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by Cheyenne


  and perhaps he would not be able to give me those children— not all ten of them.’

  ‘Your Highness!’

  ‘Yes, yes. I will try. You see, Rosenzweig, while I am not averse to my

  marriage, I think I am indifferent to it. I shall try to be happy, but my joy will not be enthusiastic. I once loved a man. Did you ever hear of Major von Töbingen?

  But they took him away from me. How happy we might have been! But they sent

  him away. He was there— and then he was gone. He was not good enough, they

  said. He was only a Major, and I am a princess. Princesses must marry princes—

  more’s the pity. Oh God help me, Rosenzweig, it is my Major whom I want.’

  Mademoiselle Rosenzweig was alarmed; she feared the Princess was going to

  have one of those hysterical fits of which she had heard.

  ‘Your Highness, I beg of you, do not say such things. If it were to come to the

  ears of my Lord Malmesbury he might feel it his duty to report it to the King of

  England.’

  ‘Let him. Let them bring back Major von Töbingen. Let them give him to me

  — and I will gladly hand them back their Prince of Wales.’

  ‘Your Highness, Madam, you are not thinking what you are saying.’

  Caroline was silent for a few moments; then she said sadly, ‘No. I am not, am

  I; and I must. All the time I have to think. I have to remember what I have been

  told. I must not do this. I must do that. Oh, you, my dearest secretary, will be kind to me, won’t you? You will listen to my ravings, Won’t you? You will let me talk

  to you sometimes of my darling Major if I feel that if I do not I shall go mad—

  mad— mad—’

  ‘Hush, Your Highness! Hush!’

  Caroline threw herself against her secretary and dung to her. Mademoiselle

  Rosenzweig soothed her. ‘It will be all right. I shall be there with you. You can tell me whenever you wish and whatever you wish. It shall be our secret. No one

  else shall know that we talk of these things.’

  ‘I will tell you how I loved him. How we planned to marry. I gave him an

  amethyst pin and he wore it always. He said that when he died it should be buried with him. He loved me— oh, he loved me.’

  They were silent for a while and then Caroline said: ‘But I must do my duty

  must I not? Dearest Lord Malmesbury would tell me so. He is anxious that

  everything should go without a hitch and I must please him, must I not? So, dear

  Rosenzweig, I shall endeavour to study the English language and I shall in time

  speak it fluently. I shall do all. I can to make my husband happy.’

  ‘That is wisely spoken, Princess.’

  ‘I shall try to please him. I shall try to interest him in my favour, for the Fates have decided, have they not, that I am to be Princess of Wales.’

  A few days later Major Hislop arrived at the Court of Brunswick.

  He brought letters from the Prince which expressed His Highness’s urgent

  desire to see his prospective bride in England. For Caroline there was a portrait of the Prince.

  She ran with it to her bedroom and summoned Mademoiselle Rosenzweig.

  ‘Look,’ she cried. ‘He must be the most handsome man on Barth. Tell me, my

  dear, did you ever see one more handsome?’

  ‘I never did.’ declared the secretary.

  ‘Look at that beautiful hair. Look at his blue eyes. And the star on his coat.

  Do you think that is velvet or very fine cloth? And what a beautiful shade of blue.

  My bridegroom is a very exquisite gentleman, is he not?’

  Mademoiselle Rosenzweig said that she had always heard that the Prince was

  very handsome.

  ‘He is the Prince of princes,’ said Caroline.

  She kept the picture by her bed so that ‘the first thing I see upon opening my

  eyes is my Prince beside me’. Then she laughed for she saw that Mademoiselle

  Rosenzweig thought that a rather improper remark for a woman to make before

  her wedding.

  But she was often discovered examining the picture; and after receiving it she

  seemed to grow more and more reconciled to the marriage.

  ————————

  A few days later the proxy marriage took place. A royal carriage drove

  Malmesbury from his palace to that of the Duke and the ceremony began. The

  Duchess was weeping throughout; the Duke looked stern but anxious; but

  Caroline, though pale, gave her responses in a firm voice.

  In half an hour it was over and Caroline was declared Princess of Wales. The

  party drove to the palace of the Duke’s mother, the Dowager Duchess, where a

  banquet was waiting for them.

  Malmesbury was relieved. His duty towards his royal masters was

  accomplished. But he could not rid himself of the feeling that he had a duty

  towards the new Princess of Wales. He saw her as a forlorn creature doomed to

  tragedy and partly because he believed her to be the most unsuitable wife that

  could have been chosen for the Prince of Wales he felt an irresistible urge to help her.

  The following day the marriage treaty was drawn up in French and Latin and

  the signatures of all concerned added to it.

  Now, thought Malmesbury, the time has come for us to leave for England.

  The Duchess took the first opportunity of speaking to him.

  ‘I hope,’ she said, ‘that the journey will not be long delayed. I shall not be

  happy until I know that my daughter has taken her marriage vows with the Prince

  beside her’

  ‘The weather is somewhat inclement for sea travel,’ Malmesbury pointed out.

  At the back of his mind was a thought that if they waited until January and

  February were over Caroline would have time to improve her English and her

  manners.

  ‘December is not so bad,’ declared the Duchess. ‘It is January, February—

  and the March winds which are intolerable. I think that you should start out now.’

  ‘I cannot make those arrangements until I receive the instructions to do so

  from my king,’ Malmesbury pointed out.

  The Duke had a different attitude.

  ‘I do not wish my daughter to embark on the seas until I hear that an English

  fleet has arrived to conduct her to England,’ he said.

  ‘There is nothing to be done until I have those instructions, sir,’ replied

  Malmesbury. I expect them at any time now.’

  ‘We will await them.’ said the Duke; ‘and in the meantime such a marriage

  should be celebrated with rejoicing.’

  So there were the banquets and balls and visits to the Opera— which

  occasions gave Malmesbury many opportunities of conversation not only with the

  Duke, the Duchess and Madame de Hertzfeldt, but with Caroline herself.

  ————————

  He took one of those opportunities at a masquerade which was being held at

  the Opera House.

  He had been turning over in his mind how he could warn her of what was in

  store for her without betraying his acute anxieties and make his meaning plain to her without stepping too far outside the language of diplomacy. For instance, how could he possibly advise her to pay more attention to her personal toilette?

  Sitting in the balcony at the Opera House Caroline turned to him and said: ‘I

  wish to learn all about my future husband. People talk so much of him. They talk

  of him all the time— and yet when I come to picture him I do not see him very

  clearly. He is handsome, I kno
w.’

  ‘He is considered good looking.’

  Caroline clasped her hands together. ‘So many princesses ire forced to accept

  the ugliest bridegrooms. Mind you, there are disadvantages with handsome men. I

  hear that the Prince is very fond of the ladies.’

  ‘He is an extremely gallant gentleman.’

  Caroline tittered. ‘Well, when I arrive I must, put a stop to that, must I not?’

  Malmesbury gave an embarrassed cough. ‘I think Your Highness would best

  please the Prince by being very tactful. He is a man who admires— finesse— in

  conversation and behaviour’

  ‘Finesse I have always believed it to be a virtue to be open and honest I see I

  shall have to change things at Carlton House if they go in for finesse there.’ She laughed shrilly. ‘And I see too that I have pained you, my lord, and that is the last thing I wish to do. I want to please you for you have been kind and I took a fancy to you the moment I saw you.’

  She touched him playfully with her fan.

  My God, thought Malmesbury, what would the Prince think of such

  behaviour!

  ‘I have heard talk of Lady Jersey,’ went on Caroline.

  Malmesbury groaned inwardly, but she continued artlessly, ‘I believe she is a

  very scheming woman of the court who meddles and intrigues though she is quite

  old and a grandmother. One would think she had better things to do. I hear she

  has had two sons and seven daughters. Would you not think. they would be

  enough to occupy her?’

  ‘I think you should be particularly careful in your behaviour towards ladies

  such as Lady Jersey.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they are much older than you and have had more experience of— er

  — the Court. Lady Jersey— and ladies like her— will frame their conduct

  towards Your Highness according to yours towards them.’

  ‘But should not the Princess of Wales Set the pace?’

  ‘I think the Princess of Wales should act very cautiously for at least six

  months after her arrival that she may see what is expected of her.’

  Caroline regarded him solemnly. ‘Lord Malmesbury, I believe you are a very

  wise man.’

  ‘I am honoured by Your Highness’s high opinion.’

  ‘And you know now that when I say something I mean it. I lack that—

  finesse.’ Her laughter rang out.

  Far too loud and quite unmusical, thought Malmesbury; but there was at least honesty behind it.

  She went on: ‘Lord Malmesbury, I am very ignorant, am I not? Perhaps you

  could help me to be less so.’

  ‘If Your Highness feels I can be of the slightest use to you, I am always at

  your service.’

  ‘I don’t speak English very well,’ she said, ‘do I?’

  ‘You have a strong German accent.’

  ‘Which you don’t find very attractive.’

  ‘Your English will improve with practice.’

  ‘And there are so many English words which I do not know. How strange, my

  lord, many German princesses were taught to speak English fluently in the hope

  that they might marry the Prince of Wales. I was the one who was not. Is that not odd?’

  ‘And unfortunate,’ agreed Malmesbury. ‘But do not fret too much about the

  language. The present Queen of England arrived in England from Mecklenburg-

  Strelitz with a very poor knowledge of the language; now she speaks very well

  indeed.’

  ‘Ah, there is another matter which troubles me. The Queen of England. She is

  bound to hate me. My mother says so.’

  ‘With all respect to the Duchess, I say that is nonsense.’

  ‘You see, she and Mamma were enemies and she doesn’t want me there.

  There is a Princess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz who is her niece. She would have

  preferred her naturally.’

  ‘Her Majesty will welcome the bride her son has chosen,’ said Malmesbury

  glibly.

  She looked at him trustingly and he thought: I fear I cannot be as honest as

  you, my poor Princess, and remain a diplomat.

  ‘Pray give me the benefit of your advice. What must I remember when I

  arrive at the English Court?’

  ‘I think you should not be as familiar with your attendants as you are here. Be

  affable but never forget that you are Princess of Wales.’

  ‘I am to smile and be friendly and yet not friendly—’ she grimaced. ‘Go on,

  my lord.’

  ‘If any of them attempt to gossip, do not allow yourself to listen; and don’t

  allow them to influence your opinion.’

  ‘I want them to like me,’ she said wistfully.

  ‘Popularity was never gained through familiarity.’

  ‘I am really afraid of the Queen. She sounds such a grim old lady and I have a

  feeling that she will hate me.’

  ‘All the more reason why you should be on your guard and make sure that

  your behaviour is always correct.’

  ‘But how should I know whether I am correct or not? I have often been very

  correct here in Brunswick.’

  ‘That is because you have been thoughtless. In England you will be constantly

  on your guard.’

  ‘I have heard that the Prince is— how do you say léger? It is as well to know it. I shall never show him that am jealous— even if I am.’

  ‘I trust that you will never have cause; and I am aware that Your Highness

  knows that should there be a— slackening of the Prince’s affection it is more

  likely to be rekindled by affection and tact than by reproaches.’

  ‘Tell me, when do the King and Queen hold their drawing rooms?’

  ‘On Thursdays and on Sunday, after church.’

  ‘Does the Prince go to church?’

  ‘He will doubtless go with you.’

  ‘But if he does not care to?’

  ‘Then Your Highness must go without him and tactfully let him realize that

  you would prefer him to accompany you.’

  ‘What a solemn conversation,’ she cried. ‘This is masquerade, my lord.’

  ‘It is a pleasant subject for what could be more agreeable than Your

  Highnesses going to church together.’

  Caroline leaned forward to watch the dancers.

  She looked, Malmesbury noticed, more at ease as a result of their

  conversation.

  ————————

  The Duke sent for his daughter.

  ‘Caroline,’ he said, I have today received dispatches from England. It is not

  the wish of the Prince of Wales that Mademoiselle Rosenzweig should

  accompany you to England.’

  ‘Not accompany me! But she must. She is my secretary. How am I going to

  understand the English without her? Who is going to write my letters? How can I

  manage without her?’

  ‘Caroline, pray do not become so excited. You must remember that the Prince

  of Wales is your husband now and you must obey his wishes.’

  ‘But he does not know Mademoiselle Rosenzweig. Why should he object to

  her? I shall take her— no matter what he says.’

  ‘Caroline, pray be reasonable.’

  ‘I— be reasonable! What of the Prince, my gallant husband!’

  ‘You are going to the English Court. You must remember that ours is small

  compared with it. There may well be rules you do not understand. You should

  remember always to obey your husband.’

  ‘But it seems so senseless. He has never met Mademoiselle Ros
enzweig. Why

  should he object to someone he has never seen— unless it is to spite me?’

  ‘You are talking nonsense.’

  ‘He is talking nonsense. He is being unreasonable. I will not part with

  Rosenzweig. I will take her with me.’

  ‘Caroline, control yourself.’

  ‘You yourself said that my English was so bad that I needed a secretary.’

  ‘I know. I know. Perhaps I might put this case to His Highness. Perhaps I

  could explain to him. He may not realize that you write English even worse than

  you speak it.’

  ‘So you will tell him that I insist on bringing her?’

  ‘I will put the case to him and ask him to allow you to bring her.’

  Caroline laughed suddenly. ‘It is the same thing,’ she said.

  Her father looked at her anxiously; and thought of her sister Charlotte who

  had mysteriously, disappeared in Russia. How had she behaved to attract such a

  fate?

  What was wrong with the children he had had by the Duchess— born of

  dislike and indifference. Oh, God, he thought, we royal people are to be pitied because we are forced into marriages which are repugnant to us; and not only do we suffer, but our children also. And what would happen to Caroline?

  Looking at her now, seeing the stubbornness in her face, hearing that wild laughter, he wondered.

  But he would at least endeavour to explain to the Prince of Wales that his

  daughter needed the help of a secretary.

  ————————

  The Duchess sent for her daughter. When Caroline arrived her mother was

  lying back in a chair in a most dramatic attitude, a letter held in her hand.

  ‘Caroline! My daughter!’ she cried. ‘Shut the door. Make sure no one is

  listening.’

  Caroline regarded her mother with distrust, but there was no doubt that the

  Duchess was genuinely agitated.

  ‘I have a letter here from— I know not whom— but it is most distressing. I

  don’t know what to make of it. But if it is true it— it horrifies me.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Caroline, seating herself inelegantly on her mother’s bed.

  ‘It is unsigned. It tells me that Lady Jersey is the mistress of the Prince of

  Wales, that she is treated as the Princess of Wales and that he will continued to treat her as such after your arrival.’

  ‘What?’ cried Caroline and snatched the letter from her mother’s hand.

  ‘Oh dear, your manners! What will they think at the English Court— and if

 

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