by Cheyenne
in a manner which clearly showed her mounting hysteria.
Oh dear, thought the Duchess. I cannot manage her. If the Hertzfeldt woman were here now what would she do?
‘Caroline,’ she said sharply, ‘stop it. If you go on like this, you will never get a man to marry you.’
It was evidently the right thing to have said for Caroline stopped and looked at
her mother, and seizing her opportunity the Duchess went on: ‘You are not so
very young now that you can afford to play these childish games. I think you
should be a little interested in your cousin’s visit.’
Caroline had suddenly seen herself growing old at the Court of Brunswick.
The eccentric Princess Caroline! And she was wise enough to know that those
antics which in the young could be viewed with tolerance and considered
amusing, in the middle-aged would be boring, eccentric and perhaps mad.
She did not want to stay at Brunswick all her life. She wanted to see the
world; and she would never do that if she remained unmarried living always in
her father’s Court.
Her mother was right. She should be interested in the arrival of the Duke of
York.
‘What do you know of him?’ she asked.
‘That he is very handsome and attractive, has distinguished himself on the
field of battle, is amusing, clever und witty.’
‘He sounds like a god rather than a cousin.’
‘I am sure you will think him so,’ said the Duchess triumphantly.
So it was what they wanted, thought Caroline. They were hoping for a match.
Marriage with the Duke of York. One would go to England, her mother’s country
of which she talked as though it were some El Dorado— and yet her mother had not been nearly so happy living there as she had believed herself to be when she
left it. That’s natural enough, thought Caroline, for that’s how life always seems.
Yes, she would like to see England. She would like to see Uncle George, who
had always seemed to be led by the nose by his mother and that lover of hers—
and Aunt Charlotte who was the villainess because her sister-in-law, now
Duchess of Brunswick, had so disliked her.
‘Tell me about them, Mamma,’ she said. ‘Tell me about the King and the
Queen.’
‘It is long since I saw them,’ said the Duchess comfortably, because there was
nothing she enjoyed like a gossip and a gossip of the old days was the best kind.
‘George was really quite handsome— in his way. Fair hair, blue eyes— rather
heavy jaw and kind— very kind. He always wanted to please everyone. He was
very startled when he found himself King of England Grandpapa, of course, was
very old and Papa was dead so George was the next in the line of succession, of
course, but we all thought Grandpapa would go on and on. Then one day he went
into his closet and died instantly. And so George was king and he was exactly
twenty-two— not much older than you.’
‘Was he pleased do you think?’
‘Pleased! He was terrified! He wouldn’t move a step without Mamma and
Lord Bute. Of course there was a real scandal about that affair. They used to call him the Scotch Stallion. The people hated him. They jeered at him when he went
out in his carriage. In fact there was a time when they actually tried to do him a mischief. But Mamma was faithful to him for years—’
Caroline looked slyly at her, mother. Trust the Duchess to explain everything
which a moment before she had suggested it was improper to discuss. One could
wheedle anything out of Mamma, thought Caroline, provided one employed the
right tactics.
‘The Scotch Stallion,’ cried Caroline, suddenly unable to restrain her mirth. ‘I
like that. I like that very much.’
‘My dear Caroline, I beg of you! You should not speak of such things. What
next I wonder.’
‘And what of Queen Charlotte, Mamma? Tell me about her.’
‘A horrid creature. I disliked her on sight. Little and thin— very thin. Such a
flat nose— such a big mouth. Really, she looked like a crocodile. She should have been humble— very humble. To come from a little court like Mecklenburg-Strelitz to marry the King of England.’
‘ ‘It was rather like Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, I expect, was it not, Mamma?’
The Duchess looked cautiously at her daughter. ‘Yes, but smaller,’ she said.
‘Of less consequence. And we soon made her realize this. I reported her actions to my mother, and we soon put her in her place. I remember an occasion when she
did not want to wear her jewels to church and we made her. It was symbolic, you
see. If she had had her way about that, she would have tried to exert her power
over the King in more important ways. Sometimes I wondered whether it
wouldn’t have been better to have let him have Sarah Lennox after all. Oh dear,
he was mad for Sarah Lennox. You would call her a pretty creature. But flighty.
And that has been proved. She left Bunbury, you know. For she married Bunbury
when she knew she could not have George. And there was a child— not her
husband’s. Most scandalous. And that was Sarah Lennox for you. And meanwhile
everyone said Charlotte might be a dull, plain little German hausfrau, but she was fertile— oh, very fertile. Fifteen children. Just imagine! No sooner is one
delivered than she is pregnant again. Serve her right. It was all she was fit for.’
‘I should like to have fifteen children. I wonder if I ever shall―’
‘You will have to get married soon to have so many.’ The Duchess laughed
suddenly. ‘There has to be a small breathing space between, you know. Not that
Charlotte asked for much. Or perhaps George wouldn’t let her.’
They laughed together— the Duchess maliciously, Caroline wildly.
‘Thirteen of them left, because they lost Octavius and Alfred. Thirteen out of
fifteen is not a bad score though, is it? Thirteen. Very nice. Seven of them sons.
Oh, yes, Charlotte provided the right proportion. Nine boys there were and two
boys dead makes seven, does it not? Seven husbands for seven Princesses.’
‘So Queen Charlotte was a benefactor to mankind after all,’ commented
Caroline. ‘To royal mankind anyway. Just imagine all the princesses who would
have had to go without husbands if she had not so zealously done her duty.’
Caroline began to laugh; and the Duchess was always disconcerted— as
everyone else was— by that too wild laughter.
‘It is something for you to remember,’ said the Duchess severely, ‘And now
the second son is coming to see us— Frederick, Duke of York! I confess it is a
long time since I was so excited.’
‘How much more excited you would have been, Mamma, if it had been the
first son, the Prince of Wales?’
‘Well, my daughter, we cannot hope for miracles. The Prince of Wales would
never be allowed to leave England. If ever it should come to pass—’
‘You mean if a miracle should come to pass, Mamma?’
The Duchess looked sternly at her daughter. ‘When the Prince of Wales
decides to marry, it will be the King’s envoy who conveys the news to his chosen
bride’s family.’
Again that demure look crossed Caroline’s features. ‘Well, Mamma, I will
endeavour to be duly excited by the proposed visit— but not too excited because
it is only Uncle George�
��s second son, and he is coming himself. Now if it were
Uncle George’s envoy instead of his son, I should be capering with glee, should I not?’
‘Caroline, sometimes your talk is most improper!’
‘I own it.’ said Caroline. She wanted to add: It is a trait I have inherited from my dear Mamma. But that would be unwise. To let the Duchess know how
indiscreet she was might put a curb on conversations such as this which could
mean that Caroline might become far less knowledgeable about the scandals of
Europe.
The Duchess looked pleased. ‘Remember it,’ she said sternly. ‘And as soon as
the Duke of York arrives you should greet him with charm and— propriety.’
Caroline was thoughtful when she left the Duchess. A possible suitor? This
was clearly what her parents and Madame de Hertzfeldt had in mind. Well, she
would inspect the young man and if she did not like him she would not have him.
Had not her father said that she would never be forced into marriage?
Crossing the courtyard she paused to watch the soldiers on duty. How smart
they looked in their uniforms. She was sure Cousin Frederick of York would not
be half as handsome as the soldier who was now coming towards her.
He saluted.
‘Good day,’ said Caroline in the familiar manner in which she spoke to
everyone.
‘Good day, Your Highness.’
‘It is a good day.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Are you often on duty here, er— ”
‘I am Major von Töbingen at Your Highness’s Service.’
‘At my service, that is nice; and a little reckless Major von Töbingen, for what
if I should ask a service of you?’
‘It would be the greatest pleasure of my life to render it.’
What charm! thought Caroline. And he looked so earnest, as though he really
meant it.
‘I shall remember that,’ she told him; and she walked on, but when she had
gone a few paces she paused to look over her shoulder. He was looking after her.
She laughed and ran into the palace.
‘Major von Töbingen,’ she said aloud. ‘A delightful man. I’ll swear he’s far
more handsome than the Duke of York.’
————————
When the Duke arrived Caroline continued to think so. By that time she had
had many conversations with Major von Töbingen. In fact she was beginning to
make plans which included him. She thought what delightful children he would
have that was if they grew up to look and behave as he did.
The Duke of York was a tolerably good looking young man, a little arrogant.
Were all the English arrogant? she wondered. He was light-hearted, gay and ready
for a flirtation with his cousin Caroline, but she suspected that he might not wish it to go beyond that.
She liked him moderately. Perhaps if she did not constantly compare him with
Major von Töbingen she might have considered him as a husband, for after all if
she were going to get her big family, as her mother said, she must not delay too
long.
When he found that she was not prepared to treat him as a potential lover, the
Duke was philosophically resigned, one might say relieved. His cousin Caroline
was not ill-looking; she was bright enough; but she did not appeal to him as a
wife or mistress. He was longing to get back to England; he had been away a long
time but when he thought of Englishwomen they seemed so much more desirable
than any he had met on his travels.
He had clear memory of Mrs. Robinson, the very handsome young actress
with whom his brother, George, had been in love. What a goddess she had
seemed! And he had left England before that affair had come to its conclusion.
He often laughed to think of George in love, for when George fell in love, he
did so wholeheartedly. He remembered how he had accompanied his brother out
into the gardens at Kew to that spot where Essex— who was then Malden— had
brought the beautiful actress, George’s Perdita. And there George and she had
embraced under the trees while he kept watch on one side and Malden and
Perdita’s lady’s maid on the other.
What a creature Mrs. Robinson was! He had not seen anyone to touch her for
beauty since he had left England. And the lady’s maid was a beauty too.
He was longing to be back; and he hoped before very long he would be. Why
should he be exiled from home just because the King thought that a Guelph
should take his training in a German army? But one must be fair to the old man.
There was fighting on the Continent and that gave him a chance to take part in a
real battle. But oh, how he longed to go home and talk to his brother George and
find out what he was doing now. For of one thing he could be sure, the Prince of
Wales would be doing something exciting
How much truth was there in this rumour that he had married a Mrs.
Fitzherbert? If he had— by God, there would be trouble. But there always would
be trouble around George. That was the one thing he could be sure of. Oh, indeed, what joy to be home, to share his brother’s adventures, to be on those old terms of intimacy. For George was his friend as no one else ever could be.
Arid now here he was at the Court of Brunswick. Aunt Augusta was not in the
least like her brother. In fact, Frederick was sure his father would heartily
disapprove of his sister. He always had; but at the same time the King felt that his niece, the Princess Caroline, should be the wife of one of his sons.
Not this one, thought Frederick. I should soon tire of Madame Caroline. And she would never make a docile wife. Still, it amused him to ride with her, talk with her, dance with her— in fact behave towards her as a very good cousin.
She wanted to hear about England; and as they rode out with a party he would
bring her horse close to his and talk to her.
Did they ride much in England? she wanted to know.
‘All the time. I reckon we have some of the finest horses in the world.’
Trust them, thought Caroline. They had the finest everything.
‘And your brothers and sisters, they enjoy riding.’
‘My brother, the Prince of Wales, is devoted to the exercise. Not only does he
ride, but he drives his own phaeton and carriages. He is said to be one of the best horsemen in the country.’
‘People will pay royalty such compliments.’
‘What do you mean, cousin?’
‘That princes and princesses are always the best this and that. They only have
to have one good feature and they are beautiful. Take me, for instance. I have
been called the beautiful Princess of Brunswick. What do you think of that?’
‘That it is not untrue.’
‘Courtier!’ she laughed. ‘You don’t mean it! You think I am just tolerable as a
cousin. Oh, do not think, Master York, that I am inviting flirtation. I am not. If I wished to flirt, there are many ready to oblige.’
‘I am sure of that.’
‘And I should not wish to bother my lord Duke, and even if he felt so
disposed I might discourage him.’
‘How unkind!’
She laughed aloud. ‘Very glib. And I have no more desire to marry you than
you have to marry me. So set yourself at ease on that score.’
‘Marriage?’ gasped the Duke.
‘Let us be honest. Whenever the son of a king visits a princess the intention is
always there. Y
our visit, sir, is in the nature of an inspection. I am not asking you to deny this. I am only putting your mind at rest.’
She whipped up her horse and rode on; the Duke stared after her. What a
strange creature! What did she mean? Was she coquettish? Was she chiding him
for not making advances or warning him off lest he did? He attempted to follow
her; then he saw her making for a tall soldier on horseback.
She joined him; she threw a glance over her shoulder at the Duke. Nothing
could have told him more clearly that she had no wish for him to join them.
The Duke fell back and rode with the rest of the party.
Life was conducted in a very strange manner at the Court of Brunswick, he
thought, and the strangest part of it was the behaviour of the Princess Caroline.
————————
A messenger arrived from England with letters and a package for the Duke of
York and to his astonishment, when he opened the packet, he found a necklace
and earrings set with splendid diamonds.
The Duke read the letter which accompanied them and which was signed by
his father.
The King thought that the Duke of York might wish to make a present to his
cousin Caroline and for this purpose he had sent him the diamonds.
The Duke looked at them speculatively for some minutes.
He took out the necklace and examined the stones. To give them to Caroline
would be tantamount to making her an offer of marriage. So that was clearly what
the old man had in mind. It was quite out of the question. He had no desire to
marry her. Moreover, he might well be refused and that would not please the
King. Would she be allowed to refuse an offer from England? She had hinted in
one or two of the conversations that her father had told her she should never be
forced into marriage.
He shook his head, put the necklace back into its case and carefully rewrapped
the package.
He sat down and thought of returning home and the kind of woman to whom
he would present the necklace. He fancied she would be rather like Mrs.
Robinson; and she would be English.
————————
The Duke of York had left the Court of Brunswick. Many shook their heads.
Was Caroline going to reject all her hopes of marriage? What a strange girl she
was! It seemed very likely that she would never marry at all.