Goddess of the Green Room: (Georgian Series) (35 page)

He played with little George, his namesake. The child was excited by colourful Uncle George who had no objection to being climbed over and who answered the childish prattle of his nephew with an amused good temper.

‘The Prince loves children,’ said Dorothy to William. ‘He will be much happier when the child is born – not only because he so badly needs an heir, but because he will have a child of his own.’

A startling event occurred that November.

The King was on his way to open Parliament and the people lined the streets to see his carriage pass. It was not exactly a loyal crowd for many had gathered there to protest about conditions in the country and to remind the King that wages were too low, the price of bread too high. The King might be parsimonious in his household but he had the inevitable debts which had to be met through taxation. The Prince of Wales was notoriously extravagant. The amount of his debts which had been disclosed just before his marriage had shocked everyone deeply.

There was too much high living on one side; too much poverty on the other. The tragedy across the Channel was too close to be
ignored. It was never far from the King’s mind and he could not help wondering how far it was from his people’s.

There were shouts of ‘Down with Kings’ as the King’s coach trundled along. He made no sign of having heard. He had never been lacking in courage and at the time of the Gordon Riots had appeared among the people in person and had himself taken the bold action which had quelled that mob violence. King George would always do his duty. His trouble was that he rarely knew what it was.

As the carriage passed an empty house a shot was fired. It missed the carriage but the King was aware of it.

He continued to sit upright, looking neither to the right nor the left.

‘Your Majesty,’ said his equerry who was riding with him in the coach, ‘do you think we should turn back?’

‘What for, eh?’ asked the King. ‘Because of a shot. Why, if my time has come then it has come. God disposes of all things and I trust Him to save my life. If he does not wish it to be saved then it will not be.’

His calm was an example to all and he went on to Parliament, performed the ceremony as though nothing had happened to disturb him and started on the journey back.

This was even more stormy. Stones were thrown at the royal carriage, one of which caught the King on the arm. A bullet whizzed past his ear and buried itself in the upholstery of the coach.

The King glanced at it.

‘A few inches nearer,’ he said, ‘and that would have been the end of George III.’

When he returned to St James’s, it was to find the Queen and her daughters in a state of agitation. News that the King had been shot had reached them and they had expected to see him carried home.

‘You see me unharmed,’ he said. ‘It was not God’s will that I should die yet.’

The Queen sent for William and when he arrived embraced him without much warmth. There was nothing unusual in that. The Queen had little affection for any of her children except the Prince
of Wales; and although she insisted on spending a great deal of time in the company of her daughters it was because she liked to have them in constant attendance.

She was critical of William. William had to some measure escaped from the family. He was living a non-royal existence in that house of his at Petersham; and no one would guess that he was one of the King’s sons. He seemed to be perfectly content to live this life, hardly ever came to court unless summoned and behaved like a simple country gentleman.

It was due to that actress, thought the Queen – a connection which, as his mother and Queen of England, she deplored.

‘You have heard, William, that His Majesty suffered an unfortunate experience on his way back after opening Parliament?’

‘Yes. Everyone is talking about it. I trust His Majesty is not suffering from the shock.’

‘His Majesty will always do his duty and his duty in this case is to ignore the action of a maniac. I wish every member of the family were as conscious of his duty.’

‘Oh, I think we all are, Mamma, when the occasion arises.’

‘I am glad to hear you say so, for it could very well arise… for
you
!’

William looked uneasy.

‘Yes,’ she went on. ‘If your father had been killed by that bullet…’

‘God forbid!’ cried William.

‘Indeed yes. It could have been disastrous… and even now… in your father’s state of health…’

‘He is ill?’

‘Come, William, let us be frank within the family. Your father’s derangement six years ago gave us all great cause for anxiety. And you must know, as we all do, that he has never been the same since. It could happen again… and then…’

William was growing worried. It was a subject to which his mother had never referred before. There was some purpose behind this.

‘This child should soon be with us. If all goes well I shall be greatly relieved. If not…’

‘But surely, Mamma, all is well. I heard excellent reports of Caroline’s health.’

‘Child-bearing is always uncertain. I pray that Caroline will be delivered of a healthy boy… or girl. But if anything should go wrong…’

‘Please don’t mention it.’

‘You are a superstitious sailor! Don’t be foolish, William. We have to face facts. If something should go wrong, George will never live with her again. I can’t say I blame him. The creature is… impossible. Mad, I think. There cannot have been a Princess in the whole of Europe less suited to your brother. If he had listened to me… But it is too late now. He says he has done his painful duty. If this attempt fails there will never be another. And it would be heartless to expect it of him.’

‘Perhaps he will change his mind.’

The Queen’s burst of laughter was far from mirthful.

‘Frederick’s wife is barren and he won’t live with her. I wanted to remind you that you are the next in line. If Caroline fails, you will have to do your duty, William.’

‘I have other brothers…’

‘You are the next in seniority.’

‘I am sure one of the others…’

‘Why do you think you get a pension from the State, my son, if it is not for services which will be demanded of you? Your private life is a matter for scandal. Is there not one of you who can live decently?’

William flushed hotly. ‘I can assure you that I do that with my family.’

‘Your family! An actress who was never married but had children before you took up with her. Bastard children!’

‘Your Majesty, I must ask you to refrain from speaking of this lady in this way.’

‘Sentimental as well as superstitious. Very well, William. Be sentimental. Be superstitious – as long as you remember that if it is necessary you will be obliged to do your duty. That is really all I have to say to you.’

‘I should like to see my father before I leave.’

‘What? To ask him if it is necessary to pension off your mistress and seek a suitable bride?’

‘To ask after his health.’

‘He is not well enough to see you.’

‘I thought you said that he had suffered no ill effects from the shooting.’

‘My dear William, he is often unwell. These bouts appear at all times. I know my duty. And that is to preserve him from the anxiety the very sight of his sons sometimes arouses in him. No, William. You cannot see the King. But go away and think of what I have said. If Caroline fails to produce an heir to the throne you will have to consider your position very carefully.’

William bowed abruptly and left her.

Dorothy noticed that he was worried. She knew that he had been to see the Queen and she guessed that there had been some criticism of their relationship.

‘You had better tell me what it is, William,’ she said. ‘It concerns us, doesn’t it?’

He nodded glumly.

‘The Queen is urging you to break off our relationship?’

‘It is not quite that. She doesn’t approve, of course. She merely pointed out my duty to me. Even if Caroline miscarries George has sworn he won’t go near her again. Nothing will induce him to. There will be no hope of an heir. And it is the same with Frederick. He refuses to live with his wife. My mother pointed out that the country needs an heir to the throne… and there can’t be more delay. She says that I…’

‘William… but your two brothers come before you.’

‘George will refuse and so will Fred. That leaves me.’

‘Why should you not refuse?’

‘Because… one of us will have to…’

‘You mean that if there is no child…’

‘It would be my duty. I should have to do it… for George.’

‘What about Frederick?’

‘They believe the Duchess of York to be barren.’

‘But the Prince must live with his wife. It’s what he married her for.’

‘He won’t. He will expect me to make the sacrifice… My parents expect it. It was what my mother wished to say to me.’

‘And us…’ she asked blankly. ‘Our children, George, and little Henry…’

He began to kiss her frantically. ‘I would always care for you,’
he said. ‘But it won’t happen. Caroline
must
bear a child.’

‘And if she fails…’

Dorothy thought: It would be the end. I know it. He wants me to know it. He wants to prepare me. And yet not so long ago he said that nothing would induce him to marry. If they cannot let me marry whom I wish, he said, at least they cannot force me to marry if I don’t want to.

He had changed. She could see that if pressure were brought to bear on him by his parents and his brothers he would give way.

She was sad; he had changed. He was no longer the passionate lover to whom she had meant everything; he was devoted to her and the children; he would be a good husband and father if he were allowed to be. It was not quite the same.

She was afraid. The pattern was changing. Just a little here, just a little there – and by and by everything would be different.

My children, she thought – my three little girls, my two little boys. I must care for them and particularly the girls for surely he will always provide for his own.

She must continue to work. She must never lose touch with her audiences. She must build up a fortune so that her girls would never want.

She thought of that life of ease and comfort of which she had sometimes dreamed: living at home in the heart of her family, far from the smell of greasepaint and the candles, the triumphs and disasters, the applause and the catcalls, the compliments and the jealousies. Would it ever be hers?

She must be careful over money; she must bargain that she was paid the highest prices, and she must never give up; for how could she be sure when she would be without a protector and her girls in need.

William was a boy of nature. A little naïve and wanting to be honest, he had reasoned with himself that it was only fair to warn her; and having done so he now wished to dismiss the subject.

‘There is nothing to worry about. Caroline’s pregnancy is going just as it should. There’ll be a healthy boy, you’ll see.’

Perhaps, she wanted to say; but that will not alter the fact that you could contemplate a marriage of State. And if you did, what would become of us?

He wanted to forget the unpleasant subject. He had done his
duty; that was the end of it. She refused to dwell on it. He did not wish to be depressed; he had been upset enough by his mother’s implications.

It was better to pretend to forget it, to pretend all was well.

On a cold January day the Princess of Wales gave birth to her child. It was a girl and they called her Charlotte.

They had hoped for a boy, of course; but there was no Salic law in England and girls could inherit the throne as easily as boys. There had been two great queens to prove that women rulers were no bar to a country’s greatness; under Elizabeth and Anne the country had expanded as never before. Charlotte was the heir-presumptive to the throne. If her parents had no more children one day she would be Queen.

She was a lusty young creature right from the start. The Princess of Wales was almost hysterical with joy to have a baby of her own; the Prince was delighted because he had done his duty; the country rejoiced for it had no prejudices against girls, and in fact preferred their rulers to be feminine.

Dorothy breathed more easily. There would be no plan to marry William off now. Strange to think that she owed her peace of mind to that infant at Carlton House who lay in her cradle all oblivious of her importance.

It was fortunate that the child was healthy for when she was three months old the Prince wrote a letter to his wife in which he suggested that they part amicably for he had no intention of living with her again.

There was one ominous phrase in the letter:

‘Even in the event of any accident happening to my daughter, which I trust Providence in its mercy will avert, I shall not infringe the terms of the restriction by proposing, at any period, a connection of a more particular nature.’

William was aware of this clause in the letter which his brother had sent to his wife. He told Dorothy of it. They both understood what it meant. If any accident befell the baby Princess Charlotte and she were to die, William would be obliged to marry.

It was an uneasy thought; but Dorothy knew that the period of complete happiness was over, that they had passed through the honeymoon and now the harsh realities of life had to be faced.
How right her mother had been when she had warned her daughter to marry. Security was very necessary to peace of mind.

I shall never have it, thought Dorothy. But I must see that my daughters do.

Theatrical conflicts

MONEY! SHE MUST
earn it; she must save it; it must be there for the girls when they married. They would need a bigger dowry than most to offset their illegitimacy.

She had a benefit night coming along and hoping to do well out of it decided that she would play Ophelia. This was a departure from her comedy roles, but she was sure she could do justice to the part; and made her announcement that she had chosen it.

She was unprepared for the storm this decision aroused.

When she arrived at the theatre it was to find John Kemble raging in Sheridan’s office. As she had received a message to go along there as soon as she came in she knew that something was wrong.