The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (16 page)

And because her animals liked Charlotte, and Charlotte liked them, Frederica was fond of Charlotte.

It was a solace therefore to be here – far away from Grandmamma’s ill temper and constant criticism, from the people who had spoilt her friendship with Mrs Fitzherbert, and she knew that her father would not call at Oatlands; he disliked his sister-in-law and the smell of the animals would have offended his delicate nostrils. So there was no danger of any startling controversy. One could live the quiet country life: a few lessons with docile Dr Nott, walking with the dogs, riding with the horses and talking to the Duchess.

Charlotte found that she enjoyed talking to the Duchess as much as playing with the animals. She may have been looking for someone to take the place of Mrs Fitzherbert, and if Aunt Frederica was an odd substitute and Charlotte could not imagine her ever pleading for her with the Prince of Wales, she was sympathetic and seemed to understand that what Charlotte wanted was to live simply for a while.

Oatlands itself was an interesting place. Situated at Walton, it was close to the river Thames and Henry VIII had built it as a pleasure house. Queen Elizabeth had lived here. That made it very exciting for Charlotte – only it was not the same building, for that had been burned down more than ten years before. The Duchess had told her about the night of the fire.

‘The Duke your uncle, was fighting in Flanders, and my servants woke me. I smelt the smoke … and then I heard the crackle of fire. It was a wonder we were not all burned in our beds.’

Charlotte listened and thought of the gatehouse and battlemented towers ablaze. She had seen a picture of Oatlands as it had been when Queen Elizabeth had lived there. There had been
two quadrangle courts, the principal of which had a machicolated gatehouse at each end; there were magnificent bay windows and turrets; and in the paddock Queen Elizabeth used to shoot with her crossbow. What a pity that it had all been burned down, and Uncle Fred had had to build the present Oatlands in its place!

‘But,’ sighed Charlotte, ‘it is not the same.’

‘I saved most of the animals,’ replied the Duchess. ‘How frightened the darlings were!’

And Charlotte smiled, knowing that on that terrible night her first thought would have been not for her jewels, nor her servants, but for all the dogs and cats and monkeys.

It was a pleasant household and a friendship quickly grew up between them. The Duchess liked to live by routine which was comforting because one always knew where she would be at a certain time. The greater part of the day was spent looking after the animals but she liked needlework too and would sit out of doors when the weather was suitable and give orders to her servants while she sewed. She was greatly concerned about the poor of the district; and the care of them, with her needlework and animals, made up her life.

She told Charlotte that one of the main duties in life was to look after the poor. It was all very well to pray for them and this must be done, but practical assistance was sometimes of greater help and Charlotte should give part of her money to the poor and make sure that she never heard of a deserving case without doing what she could for the sufferers.

The Duchess had had cottages built on the estate and here she housed certain people who took care of the puppies which were constantly being born.

Charlotte would sit with her and lure her to talk of her life for she always enjoyed hearing of the fate of princesses. The most terrible thing in the world she had always thought was to be taken from one’s home and not only married to a strange man but sent to a new country.

‘I am fortunate,’ she remarked. ‘I shall always live in England because I am to be the Queen. And because I am the Queen I shall choose my own husband.’

‘Fortunate indeed,’ agreed Frederica in her odd German accent, which might have been difficult to understand if Charlotte had not grown accustomed to it during her conversations with
her own mother. And Grandmamma had a slight German accent too.

‘Ah, I remember the day I heard I was to marry the Duke of York.’

‘Were you disappointed because it was not the Prince of Wales?’

‘Naturally as the daughter of the King of Prussia I wished to marry a king, or a prince who would one day be a king.’

‘Uncle Fred is very nice.’

Frederica looked sad, and no wonder, thought Charlotte. He was not a very good husband – but a little better than her father was to her mother.

Charlotte studied her aunt. She was not very beautiful. She was far too small; she had the blue eyes and fair hair of the German royal houses, but her skin was pitted with smallpox and her teeth were bad.

She started to speak in rapid French and Charlotte had to concentrate to follow her – but it was no worse than her atrocious English. She told how she had married the Duke and set out for England with him.

‘It was the year 1791 and you know what was happening in France at that time. Ah, the terrible things those people did to their king and queen! The mob can be terrifying.’

Charlotte nodded, thinking of those people surrounding her carriage and shouting ‘No popery!’ And because of them she had been forbidden friendship with Mrs Fitzherbert!

‘They gathered about our carriage and I thought they would murder us. But the Duke was not afraid. He stood there and faced them and assured them that although we were royal we were not French. His courage disarmed them and they let us go on our way, but I thought for a time that my end was at hand. The Duke himself drove our carriage to show them that he was not behaving like a royal person.’

‘And then when you came to England what did you think of it?’

She smiled. ‘Things are never what one imagines them to be, my dear. The King’s Levee. Shall I ever forget it! My hair was dressed high … high … up here, and decorated with crépe and feathers which were a great burden. I was in white and silver and my satin sleeves were edged with diamonds. Oh, it was so hot and heavy. I was all white and silver and there were
diamonds on my stomacher. I thought I should faint with the heat of it.’

‘Poor Aunt Frederica! But you liked it, did you not?’

‘It is freer here than in Prussia. But there were troubles.’

‘You met my father.’

‘Oh, yes …’

‘And …’

But she did not wish to speak of the encounter. She had refused to accept Maria Fitzherbert as Princess of Wales and so had offended the Prince. She had been hurt and unhappy because of her husband’s infidelities; he had hated her animals; she had hated his mistresses. It was soon clear that she was not going to give him the heirs for which he had married. Oh, no, she had not been happy in those early years in England.

And then – because he was Commander-in-Chief of the Army he had gone to Flanders, and Oatlands had been burned and rebuilt and he had bought the manors of Brooklands and Byfleet to enlarge the property and she had decided that this should be her home. Here she would reign – some way from the Court; her animals would give her all the affection and excitement she needed; and she did not care what her husband did.

She had wanted children, but when she found that she was to be barren she turned more and more to her animals. As for Frederick, as the years passed, her animosity towards the man who had so bitterly disappointed her began to fade. He no longer expressed his disdain for her animals and his annoyance because she filled the place with them; she never uttered a complaint about his numerous love affairs. Sometimes he came to Oatlands to see her and they talked amicably together.

They had become friends.

She knew that the dear kind half-crazy King deplored the situation. The marriage was as much a failure as that of the Prince of Wales – perhaps more so because in spite of all the scandal attaching itself to that union, at least it had been fruitful. This pleasant eager young girl was the result of it. At least they had provided the heir; so that the family could breathe a sigh of relief and with a good conscience go on living their own lives as they wanted to.

And that was what Frederica and Frederick were doing, and it was proving not unsatisfactory.

So the days passed for Charlotte and her friendship with odd
Aunt Frederica helped to soothe her for the loss of Mrs Fitzherbert, which was strange, for there could not have been women more unlike.

One day Lady de Clifford told her that news had come from Her Majesty that they were to return to Carlton House and there make preparations to visit Bognor, where they would stay for the summer months. The Queen thought that sea breezes would be good for the Princess.

‘I should have liked to go to Brighton,’ sighed Charlotte; and thought of her father in his magnificent Pavilion perhaps giving a ball to welcome his daughter.

‘Her Majesty suggests Bognor.’

Charlotte grimaced and went out into the park, there to walk round and say goodbye to all that had become so familiar in the last weeks.

She picked some flowers from the garden and took them to that plot shut in by yews which was the cemetery. She walked between the grey tombstones and laid the flowers on the grave of Rex – one of Aunt Frederica’s favourite fox hounds. Not that she ever hunted; she loathed any such activities. She could never understand people who made much of some animals and were cruel to others. Her love extended to the whole of the animal kingdom. And when her darlings died, they were brought here and ceremoniously buried and prayers were said over them. Aunt Frederica believed they all went to heaven because animals were not like human beings and did no wrong; they only acted according to instincts. Charlotte had replied that heaven must be overcrowded with animals and sparsely inhabited by human beings – a statement with which Aunt Frederica agreed. And that, I suppose, thought Charlotte, was why she was eager to go there.

Sitting on the edge of the grave Charlotte thought of death – other people’s, not her own. Sometimes she believed that she was immortal and would never die; and at others she felt that death was close. It had been one of the latter moods which had set her making her will. That made her laugh when she remembered the fuss; and then she was sad thinking of poor Mrs Campbell who had gone because of it.

How carefully one must behave if one were a princess. Perhaps people like Aunt Frederica were lucky. They had come through the difficult part of life and had made a niche for
themselves. Aunt Frederica living here aloof from the family, on mildly friendly terms with her husband, making no demands on him, busy with her charities, her needlework and her beloved animals, was perhaps the most contented member of the royal family.

Charlotte rose and left the animals’ cemetery.

In her rooms Lady de Clifford was preparing for their departure. She was looking very pleased. She did not care for Oatlands. She was sure that the animals carried disease which might harm the Princess Charlotte and she wondered whether she should report this to the Queen. But Charlotte did enjoy staying with her aunt and her spirits had improved. So perhaps the visit had had something to recommend it.

That night Charlotte was awakened by the sound of dogs’ barking in the grounds. She rose and stood there for a while looking out on the strange scene. There was a woman in flowing robes, her hair about her shoulders, striding across the park, and around her were some twenty dogs, some of which had awakened Charlotte with their barks.

Charlotte smiled. She looked like a supernatural being; but of course it was only Aunt Frederica taking one of her nightly strolls. She slept very little and often walked about the park during the night. She was perfectly safe, for several of those great slavering hounds would have torn anyone apart who had attempted to attack her.

Charlotte went back to bed. She would miss this strange household when she went back to the life considered suitable for the heiress to the throne. But it would always be pleasant to think of Oatlands and strange yet reliable Aunt Frederica who had made it quite clear that she was Charlotte’s friend.

Yes, in a way, she had found a substitute for Mrs Fitzherbert.

Summer by the sea

BOGNOR DELIGHTED THE
Princess, for there she insisted on more freedom than she could possibly enjoy in the royal palaces. A mansion belonging to a certain Mr Wilson had been put at her disposal and here she came with some members of her staff headed by Lady de Clifford.

It was pleasant to wake up every morning and to stand at an open window and smell the sea. She bathed three or four times a week and she would shriek with delight when she was immersed into the water; she loved to wander along the shore, running in the face of the boisterous wind, sometimes pausing to pick up oddly shaped stones which caught her fancy. She insisted that her attendants kept their distance and Lady de Clifford said that as long as they had her in view all the time she might enjoy this freedom.

This was delightful because it enabled her to meet people and talk to them, often without their being aware of who she was. In her green riding habit and little straw hat she looked like any young lady of a noble house; no one would have guessed by her clothes and manner that she was an heiress to the throne.

She discovered that a baker named Richardson made the most delicious buns she had ever tasted; the aroma of his bakehouse would float out into the street and when she smelt it she could never resist going into the shop.

She had talked to Mr Richardson for a long time before her attendants came bursting in to make sure that she was all right and he realized who she was.

She was amused by his confusion. ‘But, Mr Richardson,’ she told him, ‘the fact that I am the daughter of the Prince of Wales makes no difference to the fact that you make the b … best buns in England.’

Mr Richardson rubbed his floury hands through his hair and put smudges of white over his face, which Charlotte found very endearing. And after that she took to calling in at the shop at the time when the buns were taken out of the oven and she would sit on a high stool eating them and commenting to Mr Richardson on the quality of the day’s batch. It was one of the happiest occasions in her new life – as it was in Mr Richardson’s.