on his stipend he received as the Queen’s Chamberlain.
Stephen was alarmed, for he knew more of the secret plans of his dear friend than anyone.
‘If you gave up your post you would hardly be received intimately at the Court.’
‘That’s so, dear Stephen.’
‘But ... it is necessary ... that you are at Court.’
‘Entirely necessary.’
‘And yet ...’
‘Dear boy, you disturb yourself unnecessarily. There is no question of my giving up my post. My father will never agree to pay me the thousand a year.’
‘And if had ...’
‘He never will. My dear boy, do you imagine that I would give up this brilliant chance of being in close Court circles. Never! But if I say to my wife I wish to be on friendly terms with your would-be-seducer, she will be displeased. And if I say to William Pulteney: You are a clever fellow but I prefer to stand in the good graces of one whom I think is more clever—he will be offended. But if I say I do what I do for the sake of one thousand pounds a year, they are only disappointed; they understand and in a way they approve. Madam Vixen also. She has always such respect for money. It’s the line of least resistance. I shall go back to Court, sighing because I must smile at the man who would have seduced my wife, I must call my friend the enemy of one who believes himself to be my true friend. Oh, blessed thousand a year.’