Mrs. Howard, afterwards the Countess of Suffolk, was a neighbour from 1723, when the Prince of Wales, whose mistress she was, provided her with funds for the purchase of Marble Hill.  However, though, of course, she and Lady Mary were acquainted, there was at no time any intimacy between them.  Lady Mary, in fact, does not appear to have liked Henrietta Howard.  At least she on more than one occasion tittle-tattled about her.  “The most surprising news is Lord Bathurst’s assiduous court to their Royal Highnesses, which fills the coffee-houses with profound speculations.  But I, who smell a rat at a profound distance, do believe in private that Mrs. Howard and his lordship have a friendship that borders upon ‘the tender.’

  “And though in histories, learned ignorance
   Attributes all to cunning or to chance,
   Love in that grave disguise does often smile,
   Knowing the cause was kindness all the while.”

So Lady Mary wrote to Lady Mar in 1724, and shortly after returned to the subject in another epistle:  “You may remember I mentioned in my last some suspicions of my own in relation to Lord Bathurst, which I really never mentioned, for fifty reasons, to anyone whatsoever; but, as there is never smoke without some fire, there is very rarely fire without some smoke.  These smothered flames, though admirably covered with whole heaps of politics laid over them, were at last seen, felt, heard, and understood; and the fair lady given to understand by her commanding officer, that if she showed under other colours, she must expect to have her pay retrenched.  Upon which the good Lord was dismissed, and has not attended the drawing-room since.  You know one cannot help laughing, when one sees him next, and I own I long for that pleasurable moment.”

To Twickenham came Philip, Duke of Wharton, and leased a villa, later called The Grove, at the farther end of the hamlet from London.  Of all the lads of the village there was none for wildness like unto him.  Born in 1698, and therefore nine years younger than Lady Mary, he had at an early age made himself conspicuous by unbridled excesses.  Soon after the death of his father, Thomas, first Marquess of Wharton, in 1715, his conduct created so much scandal at home, that his guardians sent him abroad in the custody of a tutor.  To the horror of that unfortunate person, his charge enrolled himself as an adherent of the Pretender, and went to pay his respects at Avignon.  The Duke had talent beyond the ordinary.  He could write fairly well, make an excellent speech, and had a keen sense of wit.  When he went to Paris, the British Ambassador, Lord Stair, took it upon himself to give this madcap some sound advice.  He extolled the virtues of the late Marquess of Wharton, and, “I hope,” he said, “you will follow so illustrious an example of fidelity to your Prince and love to your country.”  “I thank your Excellency for your good counsel,” replied the visitor courteously, “and as your Excellency had also