And now— this.
They would hear soon. They must.
Yes, those were horses’ hoofs. Maria was sitting tense, her face alight with hope. She really did believe that he had refused to marry this Princess, and that he was coming back to her.
Miss Pigot was at the window. She saw the horses pulling up; the carriage was stopping at Marble Hill.
‘It is my Lord Bradford,’ she said to Maria, who still remained seated, a rapt expression on her face. Lord Bradford, who had been Orlando Bridgement when as a young man he had taken part in that ceremony at Park Street! The Prince had commanded him to stand outside the door and warn them if anyone approached because Prime Minister Pitt would have had the power to stop the ceremony if he had heard it was taking place.
It was appropriate that Bradford should come now.
The footman was at the door. ‘My lord Bradford—’
Maria rose and held out her hands. Miss Pigot took one look at Bradford’s face and knew.
‘The Prince of Wales has been married to Caroline of Brunswick,’ said Bradford.
Maria swayed a little. Miss Pigot ran forward and caught her.
‘She has fainted,’ she said to Lord Bradford.
Caroline surveyed the bridal chamber in Carlton House. ‘It’s grand enough,’
she said.
The bridegroom looked at her disdainfully.
‘Well,’ she cried, ‘you’ll have to like me a little bit tonight, won’t you?’
She recoiled before the look of loathing in his eyes. ‘You’re drunk,’ she said.
‘And I’m not so very much in love with you.’
He swayed about the room. And she thought of how she had dreamed of her wedding night; it should have been with Major von Töbingen but that was all over. Instead she had this man of whose attractions she had heard so much— and he had turned out to be a fat drunken creature who hated her.
‘I doubt many have had a wedding night like this one,’ she said, and she began to laugh But duty must be performed. Even he was aware of that.
He turned to her. She was laughing her loud vulgar laughter.
‘Oh, changing your mind?’ she asked.
So the consummation took place.
She is even more repulsive than I believed possible, he thought. Oh God, why was I ever lured into this? She was sitting up in bed, shaking the hair out of her eyes. ‘It’s all so romantic,’ she mocked.
He staggered out of the bed. He could not bear her near him.
‘Ah,’ she said, ‘where are you going? To Madame Jersey?’
He did not look at her. His one thought was to get away from her as quickly as possible. The room was whirling about him. Too much brandy, too much wine.
He felt sick and ill.
He wept, thinking of that day in Park Street; it was winter and they had ridden off to Richmond together; the roads were icy and they had had to pause at Hammersmith— a romantic inn, supper by candlelight.
Maria, Maria, why are you not with me? Why have they married me to that vulgar slut in the bed? He had reached the fireplace. How his head ached! He felt so dizzy.
He put out a hand to the mantelpiece to support himself, missed it and fell, his head close to the grate.
He was to intoxicated to get up. He did not care. He preferred the hard floor to a bed shared with Caroline. She had got out of bed and stood looking at him.
‘All right, you drunken sot,’ she cried. ‘Stay there. Spend your wedding night under the grate!’
A Child is Born
‘So,’ said Caroline, ‘they call this a honeymoon!’
They had travelled down to Windsor from Carlton House and there spent two weeks. The Prince, having and up his mind that as soon as Caroline was pregnant his duty towards her and the State ended, had one purpose in mind; and only the thought of the freedom which would come with success gave him the necessary enthusiasm to achieve that end Caroline was deeply wounded. She would, if it had been possible, have attempted to make their union a happy one but she had no notion how to please him, and when she tried to do so only succeeded in making herself more repulsive in his eyes.
He hated her. Every time he looked at her he remembered that he had been a traitor to the woman he really loved. He tried to forget Maria by becoming more and more attentive to Lady Jersey who was enjoying the situation and had no idea how often Maria Fitzherbert was in his thoughts. Her attitude towards Caroline was haughty as though she were the Princess of Wales and Caroline her lady-in- waiting.’ Caroline had never been meek and such a situation was scarcely likely to curb her impulsive eccentricity.
The Prince decided that he would take his bride to Kempshott Park and with him should go some of those friends. Who would amuse him most and lift him out of his gloom.
Perhaps Kempshott was not a very good choice with its memories of Maria. It was here that he had spent many happy times with her and although she had never actually lived in the house, for with her usual discretion she had occupied a cottage and the estate, she had chosen the decor for the drawing room and had planned much of the gardens. He had been very happy with Maria at Kempshott, and he took a savage delight in remembering those days and comparing the woman he thought of as his true wife with the one who bore the title of Princess of Wales.
But he also had at Kempshott one of the best packs of foxhounds in the country and there he kept his best hunters. He could, at Kempshott, play the country squire as his father used to enjoy doing at Kew and Windsor— but whereas the King had dressed and behaved like a country gentleman, the Prince was never anything but the Prince of Wales.
The country people were less fickle than those of the Capital. They did not joke so much as his expense. There were no lampoons and cartoons, no bawdy and disrespectful gossip such as that which went on in coffee and chocolate houses.
He was married and that seemed a good thing to the country folk. As for the Princess of Wales she was a pleasant lady, always with a smile for any who looked her way; and often she would stop and talk to the children in a manner which showed she loved them.
Caroline thought: If it had happened differently I should have been happy here. We might have made a good royal marriage. If she could have had some of her friends with her she would have felt more at ease. Why had he been so cruel as to deny her the company and skill with English of Mademoiselle Rosenzweig? If only she could have had someone just to talk to.
But she was unsure of all these English women who surrounded her, because they all seemed to be under the influence of Lady Jersey.
She talked a little to Mrs. Harcourt, who was inclined to be sympathetic.
‘The Prince hates me,’ she said. ‘Why does he hate me so much?’
‘Your Highness is mistaken. The Prince needs a little time to grow used to his marriage. He, er—’
Caroline burst out laughing. ‘The more used to it, he grows the more he hates it. Though I daresay few people here have ever seen a bridegroom try to turn away from the altar just at that moment when the Archbishop is about to make him and his bride man and wife.’
‘Your Highness finds this amusing?’
‘Very amusing,’ cried Caroline, speaking in her racy French. ‘I wonder if it has ever happened before to a Princess of Wales? If not, I shall be remembered for it, shall I not?’
‘If it were true, Madam, which I am sure it is not, it would best be forgotten.’
Mrs. Harcourt for all her sternness and her loyalty to Lady Jersey was sorry for the Princess and somehow conveyed it.
‘You need not be sorry for me,’ cried Caroline. ‘It is the life of princes. My father used to talk of it. He was forced to marry my mother and was in love with another woman. He regretted he could not have married her. He always believed that if he had, his children would have been different.’ Again that shrill laughter.
‘Oh you are thinking that I am a little mad like my brother? Perhaps you are right.
Perhaps I lin. Oh no, no. I am very wise
. I know that this is a mariage de convenance. Are not all royal marriages? But this one particularly so. I would never have been brought over here if the Prince had not been in debt. I was the victim of Mammon. The Prince of Wales’s debts must be paid and poor little I’s person was the pretence.’
‘Your Highness!’ murmured Mrs. Harcourt, shocked.
‘Oh, Your Highness! Your Highness!’ mimicked Caroline. ‘You know the truth of this as well as I do, Madam. Parliament would vote supplies only for the marriage of the heir-apparent. A Protestant Princess must be found so they fixed on the Prince’s cousin. I hate it all. I tell you God’s truth, I hate it all!’ She threw back her head and beat her hands an her heavy breasts. But I had to oblige my father. He wished it. My mother wished it. And what could I do?’
‘It is like so many royal marriages, Your Highness. But these are often happy.
The King and the Queen—’
‘Have fifteen children. Shall I? I think the Prince will be content with one— for when he has one he no longer needs to sleep with me. I tell you, this is what he waits far. He wishes to say: "I have done my duty. Now, I need do no more. It is enough.’ And I shall be glad. I do not love him. Let him go to his Jersey woman. The moment I saw that woman with my future husband I knew how it was with them and I shrugged my shoulders and knew I did not care.’
Her eyes were glazed with a sudden emotion; she was thinking of Major von Töbingen with the amethyst pin with which he had said he would never part while he lived.
‘Oh mine God,’ she cried, ‘I could be the slave of the man I love. But one I did not love and who did not love me that is a very different thing— that is impossible.’
‘Your Highness should not talk in this way.’
‘Do not, I beg you, tell me how I should talk. I talk as I wish, Madam. And I say this: Very few husbands love their wives and when a person is forced to marry another it is enough to make them hateful to each other. If I had come over here just as a Princess on a visit— Do you know that that was what Mr. Pitt wanted me to do? Oh, it was before there was talk of marriage; but I think Mr. Pitt wanted the Prince to marry and he thought that if I came over on a visit the Prince might have liked me a little. Do you think he would?’
‘I feel sure he would.’
‘Yes, he would have liked me— and perhaps I should have liked him. We should have been good friends. It would have been very different— perhaps.’
She began to laugh. ‘But do not be sorry for me, my good Mrs. Harcourt. All the Prince gives me in trouble shall be repaid. If he does not want me, believe me I do not want him. Once I am with child, once I have my baby, I shall be ready to say: Go away. Your presence is offensive to me. ’ Her laughter was more wild.
‘Oh, you are shocked. Be shocked. It amuses me to shock people and if I am not to have love, let me at least have amusement.’
The Princess of Wales was indeed very strange, thought Mrs. Harcourt.
When they could no longer curb their hatred of each other, they allowed it to break out and seemed to take a great delight in hurting each other.
The Prince would wrinkle his nose in disgust when he looked at her. Caroline, deeply wounded, determined not to show her hurt, would give vent to mocking laughter or sometimes she would try to discountenance him with her ribaldry. Her intention was to show him that she did not care for him any more than he cared for her and that the marriage had been forced on her no less than it had been forced on him One evening when there were guests at Kempshott and it was necessary that they dine together with their guests, he looked distastefully at her. Her appearance was always too flamboyant; her clothes— no matter who was her dressmaker— managed to look vulgar in his eyes as soon as she put them on. She was always over-rouged, although her cheeks were naturally highly coloured; her dresses never seemed to fit. Her bust which was magnificent— and he thought of Maria’s fine bosom every time he looked at her— gave her a pear shaped look which he found repulsive in the extreme. She loved finery and would wear too many jewels of clashing colours in which she managed to look slovenly, and the greatest crime of all was that she refused to bath frequently.
The Prince shuddered and as he could not bear to look at her face, he fixed his gaze on her feet.
‘Well, she cried truculently, ‘you seem to find my boots very interesting.’
‘I find them extremely clumsy.’
‘Oh, so you do? Well then you go and make me another pair. Yes, you go and make me a pair of boots. And then bring them to me and perhaps if I consider them good enough I. may wear them.’
The Prince turned away.
Although she might shout and mock she was bitterly wounded.
It was a comforting thought to know that the Prince had invited her old friend Malmesbury to dinner that night. What joy it would be to see him!
She would never forget how he had tried to help her. He, who knew the Prince so well, must have realized what would happen when she came to England. No wonder he had been so anxious for her, so eager to help her— dear good Malmesbury If only they had brought her over to marry him instead of the Prince, how different it would have been believe, she thought, that I hate my husband.
Among the guests were Lady Jersey and Colonel Hanger. She hated them both. Lady Jersey now made no secret of her contempt for Caroline.
She wanted everyone to know that she was the true mistress of the house.
What an insult to have his mistress as Lady of the Bedchamber when she had not been allowed to bring her own friends from Brunswick. And Colonel Hanger was a coarse man, a player of practical jokes, and she wondered that her fastidious husband could have such a man for a friend.
But his tastes were not all that refined it seemed. He could gather together the most vulgar companions at times. It was all very well to be so elegant and wear such beautiful clothes and to bow in such a manner that it was the admiration of all who saw it. But what about some of these vulgar friends of his like Colonel Hanger, Sir John and Letty Lade, and the Barry brothers? They were always playing their silly practical jokes and of course she was the butt for most of them; they invaded the house and it was made noisy by their horseplay. And how they drank! They were almost always drunk and she would often find them sleeping on the sofas with their boots on— snoring.
Not so elegant, she thought grimly.
At dinner the Prince was attentive to Lady Jersey and kept pressing her hand and looking at her with great affection.
Still, she thought, he doesn’t feel quite so affectionate to her as he pretends to be. It’s all to anger me. And the woman was wearing pearl bracelets. She knew those pearl bracelets.
They were hers. They had been part of the jewellery which had come to her on her marriage. How dared he take them away from her collection to give to Lady Jersey!
There is surely a limit to what I need stand, she thought.
Malmesbury was looking sad, now and then catching her eye as though he would warn her. Warn her! Shouldn’t he warn the Prince? Who had set the pace?
Had she or the Prince? When she had come here she had been ready to be a good wife to him, to build up some family life, to give him some affection.
If only I could go home, she thought. I f I could explain to my father that this life is so wretched that no good can come of it! But that is impossible. Royalty must come before happiness. Royal people had no say in their destinies— royal Princesses that was. The Prince was determined to have his way, and even though he had been obliged to marry which was really because of his debts— he still intended to keep on Lady Jersey.
The meal over, Colonel Hanger lighted the great pipe which he affected.
Everyone laughed at George Hanger who did the most eccentric things; and no one dreamed of protesting even at that big ill-smelling pipe of his.
The Prince was smiling at Lady Jersey who was talking animatedly to him. He took her glass and drank from it. It was a token of the state of affairs between them.
In a s
udden rage Caroline snatched the pipe from Colonel Hanger’s mouth and putting it in her own, puffed smoke across the table into the Prince’s face.
There was a hushed silence about the table. She was aware of the Prince’s blank stare, of the glitter of Lady Jersey’s snake-like eyes.
Caroline burst out laughing. She had to do something to put an end to that awful silence.
Everyone was embarrassed; the Prince looked helpless; then ignoring her completely he began to talk of the play which was running at Drury Lane.
Caroline knew nothing of the play. She could not join in.
She sat smiling to herself. She was not going to let any of them know how unhappy she was.
The Prince had sent for the Earl of Malmesbury who came to him rather sadly guessing that after that strange exhibition at the table the Prince was going to criticize his consort and because Malmesbury had brought her over to blame him.
He saw at once that the Prince was really angry. ‘Well, Harris,’ he said, ‘you have seen that extraordinary display of bad manners. How do you like this sort of thing?’
Malmesbury murmured that he did not like it at all, but he thought that the Princess was in a strange country and was not yet sure of herself.
‘Not sure of herself!’ echoed the Prince. ‘My dear Harris, what antics do you think she will perform when she is? Why on Earth did you not write to me from Brunswick and tell me what sort of woman you were bring over?’
‘Your Highness, there was nothing of which to complain against the Princess’s moral character.’
‘You could bring this— this woman over, knowing what you did. I do not consider you served me very well.’
‘Your Highness, His Majesty sent me to Brunswick not on a discretionary commission but with the most positive commands to ask the Princess Caroline in marriage.’
‘I see, said the Prince bitterly. ‘You were obeying the King and you did not see it as your duty to warn me.’
‘Your Highness, replied Malmesbury somewhat sharply, ‘while I knew that the Princess had much to learn I did not conceive that Your Highness would make up your mind so to dislike her.’
Indiscretions of the Queen Page 15