The Third George: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  As he smiled at the Princess he was thinking how safe he was with her. She adored him and he was very fond of her. They worked together, saw eye to eye; Augusta was not a promiscuous woman; she had been the perfect wife when Frederick had been alive; she had stood firmly beside him, accepting his policies, hating those whom he hated, favouring those whom he favoured; and she had not been unfaithful, although Bute knew that often she wished to be … with him. And as soon as Frederick died there was nothing to prevent their union; neither of them asked for the impossible, which marriage would have been. They were wise enough to do without that mixed blessing. They were as one – in mind and body; and they asked nothing more.

  Lady Bute came to Court. Thank God he had been wise enough to choose a sensible wife. She knew of the relationship between her husband and the Princess. He had given her a large family: ‘Fourteen children,’ the Princess Augusta had remarked admiringly, ‘in as little time as it takes to get them.’ She had special privileges as the wife of one of the most prominent men at Court, and so did her children; Bute himself had become a member of the Privy Council, Groom of the Stole and First Gentleman of the Bedchamber; the King consulted him at every turn and he was fast becoming, to all intents and purposes, the Prime Minister. Lady Bute had been created Baroness Mount Stuart of Wortley; and this, her husband had assured her, on one of the rare occasions when he could absent himself from the side of his mistress to spend a little time with her, was a beginning. Yes, Lady Bute was a sensible woman, determined to put no obstacle in the way of her husband’s advancement.

  So with his women he was singularly blessed.

  ‘Nothing will go wrong with this, my love,’ he said firmly. ‘But I agree with you that the sooner our Princess arrives and is formally married to His Majesty, the happier we shall all feel.’

  ‘The girl should be grateful,’ said the Princess. ‘After all, what is this place, Mecklenburg-Strelitz? Can you imagine their feelings when Colonel Graeme made our intentions clear to them?’

  ‘They must have been overwhelmed with joy.’

  ‘I should think so! And Charlotte should be grateful. I hope she will be. We do not want any interference from her.’

  ‘You will know how to manage her, my dearest. I am sure of that.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ The Princess was very confident. ‘I shall let the child see that she must do as I say. She is very young and will need guidance.’

  ‘Let us hope that she will be wise enough to take it.’

  ‘My dear, I shall insist on that wisdom.’

  Bute laughed. ‘I am sure of it. But His Majesty …’

  ‘What of George?’

  ‘If he should become enamoured of her and she plead with him for her own way …’

  The Princess nodded. ‘George does become enamoured in the most single-minded fashion. That Sarah Lennox …’

  ‘It was not insuperably difficult to part him from her. It is not Sarah Lennox who alarms me so much as … the other.’

  ‘That was when he was young and I believe he was led into that folly. He would never be so foolish again surely. It is merely a matter of managing Charlotte. And I am sure I shall be able to do that. Sarah Lennox is a minx … and Hannah Lightfoot must have been a strong-minded woman. German women are brought up much more sensibly. They know their places. So it will be with our little Charlotte. And I shall be hoping that she becomes pregnant as soon as possible.’

  ‘Then your mind is at ease?’

  ‘As much as it can be until George is actually married to a safe little German princess.’

  While they were talking the King burst in upon them. It was clear that something had happened to alarm him. His face was pinker than usual – a sure sign that he was distraught. His mouth with its thick Hanoverian lips was trembling a little.

  ‘George … my dearest son, what is wrong?’

  ‘News,’ he said, ‘from Mecklenburg.’

  ‘Pray tell me quickly.’

  It was Bute who took the letter from the King’s trembling hand and read that the Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz had died and that in the circumstances the wedding would have to be postponed.

  The Princess Augusta sat down heavily. It was what she feared – some impediment, something that would stand in the way of getting George married promptly.

  Was she imagining it or did she see a look of relief in the King’s eyes? Was he saying to himself: It could happen that the marriage does not take place after all. And there is Sarah …

  Bute took charge of the situation as he had on so many occasions, promptly, tactfully and resourcefully, thought the Princess fondly.

  ‘This is sad news,’ he said, ‘but I do not see why the death of our little Queen’s mother need delay the wedding. Poor little lady, she will be so desolate and in need of comfort … the comfort her husband can give her. I think Your Majesty should write immediately and insist that the plans are not held back in any way whatsoever.’

  ‘It is very sad … for Charlotte,’ said George.

  ‘I knew,’ said Bute warmly, ‘that you would want to comfort her. Let us write of your feelings without delay. And we will say that on no account should the Princess Charlotte … our little queen … delay her journey to her kingdom and her King.’

  George allowed Lord Bute to lead him to his mother’s writing table while the Princess watched her forceful lover. What an ally! How she adored him! More today, than in those weeks which had followed their first meeting in the tent when the new excitement had come into her life. More than ever, she thought fondly, after all these years.

  *

  Lady Sarah Lennox came down to breakfast at Holland House looking fresh and lovely, as though she had not a care in the world.

  Her sister Lady Caroline Fox regarded her with some impatience while her brother-in-law looked up from his plate sardonically as she fell into her chair.

  Lady Caroline found it difficult to forgive her for losing, as she said, the greatest chance that would ever come her way, for Lady Caroline was sure that had her foolish young sister played her cards as any wise girl would have done, she would now be betrothed to the King and not known throughout the Court as the girl he had jilted.

  What was so irritating was Sarah’s indifference. In fact Sarah’s indifference was at the whole root of the trouble. If Sarah had shown some enthusiasm for the King’s courtship in the first place, Caroline was sure George would have been so determined to marry her that nothing would have stopped him.

  Sarah was holding something in her lap and her brother-in-law asked what it was she was regarding so tenderly. Lady Caroline gave a little shriek as Sarah held up the hedgehog.

  ‘Not at the breakfast table!’ she cried.

  But Sarah began to laugh and set the creature on the table.

  ‘Is he not a little darling?’ demanded Sarah.

  ‘I refuse to have him on the breakfast table,’ declared Lady Caroline.

  But Sarah was looking appealingly at her brother-in-law. Henry Fox thought her a little idiot, but she amused him and was so pretty so he said: ‘Don’t be hard on poor Sarah, Caroline. She has suffered three bereavements so recently – the death of her little squirrel, that of Beau her horse …’ Sarah’s eyes filled with tears at the recollection. ‘Not to mention,’ went on Mr Fox as though he were addressing the House of Commons, ‘the King of England.’

  ‘Oh, dear Mr Fox,’ sighed Sarah plaintively, ‘do not bring up that stale matter again. I am so sick of the King and his wedding.’

  ‘Sarah, for God’s sake try to be sensible,’ pleaded Caroline. ‘I know it is difficult for you …’

  ‘Very,’ sighed Sarah mischievously. ‘Don’t you love the way he rolls into a ball. Look at those spikes.’

  Caroline sighed and looked at her husband who shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to his food.

  ‘People are going to be sorry for you, Sarah,’ went on Caroline.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh, don’t
be absurd. You are the most publicly jilted woman in England.’

  ‘I shall be very cool to him when we meet and show I don’t care in the least.’

  ‘Try to be sensible. This is the King.’

  Sarah was silent, eating stolidly.

  ‘The wedding will be delayed, I doubt not,’ Mr Fox was saying, ‘on account of the death of the bride’s mother.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ put in Lady Caroline hopefully, ‘it will not take place at all.’

  ‘Little fear or hope of that. I have no doubt that the Duke of Strelitz is not going to miss such an opportunity.’

  ‘He has more sense than some foolish people.’

  Sarah groaned. ‘How we do return to the same point in this house,’ she said.

  ‘It is not every house which has a member of the family so foolish as to throw away a crown.’

  ‘George is a fool,’ cried Sarah. ‘If he had not been he wouldn’t have let them persuade him and he would have asked me himself … not through Susan. If you ask me I’m well rid of him.’

  ‘Well rid of a crown, the power to do your family good, to bear a king?’ said Caroline.

  Sarah looked at her sister helplessly. ‘There are other things we might talk of. What of our sister Emily’s confinement? Is that not more important than my being jilted?’

  ‘Nothing that has ever happened to this family is more important than your being jilted by the King.’

  Sarah picked up her hedgehog and flounced out of the room.

  ‘I’m sick of all this talk, Sukey,’ she said to the hedgehog, and she laughed for she had named him after her friend Susan Fox-Strangeways to whom she had given the nicknames of Sukey and Pussy. ‘But Sukey was more suitable for you, Sukey,’ she said. ‘You could hardly be Pussy could you? I have an idea that might have offended your dignity.’

  Reaching her room she did what she enjoyed doing when she wished to soothe herself: wrote to Susan.

  ‘Dearest Susan …’

  She paused and thought what fun it would be if Susan were here. Everything seemed a joke then, although Susan was far more serious than she was. If George had had any sense he would have fallen in love with Susan rather than her. She was sure Susan would have known how to deal with the matter. There! she was as bad as her sister and brother-in-law; the thing was constantly in her mind. It occurred to her that Susan might not yet have heard the news of the King’s proposed marriage. Could it be that it had not yet reached Somerset?

  She wrote rapidly:

  To begin to astonish you as much as I was, I must tell you that the – is going to be married to a Princess of Mecklenburg … Does not your choler rise at this … But you will think, I daresay, that I have been doing some terrible thing to deserve it, for you won’t be easily brought to change your opinion of any person; but I assure you I have not. I have been in his company very often since I last wrote to you, but though nothing was said he always took pains to show me some preference by talking twice and they were mighty kind speeches and looks. Even last Thursday the day after the news came out, the hypocrite had the face to come up and speak to me with all the good humour in the world and seemed to want to speak to me but was afraid …

  Sarah laid down her pen and thought: I am angry with him after all. He has behaved badly, and when I next see him I shall show him what I think of him.

  She wrote rapidly and went on to say:

  In short his behaviour is that of a man who has neither sense, good nature nor honesty. I shall have to see him on Thursday night, and I shall take care to show that I am not mortified to anybody, but if it is true that one can vex anyone with a reserved cold manner, he shall have it, I promise him.

  Now as to what I think about it myself, excepting this little revenge, I have almost forgiven him. Luckily for me I did not love him and only liked him, nor did the title weigh anything with me; so little at least, that my disappointment did not affect my spirits above one hour or two I believe. I did not cry, I assure you, which I believe you will, as I know you were more set upon it than I was. The thing I am most angry at is looking so like a fool … but I don’t much care. If he were to change his mind again (which can’t be though) and not give me a very good reason for his conduct I would not have him, for if he is so weak as to be governed by everybody I should have a bad time of it …

  She paused, smiling. How easy it was to understand one’s true feelings when one set them on paper to friends with whom one could be entirely candid as with dear Sukey. She was piqued. She did care a little. But not much … not so much as she had cared about the death of her squirrel or her darling Beau.

  She took up her pen and wrote:

  I charge you not to mention this to anyone but your parents and desire them not to speak of it, for it will be said we invent stories and he will hate us anyway, for one generally hates people that one is in the wrong with and that knows one has acted wrongly …

  It was true, she thought. But George was perhaps too weak to hate anyone. He was at heart kind, she was sure, so perhaps it would not have been so bad to marry him.

  She sighed and hastily finished off her letter.

  His bride’s mother had died. The wedding would be postponed. Was it possible …?

  When all was said and done there was some satisfaction in being a queen.

  *

  There was consternation at Holland House.

  Lady Caroline was furious; she paced up and down the drawing room unable to control her anger.

  ‘I never heard the like. How dare he! It’s an added insult.’

  Mr Fox tried to calm her. ‘It had to be, Sarah’s position demands that she should be invited. In fact it would have been a bigger slight not to invite her than to do so.’

  ‘She must refuse,’ insisted Lady Caroline.

  Lady Kildare, recently delivered of a child, said that she was unsure what should be done about the matter, but her husband said: ‘Sarah should go. What is going to be said if she refuses.’

  ‘It is the most humiliating business I ever heard,’ declared Lady Caroline.

  ‘Let’s see what Sarah herself thinks,’ suggested Mr Fox.

  ‘Sarah!’ spat out Caroline. ‘Sarah has no opinions about anything but horses and hedgehogs … and perhaps squirrels. Sarah is a fool – as we have learned in the bitterest manner possible.’

  ‘Poor Sarah!’ murmured Mr Fox. ‘At least she should be allowed to give an opinion.’

  Mr Fox summoned a servant and asked that the Lady Sarah come to the drawing room.

  As soon as Sarah entered it was clear to the gathered family that she knew what matter was under discussion.

  ‘I’ve decided to go,’ she announced.

  ‘What!’ cried Caroline.

  Sarah shrugged her shoulders. ‘If I refuse he will think I am sulking.’

  ‘Which you have every reason to do.’

  ‘He might even think that I care. I am going to show him that I do not. I shall look at him … insolently … while he is marrying that woman and I shall make him feel so uncomfortable that he’ll wish he had never seen me … or her. But I shall go. I have decided.’

  ‘I don’t think you have given the matter serious thought,’ said Caroline.

  ‘I have made up my mind,’ retorted Sarah. ‘And after all, the invitation is sent to me. I am invited to be the bridesmaid, remember, and it is for me to decide. All I’m telling you is that I have decided.’

  ‘It’s madness,’ cried Caroline.

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ put in Lord Kildare.

  They were all waiting for Mr Fox to express an opinion; after all he was the most important member of the family.

  He lifted his shoulders. ‘To go or to stay away … either is not very comfortable. Which ever is done will raise comment.’

  ‘At least Sarah should show she has some pride,’ insisted Caroline.

  ‘But I don’t think I have, sister … not much in any case. Everyone knows George is still dangling on his mother’s apron st
rings, they know that she and Lord Bute arranged for him to marry this Charlotte person and he wasn’t man enough to refuse. Poor Charlotte! I pity her.’

  ‘I should have thought you would be envying her,’ snapped Caroline. ‘You would if you had any sense.’

  ‘But you always said I had none of that useful commodity,’ smiled Sarah. ‘And … I have decided. I am going to be a bridesmaid at the King’s wedding.’

  Mr Fox smiled at her, half amused, half exasperated. He deplored his sister-in-law’s failure to achieve the royal marriage as much as anyone, but he couldn’t help being fond of her.

  We shall have further trouble with Sarah, he prophesied to himself.

  Sarah flounced out of the room back to Sukey the hedgehog and immediately sat down to write to Susan.

  Dear Pussy,

  I have only time to tell you that I have been asked to be bridesmaid and I have accepted it. I’m sorry to say it’s against my sister Caroline’s opinion a little. I beg you to tell me what your opinion is. I think it is not to be looked upon as a favour, but as a thing due to my rank. Why refuse it and make great talk, be abused by those who don’t know and perhaps by those that do, for they are always in the right, you know … Those that think about it will say perhaps that I want spirit and pride, which is true enough, for I don’t dislike it in the least, and I don’t like to affect what I don’t feel though ever so right …

  Sarah put down her pen and laughed. Yes, there was no doubt writing to Susan helped her to understand her own feelings.

  And even when Susan replied that she thought Sarah was wrong to be one of the King’s bridesmaids Sarah clung to her opinions.

  She was determined to go.

  *

  When George heard that Sarah had accepted the invitation he did not know whether to be relieved or alarmed. While he was being married to this strange young woman, Sarah would be standing close by! He was sure he would not be able to think of anything but Sarah. If Sarah only knew how much he had wanted to marry her! But perhaps she did. Had he not made it plain? Scarcely perhaps, since he had so quickly been persuaded. But there were secrets people did not know. There had been Hannah. He thought of her, his beautiful Quaker, and how he had loved her and believed he always would, until he met Sarah. If he could have married Hannah, made her first Princess of Wales and then Queen of England perhaps he would never have noticed how beautiful Sarah was.