The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (6 page)

He was disconcerted. He had expected some shame.

But what could one do with such a pupil? he plaintively asked Lady de Clifford later. He feared the worst.

In an effort to make her conscious of the evil of her ways the Bishop had warned her to repent.

‘How can you know,’ he had asked, ‘when your last moment will come? What if you were to die with all your sins upon you?’

That made Charlotte think a great deal, not so much about her own fate but of that of her possessions which she would leave behind her.

What of her darling dogs, her precious birds? She loved them so much. What a tragedy for them if she should die.

Then there were her books. And what of her jewels? As the daughter of the Prince of Wales she had some very valuable jewels; she had even been allowed to wear some of them when she had attended her grandmother’s Drawing Room. She must really look into her affairs.

‘I will make a Will,’ she told Mrs Campbell.

‘At your age?’ demanded that lady.

‘My dear Mrs Campbell, who of us knows when our last hour shall come?’

Mrs Campbell grew pale. She was constantly talking about her mysterious illnesses. Charlotte listened when she was sorry for some bout of ill temper because she knew how much Mrs Campbell liked talking about the terrible state of her inside. Charlotte was very fond of Mrs Campbell because it was always possible to discuss any topic with her and fond as she was of illnesses – and she seemed positively to dote on death – she liked to argue about everything and could always be relied upon to take the opposite point of view for the sake of the argument.

So this was one subject on which she was in agreement with the Princess.

‘That’s true,’ she said. ‘Sometimes by the way my heart beats … unevenly and thump, thump, thump … I could certainly believe my last hour is close at hand.’

‘Exactly,’ said Charlotte. ‘I am young yet but who knows Old Death may be waiting round the corner for me. So, dear Camby. I must make my will.’

‘You do that. It’ll keep Your Highness amused for quite a while, I shouldn’t wonder.’

And it did.

What fun to think of all one possessed and how pleased people would be when they received their legacies. But perhaps they would be a little sorry. Dear Charlotte, they would say, she was always such a hoyden but she had a good heart. And although she plagued the Bish-Up she mended Mrs Gagarin’s heart and she and Louisa Lewis loved her dearly.

Charlotte was almost in tears thinking of her own funeral. The drums would roll; and all over London the bells would toll. Her rooms would be hung with black and the Prince of Wales would weep such tears as even he had never wept before. The Princess of Wales would be in a frenzy of grief. She might say to the Prince: ‘Let us be together. Let us have another child. It is what Charlotte would have wished.’

But I wouldn’t wish it. Because they hate each other and I don’t want them to have another child. I want to be the only one so that I shall one day be a great Queen like Queen Elizabeth. But what would it matter, if I were dead? But I don’t really want to be dead.

One only made a will
in case
one died. That was what one had to remember. It was just in case she should die suddenly and no one would know what to do with her possessions.

‘The Last Will and Testament of Her Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte.’ How important it looked. And what were the most valuable things she had? Her dogs and her birds – her most cherished possessions. Dear Mrs Gagarin was so good with them and they were almost as fond of her as they were of Charlotte herself. She would leave dear Gagy her dogs and birds. There would be no need to tell her to take care of them. She would be a good mistress to them.

Charlotte felt sad to think of her darling dogs looking in vain for their mistress; they would sit at the door of the death chamber and howl and refuse to be comforted. Perhaps like the little dog which had belonged to Mary Queen of Scots they would refuse to eat and pine away in spite of all Gagy’s efforts to comfort them.

But it was only in case she died. It did not mean that she had to because she made a will.

There were her jewels. People would say that they were the most valuable things she possessed. They were jewels which belonged to an heir to the throne. They did not really belong to her; when she married they would be passed on to her son’s wife or perhaps her daughter. They were not really hers to leave. She sighed. What fun it would have been to have given dear Campbell a pearl necklace worth a fortune. But no, princesses had their duties.

Her jewels then to the Prince and Princess of Wales. But not all of them … only those very valuable State jewels. She could do something with the lesser trinkets, so Mrs Campbell should have some of them and Lady de Clifford some. They would be delighted. All her books she would leave to Dr Nott. ‘With my papers,’ she wrote, ‘some of which it will be necessary for him to burn.’ He was so much more pleasant than the Bishop so she expressed the wish that the King would look after him and make him a bishop. That would put the Bish-Up’s nose out of joint and she would leave him merely her Bible and Prayer Book – he, being such a good man, would think these the greatest gifts anyone could bestow.

And dear Louisa. She hoped the King would reward her and dear Mrs Gagarin for their services most handsomely and give them a house to live in and look after them.

And Mrs Udney. That made her laugh.

‘To Mrs Udney,’ she wrote, ‘
nothing,
for reasons.’
Everything she did seemed to raise a storm, thought Charlotte. Who would have believed that the mere act of making a will could have caused such trouble.

She had omitted to put the will away and ‘someone’ had read it and reported to Lady de Clifford.

That Mrs Udney, I’ll swear, thought Charlotte, and chuckled to picture the woman reading what had been written about her.

‘Of course,’ said Mrs Udney to Lady de Clifford, ‘you see what has happened. Mrs Campbell dictated the will. Sharing her jewellery with you! Do you think Charlotte would have thought of that?’

‘It would not surprise me what Charlotte thought of.’

‘Campbell always hated me and so does Dr Nott. That man is quite a menace. It’s time someone spoke to the Bishop about him.’

Mrs Campbell was red-eyed and Charlotte wanted to know why.

‘They are saying I dictated your will. They are making the most hideous slanders. My health won’t stand it.’

‘They are wicked,’ said Charlotte. ‘I will go to Cliffy and tell her that I am quite capable of making a will without being dictated to.’

‘It’s no good,’ sighed Mrs Campbell. ‘I feel so faint. I really think I ought to resign from Your Highness’s service.’

‘No, no, dear Camby. I won’t allow it.’

‘Dearest Princess, if only everyone was as sweet as you!’

‘Sweet,’ cried Charlotte. ‘I do not like that word. Are you going to eat me then? Sweet! I think it is such a silly word for a person.’

‘My dear good Princess.’

‘Good! Good for what? What am I
good
for?’

Mrs Campbell sighed. Her Highness was in a cantankerous mood doubtless because of all this fuss about the will for which she blamed herself.

She had almost made up her mind to retire. She looked forward to a quiet life in which she could devote herself to her ailments.

Dr Nott was in a quandary. This was most embarrassing. The Princess Charlotte had suggested that he should be made a bishop and that much should be done for him. Had this been
put into the mind of the Princess, everyone was asking. And who would have put it there but Dr Nott?

With downcast eyes Dr Nott gave her her Latin lesson. She was not listening; she was thinking of poor Campbell who had been so wrongfully accused and who had really seemed as if she wanted to go away and be ill in comfort.

‘Your Highness is not attending this morning.’

She sighed. ‘No, dear Doctor. I have a great deal on my mind.’

‘It was good of Your Highness to have mentioned me for a bishopric in your will.’

‘Good again,’ she said. ‘Good for what? as I said to dear Campbell. It was not good at all. It was being
just
. You deserve a bishopric and I trust the King will grant my request.’

Dr Nott smiled in his meek way and said that if it meant he must wait for the Princess to die that he might receive the bishopric it would be a great tragedy for him ever to have it offered to him, so he trusted Her Highness would outlive him by many years – which he thought was most likely – and he would be happy to serve her for as long as she needed him.

‘That was a pleasant speech, dear Doctor,’ she said, ‘and it moves me so much that I am in no mood for Latin this morning. Therefore let us put an end to the lesson.’

She rose, but unfortunately he had put his foot on the train of her gown and as she leaped up and moved away there was the sound of tearing material and she saw that the train was almost torn from her skirt.

Poor Dr Nott, he was the sort of man, she reflected, who would often find himself in embarrassing situations.

‘Your Highness’s pardon … I fear I have ruined your gown. How unfortunate. It would only have been a little tear if it had not run as it did.’

Charlotte examined the damage.

Then she burst into loud laughter.

‘Well, we can hardly blame you because it ran, Doctor. You most surely held it!’

Then rolling the torn train about her arm she ran out of the room, leaving the saddened Dr Nott shaking his head over this most difficult, unaccountable and wild young pupil, who could at times be lovable.

The result of the writing of that will was certainly felt throughout the household.

Mrs Campbell resigned. Her ill health made it essential, she said, but everyone knew it was due to the horrible things that were being whispered of how she was trying to win benefits from the Princess by flattery.

Dr Nott was suspected of the same fault. He did not leave but he too pleaded ill health. He needed a rest from his duties, he declared, which with such an important pupil were indeed arduous.

Charlotte was in despair. She had lost Mrs Campbell and now Dr Nott was talking of going. And she was left with the Bish-Up and Mrs Udney. They were the ones who should have gone.

She went to Lady de Clifford and told her how she enjoyed her studies with Dr Nott, how she felt it would be impossible to work without him. He must go away for a little rest because he was ill, but he must promise to come back.

At length it was arranged that this should be the case and Charlotte took a tearful farewell of Mrs Campbell.

Meanwhile there was the Bishop, whose visits were more frequent during the temporary departure of Dr Nott.

And Mrs Udney remained, sly and calculating, with a temper – carefully concealed – which rivalled Charlotte’s.

How strange the things that can happen to a princess and those who serve her, thought Charlotte – the Bish-Up who had his bible and prayer book and Mrs Udney who had nothing seem more content than dear Campbell with her promised jewels and Dr Nott with his future bishopric.

There was a lesson in it, she was sure.

But then, was there not a lesson in everything?

Minney, Prinney and Mrs Fitzherbert

MRS FITZHERBERT SAT
on her balcony looking over the Steyne and watched the scene below. Brighton – the place she loved best in the whole world because she had known such happiness there. Now that the Prince had made such extensive alterations at the Pavilion she had moved from the little house she had occupied close by, but this one suited her perfectly. It was to her the home
she shared with her husband and her dearest daughter.

It was a strange irony of fate that many would say that the man she called her husband was not, and her daughter was adopted.

She shivered a little in the bright May air, for an awareness of the uncertainty of life had come to her. All was happy at the moment, but she knew it could change within a few weeks.

The Prince would always have an eye for women and although he assured her at every meeting that she was his dear love, his soul, the wife of his heart, that did not prevent his indulging in minor love affairs now and then. He always returned to her penitent and contrite but because she had a hot temper she could not always restrain her comments. There could be a little rift and although the reconciliations which followed were pleasing to them both, there were moments of uneasiness when she felt that she wished to imprison every bright moment and keep it for ever – just in case in the future there was change.

And then Minney – darling Minney – her comfort and solace, her beloved child could be snatched away from her by her relatives who were at times trying to take her. Life was full of alarming possibilities.

Miss Pigot, her faithful friend and companion who had been with her when she had first set up house after her marriage to the Prince, came on to the balcony, fussing a little. The sun was bright but there was a keen wind. Wouldn’t Maria like a silk wrap about her shoulders?

‘Oh, Pig, you treat me like an old woman,’ she said, ‘or a child perhaps.’

‘People who sit in draughts behave like children,’ retorted Miss Pigot.

‘Sit down a moment and talk to me. Where’s Minney?’

‘At her lessons. She’s having difficulty with her essay. That’s why she’s been kept.’

‘Dear child. What a good little thing she is! Oh, Pig, how lucky I am to have her.

‘And lucky she is to be with you.’

‘Sometimes I’m afraid of too much happiness.’

‘Nonsense, Maria. What’s happened to you? Everything will be all right.’

‘But this case. It drags on and on.’

‘Cases always do.’

‘But what if they should win and take her from me?’

‘His Highness will see they don’t do that.’

Maria smiled. ‘You look upon him as a god, I think.’

‘Well, he is the Prince of Wales. God bless him. Now don’t you fret. Would you like me to bring a dish of tea?’

‘Wait until Minney joins me.’

‘That shouldn’t be long if I know Miss Minney. And it wouldn’t surprise me if His Highness was here at any minute. He’ll be putting in an appearance at the usual place, I’ll be bound.’ Miss Pigot laughed. ‘It always amuses me. The way he appears and no one sees him coming. Well, that’s our little secret.’