by Jean Plaidy
She wished that she could know what the King’s thoughts had been when he had first seen her.
In his own apartments, being dressed for the wedding, George was attempting to deceive himself. He had been startled by his bride’s appearance for, romantically, when he had thought of her he had pictured her so different; he had made a composite picture of Sarah Lennox and Hannah Lightfoot and deceived himself into thinking Charlotte would bear some resemblance to those women whom he had loved so devotedly at one time of his life. And to see her – pale, thin, small, with that wide mouth, he had been temporarily shocked. His inherent kindness had forced him to smile, to treat her with special tenderness and the most important thing in those first moments of meeting had not been his disappointment but his great desire to hide it.
He had kissed her warmly, had spoken to her tenderly and trusted she had not been aware of his distaste.
He determined to be a good husband to her. He must never think of another woman. Fate had been good to him where Hannah was concerned. When he thought of the difficulties that could have arisen out of that youthful indiscretion – and yet at the time what a passionate necessity it had been – he could tell himself that he had been obliged to pay for that folly by giving up Sarah. In any case the affair with Sarah was at an end. Charlotte was now his wife and it was his duty as her husband to be faithful to her and as a King to set an example of morality to his people.
So he would stop comparing Charlotte with Sarah. He would never give Sarah another thought. Hannah and Sarah belonged to the past. Charlotte was now and the future.
Lord Bute came into the apartment in the unceremonious way he now and then adopted to stress the intimacy between them.
‘Your Majesty is smiling,’ he said. ‘I trust you are pleased with your bride.’
‘I already have an affection for her,’ lied the King, at the same time trying to believe it.
‘I think she will make a good wife and, I pray, a fruitful one.’
The King bowed his head in agreement. His spirits were raised a little. It would make up for a good deal if he had children; and Charlotte’s children would live under his roof; he could be a true father to them.
He was sad again, thinking of Hannah’s children and his … living their lives in a Surrey household, not knowing who their true father was.
What mystery! What intrigue! It was a good thing that he was suitably married now. Over the indiscretions of the past he would build a solid family life.
Lord Bute was smiling at him quizzically. He believed his dear friend read his thoughts accurately.
*
In the Chapel Royal the Archbishop of Canterbury was waiting to perform the ceremony. It was nine o’clock and in her glittering wedding garments Charlotte felt more composed, although the mantle of velvet and ermine was so heavy it was all the time threatening to fall off her thin shoulders.
Charlotte was joined by her bridesmaids; there were ten of them, all daughters of dukes or earls and charming looking creatures they were, she thought – some, she noticed with chagrin, comparing with her two ladies-in-waiting for beauty, particularly the girl at the head of them who was quite lovely in her bridesmaid’s gown of white and silver and the diamond coronet on her head.
She whispered to the Duke of Cumberland – the King’s uncle whose name she knew as the victor of Culloden and who was giving her away – that the bridesmaids were charming and Who was the leader of them.
Cumberland bent his head and gave her a very tender look which was a little grotesque on his poor face, so distorted by the palsy, although he was not an old man. He said: ‘Your Majesty, she is Lady Sarah Lennox, sister of the Duke of Richmond and sister-in-law to Mr Fox, one of the King’s chief ministers.’
‘She is charming,’ murmured Charlotte.
And she was aware of a slight ripple of amusement which she did not understand.
Her brothers-in-law the Duke of York and Prince William were close at hand, and Dr Secker the Archbishop was ready to begin the ceremony.
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation …’
Charlotte glanced sideways at her young bridegroom. He seemed resolute, almost grimly determined.
I can be happy with him, I believe, she was thinking. There was a kindliness in his face which was comforting and led her to believe he would be tender towards her. Nowhere had she heard an unkind word spoken of him. He was a young man determined to be a good king and a good husband and if she were equally determined to be a good wife and queen what could go wrong?
‘Look, O Lord, mercifully upon them from heaven and bless them as Thou did send Thy blessing upon Abraham and Sarah …’
The King started suddenly. He was looking at the chief bridesmaid, staring at her with longing and almost pleadingly as though he were asking her forgiveness. Charlotte was conscious of the look. She saw the beautiful young girl turn her head away and stare stonily in another direction.
There was something of which she had yet to learn, thought Charlotte; but she could guess. What had happened did not need words to explain it.
Lady Sarah Lennox! Abraham and Sarah! They would have met on many occasions. As the sister and daughter of a duke – and one of the leading dukes – that girl would have had many opportunities of meeting the King. And she was beautiful. She was all that Charlotte was not. Charlotte kept reminding herself that she had one asset though which made her more desirable: she was a princess.
*
The ceremony was over and the procession from the chapel had begun.
Charlotte was aware of the heaviness of her cloak and the hands which held her train were those of Sarah Lennox. The name kept repeating itself in her head. So it was Sarah Lennox he had wanted – that girl who was even lovelier than the Marchioness and the Duchess who had come to Stade to meet her, because she was young and fresh – a girl, whereas they were women.
It seemed that those small hands tugged viciously at the cloak – but that was not so. It was too heavy for her to support. She could feel it being pulled halfway down her back and saw several amused glances. She learned afterwards that Horace Walpole, that inveterate gossip and recorder of events, had noted that ‘the spectators knew as much of the Queen’s upper half as the King himself.’ And in fact she thought they would drag the clothes completely from her back before they reached the banqueting hall.
At last they arrived there to find that there had been a delay in preparing the banquet; and as it had been reported that Charlotte had played the harpsichord to her seasick ladies, it was now suggested that she should play for the company until dinner was served. Having played and sung all her life Charlotte had no shyness on this score and played and sang so enchantingly that everyone applauded enthusiastically and declared that music had charms to soothe empty stomachs as well as savage breasts.
In time supper was served. The King sitting beside his bride was very attentive to her, as though, it was observed, he would make up for that lapse in the chapel when he had been so overcome at the mention of the name Sarah and had been unable to prevent himself gazing at the chief bridesmaid. Charlotte, fresh from her triumph on the harpsichord, felt excited and the King’s attention was flattering. The more she knew him the more she liked him, and that she told herself, was a very promising start.
Supper over, the King took her hand and told her that they must mingle with the guests who would wish to be presented to her; this they did and the King seemed in no hurry to break up the party. Nor was Charlotte for as soon as it was over they would retire to their bedchamber and there be entirely alone.
It was as though everyone was aware of this and understood the feelings of the young married pair.
At last the Duke of Cumberland approached the King and said: ‘When is Your Majesty going to break up the company? I am exhausted and must needs leave without your permission if you won’t give it.’
George immediately gave the required p
ermission.
It was almost three o’clock in the morning and hopeful eyes were turned towards the royal couple. Now was the time for the nuptial celebration – the putting to bed of the bride and groom, the witnessing of the young couple in bed together, the sly comments, the whispered suggestions.
George had been dreading this and buoying himself up with the reminder that he was the King and could do as he wished, he announced his intention of abolishing the old custom which he found in extremely bad taste.
There would be no ceremony whatsoever. The King himself would conduct his bride to their bedchamber.
There was disappointment, for this ceremony was always enjoyed by all except the principal actors; however, the King’s show of resolution was admired and no one could gainsay his orders. So, taking Charlotte by the hand he led her away to the nuptial bedchamber.
*
The King was apologetic.
‘We met only for the first time today,’ he said, ‘and you will be feeling that I am almost a stranger.’
‘Indeed not,’ she answered. ‘I have heard little mentioned that did not concern you since the day the news arrived that you had spoken for me.’
‘Then … I am glad.’
‘I trust I am not as a stranger to you.’
‘No … as you heard of me, so I heard of you.’
They faced each other nervously.
The King said: ‘I daresay you will agree with me that finding ourselves in this position we must do our duty.’
‘It is what I shall always wish to do … my duty.’
And so while the Court speculated on what was happening in the royal bedchamber, George and Charlotte were solemnly doing their duty.
The Comic Coronation
IT WAS THE day after the wedding. Charlotte sat at her mirror while her attendants prepared her for the levee. They were watching her curiously and she knew why. They would very much like to know what she thought of married life. Charlotte was by no means discontented with it. The King could scarcely be called a passionate lover but he was kind. That was what pleased her so much. She had been dreading their first encounter and it had passed without undue discomfort; and she was now initiated into married life and knew what was expected of her and that if she could bear children she would be a successful Queen.
On waking she had immediately thought of the chief bridesmaid, for she was sure that the King had been thinking of her too, and no doubt wishing her in Charlotte’s place. But she knew enough of the ways of Court to be aware of the fact that many a Queen had arrived in her new land to find her husband’s mistress in possession of his affections. She did not believe Sarah Lennox was George’s mistress; and she felt extraordinarily optimistic since her new intimacy with the King; she believed that now he was a husband he would soon stop hankering after that girl.
Her women were whispering together. There was one whom she had not noticed before; flamboyant and beautiful, though no longer young.
The woman was saying: ‘And my Lord Hardwicke met His Majesty coming from the bedchamber and His Majesty seemed in good spirits. He said it was a very fine day; to which my lord replied with accompanying leer: “Yes, Sire, and it was a very fine night.” At which His Majesty was not amused.’
The titter of laughter which followed this gave Charlotte an indication of the sort of joke these women were making although they spoke in English. She had however caught the words His Majesty for those were two with which she had already become familiar.
I must learn English quickly, she thought. They must not be allowed to chatter so in my presence and I not know what they say.
She asked the Marchioness who the lady was.
‘It is Elizabeth Chudleigh, Madam, whom the Princess Dowager has appointed to serve you.’
‘Pray present her to me.’
Elizabeth Chudleigh swept a deep curtsey. Her eyes seemed to be filled with mischief – but how could Charlotte complain of that.
Elizabeth Chudleigh was thinking: My God, what have they given the poor boy now! I’ll warrant he’s thinking of pretty Sarah or perhaps his beautiful Hannah. What a tale I could tell little Crocodile-Mouth if I wished. Elizabeth was sure of herself. She had played her part in the Hannah Lightfoot affair, for the King – Prince of Wales then, of course – had confided in her and asked her help. Was it not Elizabeth who had found the rooms in the Haymarket where George had had those clandestine meetings with his Quakeress? What a part she had played in the elopement! And what great good it had brought her for that sly old matron, the Princess Dowager, would have dismissed her from Court long ’ere this had Elizabeth not been in a position to work a little courteous blackmail. And Lord Bute was afraid of her too!
Well, Elizabeth was now deep in her own affairs; wondering how she was going to get the Duke of Kingston to marry her. He was her doting lover and she the mistress without whom he could not live – but she had married Hervey and she would have to extricate herself from that entanglement somehow. In the meantime she was biding her time and waiting on the newly arrived Queen.
Poor child! thought Elizabeth. Should one warn her of the King’s infatuation for the Lennox girl? Should one tell her that if she were clever she could beat her mother-in-law at her own game. No. Keep out, thought Elizabeth. The great project was how to become the Duchess of Kingston. Let the Queen look after herself.
‘You have been serving the Princess Dowager, I presume,’ said Charlotte in French.
‘Yes, Your Majesty. I think she chose me because the King himself has always honoured me by his interest in my welfare.’
‘I am pleased to hear it.’
‘You are gracious, Madam. I shall hope to serve you faithfully, for that is what His Majesty would wish.’
She is clever and wise, thought Charlotte. She is a woman of great experience. Did they say Miss Chudleigh. Odd that she had not married and become a Countess or Duchess. She would have to find out more about this intriguing woman.
She was ready for the levee and left for the drawing room. There she found her bridesmaids assembled and was quickly aware of Sarah Lennox, looking fresh and lovely and as beautiful in her gown of velvet as she had in her white and silver bridesmaid’s clothes with the circlet of diamonds on her head.
As her position warranted she took her place near the throne, by which Charlotte was standing, as one by one the peers and peeresses came to do homage to her.
She felt suddenly alone because she could not speak English and once again she was determined to learn as quickly as she could.
The Marchioness was announcing the names of the people as they approached the Queen; they then knelt and kissed her hand and swore allegiance.
‘Lord Westmorland,’ said the Marchioness; and that nobleman came forward, peering from side to side for he was, the Marchioness whispered to her, almost blind.
Charlotte smiled at him kindly but he did not see her, and, to the outward consternation and secret amusement of all, he knelt and took the hand of Sarah Lennox who was standing close to the Queen.
‘No … no …’ hissed the Marchioness, while Sarah sprang back as though she had been bitten.
The Queen held out her hand and Lord Westmorland kissed it. Charlotte did not see the old man; she was aware only of the hush which had fallen on the assembly.
*
Charlotte had her first clash with her mother-in-law a few days later.
She was preparing to take Communion and her ladies had put out all her new jewels, since this was an occasion when they believed she would wear them.
The Princess Augusta, the elder of George’s sisters, had come to her apartment to see her and so was present when Charlotte announced that she did not believe it was seemly to take Communion in a tiara and stomacher of diamonds.
‘Why not?’ Augusta asked in her peremptory way. Charlotte resented the Princess’s attitude towards her, but as they were both speaking in French – a language foreign to them both – she could never be sure whether she had
interpreted correctly.
‘It does not seem to me to show proper respect.’
Augusta laughed; she had a harsh unpleasant laugh. She was resentful that George who was younger than she was should have married before her; and she had always thought it unfair that she, the first born, should have been a girl. This attitude did not endear her to Charlotte, though she was secretly amused that George had got a little Crocodile (it was a term which was being applied to Charlotte on account of that ungainly mouth of hers which everyone admitted did call the obnoxious creatures to mind) when he had set his heart on flighty Sarah Lennox. Augusta had done all she could to foil that romance and she had often succeeded in discomfiting Madame Sarah; all the same this did not endear her to Charlotte, who was not only younger than herself, but above her in position, being Queen of England. And come from some wretched little state which no one had heard of before the suggested marriage! thought Augusta.
‘We feel it would show a lack of respect to appear without them.’
‘I do not believe the disciples wore jewels at the Last Supper.’
Impudent little crocodile, thought Augusta. So she would argue!
‘They had none. That’s why.’
‘I do not think jewels in keeping with the occasion,’ said Charlotte with a touch of that authority which she had displayed to her attendants on her way to London. ‘And I shall continue in the way I have been brought up to believe is the right one.’
Augusta flushed angrily and asked leave to depart. This was given with alacrity, and once out of the apartment Augusta made haste to her mother’s apartment.
‘Charlotte is a most arrogant creature,’ she declared. ‘She despises our customs and tells me she will keep to those in which she was brought up and which are so much better than ours.’
The Princess Dowager was alert. They would have to keep their eyes on Charlotte. The whole reason for marrying her to George was that they – she and Lord Bute – might keep their control of him.