The Princess Dilemma: A Victorian Royal Romance

by Heather Hiestand

  “I expect he told you the important news that the colonel’s claim has been discredited, ma’am,” Charlotte said.

  “Yes, and that he’s now demanding money,” the queen said acerbically.

  “Can you blame him? He is fortune’s fool, to quote the Bard.”

  “That is not our problem. That was his mother’s,” Victoria said, a prim cast to her lips.

  “I cannot help but admire him, ma’am. He behaved like a gentleman, and the prince’s son he is. Surely there must be a way to help him. Otherwise he is nothing but a soldier. No family but a few elderly aunts, really.”

  The queen’s eyes, always faintly protuberant, seemed to round more as they fixated on Charlotte’s face. “Why were you with the colonel so early this morning, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte felt her cheeks heat. She stared at her embroidery. Really, how could she explain this to her cousin, seven years younger, completely inexperienced?

  “My maid questioned yours,” the queen continued. “You were not in your room when she came in. You had better tell me everything. Your mother put you in my care.”

  “I was with the colonel, Your Majesty.”

  “From when to when?”

  Charlotte had never heard her cousin sound so majestic. “Ma’am, I spent the night in his arms.”

  The queen blinked rapidly. “Do you make a habit of such behavior?”

  “No, ma’am. This was the first time.”

  “Why have you done this?”

  Charlotte blinked back tears. Now would be the time to tell all, but it would expose her mother as a liar. She could not do that. “Your Majesty, it is possible that I love him.”

  “It is more probable that the man is a base seducer.”

  Charlotte put a finger under her lower lashes to capture her tears. “He is not, ma’am.”

  “You want him to be worthy of you, is that correct, Charlotte?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Charlotte whispered, knowing she had ensnared herself as thoroughly as Lady Amy had.

  “He will never be worthy of you,” Victoria said. She stood, letting her sewing drop to the floor, and swept to her writing desk. After dipping her pen in ink, she proceeded to write rapidly, dipping her pen in hard jots that would damage the tip in short order. “Blot this,” she commanded when she was done.

  Charlotte hurried to oblige.

  Victoria huffed her approval and folded the letter. “Take this to a footman and have it delivered to the colonel.”

  “I can take it.”

  “Let it not be said that we contributed to your stupidity, Charlotte,” the queen said.

  Charlotte curtsied and took the letter to the door, and handed it to a hovering footman with instructions.

  “Come here,” Victoria said impatiently as Charlotte closed the door.

  Charlotte forced herself to recall every lesson she had ever received in deportment as she glided smoothly back to the queen. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Be seated,” Victoria commanded.

  “Where, ma’am?”

  Victoria muttered something, then led the way back to the armchairs. “Do sit, Charlotte.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Victoria leaned forward, an avid expression on her face. “Now, you must tell me everything. What was it that made you do such a thing? Had he kissed you until you lost your mind?”

  Charlotte felt her own eyes bulging. “Oh, dear.”

  Victoria grasped her hand with plump, beringed digits. “I must know, so that I do not fall into similar straits. You cannot imagine what sensual arts the princes of Europe must be learning presently, in order to seduce my person.”

  Charlotte pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. For all she knew, the queen was right. How did one train in sensual arts in order to conquer this one tiny, plump, unbeautiful eighteen-year-old queen? For herself, she could not answer based on that long ago summer, but only on the most recent six weeks.

  “Well?” Victoria demanded.

  “He’s a handsome man,” Charlotte whispered, then cleared her throat. “He, ah, may have stolen a few kisses.”

  “That cannot have been enough,” Victoria complained.

  “He has certain skills with his hands.” Charlotte’s cheeks blazed. “I, err, allowed him certain liberties with my person. I was a fool, ma’am, but the colonel is irresistible.”

  “I am amazed by your stupidity and infuriated by his licentious behavior. Why, he seduced a lady of my court. Surely your virtue had been unimpeachable until now.”

  Charlotte thought guiltily of that day she’d been discovered, all but naked in her marital bed. “Mostly, ma’am. I mean, I was a virgin, chaste.” Relatively pure.

  “Do you think your age contributed to the problem? You are seven years older than me.” Victoria chewed on her lip.

  “It is true that I saw my youth passing me by,” Charlotte agreed. “I will admit that contributed to my reckless behavior with the colonel.”

  “Heavens,” Victoria muttered. “I shall surely settle on a husband before I am twenty-five. I cannot be as foolish as you have been.”

  “You never would be,” Charlotte affirmed. “You are the very soul of virtue.”

  “How dull you make me sound, and yet, it is necessary to protect my throne. Charlotte, darling, I cannot reward your colonel for his behavior. I must think about this. Spend the rest of the day in prayer. I will call for you tomorrow when the colonel arrives. My appointments do not allow for resolution of this matter today.”

  “No, ma’am. Yes, ma’am.”

  Victoria gestured her away. Charlotte curtsied again and left the room, gesturing for a lady to take her place. Feeling faint, she pressed her hand to her chest as she went to her chamber. She should probably go to the chapel, to appease the queen, but did not want to be whispered about, as she surely would be if she went somewhere public.

  Besides, she knew, no matter how contrite she was to have disobeyed her mother, she would spend most of her time thinking about her husband. She had to relive their night together, their morning, and think about what this morning’s news meant. For sure, she’d never be Queen of England.

  If anyone was fortune’s fool, it was her.

  ~

  Edward wore full dress uniform as he stood in front of the queen the next morning in a small saloon. He had been concerned about who might be in the meeting with them, but only Charlotte and the prime minister were present. His wife had not contacted him at all since he’d left her at the palace the morning before and he had been concerned once he received the queen’s missive demanding his attendance on her.

  “You have proven my concerns about bastards at my court to be valid, sir,” his sister said coldly, sounding far older than her years. “To have seduced a lady of my court, a foreign princess, no less.”

  “You are a disgrace to your uniform,” the prime minister blustered.

  Edward had heard enough rumors about the prime minister’s sexual antics not to take anything he said personally. But the queen’s words hit home. Clearly, Charlotte had not told her the truth.

  “Now I will have to send my chief lady-in-waiting home in disgrace.”

  “Please do not to do that,” Edward said. “Her family needs her wages.”

  Lord Melbourne lifted a brow. Edward kept his face impassive, but he knew he had misstepped, mentioning money.

  “That is your fault,” his sister said. “First you embarrass me and my family by pressing your ridiculous claim to legitimacy, and now you’ve compromised Princess Charlotte.”

  “First of all, ma’am, I believed in my claim. The College of Arms has ruled otherwise and I accept their decision. Second—”

  “Second,” the queen interrupted, “you demanded money.”

  “I wish to care for my wife,” Edward shouted. “I cannot support her on soldier’s pay. Surely my own sister will do something for me. I have not behaved dishonorably, indeed, quite the opposite. I was upholding my mother’s assertion
that her marriage had been legitimate, that my brothers were not bastards.”

  Victoria blinked slowly. She glanced at Lord Melbourne, at her side. He rested his hand on the back of her chair.

  Charlotte stood on the queen’s other side. Her face was pale, her chin trembled. Edward held out his hand to her. She stayed still for a moment, then slowly moved forward, taking his arm.

  “Your wife?” the queen said.

  When he next spoke, she stood next to him, he and his wife, a joined unit. “I married Princess Charlotte in the summer of eighteen twenty-six. My family had not approved and she was sent back to Germany in disgrace. I went into the army.”

  “The marriage was legal?”

  “It was a clergy-less wedding but there was a witness, who made it clear to me when I arrived in London that he considered it to be valid. For all these years, I did not really think it had been. I did not come looking for my lost wife, but I found her.”

  Charlotte squeezed his arm.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Charlotte?” the queen asked.

  “My mother insisted the wedding had been a children’s game, and not a real marriage. I did not know until the colonel appeared in town that his cousin insisted it was real.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “I’d have lost my position, and I need my wages for my brothers’ education.” Charlotte bent her head.

  Victoria’s color was very high, but she impressed Edward with her steady hands and voice. She had been well trained. “So you married a German princess like my mother, thinking to make her Queen of England one day?”

  “Absolutely not,” Edward said. “I had believed, as my grandfather must have, that my parents’ marriage wasn’t legal. I only received the papers suggesting otherwise recently.”

  “Someone has been wreaking a great deal of mischief,” Lord Melbourne observed. “But here you are, definitely a bastard, and definitely married.”

  “I would like to point out that we have always acted in my sister’s best interest. The Lady Amy Blair scandal proves our loyalty,” Edward said. “We have as much interest in keeping her court moral as anyone.”

  Lord Melbourne snorted. The queen shook her head. “Appearances, colonel. You have the appearance of sinners. We do not trust you. There is too much trouble between us. You do not belong at court.”

  “Send me home with my wife,” Edward said. “Some land, some honors? I am your brother and she is your friend.”

  “I have no friends,” the queen said. “I am the Queen of England.” She stood, her mouth set. “Pack your bags, colonel. You will not remain in London long. Charlotte, you are confined to your room until we leave for Windsor this afternoon.”

  Charlotte’s eyes were full of unshed tears as she let go of his arm. What did Victoria mean? Was he packing for Canada or Scotland? If she left for Windsor today, it might be a month before she decided his fate. Meanwhile, Charlotte would be hidden away from him.

  He bowed his head as the women left the room. When he looked up again, only Lord Melbourne remained.

  “Will it do me any good that Victoria loves Charlotte?” Edward asked. “Whatever she says now?”

  Lord Melbourne shook his head slowly. “I doubt it. It only remains to be seen whether the princess is put in your hands, or sent back to her mother.”

  “Victoria hates me too much to make it easy,” Edward mused aloud.

  “Of course she does. She’s a woman. You and I, we can keep the business of the throne and personal opinions separate. For her, your seeking to be legitimized is a personal betrayal. You’ve lost everything.”

  Edward nodded. “Charlotte is no good to anyone in Germany. I hope you make that clear to Victoria. Her mother will not want her, since she cannot be a pawn on the marriage market. She’ll transfer her incessant demands on Charlotte for money to me.”

  “Then go to Canada and escape the wrath of the Germans,” Lord Melbourne said.

  “What good is Charlotte to me in Canada?” Edward asked. “She’s a born courtier.”

  “Poor woman. To be unwanted by her mother and her husband.” Lord Melbourne wiped his forehead. “Terribly hot here again. I hope it is cooler in Windsor.”

  “What do you suggest I do?”

  Lord Melbourne raised a brow. “Wait this out. Stop trying to control your fate.”

  ~

  Huge and drafty Windsor Palace was a welcome change from the heat and smelly, clogged drains of Buckingham Palace. However, Charlotte wished she had been left there, away from the queen. She was allowed to come to dinner the first night, and after, sat quietly in the corner while the queen chattered and played music with some other of her ladies. An hour had passed before the queen came up to her.

  Charlotte closed her prayer book. She thought holding it open in her lap was a good way to appear contrite, for all that she didn’t precisely regret making love with Edward. It might be a comforting memory in years to come, years that seemed as if they would be bleak indeed.

  “I’m going to send you home,” Victoria said. “It will take time to make suitable arrangements, so we will keep the news of your disgrace quiet for now. You will write a letter of resignation tomorrow, however.”

  “Have I not been a good friend to you, ma’am?” Charlotte kept her eyes lowered.

  “I took you for a maid and a godly person, not a liar,” the queen said.

  “I believed I was,” Charlotte protested. “Your Majesty, my marriage wasn’t consummated until recently. I was a maid, and I am still a moral person.”

  “Be that as it may, I do not care to have the colonel attached to anyone in my court. You will return to Germany and your mother will help you decide your future.”

  “If Edward is returning to Canada, I should go with him,” Charlotte said. “I should be in London preparing to travel to his post.”

  “I have not yet decided what to do about him,” the queen said.

  Charlotte’s stomach rumbled at this upsetting news. She had scarcely touched her evening meal. “Excuse me, ma’am. Whatever do you mean? He isn’t going to go back to Canada?”

  “I haven’t decided,” the queen said. “I don’t want him at court, but I’d like to have him close enough that I can have reports about him. You may believe marrying you was not part of a master plan, but I cannot believe it.”

  “He was a green boy when he married me,” Charlotte said softly. “So handsome, so full of fun. Our wedding was a lark, truly. Oh, we believed it real at the time, but his mother soon disabused us of it. She told my cousin and I was on the next ship to Germany. I never saw Edward again. I never thought to. But there was no malice in it, no plan. He was sixteen, ma’am.”

  “That does not excuse him of anything. Look at the burdens I am meant to shoulder at such a tender age.”

  “He was not educated for your throne, nor raised to think he ought to have it. This alone should make you aware of the truth. Edward FitzPrince is an honorable man. He wants to serve you, just like I do.”

  “You need the benefit of your mother’s counsel,” Victoria said stubbornly. “I do wish you the best, Charlotte, for the future. I am not convinced, however, that romance is for princesses.”

  “I hope your love story is less painful than mine,” Charlotte said. “When it happens for you.”

  Jealousy flared in the queen’s eyes for a moment, then she lifted her head coolly. “Good evening, Charlotte.” She flounced away, a torn hem dragging on the carpet.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Edward had gone home, changed into civilian clothing, the lightest he had. He’d rejected his luncheon as tasting off, argued with Quintin, and considered decamping to Murdo’s mansion so that he’d be harder for Victoria to find in case she sent someone to dump him onto a ship. Eventually, sick of sitting at home, he went downstairs and walked. And walked and walked, until he found himself, as the summer sun was finally setting, in Wapping, at the docks.

  Extremely thirsty, he pushed open the w
ooden doors of the least disreputable public house he could find. He ordered ale at the bar and stood along the stained wall, draining his tankard. By the time he finished it the acute smell of fish, sweat, and damp wood had receded somewhat. After two more pints his headache had vanished. With his thirst quenched, his curiosity had been roused by a man bent over another man’s forearm, a lantern close by.

  He bought a couple more tankards of ale, refilled his, and sat down at their table. The bent man grunted when he set the tankard next to the lantern. The other man lifted his free arm and Edward passed him the drinking vessel.

  As the man swallowed, Edward took a closer look at his forearm and realized the man was having a rope tattoo needled on his wrist. The pattern was a bloody mess, but the artist worked rapidly. He had obviously done tattoos like this before.

  “Why a rope?”

  “I’m a deckhand,” the man said, handing back the now-empty tankard.

  “Common-enough design,” the artist said. “Just finishing up now.”

  “What do you use for ink?”

  “An old Roman recipe, mixed with gunpowder.”

  Edward nodded. “I’m a soldier, not a sailor. Don’t see tattoos much.”

  “Must interest you. Superstitious?”

  He considered. “Not especially.”

  “What are you most afraid of?”

  “Losing my wife,” he said, the thought coming to him as a surprise. “I’m afraid she’s going to be sent away, or I am.”

  “Get her name on your body,” the deckhand said. His grin exposed missing lower front teeth. “That’ll keep ‘er close.”

  The artist finished dabbing away the blood from his design. He pulled a different needle from an open scrap of leather and dipped it in ink, then painstakingly began retracing his design. The deckhand’s arm began to tremble halfway through and he called for whiskey. Edward went to the bar and ordered more drinks, then returned.

  The smell of the blood and ink, mixed with the odor of the docks and the sailors, entered Edward’s system like a time-altering drug. He watched quietly as the minutes ticked by. When the artist was done, he leaned back and belched loudly, adding an old ale smell to the mix. A small pile of coins left by the lantern was tucked into his shirt.