In London he spent several nights with Droopy Ned, and again frequented White's, of which he was a member. As opposed to Brook's, the stronghold of the Foxites just across the road, most of the members of the Club were ardent Tories. Many of them had been among Pitt's staunchest supporters and had been sorry to sec him go but, almost to a man, they were now behind Addison in his conviction that Britain should agree to make peace provided Bonaparte's terms were not too unreasonable.
Two days before Christmas Roger went down to Stillwaters with a load of toys for the children and handsome presents for Georgina, her husband and her father. Again it proved a royally happy festive season. Having seen in the New Year of 1802 there, on January 2nd both Georgina and Roger removed to London. He again occupied his room in Amesbury House, but most nights it was not until the early hours of the morning that he left Georgina's big bed to be carried back from Berkeley Square to Arlington Street in a sedan chair preceded by a running footman holding aloft a smoking flambeau.
By the end of January it was the longest period they had spent together for several years and. far from tiring of one another, they revelled in each other's company. So often the same thoughts came to them at the same time, they laughed hilariously together at the same absurd trifles, and spent such joyous nights in each other's arms that, at the end of the month, both of them were most loath to relinquish their intimate and perfect companionship. In consequence, although it was Georgina's custom to spend the whole of the Spring at Stillwaters, she agreed to come to London again early in March.
Roger spent February in Brighton. The town had not yet become the favourite resort of all England's fashionable world, but the day was not far distant when it would have its Royal Pavilion, the splendid terraces facing the esplanade, and become known as 'London by the Sea'; for the Prince of Wales and his friends already spent much of their time there.
The Prince's tutor, Bishop Hurd, had said of him at the age of fifteen that he would be ‘either the most polished gentleman or the most accomplished blackguard in Europe —possibly both,' and the Bishop had proved an excellent prophet. In reaction to the cheeseparing economics that his mean mother inflicted on the Royal Households the Prince had early indulged in wild extravagance. Again and again he had got hopelessly into debt and resorted to the meanest shifts to stave off his creditors.
He was by nature profligate, and the Opposition, led by Fox and Sheridan, who were also rakes and inveterate gamblers, had flattered and encouraged him for their political ends. This, together with his morganatic marriage to the talented actress Maria FitzHerbert who was a Roman Catholic, had led to a life-long quarrel with his father. In '87 his creditors had become so pressing that he had had to shut up Carlton House, his London mansion, and go to live with Mrs. FitzHerbert at Brighton.
Then, the following year, King George had been afflicted with his first period of insanity, so, with great reluctance. Pitt had a Bill passed making the Prince temporarily Regent, but the Tory government took steps to restrict his powers as far as possible. In February '89, to the fury of the Foxites, the King's recovery had put an end to the Regency, so the Prince soon found himself in straitened circumstances again. By '94 his debts had become enormous and as the price of paying them his father insisted that he should marry Princess Charlotte of Brunswick. She proved to be a flippant and self-willed young woman and he intensely resented having been forced into marrying her. In consequence they soon ceased to live together and he returned to Mrs. FitzHerbert.
In the eyes of the great hereditary nobles of England the Hanoverian Princes were no more than parvenu upstarts and, since the Prince of Wales's conduct in several cases had been despicable, many of them refused to know him. Roger, too, as a staunch Tory, looked with ill favour on the Prince and his Whig cronies who, during the war, had so frequently hampered and attempted to sabotage measures that were in the best interests of Britain. But a friend of his named Lord Alvanley insisted on presenting him. and he had to admit that the Prince was a most genial companion with great charm of manner.
Although Brighton could not offer the warm sunshine to which Roger was used when in the south of France, its climate in February was infinitely preferable to that of rain-sodden London. While there he rode, walked and, following his custom whenever facilities were available, spent a lot of time at a fencing school and a pistol gallery to keep himself in good practice should he happen to be called on to use his weapons. At the end of the month he returned to London and two days later Georgina arrived at Berkeley Square.
Again for the first three weeks of that month they romped, laughed and loved, interspersing their nights of private delight by attending balls and routs together. But on the 26th Georgina had to leave London to make arrangements for a big party she was giving at Stillwaters on her husband's birthday, the 30th. Roger was, of course, invited and arrived there on the evening of the 29th.
To the surprise of his host and hostess, when he greeted them his face was as black as thunder. When they asked him the reason for his ill humour he replied, 'A peace with France was signed two days ago in Amiens and its terms have just been made public'
On entering the room Roger had noticed that John Beefy had failed to give him his usual warm smile: but at the announcement Beefy's face instantly brightened and he exclaimed. 'Peace at last! Hurrah for that! We'll get up our best wine this night to celebrate.'
Roger gave him a black look. 'Then I'll not drink it. On the way here I have been mulling over what it means to England, and the more I think on it the more I'm horrified.'
'Nonsense, man!' replied Beefy with a laugh. 'Peace is peace and 'tis that the country needs. To the devil with the terms, say I. With our commerce running at full spate again, whatever they be we'll soon regain our prosperity.'
Roger had formed a mild but indifferent liking for John Beefy, because he was such a kind and transparently honest fellow. That apart, he felt for him the faint contempt of a man who had achieved great things in the world, talked familiarly with Princes and defied Prime Ministers, for one who was of mediocre mind, knew nothing of great affairs and had never lifted a finger in the service of his country. Rounding on him, he snapped:
'Docs it mean nothing to you that our weak-kneed Prime Minister has given away all our conquests made these last eight years except for Trinidad and Ceylon? That many thousands of British lives have been sacrificed for the declared purpose of restoring to their rights the Bourbon Princes, the King of Sardinia and the Statholder of Holland, and that these monarchs are now not even to receive one penny of compensation for the loss of their realms? That having sent an expedition to reconquer Egypt, we are to recall it? Yes, and that we are even to give up Malta, the key to the Mediterranean?'
'Oh come,' Beefy expostulated mildly. 'Such matters are of small account compared to our having peace and the opportunity again to trade freely. And your criticism of Mr. Addison I count most unjust. In this he has served our country far better than did Mr. Pitt.'
At that Roger's gorge rose and he cried angrily, 'You imbecile! What do you know of such matters? How dare you belittle the greatest Prime Minister that Britain has ever had? The man who has worn himself to a shadow mobilising Europe to resist the hideous octopus arising out of the French Revolution and preserved our liberties. Dam'me. You know nothing and care for nothing apart from the selling of your sugar bags.'
'Roger!' exclaimed Georgina sharply. 'You go too far!'
John Beefy's face had gone a deeper shade of red. At the same moment he burst out, 'Mr. Brook, I resent your imputation. 'Tis more than enough that I should have to put up with the association between you and my wife. Oh. I know about that, and your attentions to her while she is in London are more assiduous than can be justified by however long a friendship. Servants talk, you know And while I have remained complaisant out of my great affection for her, I'd been of a mind to tell you after tomorrow night that I consider it most unseemly that, as her lover, you should frequent this house.'