Queen in Waiting: (Georgian Series) (28 page)

Whenever she was present she was the centre of attraction. The King’s friends noticed it. Madam Kielmansegge pointed it out to him. George wished he could have left the she-devil in Hanover with her son, but that would have been too much; the people would never have sanctioned his separating a husband and wife. He was sickened to see that young popinjay of a son of his strutting about, making himself popular, ogling the women; if he wanted a woman why not get on with it? That was not the way of George Augustus; he must always call attention to the fact that he was a sensual man – which, it was clear to his father, he was not, at least no more than any normal man. He loathed his son because he despised him; but he was beginning to realize that however much he deplored the presence of Caroline he could never despise her.

That woman has to be watched, King George repeatedly told himself.

A week after Caroline arrived in England the Coronation took place. There had been scarcely time to prepare herself for this important event. She was a little piqued that she was not to play a major part in it and would not walk in the procession. Had there been a Queen of England she would have been there; here was yet another reminder of the fate of women who fell foul of their husbands. What, she wondered, was the captive of Ahlden
thinking on this day? Would she know that her husband was being crowned King of England? Would she be thinking of how she might have walked by his side and as Queen of England shared in his coronation? On such an occasion what would be the thoughts of a queen who was not a queen, a queen without a crown?

There was too much with which to occupy herself to spend time in hypothetical brooding on another woman’s tragedy. She was too clever to make the mistakes of Sophia Dorothea; and George Augustus was not as ruthless as his father. Yet could he be if his vanity were hurt? She shrugged aside such thoughts. I shall take care… the utmost care that I keep my place and when the day comes for me to walk beside
my
husband and receive the crown, I shall be there.

She sat before her mirror while her attendants bustled round her. She had had to select them rather hastily but as she had been importuned during the years at Hanover when so many seemed impatiently to be awaiting the death of Anne, the selections had not been quite so speedily completed as might appear.

Henrietta Howard had accompanied her and remained in attendance in spite of her relationship with George Augustus. She had little to complain of about that woman who always behaved with the utmost discretion and treated her with deference. As she had learned from the old Electress, it was wiser not to interfere with a husband’s mistresses and if at the same time one could keep them under observation, so much the better.

Henrietta was at the moment trying to conceal her suspicions of Charlotte Clayton who had joined her as lady-in-waiting to Caroline. There was something about Charlotte which had immediately attracted Caroline and at the same time antagonized Henrietta. Caroline had taken Charlotte into her household because the Duchess of Marlborough had suggested she should, and Caroline, having met Charlotte, saw no reason why she should not be as useful as the forceful Duchess declared she would be.

Charlotte had come determined to please the Princess and place herself at the head of her women; and while she was wise enough to know she must never mention in her mistress’s
presence that she deplored being obliged to employ the Prince’s mistress, when Caroline was not present she made her disapproval of Henrietta clear.

Caroline, looking into her mirror, smiled from one to the other.

‘That will be all,’ she said in her own quaint version of the English tongue. ‘After all, I shall the ceremony only be watching.’ She lightly touched a curl which hung over her shoulder. It was a simple hairstyle but very becoming, and as the low cut of her dress showed the beginning of her magnificent bust, the effect was pleasing.

‘All eyes will be on Your Highness,’ said Henrietta.

‘And Your Highness need have no fear that you will not please,’ replied Charlotte. ‘The crowd in the Mall when you walked there with His Highness the Prince yesterday was remarkable.’

‘They vant most to see the King’s son.’

‘But it was his Highness’s wife who attracted all the attention,’ said Charlotte.

‘You should not to His Highness tell this.’ Caroline spoke lightly, but it was a warning to Henrietta.

‘The women are always eager to see a Princess’s gowns and headdress,’ replied Henrietta with her usual tact.

Yes, thought Caroline, it’s to be hoped she retains her hold on him, for no one could be less of a menace than she is. Her husband, who was a useless sort of fellow, had become a gentleman usher to the King, a post George Augustus had been able to secure for him as a sop for his complaisant attitude towards his wife’s relationship with the Prince of Wales. It was a matter which had been discreetly settled and was conducted with the utmost decorum.

Not many women would have behaved so modestly as Henrietta Howard. She, Caroline, must protect her, if need be, from Charlotte, who was so eager to serve her mistress that she might be over-zealous.

‘I look forward that I shall make the many pleasant promenades,’ said Caroline. ‘That vill be very goot.’

‘I heard it said that Your Highness will set the fashion for sauntering which King Charles II made so popular.’

‘It is goot, this promenade,’ said Caroline.

She turned her head, for in another part of the room, putting away the jewellery she had decided not to wear, two of her young maids of honour were whispering together in the belief that she could not hear them.

They stopped immediately at her gesture and she smiled faintly. They were charming, Mary Bellenden and Molly Lepel, two of the prettiest creatures she had ever seen. In fact, if she had been asked to decide which was the more beautiful she could not have said.

Charlotte made a mental note to warn the girls that they must show more decorum if they wished to remain in the service of the Princess. The chief culprit, she was sure, would be Mary Bellenden, for that girl had the most irrepressible spirits she had ever encountered. She was delighted, no doubt, to discover that she was one of the beauties of the court – and the attention she received was enough to turn anyone’s head. As for Molly Lepel, she was lovely too, and it must be a matter of taste which of the two was preferred.

Charlotte went to the girls and told them that as soon as they had finished putting the jewellery away they had leave to retire. Henrietta watched Charlotte, restraining her slight annoyance. Did Charlotte think she might give orders in the Princess’s apartment?

This little scene was interrupted by the entrance of the Prince of Wales who liked to come into his wife’s apartments unceremoniously.

‘Vy, my dear,’ he said. ‘You are ready.’ Like Caroline he insisted on talking in English since he had come to England and his accent was as German as Caroline’s. ‘You are in good time. I haf not yet put on my robes.’

‘You should then,’ smiled Caroline. ‘
You
must not be late.’

He sat down on a chair which Henrietta hastily put for him near his wife’s dressing table. He was placed so that he could face her and the rest of the apartment as well.

His expansive smile took in the women. The wife with whom he was well content; the mistress who pleased him also. He felt life was good. He was about to see his father crowned King of England and his father was turned fifty. The day would not be
far distant when he would be crowned King of England and Caroline his Queen. She was clever, but not too clever. It would never do for a queen to be cleverer than her husband. He must watch that. His Caroline was inclined to be a bit of a scholar. And Henrietta, his mistress, was discreet, always ready, meekly flattering. It was a very good existence. If there was no such person as George I life would be very good indeed.

All the women were suitably impressed by his presence. The two girls who were closing the doors of the cupboard were glancing his way and about to curtsy before slipping discreetly away. What pretty creatures! thought George Augustus. I like these English.

‘You haf not present to me these young ladies, my tear.’

Caroline signed to the girls, who came forward, not shyly because they had been well versed in court manners, but with exactly the right amount of deference.

‘Mrs Molly Lepel, daughter of Brigadier General Nicholas Lepel,’ Caroline explained.

George Augustus nodded. Pretty creature. And a bold one too. He could see that in her eyes.

‘And Mrs Mary Bellenden, daughter of Lord Bellenden.’

The girl curtsied and raised her magnificent eyes to his face. She was a lively creature, that one; and until he had closely scrutinized her he had thought Molly Lepel must be the loveliest girl at court – now he was not so sure. No, the Bellenden girl was his fancy.

‘It please me that you haf to the Princess’s household
kommen,
’ he said. ‘I can see you both vill it decorate… in a pretty vay.’

‘Your Highness is gracious,’ murmured Molly Lepel; and Mary Bellenden merely lowered her eyes and smiled.

‘Vell,’ went on George Augustus, ‘you must serve the Princess veil. You vill find she is the best mistress in the vorld.’

He turned his eyes to his wife; they were misty with emotion. Oh dear, thought Caroline, he is beginning to make plans for one of these girls – or perhaps both of them. Henrietta was alert too. Poor Henrietta! If she lost her position, her fortunes – and those of her complaisant husband – could change drastically.

‘I am sure they vill me serve vell,’ said Caroline. She nodded
dismissal to the girls and they retired. George Augustus’s eyes were on them until they disappeared and then he continued to gaze at the door in a bemused fashion.

‘They are pretty
filles,
’ said Caroline. ‘Not very
sérieuses,
I am afraid. I must see they are told of the dangers that could come.’

George Augustus looked at her a little sharply and she was immediately uneasy. Had she betrayed criticism of his behaviour? That would be the quickest way to drive him to some indiscretion. Caroline had an uneasy vision of some pert young woman attempting to show insolence to the Princess of Wales because the Prince of Wales had made love to her.

Yes, she had betrayed that she had noticed his interest in the girls. They were both a little wary.

George Augustus looked at his wife, sitting there dressed for his father’s coronation, a long curl hanging over her shoulders, at her dazzlingly white neck and the beginning of her magnificent bust.

His eyes rested there.

‘You haf the finest bosom in the vorld, my love,’ he said.

At least, thought Caroline, he wishes to placate me.

She smiled. ‘I you vatch throughout the ceremony.’

He bent forward and kissed the finest bosom in the world.

Those who supported the House of Hanover had decided that the coronation must be the most splendid of its kind. The people must be reminded that this was not only the crowning of a king, it was the heralding of a new dynasty. On street corners, in coffee and chocolate houses, in riverside taverns, the Jacobites gathered. Who could say what might not happen on coronation day? They hoped the wind would howl and the rain pour down, because sunshine could have such an effect on the spirits that the people would be ready to believe life was good while it shone. It was 20th October, so surely unsettled weather was not impossible.

But the sun shone brilliantly; and the crowd was more eager for a day’s pleasure than for the uncertain excitement of rioting. When the fountains flowed with wine, when there was an opportunity to dance and cheer at the procession as it passed, to see the
fireworks, to get drunk and make love after dark, who wanted to gamble with death? What did it matter what king was on the throne as long as there were feast days and holidays for the people?

As soon as the Jacobites saw the sun steady in the sky, they knew that the coronation of George I was going to be a day of rejoicing.

In the streets the flower- and orange-girls, the piemen and the ballad-sellers were already gathering, while pickpockets and confidence tricksters made their plans for a day which should provide a record harvest. On the pavements seedy men and women sat with their dice boxes inviting passers-by to throw the dice with them and indulge in a little gamble. Already there was evidence of drunkenness. In the October Club the Jacobites had gathered to make gloomy comments on the prospects for the future and drink a secret toast to the King over the Water. On the river there were craft of all descriptions and from many of these came the sound of music.

Ladies and gentlemen of fashion made their appearance in the streets – the ladies in brilliant gowns, their hair piled high under their enormous hats, their skirts flounced, their waists incredibly small, their bosoms liberally exposed. Patches to show off a fine pair of eyes, a luscious mouth or a straight little nose were much in evidence. And the men were every bit as colourful as the women, with their splendidly embroidered waistcoats, their three-cornered hats and buckled shoes, their quizzing glasses and their snuff-boxes.

The sun, the mood of the people, the gaiety of music and the laughter all had a depressing effect on the Jacobites.

Still, they consoled themselves, it won’t last. These people who are cheering the German today will be calling for his blood in a few weeks’ time.

Driving to Westminster in his state coach the King was wishing the day over. He had no taste for this sort of thing! He looked grimly out at his cheering subjects and found it hard to raise a smile. He could not much like these English and he, who had never believed himself to be a sentimental man, often thought longingly of Hanover.

To Westminster Hall in accordance with English tradition,
where under the canopy of state he received the peers and court officials. A dreary ceremony and he was weary of the whole affair already. He accepted the sword and spurs while the regalia with the crown, chalice, paten and Bible were given to the lords and bishops, to be transported by them in the procession to the Abbey.