'Why, my dear cousin,' she said, 'you are far too young to live the life of a recluse. I was talking to the Duchess of Devonshire aboutyou and she is eager to make your acquaintance.'

'My dear Lady Sefton ...'

'Oh, come, Christian names between cousins. Isabella if you please.'

'Well, Isabella, I have no great desire to go into society as yet. I am happy here in Marble Hill and my friends and family are frequently with me.'

'When Georgiana Cavendish asks to meet people they are expected to be delighted. Moreover, you will be so interested in her. She has the most exciting salon in Court circles. Every-

one ... simply everyone of interest is there. Fox, Sheridan ... even the Prince of Wales.'

'But my dear Isabella, I am a simple country woman.'

'What nonsense! I never knew anyone more poised. You are not going to waste your talents on the desert air of Richmond, cousin, I do assure you. I shall not allow it. You shall come with me to the opera, I insist. Why you have a place in Park Street. What could be more convenient. It was clearly meant.'

Maria wavered. She did like society. It might be that she would soon tire of the quiet life at Marble Hill, and enjoy meeting the famous people of whom she had heard.

'So it is settled,' said Lady Sefton. 'You will come to Park Street; and I shall show you off in my box at the Opera. I think society is going to be very impressed, for, my dear Maria, you are not only a beauty, you are such an original one. No one at Court or in society looks quite like Maria Fitzherbert.'

Maria prepared for her visit to London. She would miss the fresh air of Richmond, she reminded herself. Well, she was not far away and it would be simple enough to come back whenever she wished; moreover, she would enjoy a stay in London; and it was as well to make sure that all was well in the Park Street House. She would need clothes, but would arrange that in London. Yes, she was looking forward to a little town life.

But the country was charming; she loved to stroll along by the river towards Kew on these lovely spring days when the trees were budding and the birds in full song.

One day when the sun was shining she slipped a cloak about her shoulders and not bothering to put a hat on her glorious hair, worn loose and unpowdered, she strolled out into the sunshine.

There were very few craft on the river; she supposed that it would be be busier between Kew and Westminster, with so many people going back and forth between the royal palaces. That was another reason why Richmond was so restful.

She paused suddenly; she heard the sound of laughing voices; a small party of men and women came into sight. She would have turned back, but they had seen her and she did not

want to have given the impression of avoiding them. She noticed at once that these people were most elegantly dressed, their hair powdered, their coats of velvet and satin. A party she guessed from the Court, strolling out from Kew Palace.

One young man of the party stopped suddenly a little ahead and made a gesture as though bidding the others not to walk beside him; the rest of the party slackened their pace and as he approached Maria she saw the diamond star on his coat and a suspicion came to her that he must be a very distinguished personage indeed.

He was young, fresh complexioned, blue-eyed, inclined to be a little plump, rather tall and undoubtedly handsome.

As she approached he gave her the most elaborate bow she had ever seen. She bowed and quickening her step, hastily walked on and took a path winding away from the river. She did not look back; her heart was beating faster; she wondered briefly whether she was being followed. But no. She could hear the voices of the party she had just passed; they were still on the towpath. By a round-about way she came back to the river. She was relieved that there was no sign of the elegant party. She had guessed of course who the young man was who had bowed so elegantly. It was none other than the Prince of

Wales.

# # #

Now she was pleased that she was going to London for she had a notion that if she strolled out along the towpath at precisely the same time the next day she would encounter the same party.

She did not wish for that. The Prince of Wales had already acquired a rather dangerous reputation where women were concerned; he took a delight in romantic adventures. She was sure that he would have thought a chance meeting on a tow-path a most amusing meeting place. But Maria Fitzherbert was no Mrs. Robinson. Yes, it was time she appeared in society as a reputable matron of irreproachable character.

No sooner had she settled into Park Street than Isabella Sefton descended on her. They must pay their suggested visit to the Opera, but first Isabella wished to launch her dear Maria into society through a ball she was giving the next day.

It was pleasant to be in a society which was more glittering than anything she had experienced before, though Isabella assured her that her ball was homely compared with those given at Devonshire House or Cumberland House ... to say nothing of Carlton House.

'You are not suggesting that we shall be invited to Carlton House!' cried Maria.

'It would not surprise me in the least,' laughed Isabella.

Maria thought a little uneasily of that encounter on the river bank; but perhaps she had been mistaken, perhaps that elaborate bow was the manner in which he greeted any of his lather's subjects. After all, he had to woo their popularity; and the most elegant of bows would be expected from royalty. She had heard that his father, the King, strolled about Kew and talked to people as though he were a country squire.

She was surrounded by admirers. Not only her beauty was admired, but the fact that she looked so different from everyone else. The women with their powdered hair, their elaborate styles, were not dissimilar; but Maria Fitzherbei t was different. Not only was her hair unpowdered but her complexion, which was flawless, was untouched by rouge or white lead; she had a delightful combination, the youthful skin of a young girl and the fully developed bosom of an older woman. It was impossible not to notice her. Maria Fitzherbert, because she was different from all other women, was the belle of the ball.

The next day a paragraph appeared in the society columns of the Morning Herald. It said:

A new constellation has lately made an appearance in the fashionable hemisphere, that engages the attention of those who are susceptible to the power of beauty. The widow of

the late Mr. F... h t has in her train half our young

nobility; as the lady has not, as yet, discovered a partiality lor any of her admirers, they are all animated with hopes of success.'

When Isabella brought the paper to show her Maria was annoved.

'It is absurd. I have only just arrived. And to talk of my partiality. It is quite ridiculous.'

'Such notoriety is something we all have to endure when we become famous, Maria.'

'Famous. For appearing at a ball!'

But Isabella laughed. Maria was fascinating. She was so different.

Maria surveyed the audience from the Sefton box at Covent Garden. Many eyes were on her. Perhaps, she was thinking, I will curtail my stay in London. It would certainly be more peaceful at Richmond; or perhaps she would go to stay for a while at Brambridge or with Uncle Henry.

Then she was aware of the changed atmosphere in the theatre. She was no longer the focus of attention. Something was happening.

Isabella leaned towards her and whispered, 'This is to be a royal occasion.'

And into one of the boxes opposite stepped a glittering figure. His coat was of black velvet spattered with blue spangles and on his breast he wore a flashing diamond star.