by Cheyenne
When her maids helped her to disrobe that night, she continued her wild
chatter, but when she was alone, she lay quietly thinking of the future
What will become of me? she wondered. There was no point in pretending to be defiant in the darkness of her room. She was afraid; she had to remind herself that she was a Brunswick lion and they never showed fear.
‘He hates me,’ she whispered. ‘Why, I did not expect him to love me— so
soon. But he hates me. I disgusted him— So much that he could not hide it.
Suppose he refuses to marry me? Nothing would please me more!’
Then she pictured her return to Brunswick— defeated, the Princess who
was sent on approval and found unacceptable!
She imagined her mother’s diatribes which would go on and on for the rest
of her life, for no other Prince would want to marry a Princess who had been
rejected by the Prince of Wales. There was her dearest Töbingen. Oh lucky people
who were not royal and free to marry where they loved!
But whatever the next few days held for her, she must face it. And there was
only one way she knew how to act. It was how she had acted tonight. She had
been coarse, vulgar, ribald, mocking, indifferent to their scorn. It made dear Lord Malmesbury sad.
But what can I do? she asked herself. What other way is there?
She knew of none
————————
The Queen received Lady Jersey in private.
It was a difficult position, mused the Queen, for she had no wish to encourage
immorality in the court; and the Prince’s love affairs were most public. But Lady Jersey, reasoned the Queen, was doing the country a service. She had separated
the Prince from Mrs Fitzherbert and so made a marriage possible for him, for
while he continued with that woman he would never have married because she
convinced him that she was his wife. Sometimes, the Queen reminded herself it
was necessary to waive one’s principles for the good of the country.
Lady Jersey’s manners were impeccable. She swept a deep respectful curtsey
and the Queen signed for her to rise.
‘Pray be seated, Lady Jersey’
Lady Jersey humbly thanked Her Majesty and waited for the questions.
‘You have recently come from the Princess Caroline. Tell me, how is she?’
‘Your Majesty, I greatly fear
‘ Lady Jersey stopped herself.
The Queen said graciously: ‘You may proceed.’
‘Your Majesty will think me presumptuous but because Your Majesty asks
for truth—’ .
‘Yes, yes. I want the truth.’
‘I fear Her Highness has not been bred for the high honour for which she has
been brought to England.’
‘Tell me what happened.’
Lady Jersey told, stressing the gaucherie, the uncouth manners, the effect her
appearance had on the Prince, his horror.
‘Do you think he may refuse to go on with the marriage?’
‘Oh, but he must go on with it now, Your Majesty. Or perhaps I am wrong,
but—’
‘If he refused to go through the ceremony, he could do so.’
Lady Jersey was secretly alarmed. She knew how the Queen’s mind was
working. It was not too late for him to give up Caroline of Brunswick and take
Louise of Mecklenburg-Strelitz.
Never! thought Lady Jersey. Caroline might not suit the Prince but she suited
her purposes perfectly.
‘It is for him to say,’ went on the Queen triumphantly.
‘Madam, what are your instructions regarding the Princess?’
‘Watch her. If she writes to her home, I should like to see the letters before
they are sent. I should like to have reports of her conversation. I gather she is a very indiscreet young woman.’
‘Alas, Your Majesty that’s very true.’
‘We shall see what happens. In the meantime keep me informed. And if the
opportunity arises to advise the Prince, you may be able to make him aware that it is not yet too late.’
Lady Jersey said that it was her great pleasure to serve Her Majesty.
————————
The Prince paced up and down his silk-lined drawing room and declared: ‘I
cannot marry the woman. The very thought of it makes me ill.’
Lady Jersey looked at him sadly. ‘You could never draw back now.’
‘Why not? Why should I not?’
‘The proxy ceremony has taken place.’
‘A pox on the proxy ceremony! I have not made any promises to the woman.’
‘It would be an international incident if she were sent home now.’
‘Little Brunswick! Need we fear that petty little place?’
‘There are your debts.’
‘I would take another wife if necessary, but not this one.’
Lady Jersey’s eyes narrowed. Another wife? The alluring Louise. It was just
what the Queen was hoping for. Her own niece to form an alliance with her— the
wives of the King and the Prince would rule together. The poor, kind, weak-
minded King whose mind often went wandering and the pleasure loving Prince of
Wales to be ruled by the ladies of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. And what of Lady
Jersey? How would an attractive young wife deal with a mistress who for all her
charms was an ageing woman?
She knew the Prince. If he succeeded in throwing off Caroline, he would think
her successor desirable and beautiful merely because of the comparison.
My God, she thought, what a trial I have to keep my place! Did Fitzherbert go through all this?
But she was wily and she enjoyed the game really. It was a great pleasure to
work with the Queen— or to allow the Queen to think she was working with her
— when all the time she was playing her own game.
Then she said: ‘And what of the people?’
‘The people. What have they to do with my marriage?’
‘Everything that concerns their future King concerns the people. They are
already showing sympathy for the Princess.’
‘Why should they?’
‘You know what the people are. They imagine someone is in distress and out
comes the sympathy. I think that if you sent Caroline home you would make her
into a martyr and in doing so you would become very unpopular.’
That startled him. He longed to be popular. He often thought of the old days
when he had been Prince Charming and so handsome, the days before he grew so
fat. Everywhere he went the people had cheered him. He longed for a return of
that popularity.
Lady Jersey smiled secretly and she was glad: he would refuse to marry the
girl and then they could bring Louise over.
‘I feel I cannot go on with it.’
The Queen put in: ‘You know, George, it is for you to say whether you can
marry this Princess or not.’
‘I cannot marry her,’ said the Prince.
‘The King will tell you that it is for you to say,’ reiterated the Queen
The King nodded. ‘No one can make you marry if you do not wish to. But you
have to consider the reason for the proposed marriage. It is a condition of the
Parliament, eh, what? No marriage— no payment of debts. What are you going to
do then, eh? Creditors getting impatient? They’ll be in Carlton House if we say no marriage. It will only take that.’
‘I cannot marry her. I cannot.’ The Prince was striking his forehead
dramatically. But the thought of thos
e debts, the total of which he dared not
contemplate, and the effect his jilting of the Princess would have on the people, made him realize that there was no other way out.
He talked to his friends. He could not stop talking. They all knew of the
revulsion the Princess Caroline aroused in him and in the clubs the betting against the marriage’s taking place was high.
‘He won’t do it, they said. ‘He can’t face it.’
And the Prince said to himself, ‘Can I face marrying her? Can I face not
marrying her?’
There was one, of course, who might have decided for him. He thought of her
often. Maria. Why had she not understood that he had not meant it when he had
said he would not see her again? She should have wept and stormed. It was what
he had expected. Instead, that silence, and then her leaving the country.
But she was back now. She was at Marble Hill. She was his sweet lass of
Richmond Hill as she had been in-the old days— and always would be.
He could have talked to Maria as he never could to Lady Jersey. He had
never loved Frances Jersey. She had fascinated him— still did to a certain extent
— but it was Maria he wanted.
She had struck the right note. He would go through with this marriage for he
realized how right she was.
The people would be against him if he treated Caroline so churlishly.
He looked grim. He could see that there was nothing to be done but marriage
and yet— Who knew, some miracle might happen.
————————
Caroline lifted her eyes to the protuberant ones of her uncle. There at least she saw kindness.
‘Welcome to England, my dear,’ he said in German, which was comforting.
‘We are happy that you are joining the family.’
She could have hugged him and almost did— until she remembered that he
was the King. This was the brother of whom her mother had talked so often—
George who had a kind heart and addled head.
And now the Queen. Caroline was startled by the venom in the face of the
little woman who was Queen of England. She is ugly, thought Caroline, and they were right when they said I should beware of her, for she hates me.
She was bidding her welcome in English but that was no welcome. Queen
Charlotte had no friendliness, no warmth to offer the stranger. Caroline had come without her blessing and she had no intention of pretending that it was otherwise.
And there were the Princesses who quite clearly took their cue from their
mother.
This is my new family, thought Caroline.
————————
The Prince called on the King and Queen to express his feelings forcibly.
‘The thought of marriage with Caroline fills me with horror,’ he declared.
‘She is the most unattractive woman I ever saw.’
‘She seems a pleasant sort of young woman,’ said the King. ‘I thought she
was good looking— in a way. Surely you exaggerate, eh, what?’
The Queen watched her husband and son slyly. The Prince was really
distressed, there was no doubt about that.
He sent for his phaeton and rode out. He drove wildly and the horses were
heading for Richmond.
————————
Miss Pigot saw the well-known phaeton. ‘Maria,’ she called, ‘he has come.
He is here.’
Maria came running into her drawing room crying: ‘What are you saying?’
‘He rode past just now. I saw him clearly.’
‘He rode by,’ said Maria sadly.
‘He will come back. He has ridden by in the hope of seeing you.’
Maria took her stand at the window— to the side so that she could see and not
be seen.
‘Are you sure?’
Miss Pigot nodded. ‘Poor, poor darling. He is so unhappy. All he needs is a
sign from you.’
Maria shook her head. ‘It is I who need the sign.’
‘This is it. He is coming back to you. He has come to tell you so.’
‘Then why ride by?’
‘Because he wants that sign from you. He wants you to bid him come in, to
make him welcome.’
‘He was never so coy, before, my dear.’
‘He is begging you to take him back.’
‘I have not noticed it. A strange way to beg. To become betrothed when he
already has a wife.’
‘Oh, Maria, don’t turn your back on happiness.’
‘I tell you it is for him to say. Have not the decisions always been his? As for
myself, I must just wait.’
‘He is coming again. He is coming back. I can hear the horses.’
‘Stand away from the window.’
‘It is for you to stand there. To beckon him as he passes.’
Maria stood very still, hidden from sight. She did not move. The phaeton
drove past but she was aware that the pace of the horses slackened as they
approached.
Was he in truth waiting for that sign?
I cannot give it, she thought. How can I? I am his wife. What does he want?
For me to go back to him, to acknowledge myself his mistress?
‘He has gone,’ said Miss Pigot. ‘But perhaps he will come again.’
He did— twice past the house; and on each occasion Maria stood at the
window, waiting, hoping, but not showing herself.
She gave no sign and he rode back to Carlton House.
But she kept thinking of him, riding out to Richmond. Surely it must have
been because he hoped she would welcome him to her house. She thought of the
vows of eternal fidelity he had made to her. She believed herself to be his wife.
Did he believe her to be?
She would know the answer to that question in a few days’ time. If he refused
to marry the Princess Caroline she would know that he considered he had a wife
already, and since he had come to Richmond could that mean that he wished the
world to know it?
————————
The Prince had had a sleepless night, but when he awoke on that Wednesday
morning of the 8th of April, he knew he must go on with the marriage.
While he was being dressed in his splendidly embroidered blue velvet coat
and his elegant knee breeches he called for a glass of brandy. He drank it quickly and felt a little better. But by the time he had put on his high heeled buckled shoes and was ready to leave for the Chapel Royal at St. James’s, he needed more
brandy to sustain him in his ordeal.
Lord Moira, who was to accompany him, asked the Prince very cautiously if it
were wise to take so much brandy before this important event.
‘I need it, Moira,’ he declared with tears in his eyes, ‘for I do not think I can go through this ceremony without it.’
Lord Moira was sympathetic, but he could not agree that more brandy was
what was needed.
‘My dear friend,’ said the Prince, ‘you see before you the most reluctant
bridegroom in the world.’
‘Your Highness takes this too hardly.’
‘How otherwise can one take a bad business?’
The carriage was at the door and the resplendent bridegroom took his place in
it. Lord Moira beside him.
As they rode from Carlton House to St. James’s, he said mournfully: ‘It is no
use, Moira. I shall never love any woman but Fitzherbert.’
————————
Caroline was being dressed in St. James’s whither she had come after the
family dinner at Buckingham House. What an ordeal with those sly looking
Princesses watching her all the time, and the Queen showing her disdain.
If I had known what it would be like I would never have come, she told
herself. My father would never have forced me. Oh, how I wish I was home in
Brunswick. And the Prince hates me. He shows that clearly. More and more every day he hates me.
There was only one member of the family who was kind to her and that was
the King. His hands shook as he embraced her and he kissed her as though he
enjoyed doing so. She almost wished that she had come as his bride instead of his son’s. At least he would have been kind.
When she had left Buckingham House he had taken her into his arms and
kissed her fondly.
‘This is a happy day, my dear,’ he had said rather mournfully, and the rest of
the family showed quite clearly that they considered it a calamity. The Prince and the Queen hated her— and those silly parrot-like Princesses followed their
mother.
She looked at her white satin dress with the pearl embroidery. It was
beautiful; and she, who liked flamboyant clothes, should have been pleased with
it and the big cloak of crimson velvet which covered it. But she was very
apprehensive as she left the apartment for the Chapel Royal.
————————
The Prince swayed as he walked into the Chapel Royal. The two unmarried
Dukes on either side of him moved closer for they thought he would totter. A fine thing it would be if the Prince had to be carried to the altar because he was too drunk to walk there.
Caroline, who had entered the chapel on the arm of the King had decided that
she would hide her true feelings from all those who had come to watch her
married and consequently appeared to be unbecomingly gay. Walking down the
aisle with the King she smiled and nodded to people as he passed. The King did
not appear to notice her odd behaviour but everyone else did.
There was a hushed silence throughout the chapel and all attention was
focused on those two brilliant figures. The Prince swayed a little, magnificent in his blue velvet and Collar of the Garter but, as many noticed, looking confused
and uneasy; and Caroline, shimmering in her be-jewelled white satin with the
diamond coronet on her head, looked a true Princess.
But the Prince could not bear to look at her and kept his face turned from her.