Indiscretions of the Queen

by Виктория Холт

  The Prince looked exasperated. ‘You see what she is like— Do you think she will ever inspire respect in my friends?’

  ‘I think, with encouragement, she will improve.’

  ‘With encouragement, Harris, you are always so discreet and diplomatic, are you not?’

  ‘It is my business, sir, to cultivate these qualities.’

  ‘You manage well, I do assure you. But that has not helped me very much I fear. I see nothing but disaster through this marriage— nothing but disaster. This woman is— impossible. She revolts me. She is not even clean.’

  Malmesbury looked hurt. He understood, of course. Had he not tried to instill in her the importance of freshness; had he not warned her of the extra- fastidiousness of the Prince?

  And she had lightheartedly refused to consider his advice. He was exasperated with her, but desperately sorry for her too.

  And through her he had lost the confidence of the Prince who could never quite forgive those whom he thought considered his father before himself.

  ‘And what do you think will be the outcome of this marriage which you, Harris, have arranged?’

  ‘I think the outcome will depend on you, sir, and Her Highness. And I must remind Your Highness that it was His Majesty who, with your consent, arranged the marriage. My commission was merely to go to Brunswick and make a formal offer. This, sir, I did to the best of my ability.’

  The Prince shook his head mournfully. ‘I know, I know. But a word of warning, Harris. One word of warning. What disaster might have been averted then!’

  Malmesbury could only look regretful; but as he left the Prince’s apartment he knew that he was expected to take some share of the blame for the marriage and the Prince would always remember it against him.

  He saw the Princess.

  ‘I would to God, my lord,’ she said, ‘that I had never Come to England.’

  ‘Your Highness will grow accustomed to your new life.’

  ‘I will never grow accustomed to life with him. Nor shall I have to. Because I tell you this, my lord: As soon as I am with child he will never see me again. That is what he waits for. The best news I can give him is that I am with child.’

  ‘It is the best news you can give the nation.’

  ‘Oh, my dear Ambassador, who is always so correct— and therefore so different from me. Yes, it will be good news. If I can provide the heir the nation will be pleased. But he will be pleased— not so much because I have give them the heir but because he can then be rid of me.’

  ‘Your Highness, you remember when we were in Brunswick I implored you to be discreet and calm.’

  ‘You implored me to do so much, you dear good kind man. But you could not change me, could you? But I love you for trying.’

  Malmesbury flinched. She would never learn. She would go on making wild and reckless statements, but she would not wash as she should; and she would never please the Prince of Wales.

  ‘You see, my dear lord, I shall never change. I shall always be your naughty Caroline of Brunswick.’

  ‘I believe that if you would try very hard to behave in a manner which would not shock the Prince—’

  ‘Shock him. He is the right one to be shocked. You know, don’t you, that he sleeps with that Jersey woman?’

  Malmesbury turned away, his expression pained. What could he do to help such a woman? Had he not done his utmost; and all his efforts had clearly been in vain.

  There was nothing he could do, thought Malmesbury.

  The marriage was doomed.

  The King was equally concerned for the marriage. The Prince disliked his bride and that was bad; but whatever happened appearances must be kept up.

  The Queen came to his apartments. How their relationship had changed, thought the King sadly. In the days before his illness she would never have dared to come without an invitation. Now, of course, she was so necessary to him. A good wife, he thought. And he remembered all the children who had given him so much cause for anxiety: The girls who ought to have husbands found for them for they were growing restive and in a few years would be too old for marriage; the boys with their wildness. But there was always dearest little Amelia, the light of his life, he called her. His dearest youngest daughter who was yet too young to cause him any concern; he would like her to remain a child— a lovely innocent child for ever. And even she worried him because of that cough of hers. He himself prescribed her cough mixture and always impressed on her the need to take it; and when she put her arms about his neck and kissed him and called him dearest Papa, everything that he had suffered, the years of marriage with a woman who did not greatly attract him, everything seemed worthwhile.

  He still had the verses which Miss Burney composed on his recovery after that frightful illness and which darling Amelia had presented to him. He remembered how sweet the child had looked and how she had spoken her piece which was: The little bearer begs a kissFrom dear Papa for bringing this. He would always treasure the memory. And whatever happened he had his darling Amelia.

  Now he asked the Queen how Amelia’s cough was and when he heard that it was better he was much relieved.

  ‘I must bring up this matter of George’s debts to Parliament,’ he said. ‘I suppose they will be generous.’

  ‘It is the price he has to pay for his marriage.’ The Queen’s big crocodile mouth widened in a smile. ‘I daresay he is thinking the price a high one. Well, we all have to pay for our follies.’

  ‘You think he cannot take to the young woman, eh, what?’

  ‘I am sure he cannot. You will admit that she is a— spectacle.’

  ‘I thought she was a handsome enough young woman.’

  ‘Not handsome enough for George, evidently.’ The Queen gave a quick laugh.

  ‘Poor child,’ said the King compassionately. ‘It is not easy.’

  ‘Scarcely a child. I was some ten years younger when I came here.’

  ‘I know it. I know.’

  ‘I feel Louise would have been a better choice. Well, it is too late now. I can feel almost sorry for George.’

  The King frowned. ‘I hope there will be no troubles about these debts. They are enormous. Some £620,000. How did he ever manage to let them grow to that extent, eh, what?’

  The Queen shrugged her shoulders. ‘George will have the best of everything.’

  She laughed again; but the King did not feel in the least like laughing. He was worried. It was not so long ago that the French had taken their king to the guillotine and cut off his head. When such a mighty conflagration as the Revolution was raging across the Channel, a neighbor so near as England could not expect to remain aloof. The execution of a king must stir up feeling against all monarchies. Are we so safe over here? wondered the King. And one of the most unpopular members of the royal family was the Prince of Wales.

  ‘If they go on like this,’ he said, ‘there’ll be no kings left in Europe. Eh, what?’

  The Queen was accustomed to the manner in which the King’s thoughts strayed from one topic to another and she knew how much events on the other side of the Channel had preyed on his mind. If the King were incapacitated again she was going to make sure that she had a say in affairs and if George became Regent, she would conspire with Pitt to put a limit on his powers.

  ‘George’s behaviour does not help to make Royalty popular,’ she observed.

  ‘And now this marriage of his. If he had listened to me—’

  ‘When has he ever listened to either of us?’

  The Queen lifted her shoulders. ‘Well, he married that his debts should be paid and it is high time that they should be. I hear that some of the trades-people involved are getting very restive.’

  ‘Something must be done— must be done. Don’t want trouble, eh, what?

  Must speak to Pitt. Should not be too much delay.’

  ‘Yes, speak to Pitt. It is a well known fact that the Prince centered into this marriage for one reason only— and that was because he was in debt to such
an extent that it could no longer go on.’

  The Queen smiled. Lady Jersey reported to her regularly.

  Between them— and with the help of the Prince, of, course— they would make Caroline wish she had never heard of the Prince of Wales.

  Mr. Pitt was not inclined to make life easy for the Prince of Wales. Why should he? The heir to the throne had consistently shown himself to be the enemy of Mr. Pitt, had allied himself with Mr. Pitt’s enemies, and had made no secret of the fact that Fox was his man and on the day when he inherited the Crown he would do all in his power to oust Mr. Pitt from his position and set up in his place Mr. Fox or one of his Whig cronies.

  The Prime Minister was too much of a politician to help such an enemy. It was Pitt who forced Fox to deny in the House of Commons the Prince’s marriage to Mrs. Fitzherbert which had been responsible for making such a breach between Fox and the Prince that it had, Pitt believed, never entirely been healed. But the Prince was a Whig and Mr. Pitt and his Tones were prepared to do as little as possible for him.

  The Prince’s debts seemed to be a recurring problem. How one man could manage to spend such large sums was a mystery. Should the Nation be expected to pay an extravagant young man’s gambling debts and those he had incurred in the pursuit of women— and Lady Jersey was one of the most rapacious of his band— merely because he was the Prince of Wales?

  Certainly not.

  Mr. Pitt made his proposals to the House of Commons.

  The Prince’s debts, he explained, were once more a subject for discussion. He regretted to inform the House that they amounted to some £619,570— a vast sum of money they would all agree. He proposed as follows: The Prince’s income should be increased to £125,000 a year exclusive of those revenues due to him from the Duchy of Cornwall which he estimated as some £13,000 a year.

  £120,000 should be allowed to the Prince for the completion of Carlton House.

  He did not, however, propose to settle the Prince’s debts. He believed that the best manner of dealing with this problem was for the Treasury to deduct £73,000 from the Prince’s income per annum and this should be done until his debts were settled. This seemed to him the best possible solution to a delicate matter.

  - When the Prince heard what the Government proposed he was furious.

  He raved to Lady Jersey: ‘They have cheated me. I married this woman whom I loathe solely because my creditors were threatening action if they were not paid.

  And I went through this marriage with her— this farce of marriage— and now I am worse off than ever. They have increased my income and will deduct £73,000 a year to pay these wretched debts. I shall be worse off than before.’

  Lady Jersey was mournful. The Prince’s poverty affected her deeply. She did not wish him to cut down his expenses; she was doing very well and if there was less to be gained because the Prince must be ‘careful’— what a hateful word— he was far from pleased.

  She tried to soothe him. ‘It is not final yet. It has to be passed.’

  ‘Pitt!’ he said. ‘It’s always Pitt. That fellow hates me. What a diabolical plot!

  To deduct such a sum from my income!’

  He thought of that other occasion when he had been unable to pay his debts and the King would not help him. He had economized; he had sold his horses, shut up most of Carlton House; and he and Maria had gone down to Brighton in a hired coach. It had seemed such fun then. They had enjoyed their economizing.

  But then he had enjoyed everything with Maria. Maria had never wanted anything; she had never craved money, jewels— He looked with faint distaste at his mistress— that dainty creature who sometimes reminded him of a snake. But she still knew how to fascinate him, though not so completely as she once had done.

  Yes, they had shut up Carlton House and gone down to Brighton and they had lived in a manner which he called humble— and now looking back he could believe that had been the happiest time of his life.

  How different this was! His debts unpaid; his income raised and yet he would be poor because from it he would be obliged to pay his debts.

  It was insulting. And it was more than that. It was infuriating, maddening and tragic because to achieve this end had had been forced to marry a woman he loathed, He hated her more than ever now. And what consolation had he? Frances Jersey— when his heart cried out for Maria Fitzherbert.

  Caroline was in despair. She had not believed that it could be quite like this. Although she had not expected her husband to fall passionately in love with her on sight, she had allowed herself to imagine that in time they would come to an understanding. But how could they, when he loathed her and made no secret of the effect she had on him.

  I would have tried, she reminded herself. But, by God, if he is going to humiliate me then I shall show him that I care nothing for him? Lady Jersey! That woman was always close to her. And he had placed her there. She would not have blamed him for having a mistress; but surely he should have had the good taste, the good manners, to keep his liaison from his wife. The First Gentleman indeed! Then God help women if he was the finest example of his sex, ‘I hate him!’ she cried in the privacy of her apartments, But that was in private. No one was going to know how hurt she was She wondered how best to hurt him. She found a way. She had seen Maria Fitzherbert, the woman who had once so enslaved him that he had committed the utmost folly of going through a form of marriage with her.

  So that was Maria! She seemed an old woman to Caroline. She must be well past forty. And what airs! One would have thought she were indeed Princess of Wales Handsome in a way, but with a beak of nose. Lovely hair. Better than mine? Caroline asked herself . I don’t think so. A good skin it was true, but fat and unmistakably middle-aged. She told him when next she saw him. ‘I met Widow Fitzherbert. What a Madam, eh? Mrs. Fitzherbert, they told me, I thought she was visiting Royalty— or at least a Duchess. Then I hear she’s plain Mrs. Fair-fat-and forty!’

  He had turned scarlet with anger. How dare she attack his goddess. He gave her a look of the utmost contempt and she knew that he was comparing them and that he saw the middle-aged widow as eternally beautiful and herself eternally repulsive. He revealed something else. In his way he was still in love with the woman— more so than with Lady Jersey.

  It was hurtful but gratifying in a way. It might well be that Madame Jersey would not always be at hand to torment her.

  Caroline went about with a defiant air. She had given up trying to please him; instead she did her best to make him aware that she had no love for him. And yet she longed to win his affection. She had heard much about his elegance, so she tried to be elegant too, but she only succeeded in looking more vulgar in his eyes.

  She could never compete with the exquisite ladies of his circle; and the more she tried to, the more dismally she failed. Knowing how he admired wit, she tried to be witty; her clumsy efforts to amuse were even more pathetic than her attempts to dress with taste.

  Everything she did made him despise her the more.

  God damn him! she cried. Why did they bring me here? I wish they had kept their Prince of Wales. Then she would think of Major von Täbingen, yearn for him and dream of the happy life they might have had together. She wished then that she had died when they took him from her— which she believed she almost had.

  And then in the midst of her despair she made a discovery. She forgot her miseries; she even forgot the lost joy she might have had with Major von Töbingen. She forgot everything but what the future was promising her now.

  That sad and sordid union was to bear fruit.

  She was going to have a child.

  They would go to Brighton, said the Prince. The air would be good for her condition.

  She had hoped that now he would show a little interest. It was true that he was delighted He had done his distasteful duty and got the woman with child. Now he was entitled to leave her alone. His spirits rose, although he was angry about the manner in which Parliament had decided his creditors should be appease
d. He always enjoyed being at Brighton; the people were so different from the Londoners, they did not criticize him— at least not openly. Perhaps they would always be grateful to him for bringing prosperity to their town.

  So to Brighton where the inhabitants turned out in their thousands to welcome them and to shout their loyal greetings, not only to the Prince but also to his Princess. It was fitting that he should bring her down to Brighton. His chief residence might be Carlton House but Brighton was his home, and the Princess was pregnant so what better for her than the sunshine and the sea breezes?

  It was rather a damp arrival, for the rain poured down on the Prince and his wife, but Caroline cared little for that; she smiled and waved to the people in her free manner, and consequently, to the Prince’s chagrin, won their hearts.

  But she was soon to discover that life could be as humiliating at Brighton as at Kempshott and Carlton House. The Prince had no intention of spending any time with her; he left her alone and devoted himself to his Brighton friends who thought up all kinds of lavish entertainments for his pleasure.

  Lady Jersey was constantly with the Prince and by an unfortunate irony was also pregnant. This caused a great deal of amusement and even the loyal inhabitants of Brighton— could not resist fabricating jokes and cartoons about the Prince’s virility. Lady Jersey was more unbearable than ever. She constantly took the place of honour and Caroline, often feeling sick and ill, spent a great deal of time alone in her apartments, sometimes going for walks with only Mrs. Harcourt and a manservant in attendance.

  Her greatest relaxation was writing home. She found that thus she could relieve her feelings. If she told her mother how right she had been, how Queen Charlotte was an ugly little woman who was determined to spoil her daughter-in- law’s chances of living happily in England, she felt better. She would write cruel little descriptions of her new family; she could describe the foppish ways of her husband; the spitefulness of the Queen and the aloofness of her brood of silly daughters.