When George wrote to her and told her that he was shortly to leave the country she wept with despair. To Miss Sketchley who was accompanying her on her tours as companion, secretary and in fact filling any post that was needed, she said: ‘This is the only letter I have ever had from George that did not fill me with happiness.’
That night she was taken ill on the stage and her part had to be taken over by her understudy. It was the first time that had happened.
The trouble which had fallen on George and Henry resulted in William’s writing to Dorothy. He too was worried about the fate of the boys and had tried remonstrating with his brother; but the Duke of York, who had previously been an easy-going and good-hearted man, was adamant. However, the Regent was sympathetic and so was the Queen and it was for this reason that they were being transferred to another regiment for the Duke’s first intention had been to dismiss them from the Army. His instructions had been that when they arrived in India they were to be treated by the commanding officer there to the utmost discipline; but the Regent had made it known that it was his wish that this should not be so.
It was pleasant to hear from William and to know that her concern for their sons was shared by him. But she did wonder whether there was an inclination in the royal family to disown the FitzClarence children now that their mother and father were separated and to treat them as any other illegitimate offspring – which owing to the long-standing relationship and the respectability of its nature had not been so before.
She must not fret too much and so upset the boys when they came to see her. And perhaps as the Regent was kindly disposed and she had never had any reason to doubt this, they would soon be home from India.
The case of Colonel Quentin and the part the young FitzClarences had played in it naturally called attention to their parents and there was a further spate of comments.
William was extremely unpopular, and Dorothy, although subject to criticism and ridicule, was a public idol. Now she was the deserted woman; and her two sons had been unfairly – most said – sent to India, just when the war was over and she could have hoped to be freed from anxiety concerning them.
Dorothy was away again on tour, working hard, trying to accumulate money for her retirement.
‘If only this hadn’t happened,’ she often said to Miss Sketchley, ‘I could have become reconciled. Why is it that as soon as I believe myself to have emerged from my difficulties another one appears?’
‘It is often so with families,’ said the practical Miss Sketchley. ‘And you have a large one. But remember that while there are some to give you anxiety there are others to bring you joy.’
‘How right you are!’ said Dorothy. ‘And I have had a great deal of happiness in my life. I know Alsop was a trial but I have two good sons-in-law. Samuel is so firm and strong… such a rock and dear Frederick so reliable. And the dear girls… Fanny, of course.’
‘Fanny’s place is with her husband,’ said Miss Sketchley firmly.
‘I wonder whether she would be happy there.’
Miss Sketchley did not answer. She knew that Fanny would never be happy anywhere.
It couldn’t be true. Was there not enough trouble. How could Fanny do this? Had she not caused enough anxiety already?
The letter reached her while she was playing in Carlisle and it was from Frederick. He did not know how to begin to tell her but there had been trouble in Cadogan Place.
Fanny had been writing threatening letters to the Duke of Clarence – letters which carried a hint of blackmail. She had threatened if he did not give her mother more money that certain facts of their relationship of which she was aware would be given to the newspapers.
As a result the Duke had sent his lawyer to Cadogan Place and there had been an alarming scene.
Frederick was outraged because, as he said, the Duke suspected him of being concerned in these threats. He had not believed that Fanny could have composed the letters herself but that Frederick had helped her.
‘I was able to prove my innocence,’ wrote Frederick, ‘and not only that, but let it be known that I had tried to prevail on Fanny to stop doing this foolish thing.’
‘Oh, God, what can I do?’ Dorothy demanded of Miss Sketchley. ‘I really begin to wonder what will happen next. I must go home.’
‘You cannot break your contracts,’ Miss Sketchley pointed out, ‘or you will be sued. You don’t want further financial worries.’
‘How can I go on acting? What can I do? Fanny will have to go away. I wonder if she would go to India. Perhaps I could send her to my brother in Wales. Anything… anything to get her away.’
‘Frederick is capable. He should be able to manage this in your absence.’
‘I will write to him. What can we do for poor Fanny? For she is ill, you know. That is the trouble. My poor, poor Fanny! First, she must be stopped writing these letters.’
‘I daresay she had been thoroughly frightened out of that by the lawyers.’
‘As soon as I get home I shall have to make some arrangement for her. In the meantime I am asking Frederick to increase the premiums on the life insurance I took out for Alsop, so that if he should die out there Fanny will be all right for the future. My head is simply whirling. I don’t know what I should do without you. How I long for this tour to be over!’
‘Frederick will manage everything,’ soothed Miss Sketchley.
‘Thank God for Frederick.’
Frederick told Dorothy that he had control of affairs in Cadogan Place and she could trust him to carry out her wishes. So she wished to raise the insurance on Alsop’s life; he would deal with the matter. He was not sure of the amount but if she would send him a blank cheque he would fill in the amount required. He was also advising Fanny that she should, after the trouble with the Duke, make plans immediately to leave for India, or if she did not wish to go so far he was sure it could be arranged for her to go to her relations in Wales.
Fanny said she would consider which appealed to her more. And one day she went out and did not return.
When Dorothy – still on tour – heard the news she was heartbroken; but Miss Sketchley said that Fanny would always fall on her feet and she probably had been making plans to leave home for some time. It was clear that she would not go to her husband; and now that she had made everything so uncomfortable at home, preferred to leave.
It was very likely, added Miss Sketchley, that she had gone to Wales.
Dorothy remained in a state of great unhappiness. It was all very well for others to say that all would be happier without Fanny. Dorothy could not forget that she was her daughter and she loved her in spite of all the trouble she had caused.
‘What will become of the child?’ she asked distractedly of Miss Sketchley.
‘Child! She is scarcely a child. If it were not for her and her husband you would not be here now working yourself into a state of exhaustion. You would be living peacefully at Cadogan Place.’
‘She did not ask to come into the world. Nor did I ask that she should. It’s that man Daly… he has been an evil shadow across my life from the day I met him. If I had never known him, everything would have been different.’
‘Fanny would never have been born, but would the Duke have remained faithful?’
‘It might have been different. Who knows? We had quarrels and I think I irritated him beyond endurance with my preoccupation with money and it was for the girls, I suppose.’
Miss Sketchley did not think highly of the Duke and conveyed it in her silence when he was mentioned. But Dorothy insisted on defending him. ‘He was always good and generous. It was money which separated us.’