Free Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill: (Georgian Series) by Jean Plaidy Page A

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    ‘God bless the Prince of Wales!’ cried the people of Brighthelmstone.
    And when they had retired into the drawing room the Duchess lifted her green eyes, so miraculously black-fringed, to his face and echoed: ‘God bless you, my dearest Prince of Wales. How kind of you to take pity on us and visit us here in our little sea village.’
    ‘Dearest Aunt, I could not resist the temptation to see how you amused yourself here.’
    ‘This is what you shall discover, gracious nephew. Wait until you have taken a dip in the sea water. I can assure you it is most refreshing. But there is one drawback which I know will cause Your Highness some concern. The ladies and gentlemendo not bathe together. The ladies take possession of the shore west of the Steyne and the gentlemen to the east. In any case the ladies all wear long and hideous flannel gowns and the gentlemen bathe much more charmingly naked.’
    ‘I am sure your flannel gown is most becoming.’
    ‘But of what use, since there are no gentlemen to see it … only the fat old fishwife who dips me.’
    ‘What a fantastic pastime. Does the sea really benefit you enough to make the performance worth while?’
    ‘I believe it does; and I am certain that once you have tried it you will wish to repeat it.’
    ‘And when shall I take my sea bathe, pray?
    ‘Tomorrow, of course.’
    ‘I trust the whole town will not turn out to see me.’
    ‘My beloved nephew, since so many people turn out to see Your Highness in his clothes, how many more would arrive to see you without them. But have no fear. It is all very discreet and the old fellow who dips you knows his job perfectly.’
    The Prince was amused; and since the Duke and Duchess had naturally brought with them many of their most entertaining friends, his first evening in Brighthelmstone was most pleasantly spent.
    The Prince stayed for eleven exciting and interesting days. He took to the sea bathing and found it most invigorating, and every day went into his bathing machine and undressed. It was then taken down to the edge of the sea by the bathing machine attendant and his horse, when the Prince would emerge and enjoy immersing himself. He hunted on the downs beyond Rottingdean, danced in the Assembly Rooms, strolled about the town meeting the people and accepting their loyal greetings with affable smiles and comments – changing the place in those eleven days from a little fishing village to a fashionable seaside resort, for naturally after the Prince’s visit it was fashionable to visit Brighthelmstone; sea bathing became a craze; bathing machines lined the shingle; the strong men and women dippers made a fortune it was said; owners of the little houses in Black Lion, Ship, East, West, Middle and North Streets let lodgings, and there was a steady stream of carriages and other conveyances on the road from London.
    ‘Nothing will ever be the same,’ said the sages of Brighthelmstone.
    They were right. Even the name was changed – to Brighton.
    In Carlton House the Prince was entertaining. He was proud of Carlton House; and he had every reason to be when he considered the ruin it had been when it had come into his hands. It had not been lived in since the death of his grandmother, Augusta, the Dowager Princess of Wales, and he imagined that it was because his father had believed it to be uninhabitable that he had given it to him. Oh yes, the old man would have liked him to continue in his rooms at Buckingham House. But Carlton House had offered a challenge: it had given him a chance to show what he could make of a house, dilapidated though it might be.
    And he had succeeded. It was by no means finished; he doubted it would be for years for he would always be thinking of some new improvement, but it was certainly very different from the Carlton House he had inherited. The architect, Henry Holland, had made an excellent job of the rebuilding, and that clever Frenchman, Gaubert, had decorated the interior with