It was gratifying therefore that he should call on her, and she knew that when such men showed their friendship for her. It caused a great deal of chagrin to the Prince of Wales.
This in itself would have made it worthwhile her receiving such men‚ but she liked Perceval for himself and was delighted to have him as her friend.
She confided in him a great deal— what comfort to confide in a clever man He knew about her school and the children she cared for and he applauded her for doing this social work. So now she felt she could talk to him of the Austins, but as yet she had decided to be unusually discreet and say nothing of her plan for adopting the child. This she supposed was due not so much to discretion but the fear that if she talked too much of the project something might go wrong with it.
She could never understand a mother’s parting with her child and was therefore haunted by the thought that when the time came Mrs. Austin would not let it go; moreover there was the dangerous affair of birth itself. If this one were lost in the process she would be heartbroken. So therefore she had a superstitious feeling that she would not speak of it until the child was actually in her hands. But she was anxious about the poverty of the Austins.
‘I have discovered a very poor family living near here,’ she told Perceval. ‘I know you understand my concern for these people.’
He did indeed. He wished that others of her rank shared her conscience.
‘Then I know you’ll help me. The father of this family is a good respectable man who had work in the dockyards until he lost it. There are several children and I have done what I could, but I think that if the father could earn money himself they would all be happier for this. They do not want to live off charity. I can recommend Samuel Austin as a good respectable man. Can you do something for him?’
Perceval said that he would do his utmost and he had little doubt that he could find some form of employment for a good and honest man who was a protégé of the Princess, in a week or, so later Caroline was able to carry the good news to the Austins that there was a job waiting for Samuel in the dockyards.
‘You’re our good angel, Madam,’ said Mrs. Austin.
‘And you haven’t changed your mind about the baby?’
‘Why, Madam, do you take me for a fool.? This baby’s going to be the luckiest in Blackheath!’
‘I’ll try to make it so,’ said Caroline.
Lady Douglas had had another daughter. Caroline went over to their house as soon as she heard the news, taking with her lavish presents for mother and baby.
‘My dear,’ she cried as she sat down heavily on the bed, 'you must be the happiest woman alive.’
Lady Douglas asked the nurse to bring the child and it was laid in the Princess’s arms. Caroline was rapturous. ‘What a little darling! I adore her. I would envy you except for the fact— but it’s a secret. You will know in due course.’
Lady Douglas clenched her hands beneath the bedclothes and thought: Can she mean she is pregnant! Is it possible! Oh, the traitor. It is so. I’m sure of it. She said sweetly: ‘I am going to ask a great favour of you. May I?’
‘Please do. I am sure it will be granted.’
‘Would you act as sponsor to my new daughter?’
‘Nothing would please me more.’
‘And have I your Highness’s permission to name her after you? Sir John and I would like to call her Caroline Sydney.’
‘I cannot think of a happier combination,’ smiled the Princess.
As the birth of Mrs. Austin’s child became imminent, Caroline arranged for her to go into the Brownlow Street Hospital and in due course a boy was born.
When Mrs. Austin came home, Caroline went to the cottage and saw the child in his shabby cradle. She took him up in her arms but Mrs. Austin said that she would have to keep him with her for a week or two.
‘You are not going against your word?’ cried Caroline.
‘Lord love you, Madam, it’s us that’s frightened you’ll go against yours.’
‘Never,’ said Caroline, hanging over the cradle, ‘Have you named him?’
‘We thought of William, Madam.’
‘It’s a good name,’ replied Caroline. ‘Little William— my little Will. Yes, he shall be William. When am I going to have him?’
‘In three weeks from now?’
‘I wait with great impatience.’
As was promised, the baby boy was delivered to Montague House where Caroline had already prepared a luxurious nursery for him. She covered his face with kisses; she was going to look after him herself. He was hers as darling Charlotte could never be. Her little Willie.
‘My Willie,’ she cooed. ‘My little Willikin.’
And that made him seem like hers. From henceforth he was Willikin.
Lady Douglas was away for a few weeks and Caroline was longing for her to come back so that she could show her the baby. When she eventually did she immediately came to call and was shown into the Princess’s drawing room by Mrs. Fitzgerald, Caroline had thrown a light piece of cloth over the child so that it was not immediately visible.
‘I have a surprise for you,’ she cried excitedly. ‘Turn your back or shut your eyes. No— turn your back. I want you to have a really big surprise.’
Lady Douglas did so and when Caroline gave her permission to turn, saw the child lying on the sofa.
‘Your Highness!’ cried Lady Douglas.
‘Ha. I told you I was going to have a baby, did I not?’
‘You did, Your Highness, but—’
Mrs. Fitzgerald who had remained in the room said quickly: ‘Her Highness adopted the child. He is the son of a Sophia Austin, the wife of a dock labourer.
You should have seen him when he arrived.’
Caroline had snatched up the child and was kissing him frantically, ‘He has changed has he not, Fitz? Is he not now the most beautiful baby in England?’
‘He should be, Madam, with all the care you give him.’
‘So Your Highness is looking after him yourself?’ asked Lady Douglas.
‘Of course, my dear. Why else should I want a baby? To give to others to care for! You shall see how I look after him. think it is his feeding time, is it not, Fitz?
I shall feed him myself. Only the best for my darling Willikin. Send in all I shall need and I shall show my dear friend Lady Douglas how I care for my child.’
Lady Douglas watched incredulously while the Princess superintended the feeding of the child and herself changed his napkin.
It’s a nightmare! thought Lady Douglas and all the time she watched Willikin to see if there was some resemblance to Sir Sydney. But, she thought, a little mollified, it could be Manley or even Lawrence.
What a fool she is! And she, the Princess of Wales! Is it possible that she can’t see what trouble she might be making for herself? Lady Douglas felt very excited. What a scandal this could be. She felt suddenly powerful, which was a very comforting feeling, suspecting as she did that her lover had found satisfaction with another woman.
But it could only be because she is Princess of Wales, Lady Douglas soothed herself. If I knew it were true, I’d make her wish she’d never set eyes on him. Not long after the arrival of Willikin, Lady, Douglas came to tell the Princess that she and Sir John would be going away, perhaps for some years. They were going to Devonshire in the company of Sir Sydney Smith, both the men being called away to duty.
The Princess took an affectionate farewell of her friend and a rather tearful one of her little godchild; but there was Willikin to comfort her.
No sooner had the Douglases left than Mrs. Fitzgerald told the Princess that she wished to speak to her on a rather delicate matter.
It had come to Mrs. Fitzgerald’s ears that Lady Douglas had spoken very disrespectfully of the Princess in the hearing of her servants, some of whom had reported this to the servants at Montague House.
‘And what was this?’ asked Caroline.
‘She spoke slightingly of Your Highness’s morals
and said that William Austin was in fact your own child.’
‘My little Willikin! How I wish he were! But he is, you know, my dear. He is my own.’
‘But, Your Highness, Lady Douglas hinted that he was the result of an adulterous intrigue and that you had actually given birth to him in secret.’
The Princess was silent. ‘I think they would call that treason,’ she said.
‘They would indeed, Your Highness. That is why I think you should know that Lady Douglas was a false friend.’
‘She must have been if she spread tales like that.’
‘She did, Madam, I assure you. Heaven knows what could result if she talked too freely in some circles.’
The Princess was thoughtful. Then she brightened. ‘Well, she has gone, my dear.’
‘She may come back. If she does—’
The Princess waved her hand. ‘If she does— well then I shall not receive her.
My dear, dear Fitz, you are so concerned for me. Have no fear. She is far away and if she ever comes back, I shall simply not receive her. Now— go and bring Willikin to me if he is awake, but don’t disturb the little pet if he is not.’
Mrs. Fitzgerald went away to do as she was bid.
How feckless she was! She did not seem to have any idea of the trouble her conduct could arouse.
Willikin was awake and screaming to be picked up. Willikin indeed! thought Mrs. Fitzgerald. The cause of all the trouble.
The Anonymous and Obscene
CAROLINE settled down to enjoy life with Willikin and dismissed the Douglases from her mind. She rarely gave a thought to what was happening in the world outside Montague House— and great events were in progress.
Napoleon was astride Europe. Even Hanover, that stronghold of the Guelphs, was in his hands. Most alarming of all he was at Boulogne casting covetous eyes on England, and the threat of invasion was in the air.
The Prince of Wales was fretting against inactivity. He had settled down to harmony with Maria and was now looking for further adventure. He was very unpopular with the people and that wounded him deeply for he desperately wanted their approval and he felt he could win this by becoming a hero in this battle against that great bogey man known throughout the land as Boney; and he longed to take a part in the war.
He told Maria that he was going to insist on doing so. ‘Why should I, a man of my age— be told that I must not be allowed to fight for my country? Did you ever hear such rubbish?’
Maria replied that as the heir to the throne it was reasonable for the King to refuse to allow him to risk his life.
‘You would make a coward of me, my dear love. I shall write to him all the same.’
He sat down at once. He was always happy with a pen in his hand. Watching him Maria remembered those long impassioned letters he used to write to her— some of them thirty-two pages in length.
‘Listen to this, Maria: In this contest the lowest and humblest of Your Majesty’s servants have been called upon. It would therefore little become me, who am the First, to remain a tame, idle and useless spectator. ‘Very fine,’ said Maria. ‘But it will not move His Majesty one bit.’
‘By God, I’m not allowing the people to think me a coward.’
There was excitement in the air. The country was united as it could only be at such a time of danger. Just across the Channel Napoleon had gathered together a large fleet of gun boats. He thundered threats from the soil of France. The British were defeated, he cried. It was only a matter of weeks. Who did they think they were to dare stand out against Napoleon? Hadn’t they heard of his victories throughout Europe?
The answer came back: Yes, who does he think we are? And there was the nation suddenly in arms. Farmers and fishermen, merchants and their apprentices— everyone who could carry a gun or a scythe if no gun was available.
‘Come on, Master Boney,’ they cried. ‘We can’t wait to welcome you.’
The King was growing more and more afraid. The twilight times when his mind became so clouded that he was not sure where he was, and whether or not he was a young man again, were becoming more frequent. Sometimes he would doze off and wake up to find himself talking of he knew not what, and when he tried to stop himself the voice still went on and sometimes he was not sure that it was his.
Trouble, he thought. It’s all trouble— always has been, always will be.
He had been very upset recently over the plot organized by a certain Colonel Despard.
What had possessed the man? he kept asking. Eh, what? Despard was a good soldier. At his trial Lord Nelson himself had come forward and testified to his valour and loyalty.
What had happened to make Colonel Despard plot to assassinate his King?
‘Why?’ he cried. ‘What have I ever done but my duty, eh, what?’
It was a mad plot— to shoot the King and take possession of the two Houses of Parliament. Why? Eh, what?
And he had been discovered and executed with his fellow Conspirators at the top of Southwark jail and there he had made his last speech in which he had declared that he believed in the end liberty and justice would triumph over despotism and delusion.
What had he meant, eh, what?
Despotism and delusion! Hadn’t he, George III, always tried to be an honest man? And had he not always had the, good of his people at heart?
All this trouble: George and Caroline not living together. Bickering over the Princess Charlotte. A fine way for a child to be brought up! What did she know of the trouble between her parents? A great deal— she was a knowing young mix.
And it was all wrong. Napoleon planning invasion. Voices in his head.
What next? he asked himself.
And there was that young fool the Prince of Wales wanting to go and fight.
He took up his pen. The answer was no— no, no. Couldn’t he understand that, eh, what?
‘I had flattered myself to have heard no further on the subject,’ he wrote angrily.
Then he buried his face in his hands and asked: ‘What next, eh, what?’
The Prince was furious.
‘He thinks I’m a child,’ he raged. ‘By God, I’ll make him repent that.’
‘Remember,’ said Maria, ‘he is a very sick man.’
‘That may be. But he’s representing me to the people as a coward. Am I going to stand aside and see that happen?’
‘My dearest, there is nothing else you can do.’
‘My dear love, I have thought of something. The obvious way to let the people know the truth.’
Maria had risen alarmed.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said triumphantly. ‘I am going to publish our correspondence.
That will let the world know that I am not the one who is holding back.’
Lord Nelson had made an attack on the fleet which Napoleon had accumulated for the invasion of England and this changed the Corsican’s ideas of easy conquest. The whole of England knew that though he might conquer Europe, Napoleon was no match for Lord Nelson.
Invasion fears died a little; but the country was still in danger and its militant mood persisted even though the situation was easier, and the King still had his troubles.
When he saw the correspondence between himself and the Prince published in the Morning Chronicle he was overcome with rage and grief.
Once more, an open quarrel in the royal family! He raged and stormed and talked perpetually and incoherently of his eldest son’s treachery to him.
As Prime Minister Addington remarked to Pitt, this was enough to turn the King’s brain again. They would have to be, watchful.
Caroline, happy at Montague House looking after Willikin who was fast growing objectionably spoilt, was not very pleased to hear that the Douglases were back in Blackheath.
Lady Douglas lost no time in calling at Montague House and was somewhat taken aback when she was informed that the Princess of Wales was not at home.
This might have been so, but the next day she received the same answer and as she knew that this
time the Princess was in residence she realized that she was being turned away.
She was furious. She raged to Sir John: Did the Princess think she could treat her in this way? She would find she was mistaken.
‘I know too much,’ said Lady Douglas ominously.
She called at Montague House again to receive the same answer..
‘Oh, dear,’ sighed Caroline when she heard. ‘I shall have to tell her that I don’t wish to see her.’ She called to one of her women. ‘Vernon, dear, I want you to write a letter to Lady Douglas and tell her not to call again.’
When Lady Douglas’s reply was brought to her Caroline turned her head away. ‘Send it back to her,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to read it. I want nothing more to do with that woman. She’s dangerous.’
When this letter was returned to her, Lady Douglas was furious.
‘Does she think she can treat me like this? She will see that she is not dealing with some humble servant. She is a vulgar woman for all that she is Princess of Wales. I’ll not endure this.’
‘Be careful,’ warned Sir John. ‘Remember this is royalty.’ But when had she ever taken his advice? She had only scorn for him.
She sat down to write to Mrs. Fitzgerald, a letter which held veiled threats.
The Princess of Wales had confided in her about a matter of great importance not only to herself but the country. She had respected the Princess’s confidence but if Her Royal Highness were going to treat her so churlishly, why should she behave with such meticulous honour towards Her Highness? She had written to Mrs.
Fitzgerald because the Princess refused to read a letter addressed to herself.
Perhaps Mrs. Fitzgerald would acquaint Her Highness with the contents of this letter.
Indiscretions of the Queen Page 24