Queen in Waiting: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  It must not grow, thought Caroline.

  ‘Your father is very happy now,’ she said. ‘He vas anxious for me and now it is goot that all is vell.’

  Little Caroline was standing by the bed, clinging to her mother’s hand, fearful that the coming of the new child might lose her her mother’s attention, wondering what it would be like now that she was no longer the baby.

  The Prince had laid the child in her arms and the little girls came round her to look closely at him.

  ‘Do you think he is like his Papa, eh?’ demanded the Prince.

  ‘No,’ replied Anne. ‘I think he is more like Mamma. I like him.’

  The Prince rocked on his heels, well pleased with his happy family.

  When the little girls had gone he said: ‘I’ll swear my father is envious of us.’

  ‘This quarrel does little good,’ replied Caroline. ‘Ve should try to mend it… if only outwardly.’

  ‘Oh, he is von old scoundrel.’

  ‘I know, but he is the King; and he can make things very unpleasant for you.’

  ‘Let him try.’

  Caroline sighed. Then she said: ‘I should like to call the child Lewis.’

  ‘Lewis…’ repeated the Prince. ‘Oh, but it’s his name.’

  ‘Perhaps you vould agree that he might be pleased to have the child named after him.’

  ‘Vy should ve please him?’

  ‘Because after all he is the King. Ve lose by this quarrel.’

  The Prince was thoughtful. ‘And you vish, my love, that this should be the boy’s name?’

  ‘Yes. I vish it.’

  ‘Then it shall be Lewis.’

  ‘And I should like your sister to be sponsor.’

  ‘My sister! You think she vould come from Prussia?’

  Caroline thought of Sophia Dorothea from whom she heard now and then, living her stormy life with Frederick William who was now King of Prussia. They quarelled violently and incessantly but there was a bond between them which, in spite of this, held them together. It would be a great joy to see her sister-in-law again and recall those days at Hanover.

  ‘But perhaps she vould send a proxy.’

  The Prince nodded. It seemed fitting that his sister should be sponsor to his child; he had always been fond of her since those days when they had lost their mother and gradually became aware of the tragic circumstances of her disappearance.

  ‘Ve should ask her,’ he said.

  ‘And, beside her, perhaps your uncle the Duke of Osnabrück and York.’

  ‘Vat! He whom my father threatened to make Regent ven he vent avay!’

  ‘It vould please your father.’

  ‘I do not vish to please that old scoundrel.’

  ‘Outwardly…’ she said with a smile.

  The Prince began to smile and his eyes lit up with mischief.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘this is not a bad idea. Ve vill please him in this…’

  ‘Show the people that ve do our best to end the family quarrels.’

  ‘A goot idea,’ replied the Prince, every moment becoming certain that he had thought of it.

  The King came to St James’s to see his grandson. Caroline received him in bed and he was gracious to her.

  A fine woman, he thought, looking at her lying back on her pillows, her hair simply dressed, a curl over either shoulder. Too clever for a woman, though. Bernstorff had discovered it; so had Bothmer and Robethon. They must watch this one.

  ‘It is good of Your Majesty to come,’ she said, meekly enough, but he didn’t trust her meekness. She was the guiding hand in this partnership against him. George Augustus was a fool who allowed his wife to lead him by the nose; and a bigger fool because he didn’t know it.

  ‘I come to see my grandson,’ he retorted with characteristic tactlessness.

  The Prince came into the apartment. Uneasily Caroline watched the two regard each other. The Prince bowed; the King nodded and quickly turned back to the bed.

  ‘Your Majesty will wish to see the boy,’ said Caroline, and signed to one of the attendants to have the child brought to the King.

  The nurse came and stood before George, holding the child in her arms. The King looked down into the little face and grunted.

  ‘The Prince and I have decided to call him Lewis,’ said Caroline, and waited for the sign of pleasure in the grim old face.

  Instead, the lips tightened; and there was no show of pleasure.

  Thinking it was because he was trying to hide his pleasure, she hurried on: ‘And as sponsors we have chosen the Queen of Prussia and the Duke of Osnabrück and York.’

  The King was silent for a moment. Then he said: ‘His name shall be George William and I shall let you know who his sponsors will be.’

  With that he gave her a curt nod and without another look at his son, strode out of the apartment.

  The Prince was furious. There, before his attendants, the nurse and some of the bedchamber women he took off his wig and kicked it over the bed.

  ‘He is von old scoundrel. Whose son is this? Is it mine or is it his? I tell you his name is Lewis. I vill not have his sponsors…’

  With a nod Caroline signed to Henrietta Howard to pick up the wig and present it to the Prince.

  This she did; he took it ungraciously and slammed it on his head. It was awry, and his face, purple with rage, looked almost comic beneath it. Caroline believed that Molly Lepel and Sophie Howe were having great difficulties in suppressing their giggles.

  ‘You may leave us,’ said Caroline to all present.

  And when they were alone she set herself the difficult task of persuading the Prince that they would have to fall in with the King’s wishes because he had the power to make them. They must be patient, remembering that it would not always be so.

  Caroline was in bed for the christening. She was both angry and apprehensive. The King had shown his animosity not only by forcing them to have the name of his choice but by selecting for one of the sponsors the Duke of Newcastle who he knew – and the whole court knew – was a particular enemy of the Prince and Princess of Wales.

  She was terrified that George Augustus would be unable to control his rage. If he insulted the King in public the consequences could be disastrous. She dared not warn him of this for it might put the idea into his mind; and his very fearlessness could make him reckless.

  When Newcastle came into the apartment she saw the Prince turn his back on him. Newcastle was an extremely ugly man and it was obvious from his demeanour that he knew the Prince deplored his presence, and was amused by this.

  The Duchess of St Albans was co-sponsor with the King and Newcastle. Caroline had no great feeling for or against her, except for the fact that she had not chosen her and she thought that a Prince of the royal house should have had royal sponsors.

  How relieved she would be when the ceremony was over! She must try to forget her chagrin and persuade George Augustus to do the same, for this matter – while extremely irritating and humiliating – would not damage their reputation with the people, which was more important than anything. In fact, the people would be indignant on their behalf, which might mean it was a good thing after all.

  The ceremony was over quickly and the King left immediately. The Prince, however, was glaring at Newcastle on whose unprepossessing face there was a faint sneer. The Prince had grown scarlet; the veins stood out at his temples and, rushing to Newcastle, he shook his fist at him, shouting in English which was always more imperfect than usual when he was disturbed: ‘You are von scoundrel. I vill find you.’

  What the Prince meant to imply was that he would discover what intrigues the Duke was engaged in; but the Duke thought he was trying to say he would fight him; and he gathered that this was a challenge to a duel.

  He bowed and hastily left the apartment.

  He went at once to his friends Sunderland and Stanhope who listened intently to what he had to say.

  They said they would consult the King’s minister,
Bernstorff, who would know better than anyone else what the King’s reaction would be to such blatant indiscretion on the part of the Prince.

  The four men talked the matter over.

  There would be no duel. The Prince would not be allowed to fight.

  Secretly, when they heard what the Prince had said, all but Newcastle realized that it was his imperfect English which had given the wrong impression; but as they were eager to increase the animosity between the King and the Prince they thought it wise to keep to the original construction.

  The Prince was a fool, but a fool with a clever wife. Therefore he was a danger. He was their enemy, so if it were possible to incense the King more deeply against him, all the better.

  ‘The Prince is clearly a danger to the King’s ministers,’ said Bernstorff. ‘I will put this matter before him.’

  To the Prince’s apartments came the Dukes of Kent, Roxburgh and Kingston.

  ‘Vat you vant?’ demanded the Prince.

  ‘We come on His Majesty’s instructions.’

  ‘Vell, veil, vat is it?’

  ‘We have to question Your Highness on the challenge you have made to the Duke of Newcastle.’

  ‘Challenge? Vat is this challenge?’

  ‘You have challenged him to a duel.’

  ‘You are mad.’

  ‘The Duke of Newcastle complains that Your Highness has challenged him to a duel. He cannot accept your challenge. In the name of the King…’

  ‘In the name of the King vill you get out of here!’

  ‘We come to question Your Highness on the King’s order.’

  ‘I answer not questions… to the King, that old scoundrel, nor to you. I made no challenge. Newcastle is von liar. Get out or I vill you out throw.’

  The Dukes retired and went to the King who, after listening intently, gave the order that the Prince should be placed under arrest.

  Throughout the Court and all over London the news of the Prince’s arrest was being discussed.

  He was shut in his apartments with the Princess and neither of them was allowed to venture out. Even those attendants who had not been in the apartments at the time of the arrest were not permitted to go to their master and mistress.

  In the coffee houses there was excited speculation. Sympathy was with the Prince who, when he was Guardian of the Realm, had shown them how much more gay and colourful life would be if he were King. The Princess was popular, too, so the people were on their side.

  The King was a sour old man; his mistresses were ugly; he rarely smiled; he made no concessions to popularity; he preferred Hanover to England. Let him go back and live on sausages and sauerkraut. He had a wife whom he had kept shut up in prison for more than twenty years. He was a wicked old ogre. Did he now think to imprison his son as he had his wife?

  The people would not allow it.

  They wanted to see their Prince and Princess riding through the streets, walking in the parks.

  A royal quarrel was exciting only for a while. They would allow no locking up of their Prince and Princess.

  Besides, the poor lady had just given birth to a boy. What a shock this must be for her, and she still recovering from a difficult confinement!

  The people were for the Prince and Princess.

  Aghast at what had happened, Caroline tried to plan what they should do for the best.

  She knew they had a vindictive man against them. She had lived long enough in the shadow of the Leine Schloss where the ill-fated Sophia Dorothea, the Prince’s mother, had learned what could happen to those who offended George Lewis.

  Why should he be any more lenient towards a son than a wife?

  They must not be foolishly proud. They must act quickly.

  She tried to convey her fears to George Augustus who, after his first storms of rage had subsided, was prepared to listen to her.

  He too remembered the fate of his mother.

  Between them they composed a letter to the King which the Prince wrote.

  ‘If I have had the misfortune to offend His Majesty, contrary to my intention, I crave his pardon and pray him to be persuaded of the respect which I have for him. I will show no more resentment to the Duke of Newcastle…’

  Caroline read the letter slowly.

  ‘Must I send this to that old scoundrel?’ asked the Prince, almost tearfully.

  ‘I fear so,’ she said. ‘He has great power. Ve must not forget your mother.’

  They had humbled themselves and the King was glad of that. Not that he intended it to do them any good. He despised and hated his son. He would never forget the day when, as a boy, he had broken away from a hunting party and tried to rescue his mother. It had been an attempt doomed to failure from the start, but the boy had been reckless enough to make it, and it had earned him the admiration and affection of too many people. It had called attention to the vindictive cruelty of his father; and more than that, it had been the beginning of the enmity between them.

  The boy had been on the side of his mother, which meant that he was against his father.

  George Lewis never forgave, never forgot an insult or an injury. Sophia Dorothea, still in prison, was a confirmation of that.

  He wanted to forget that woman; and her son – who was unfortunately his also – would not let him forget. For instance, there were times when he even looked like her; and the King knew she was often in his mind. His son had never forgiven him for what he had done to his wife. Very well, the Prince would have to learn what it meant to have his father for an enemy.

  When he read the letter his son had written he laughed scornfully. He knew who was responsible for that. That she-devil! George Augustus would never have had the sense to try to placate him.

  Well, Madam, you have failed, said the King; and he put the letter into a candle flame and let it burn.

  Stanhope, with several of his ministers, was asking for audience to discuss this unfortunate matter of the Prince. He received them with no change in his usual dour expression.

  ‘Your Majesty, we cannot keep the Prince in confinement indefinitely,’ Stanhope explained. ‘It is a breach of the Habeas Corpus Act. The Opposition will create a great disturbance if we keep him confined much longer. It could lead to great trouble.’

  ‘If I were in Hanover I should know what to do,’ said the King. ‘Here in England… there are different laws. You must explain to me. But one thing I will not have – and I know there is no law to stop this. I will not live under the same roof with the Prince.’

  Stanhope replied: ‘Your Majesty is right. There is no law to prevent the Prince having a separate establishment.’

  ‘Then I will banish him and the Princess from St. James’s Palace.’

  ‘The Cabinet would have to approve Your Majesty’s decision.’

  ‘Then let them approve… quickly. I will not tolerate him here much longer.’

  ‘I will call a meeting of the Cabinet without delay,’ said Stanhope.

  Caroline had risen from her bed, although still weak. The quarrel with the King had not helped in her recovery and she was very anxious as to the outcome. The Prince was more subdued than usual. The days of confinement in his apartments had sobered him considerably. He considered the power of his father and was alarmed as to what the next move would be.

  Caroline thought of her daughters in another part of the palace and wondered what stories they were hearing of the differences between their parents and their grandfather. She asked that they might be sent to her, so that if they were under arrest the whole family might be together, but was told that the King’s orders were that the girls were not to visit their parents.

  She was more alarmed than ever when she heard this.

  He is capable of any cruelty, she thought. And again she thought of his wife who had been separated from her two young children.

  What next? she wondered.

  She felt faint and feverish, and this was an additional anxiety, for she knew that in this crisis she needed all her wits
.

  Their sentence came to them, explained in a document which the King had prepared. They were free to go, but they were banished from St James’s.

  George Augustus read the document aloud to her.

  ‘Banished!’ he said. ‘Good riddance to him and his miserable court. Ve’ll have our own. A fine goot court. He von’t like that. Oh no, my old rascal.’

  ‘And is that all?’ she asked.

  ‘No, there is some more.’

  She was out of bed and taking the document from his hands. She felt dizzy as she read:

  ‘It is my pleasure that my grandson and granddaughters remain at St James’s where they are. The Princess will be permitted to see them when she has a mind, and the children will be permitted from time to time to go and see her and my son.’

  Caroline dropped the document and stared at the Prince.

  ‘Do you see vat he is doing?’

  ‘He is sending us avay.’ The Prince snapped his fingers. ‘Let him. Ve vill have von fine big court… better than his. To ours vill come his enemies. He is von big fool.’

  ‘He is going to keep the children from us.’

  ‘He says you can see them… from time to time.’

  ‘From time to time! My own children! They are going to be taken from us. And the baby… He is so young. He needs his mother.’

  ‘You are distressed, my tear. That old scoundrel… he is von vicked old devil… but ve vill outvit him yet.’

  ‘My children,’ murmured Caroline. ‘My little baby. Don’t you see? This is his punishment to us! He is going to rob us of our children!’

  He could not share her grief. He was planning ahead. He would have his court and the Prince’s court would be a rival to the King’s. It would be no different from before, except that the people would be sorry for him; they would be on his side. The old devil had not been so clever after all.

  But Caroline was heartbroken. This was the cruellest blow he could have inflicted. Perhaps he knew it and that was why he had planned it. He was going to separate her from her children.

  There was no time for grief. They were expected to leave on receipt of the King’s order.

  ‘Where to?’ asked Caroline in bewilderment.