The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (42 page)

She was more seriously worried than she had admitted, for she knew that her father was set on the match; and she was well aware of his power. He was not only her father but her Sovereign. If poor dear Grandpapa could be approached it might have been possible to explain her feelings, but how could she do this to her father or the old Begum?

Her health was beginning to suffer. There was a pain in her knee which worried Louisa a great deal because her Aunt Amelia, who had died when she was twenty-six, had had a similar pain in the same place. She had a pain in her side too, and although it always became worse when there was a prospect of meeting Orange, it was, even without this fear, extremely painful.

Cornelia and Mercer, now allies, discovered that Orange was to be at a ball given by Lord Liverpool and his wife which Charlotte was to attend, and there she was to be given an opportunity of seeing him. This threw her into such a panic that the pain in her side became worse and Cornelia sent for the doctor, Sir Henry Halford, who was a great favourite with the Regent and the leading physician of the Court. Sir Henry, who had long been popular with all the family and whom George III had made a baronet, was more than a physician; he was a courtier, and he was well aware of the Regent’s desire for a betrothal between Orange and his daughter.

Charlotte certainly looked very pale and far from well. She needed a stay at the sea, Sir Henry decided, but the Regent would scarcely agree to that at this time. He listened to her description of the pain and said that a blister should be applied.

‘Very well,’ said Charlotte. ‘I shall be unable to attend the Liverpools’ ball. But as I don’t feel well enough to go I should miss it in any case.’

‘Rest!’ prescribed Sir Henry. ‘That’s what Your Highness needs.’

He began to tell her about a matter which excited him greatly. Charles I’s coffin was about to be opened and as a leading doctor he was going to be present at the ceremony.

‘How … gruesome!’ cried Charlotte.

‘Sometimes gruesome things have to be witnessed in the name of my profession.’

Charlotte smiled benignly. She let him run on about the ceremony which excited him so, for she was grateful to him for having given her the excuse of the blister not to have to see Orange.

Halford reported to the Regent that the Princess Charlotte was by no means well and he thought a change would do her good – and rest. She needed rest.

The Regent was a little concerned. He was by no means abandoning the thought of the Orange match, but he could see that she would have to be prepared for it gradually, so Orange returned to his regiment without having seen Charlotte and Charlotte’s spirits rose considerably. Dear Mercer was in communication with Captain Hesse who she was sure would never be so ungallant as to refuse to return her letters. Her two dear watchdogs were friends and that made her very happy.

Orange had gone and the Regent was behaving towards her with more affection than he had ever shown before.

One hot July day when Louisa went in to wake Mrs Gagarin she found her dead. That was a great sadness. The Princess and Louisa wept together and kept reminding each other of the past when they had all been together.

Charlotte missed her old dresser more than she had realized possible and it was only the fact that Mercer and Cornelia were getting on so well together and that her father was showing her some affection that could comfort her.

The Prince, hearing of the death of Mrs Gagarin from Charlotte expressed suitable grief and even shed a tear for her.

‘She was a good creature,’ he said. ‘I know she served you well.’

And when Charlotte broke down and wept he put an arm about her and said that if it was any comfort to her he shared her sorrow. And although he did not feel one hundredth part
of it she was charmed that he should say so.

The next day he sent her a sapphire which he said she could have made into any ornament she pleased. She was delighted – not with the stone which was very valuable but because he had sent it.

‘And because I know how fond you are of your pets,’ he said, ‘I am sending you a white greyhound. I think you will find it a graceful and beautiful creature.’

She was delighted with the greyhound and loved it from the moment she saw it. She would allow no one to feed it but herself. The dog must know he was entirely hers and occupied a very special place in her affections – because he was so beautiful. But it was more than that, she told herself; it was because her father had given the dog to her.

She felt well again. The summer was gloriously warm and now that Mrs Gagarin was dead she found it a relief not to have to notice every day how wan she was becoming.

In June the whole country had rejoiced over the victory at Vittoria. Napoleon’s end was in sight and everyone but himself seemed to see it. The combined forces under the command of Wellington had put the French – under Joseph Bonaparte – to flight and they had been driven across the river Bidassoa into France.

The Regent was delighted and behaved as though it was he instead of Wellington who was the victor. He wanted to know every detail of the battle and would talk of it, sketching maps as he did so. ‘We were here.’ ‘We advanced there …’ his eyes alight with excitement, much to the amusement of some of his cynical courtiers.

There was to be a public festival in Vauxhall Gardens to celebrate the victory but the Regent decided that he himself would give an open-air fête at which Princess Charlotte should preside. This would be held at Carlton House and was to celebrate the victory.

Charlotte arrived in great spirits in a gown sparkling with jewels. The people who had gathered to see her step from her carriage cheered her wildly and as she lifted her skirts to get down from her carriage, displaying an expanse of frilly drawers, there was a laugh and a cheer and she smiled and waved and thought of poor Lady de Clifford who would have deplored such conduct which nevertheless pleased the dear people.

The Prince was waiting to embrace her – looking magnificent as ever. One always felt awkward in face of his elegance she thought, but she was pleased; and the people did not seem to hate him so much when he showed affection for her.

And glory! There was the Duke of Devonshire looking more fascinating than ever and clearly deeply moved at the sight of her.

She was going to dance with him. After all, she was the principal guest so why should she not dance with whom she pleased?

What a happy occasion – herself looking beautiful, for she knew she did in that glorious gown (and now she was grownup she would have many such gowns) and she was flushed – and that always helped because it was her pallor which spoilt her looks – and she danced with Devonshire, charming Devonshire who looked at her so tenderly and hopelessly. But how exciting a hopeless love could be! If only Orange could love her
hopelessly
she would view him so much more favourably. But why think of Orange on such an occasion?

Her father was glowering at Devonshire. Oh dear, she hoped he was not going to make the dear Duke
aware
of his displeasure. That might mean the sweet creature would be banned from appearing where the Regent was – and that could be disastrous, for Charlotte knew that she would in the future be very often in her father’s company.

‘Come, Papa,’ she said, ‘let us have a Highland Fling on the lawn and as it is my fête I command you to dance with me.’

The Prince hesitated, remembering that other occasion when he had hurt his ankle and been laid up for a time at Oatlands, which had given rise to the usual distressing rumours.

Then he decided to dance with Charlotte and she found herself laughing with him, and everyone who looked on declared that the relationship between the Prince and his daughter was taking a more satisfactory turn.

Driving back to Warwick House with Cornelia and the Duchess, Charlotte chattered about all that happened. It had been a ball of balls. Had not her father looked elegant when he was dancing with her? And did they notice how attentive the Duke of Devonshire was? Did they not think he was a most attractive man?

The Duchess listened fearfully; she was constantly
apprehensive of trouble. Cornelia was uneasy, too, remembering the Hesse affair.

The letters had not arrived from Hesse and Mercer was beginning to be uneasy. She had heard from the Captain that he had letters and presents from the Princess and that he kept them in a strong box. He had given instructions that if he should die these were to be returned to the Princess Charlotte or if that were not possible dropped into the sea. He did not believe he could entrust such a precious box in the hands of a messenger.

‘What do you think?’ asked Mercer.

Cornelia replied that she thought the young man might be something of an adventurer.

‘I don’t like it at all,’ went on Mercer. ‘I remember so well when she was attracted by him. Her letters to me contained accounts of his charm. In fact, she scarcely mentioned anything else at the time. I persuaded her eventually that it was a dangerous flirtation and gradually persuaded her to drop it. How I wish I had managed that earlier.’

‘It may be that he
is
afraid to entrust the box to anyone,’ put in Cornelia. ‘Imagine what could happen if it did fall into the hands of some wicked person.’

‘Letters!’ groaned Mercer. ‘They have been the curse of the family – her father’s to Perdita Robinson were costly … and think of the Duke of York’s to Mary Anne Clarke.’

‘This is different,’ said Cornelia. ‘This is nothing but innocent flirtation.’

‘We know it, but who else would accept it? We must get those letters. They’re important.’

When Charlotte heard that Captain Hesse had not returned the letters she was uneasy. She had visions of terrible scenes with her father just as he was beginning to like her a little. The pain in her knee was so bad that it was necessary to call in Dr Halford again and he recommended rest.

Mercer visited her and told her about the breakfast party Devonshire was giving at his Chiswick Mansion and Charlotte sighed and wished that she might go, knowing of course that the reason why she had not been invited was because for Devonshire to have asked her to be his guest would have brought a
reprimand from the Regent – and she would most certainly have been forbidden to go.

She was depressed. How boring to be royal!

She was looking so listless that Cornelia suggested a drive and she agreed with alacrity. And when they were in the carriage Charlotte directed the driver to make his way towards Chiswick.

‘Chiswick!’ cried Cornelia aghast.

‘I want to see the
ton
all in their carriages and what the ladies are wearing for Devonshire’s breakfast.’

So they went rattling along the Chiswick road and were soon in that stream which was making its way to Devonshire House. No one could be unaware of the royal carriage and even though when it came to the Devonshire mansion it did not stop but went straight on to turn and come back shortly afterwards, everyone knew that the Princess Charlotte had been on the road.

The Regent called at Warwick House. He would see Miss Knight, he said.

Cornelia found him, large, imposing, glittering and coldly displeased.

‘I want an explanation, Miss Knight,’ he said, ‘of this driving to and from Chiswick.’

‘The Princess and I did drive that way. Let me see, it was on the …’

‘It was on the day of Devonshire’s breakfast.’

‘Oh, yes, sir. I remember the carriages on the road.’

‘I am sure you do. And I want to know why this drive was taken.’

‘The Princess was feeling low, sir, and I thought a drive would do her good.’

‘And she suggested that you go to Chiswick.’

‘It was my idea that we should go for a drive, sir. I had suggested that she might like to see the carriages …’ Cornelia floundered. He looked at her witheringly. Clearly he did not believe her.

Turning angrily he went from the room.

The Queen was pleased that he came to her.

‘Devonshire,’ he said. ‘It’s Devonshire! Do you think the
fellow can have ideas? Who would have believed it of him? I shall have to speak to him. It seems she has a fancy for him. A fancy for Devonshire!’

‘It would seem to me,’ said the Queen, ‘that she is ready to have a fancy for anyone whom you do not favour. Why could she not have had such a fancy for Orange? Is Devonshire so much more handsome?’

‘One has to admit that he has something Orange lacks. But it is no use for Charlotte. She is going to have Orange, I shall see to that. In the meantime, though, this Devonshire nonsense must be stopped.’

‘It should not be difficult. A word to Devonshire should warn him. He is not a fool, I take it, and would not go against your wishes.’

‘I am surprised that her women don’t keep her in better order. Miss Knight drove with her, if you please, to Chiswick.’

‘Miss Knight!’ The queen gave a short sharp laugh. ‘I think that woman was more suitable serving
me
.’

She looked at him fondly. They were good friends now after the terrible enmities of the past. Her feelings for him had passed through three stages, intense love, violent hatred and now a placid affection; but he would always be her firstborn, the only person who had ever really found a place in her cold heart. All the same she relished stressing the mistakes he made. Marrying Caroline was the greatest and to take Miss Knight from her had been of course of much less magnitude, but a false move all the same. She was glad he realized it; and if she could do anything to bring home to him the fact that Miss Knight was not the most suitable companion for Charlotte she would do so.

Charlotte was beginning to feel desperate. Hesse would not return the letters and she never met the Duke of Devonshire anywhere. It was understood that if she were present, he was not. He made no effort to see her. Clearly he had had orders.

When she saw her father he talked to her of Orange all the time, the desirability of the match and the bravery of young William on the battlefield.

Something would have to be done. They wanted her married and unless she could find a husband of her own choice they would make her take Orange. So she must look around and an
idea came to her that if she allowed them to think her fancy had alighted on someone really unsuitable they would be obliged to consider her choice and thus she could play for time.