'"Nothing," she said, "had so cut her up," to use her own expression, as not having received one word in reply to that last letter. It is true, she observed, that she had been informed by the Duke of Wellington, that he, more than once, expressed his anxiety that a particular picture should be hung round his neck, and deposited with him in the grave; and it seemed to be the opinion of his Grace, that this portrait was one which had been taken of her in early life, and was set round with brilliants. It appeared the more likely, as this portrait was afterwards missing when the others were returned to her. The copy of the letter, which, in answer to my question, she went into her bedroom to fetch, she put into my hands to read. It was an expression of her fears that the King was very ill, and an affecting tender of any services she could render him, in a strain which I could not read without sympathising deeply in her distress.

'Soon after his death, she left town for Brighton. There, she, a second time, received the kindest messages from William the Fourth; but, upon his inquiry, why she did not come to see him, she stated the peculiar difficulties of her situation, and a wish, if it was not asking too much from his condescension, that he would graciously honour her with a personal communication at her own house, previously to her visit to the Pavilion.

'The King complied with her request, without delay, and she told him that she could not, in her present circumstances, avail herself of the honour of waiting upon his Majesty, without asking his permission to place her papers before him, and requesting his advice upon them. Upon her placing in his hands the Documents which have been preserved, in justification of her character, and, especially, the certificate of her marriage, and another, and most interesting paper, this amiable Sovereign was moved to tears by their perusal, and expressed his surprise at so much forbearance with such Documents in her possession, and under pressure of such long and severe trials. He asked her what amends he could make her, and offered to make her a Duchess. She replied, that she did not wish for any rank; that she had borne through life the name of Mrs. Fitzherbert; that she had never disgraced it, and did not wish to change it; that, therefore, she hoped his Majesty would accept her unfeigned gratitude for his gracious proposal, but that he would permit her to retain her present name.

'"Well, then," said he, "I shall insist upon your wearing my livery," and ended by authorising her to put on weeds for his Royal brother. He added, "I must, however, soon see you at the Pavilion"; and, I believe, he proposed the following Sunday, a day on which his family were more retired, for seeing her at dinner, and spending the evening at the Pavilion. "I shall introduce you myself to my family," said he, "but you must send me word of your arrival."

'At the appointed hour, upon her reaching the Pavilion, the condescending monarch came himself and handed her out of her carriage, and introduced her to his family, one after the other, as one of themselves. He, ever after, treated her in the same gracious manner, and, on one occasion, upon her return from Paris, made her a present of some jewels, which he said he had had some time, but would not send them to her abroad, as he wished to give them to her himself, on her return to England. He afterwards entered into conversation on matters relating to her dearest interests, and to sanction the custody of such papers as were thought most available in support of her honour and fair reputation with posterity.

'Mrs. Fitzherbert told me that, the first day, when, in compliance with the commands of the King, she went to the Pavilion, and was presented by him to the Queen and Royal Family, she was, herself, much surprised at the great composure with which she was able to sustain a trial of fortitude which appeared so alarming at a distance; but she believed the excitement had sustained her. It was not so the next dinner at which she was present in the same family circle; and the many reflections which then oppressed her mind, very nearly overpowered her. Afterwards, she frequently attended the King's small Sunday parties at Brighton, and then, as upon all other occasions, she was received with uniform kindness and consideration.

'Many letters of hers, even when writing from abroad to fight off her marriage, had been preserved by the King. Some were in the possession of Sir William Knighton,[79] who had obtained possession of the King's correspondence, either as being his executor, or from having Colonel MacMahon's letters in his custody. She had, also, various letters of her own, from the Prince. It was, therefore, agreed, by the friends of both parties, that, with a few exceptions, the whole correspondence should be destroyed.

'In this arrangement, William the Fourth kindly concurred, and it was carried into effect; only such papers being preserved as Mrs. Fitzherbert thought fit to select to bear witness to her character.

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