Indiscretions of the Queen

by Виктория Холт

  ‘No, indeed you should not,’ declared the King. ‘Too much, eh what? No, the woman shall be dismissed. You may leave that to me, my dear.’

  Caroline threw her arms about the King’s neck and kissed him.

  Bless me, thought the King, the woman has no decorum. But it’s rather pleasant to be kissed by a pretty woman, eh, what? The King sent for the Prince of Wales He shook his head sadly over his son’s matrimonial affairs. ‘The people don’t like it,’ he said ‘They’re in an ill mood. You should take care.’

  ‘By God,’ cried the Prince of Wales. ‘I married the woman. What more do they want?’

  ‘They expect you to do your duty. You should have sons.’

  ‘I have a daughter. No one can prevent her from becoming Queen of England.’

  ‘A son would have pleased them more.’

  ‘I have pleased them enough. I now intend to please myself.’

  ‘A Prince can never please his people enough.’

  ‘So it would seem. But nothing will induce me to return to her. That is settled.

  Your Majesty has seen the correspondence?’

  ‘Yes, yes. And it seems to be a matter on which you are both in agreement— she as well as you, but there is one matter I have to discuss with you. She asks for the removal from her household of Lady Jersey and in view of the unfortunate position that lady holds in your affections I must ask you to dismiss her.’

  ‘And if I refuse?’

  ‘Then I shall be forced to dismiss her myself. You understand, eh, what?’

  The Prince’s face had flushed to a deeper red than usual. ‘So Your Majesty would concern yourself with my wife’s household?’

  ‘The lady whom you have repudiated, remember— Someone must protect her. I have decided to do that.’

  The Prince narrowed his eyes. He was not going to fight for Frances. Why should he? He was tired of her. Perhaps she would realize if he made no attempt to keep her in Caroline’s household, that he wished to be free of her.

  ‘Am I to understand that these are Your Majesty’s orders,’ he asked.

  ‘You may take it so.’

  The Prince bowed and retired.

  ‘And so,’ he told Frances, ‘I had no alternative but to accept.’

  ‘So you are not allowed to choose the members of your own household?’

  ‘You are a member of the Princess’s household.’

  ‘But surely you, as the Prince of Wales, could insist—’

  ‘Madam,’ said the Prince coldly, ‘I am not the King; and it is on his orders that you are to leave.’

  She was too angry to see the warning lights in his eyes.

  She would not forget this insult, she declared. She would make that creature sorry for this. She had carried tales of her to the King and this was the result.

  She was indeed angry. Now she would be of no use to the Queen, and the Queen would quickly withdraw her favour from one who could not serve her.

  This was going to make a great deal of difference to Lady Jersey’s power and power Was money of which she was very fond. She had had a good picking from the Prince but there were all sorts of perquisites which came the way of a lady who was on good terms not only with the Prince but with the Queen who, since the King had become feeble-minded, had the power to bestow ill sorts of honours.

  Yes, Lady Jersey was very angry.

  She left the Prince in no doubt of her ill temper, but she did not care. She believed she had the power to subdue him when she wished to, and it was Caroline against whom she vented her anger. That gauche ridiculous creature.

  Lady Jersey burst out laughing remembering her in the hideous white satin she had had made for her first meeting with the Prince. Stupid creature, did she think she could get the better of Lady Jersey?

  She got into her coach and as it passed down St. James’s, she was recognized by passersby. One called her a lewd name. The people nowadays were becoming more and more insolent. Examples should be made of them. She sat back against the upholstery pretending not to see those grinning faces which looked in at her.

  Mud splashed against the window. Someone threw a stone.

  It was too bad. She was most displeased.

  In the privacy of her own house she sat down to write to the Princess of Wales, telling her that she had that day obtained permission from the Prince of Wales to resign her position of Lady of the Bedchamber. She considered that she had suffered persecution and injustice in Her Royal Highness’s service but she had the satisfaction of knowing; that through her silence and forbearance she had given proof of her loyalty to His Highness the Prince of Wales and to the royal family; as for gratitude and attachment to the Prince, that would only cease with her life. She was, with all possible respect, Her Royal Highness’s humble servant.

  When she read the letter Caroline shrieked with laughter.

  ‘At last I am rid of her,’ she cried. ‘First I rid myself of him and then of her.

  This is triumph. Now I can live in peace as long as my darling Charlotte is left to me.’

  Caroline was happier than she had been since she had come to England. She was free of the Prince and the odious Lady Jersey; she had her child; and the King was her friend.

  But Charlotte was a princess and an heir to the throne so she must be treated as such. She was no humble child to be cared for solely by her mother. Caroline could have access to her child; she could spend a greater part of her day in the nursery, but Charlotte must have her own establishment and Lady Elgin was put in charge of the royal nursery, with Miss Hayman second in command. Caroline took a fancy to Miss Hayman who was a very sensible young woman and interested in music; she played the piano with great skill and was lighthearted and if she was not as polished in her manners as Lady Elgin she was all the more to Caroline’s taste.

  So they were very happy together in Carlton House while the Prince was away at Brighton and scarcely ever called to see his daughter, the King coming often to show that he at least liked his daughter-in-law.

  ‘As for Madam Queen,’ said Caroline to Miss Hayman, ‘she is very welcome to stay away— and her band of spinster daughters too. I am very pleased to be rid of them. His Majesty is my friend and to tell you the truth, my dear love, I think he is a little in love with me. Oh, it would have been a very different story I can tell you if I had come over here as bride to the father instead of the son. My blessed Charlotte would be well on the way to becoming the sister of my next, I do assure you. Ha! Ha! But it was not to be.’

  Miss Hayman laughed and was amused by the free and easy conversation of the Princess of Wales.

  The Prince fretted. To think that the odious woman was in Carlton House— his Carlton House— that shrine of his own talent and good taste which he had made from the old ruin with which his father had presented him when he could II0 longer prevent his having his own establishment.

  Caroline in Carlton House; Maria keeping away from him. Cruel Maria, who knew what a failure his marriage with the Princess of Brunswick had been, who knew that he had never really cared for Lady Jersey. It had been temporary aberration, a madness which had come upon him, a spell the wicked Frances had laid on him. In his heart he had never strayed from Maria. She should know this.

  But she ignored his advances. She was not often in town; she had given up the lease of Marble Hill— ah, dear Marble Hill where she had lived when he had first discovered his Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill! And now she had retired to Castle Hill in Ealing and was spending much time there— too much time— with the faithful Pigot.

  It should not go on. He would not allow it.

  His first step must be to remove Caroline from Carlton House. So he sent word to her that he wished her apartments to be redecorated and this would necessarily mean that she must vacate them while the work was being done.

  There was a charming villa at Charlton not far from Blackheath. She would find it a delightful spot. If she would agree to inhabit it while the rooms at Carlton House were being re
painted, it should immediately be made ready for her use.

  And baby Charlotte? she wanted to know.

  Obviously the Princess Charlotte could not be taken from the royal nursery.

  She would remain at Carlton House in the care of her governess and nurses. In due course the child would be reunited with her mother.

  It seemed reasonable to Caroline. She prepared to leave for the villa in Charlton.

  She did not know that the Prince of Wales had vowed he would never have her back at Carlton House; and had expressed the view that he had no desire for his daughter to be brought up by such a vulgarian as her mother.

  The Princess Royal’s Romance

  THE Princess Royal came hurrying into the apartments she shared with her sisters and there was no need to ask her if something exciting had happened; it was written clearly in her face.

  ‘I have just seen Papa,’ she cried. ‘So it is true— true.’ Elizabeth looked up from the canvas on which she was drawing. ‘Not,’ she said, ‘a husband at last?’

  Sophia rose from her seat and embraced her eldest sister. ‘Oh, you most fortunate of women!’

  The Princess Royal acceded this. ‘Oh, how grateful I am! How tired I am of walking the dogs and filling the snuff boxes. I shall be free— free— of restraint for evermore.’

  ‘Husbands can be more restraining than fathers and mothers,’ Augusta reminded her.

  ‘Not more than ours,’ retorted the Princess Royal. ‘I do believe Papa is jealous of us all. I used to believe he wanted to keep us all here— pure and unsullied and that is why husbands have never been found for us until now.’

  ‘And then only one husband!’ sighed Sophia.

  ‘It is not necessary to be pure as well as unmarried,’ cried Augusta with a grimace. ‘Do you think dearest Papa realizes that?’

  ‘You should really be careful in front of the children.’ Sophia and Mary exchanged glances and laughed. ‘Don’t mind us,’ they said.

  ‘I am eighteen and not so innocent as I’m supposed to be.’

  ‘And I can well believe that!’ replied Augusta.

  ‘Hush!’ cried the Princess Royal. ‘How can you think any man will want to marry you if you talk like— like—’

  ‘Harlots?’ suggested Sophia. ‘I confess I often feel they have more interesting lives than ours.’

  ‘They could scarcely be less so,’ added Mary gloomily.

  ‘But,’ soothed Elizabeth, ‘if a husband has been found for our sister perhaps we need not despair.’

  ‘There are so many of us,’ wailed Mary, ‘and all getting older and older every day.’

  ‘A fate no man or woman can escape, you must admit,’ Elizabeth reminded them.

  ‘Yes, but the nearer we spinster-princesses get to the grave the farther we get from the marriage bed. I must confess it is a dreary thought.’

  ‘Well let us rejoice that at least one of us is to have a husband,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘What do you know of him, sister?’

  ‘That he is a prince.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘That he has been married before.’

  ‘A widower!’ grimaced Sophia.

  ‘Pray do not give me your pitying looks,’ cried the Princess Royal. ‘A man who has been married before is better than no man, I do assure you. And the second is likely to be your fate. The fact that he has had a wife makes me like him the better. He will be so experienced— perhaps she was a great beauty.’

  ‘Hardly likely when she was the sister of our sister-in-law Caroline.’

  ‘Is that indeed so?’

  ‘My Prince of Würtemburg had the misfortune to take to wife a Princess of Brunswick. She was Charlotte, too.’

  ‘He must have a fancy for the name.’

  ‘There are so many Charlottes in this family. Our mother, myself and now this new baby.’

  ‘Not to mention Caroline’s sister, your Prince’s dead wife. I wonder what Caroline will think of your marrying her brother-in-law.’

  ‘Caroline’s opinion is of no importance.’

  ‘I know. I just wondered. Perhaps she has already met him. She surely would for she would have been at her sister’s wedding, I daresay.’

  Sophia looked expectant, but the Princess Royal said quickly: ‘I should not dream of discussing my future husband with Caroline in any circumstances.’

  ‘I shouldn’t dream of discussing anything with Caroline!’

  ‘I have decided to make my own wedding gown. I am starting on it without delay. I shall sit up all night to finish it if need be for I am determined to put every stitch into it myself.’

  ‘Have you no qualms about leaving your home and going to a strange land with your widower?’

  The Princess Royal looked pityingly at her sisters. ‘You should be the ones to suffer qualms,’ she told them, ‘for it may well be that the King has decided that none of you shall ever have a husband.’

  Caroline heard of the proposed wedding and was saddened, remembering her sister Charlotte who had married Frederick William, Prince of Würtemburg.

  Charlotte had been sixteen then and she herself fourteen and how she had envied the elder sister who was starting out on her married life!

  But what had happened to Charlotte? She would never really know. It was a shock too, to learn that that same bridegroom was now coming to England to marry the Princess Royal for she had never really believed that Charlotte was dead.

  Charlotte’s story was strangely mysterious. Caroline knew that her father had sent messengers to Russia to try to discover the true story. And what sort of a husband was this Prince of Würtemburg who had deserted his wife, leaving her in Russia, after taking her three children away from her.

  Was it true that she had had a love affair with the son of Empress Catherine— that woman whose own life was something of a legend? Or had she dabbled in politics? How could they know? But the fact remained that Charlotte had disappeared and no one could be quite sure where.

  And now her death must be accepted as a fact— for how otherwise could her widower come to England to marry the Princess Royal?

  What strange lives we lead, thought Caroline, when we are married to strangers. The Princess Royal was not the least bit disturbed by the rumours. Her great desire had been to be married and escape from the thralldom of Court life under the stern eye of her mother. She stitched happily away at her dress and her sisters came in to marvel at her happiness as her needle worked on the white satin making what Sophia called the most perfect little stitches in the world.

  She was in transports of joy when she was fitted for her trousseau. She clasped her hands together in ecstasy over the jewellery which Forster, the Court jeweller, was making for her. She listened patiently to her mother’s advice on how to be a good wife, and to her father’s assurances of his love for all his children. He looked upon her as a child which might have been exasperating in other circumstances since she was past thirty, but all this she accepted in a kind of ecstasy— so delighted was she to have a husband.

  ‘My one fear,’ she confided to Elizabeth, ‘is that something will go wrong and prevent the marriage taking place.’ ‘Can you feel so strongly about a bridegroom whom you have never seen?’

  ‘It is marriage I want.’

  ‘Any marriage?’

  ‘Oh, come, sister, the Prince is handsome we hear. He is not deformed. He is not a monster.’

  ‘He has been married before.’

  ‘I tell you I don’t care. I don’t care.’

  ‘I wonder about his first wife.’

  The Princess Royal frowned. She had not heard very much about the first wife except that she had been the sister of Caroline and had had three children and was now dead. But what more did she need to know?

  ‘Stop looking like a wise old witch,’ she cried. ‘I tell you everything is going to be all right.’

  But was it?

  The case of the diamond ring seemed like an omen.

  It was
to be a beautiful ring set with thirty diamonds.

  Forster had brought the design and the stones to the Princess’s apartments to discuss the setting with her.

  He then took it back to his shop and set to work on it. He had done some work on the ring and left it on his bench and while he was absent, a chicken— which by some strange manner had found its way into the workshop— was attracted by the diamonds and swallowed some, even pecking one out of the ring.

  Their disappearance would have remained a mystery if one of Forster’s workmen had not arrived in time to see the chicken pecking at the stones in the ring and guessed what had happened.

  News was hastily sent to the Princess Royal who was deeply distressed— not at the loss of the diamonds but because she feared it to be an omen. She was hearing strange rumours about the first wife of her future husband and although she was reassured that she was dead, there did not appear to be absolute proof of this.

  Her demeanour had changed a little and she now no longer sang as she stitched away at her wedding dress.

  But a few days later, the jeweller called on her in triumph. There was the ring just as it had appeared in the design— with thirty brilliants bravely glittering.

  ‘It’s another ring?’ she asked.

  ‘No, Your Highness. We killed the chicken and recovered all the diamonds from his gizzard.’

  He was looking at her, expecting her approval for his cleverness in recovering the stones; but she took the ring gingerly and slipped it on her finger.

  She could not help looking on the incident as an omen.

  The King summoned his daughter. He was looking worried and the Princess Royal, like all the family, felt uneasy to see him so.

  She would never forget that terrible day when they had first known that he was going mad, when he had caught the Prince of Wales by the throat and tried to strangle him. She remembered too the occasion when she had been going for an airing with him and he had kept getting out of the coach to give the coachman instructions so that at last she had felt quite hysterical herself and dashed back into the Palace declaring that she could not ride with Papa. She remembered too his excessive fondness for Amelia and how he had hugged the child so tightly on one occasion that they had feared he would kill her and had dragged her from him and put him into a strait-jacket. He was supposed to be cured now but there were times when he talked in that quick way of his until he became hoarse and incoherent. This was when he was upset about something. He was upset now.