The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (20 page)

‘Yes,’ said Charlotte, ‘it’s true. I was named after my two grandmothers. Is my uncle here?’

She had met her mother’s brother who was now the Duke of Brunswick, also in exile. He seemed different from the rest of his family – calmer, and yet a brave man. She had heard how he had fought with his men through the territory occupied by the French to the coast where a fleet of British ships was assembled to bring him to England with his motherless little boys.

That had seemed romantic and so had he in his dashing uniform and with his fine pair of moustaches giving him such a handsome look.

His little boys, Charles aged six and William four, were in this house occupying the upper rooms with their nurses and servants. Charlotte wondered whether she should go and see them before she left and suggested this.

‘Poor mites,’ said Caroline vaguely. ‘Perhaps if there is time … but we have only these two miserable hours and I suppose it
will be reported if we try to make it longer.
I
want to spend every minute with my own sweet Charlotte.’

‘Dear, dear,’ said the Duchess. ‘So you and the Prince are still at loggerheads. I must say it is a very odd way of going on.
I
found him charming. He invited me to Carlton House. “Dear Aunt,” he said, “I shall be
desolate
if you don’t attend.” And so I went. How charming he is. What manners! I have never seen anyone bow with such grace and charm. I said to him: “My dear nephew, you are indeed the first Gentleman of Europe.”

‘You should have seen him on his wedding night. Drunk. He had to be supported on his way to the altar. Yes, he did. They had to stand very close to him to prevent his falling down.’ Caroline burst into loud laughter.

‘A charming man,’ said the Duchess, ignoring her. ‘I do not think that in all my life I have ever met a more charming man than my nephew, the Prince of Wales.’

‘He spent part of the wedding night under the grate. Very charming. I consider myself well off without him.’

Charlotte listened to this conversation with an eager horror. Her mother and her grandmother seemed to be carrying it on independently of each other and she wondered whether they were aware of her. But every now and then her mother would refer to her sweet Charlotte, her angel, her love, to remind her daughter that she was conscious of her presence.

Thus passed the two hours and Lady de Clifford was fidgeting to be off, for as she said to Charlotte, if they exceeded their stay the visits might be cut down to once a fortnight.

‘How strange,’ said Charlotte as the carriage carried them back to Carlton House, ‘that I am only allowed to visit my own mother once a week.’

Lady de Clifford did not think it strange at all when that mother was the Princess Caroline, when she had just emerged, scarcely unscathed from the Delicate Investigation, when it seemed almost certain that she was leading a very odd if not immoral life. It appeared to be very reasonable that her daughter – the future Queen of England – should be allowed only brief meetings with her.

Charlotte was silently thinking of her family.

‘It’s like a menagerie,’ she said. ‘A royal menagerie.’

Princess Charlotte was sickening for something. She was constantly shivering and to Lady de Clifford’s alarm had developed a fever. She called the doctors and Charlotte was sent to bed; she was too listless to protest and a few days later the rash indicated that she was suffering from measles.

There was consternation throughout the family and the Prince of Wales sent his first physician to attend his daughter.

He said to Maria: ‘If Charlotte should die they would tell me it was my duty to have another child. Maria, I could not do it. The thought of being near that woman makes me sick.’

Maria comforted him and said it was only the measles and most children recovered from this very quickly. Moreover, Charlotte was a strong child.

He scarcely left Maria’s side. It was at times like this that he realized how much he needed her. Maria was happy too; it was going to be all right, she was sure. His ridiculous passion for Lady Hertford was not important. That woman was as cold as ice and would never become his mistress. Maria had nothing to fear. He was wayward by nature; it was a sort of compulsion for him to stray. It meant little. Maria was his lifelong companion and after that other separation when he had deserted her for Lady Jersey he had come to realize this.

Miss Pigot was called in and gave her views on the measles; she prepared a few possets which she was sure the doctors would say were beneficial. And the Prince talked of nothing but Charlotte’s measles – not alas, Maria noted, because he cared so much for the child, but because he feared that her death would put him into a repulsive position.

The King and Queen discussed Charlotte’s measles. The King was worried. ‘She always seemed such a healthy child. Romping here, jumping there … eh, what? Measles. How bad is it? Are they telling us the truth, eh, what?’

The Queen said it was a childish complaint and Charlotte was in no danger. She was going to give very special instructions to Lady de Clifford and was sending some James’s Powder for the child. It had wonderful healing properties; and she was going to instruct Lady de Clifford not to allow the bed linen to be changed until she ordered that this should be done.

‘I could not sleep all night thinking of it,’ said the King. ‘The Princesses should not visit the child. That must be made plain. It’s a very contagious disease. Did you know that, eh, what?’

‘Indeed I know it, but once someone has had it they cannot have it again, so you need not fear for the Princesses.’

‘They’ll be wanting to go and nurse her, I daresay. I won’t have Amelia …’

‘Amelia shall not go and see her niece until it is perfectly safe for her to do so. You must trust me.’

The King nodded. He was forced to trust to the Queen for everything. A change from what it used to be, he thought, eh, what?

The carriage of the Princess of Wales arrived at Carlton House. Caroline alighted and brushed aside all who would detain her.

‘Where is my child?’ she demanded. ‘Take me at once to the Princess Charlotte.’

The pages and footmen were in a quandary. They knew that the Princess Caroline was not to be received at Carlton House. What could they do? How refuse her? She was after all the Princess of Wales.

‘Come, don’t try to obstruct me.’ She spoke in an odd mixture of French, German and English which they pretended they could not understand, and they allowed her to push her way into the house and to Charlotte’s room.

She flung open the door.

‘My angel! My little love!’

Charlotte said weakly: ‘Mamma. It is you?’

‘Of course it is me, my Lottie love. My baby ill and her Mamma not with her. Why I should be with you every hour! It should be my duty and my pleasure. How are you?’

‘I’m getting better, Mamma. But I have lots of spots all over me.’

‘Why bless you, you’ll soon be well again. I missed our two hours together.’ She grimaced and laughed aloud. ‘Life is not the same for me without my little Lottie, you know.’

‘Oh, Mamma, you are so … so …’

‘So what, my love?’

Charlotte could not say ‘So strange’, which was what she had meant, and she was too weak to think of any other way of expressing what she meant. So she substituted: ‘So … so dear to me.’

Caroline bent over her and kissed her.

‘Oh, Mamma, I am con … contagious.’

‘Dearest child, I wouldn’t care if you were a leper. I’d still kiss you.’

Charlotte was so tired she could scarcely keep her eyes open but Caroline did not seem to notice this. She sat by the bed and talked of the good times they would have together when Charlotte was well and they had found some way of flouting the rule that they were to meet only once a week.

Lady de Clifford was pacing up and down in the next room, asking herself how she could remove the Princess of Wales and what the Prince and the Queen were going to say when they knew that the woman had visited her daughter.

The Prince summoned Lady de Clifford. He bowed and bade her sit down. His manners, she thought, were impeccable. He had the gift of making one want to serve him with all one’s power; and she was very unhappy because she knew that however charming he might be outwardly, inwardly he was displeased.

‘My daughter is making a good recovery in your very capable hands,’ he said, to put her at her case. In spite of his bulk he was very handsome and Lady de Clifford was almost on the edge of tears because she had failed in her duty.

‘Thank you, Lady de Clifford, for all your care of her.’

‘Your Highness … if I could believe you were pleased with me I should be very happy, but I fear …’

He was all concern. ‘This unfortunate visit of the Princess of Wales?’ he said, and coldness came into his voice when he said her name.

‘Sir, I do not seek to excuse myself. I knew your wishes. I can only say that the Princess of Wales took us all by surprise. We had no notion …’

He nodded. ‘I understand that. I understand full well. She stormed into the room before she could be prevented. That is the case, is it not?’

‘Exactly so, sir.’

‘I think,’ he said, with that famous smile and the slight crinkling of the nose which made it lovable, ‘that we had better forget it. We can say that the Princess of Wales had an excuse because her daughter was ill. But I think we should take precautions that it does not happen again, don’t you?’

‘I am sure it will not. I am sure all concerned must be upset
because they fear they may have failed in their duty, which is to serve Your Highness.’

‘Then that is well.’

With the utmost grace he had indicated that the interview was over; she rose and took her leave, feeling that whatever happened she would see that no one in her household ever displeased him again.

When Charlotte recovered she went to Bognor and there revelled in her freedom and was soon full of health again.

It was wonderful to be there, to sample Mr Richardson’s buns once more and to stroll along the shore looking for seaweed and anything the waves had washed up; she rode her carriage and four greys through the country lanes; she talked to the people.

Those were happy days; but back at Carlton House she soon discovered that there was a great deal of friction in her household.

The two chief combatants were Dr Nott and Mrs Udney; their dislike of each other had gradually grown and now they could scarcely hide it.

Quarrels constantly broke out between them; they criticized each other. Dr Nott declared that Mrs Udney was introducing the Princess to certain kinds of literature which should not be brought to her notice. Mrs Udney retorted that Dr Nott was trying to influence the Princess in the hope that later he might obtain certain benefits.

These petty quarrels were certain, sooner or later, to break out into a conflict which could not be ignored and it happened one day when Dr Nott came in and found the Princess Charlotte and Mrs Udney examining some cartoons which Mrs Udney had acquired.

This love of what were known as ‘prints’ had made a bond between Charlotte and Mrs Udney. It was not that Charlotte liked the woman – she never would do that – but she did find her conversation with its sly innuendoes irresistible; nor could she help being very interested in the cartoons and papers which Mrs Udney was constantly showing her.

Mrs Udney had just come from Gillray’s in St James’s Street and was chatting with the Princess, telling her of her visit to this shop.

‘He used to be in Old Bond Street and now he is moved to
St James’s, which is even better. Your Highness would like to see Gillray’s shop.’

Mrs Udney’s malicious smile played about her lips. Dare she take Charlotte there one day? It was a bit risky, for she could lose her position if discovered.

‘Old Gillray is above, working away at his cartoons. I’ve seen him once. Such a quiet man, Your Highness – grey eyes and grey hair, but there is a sort of liveliness about him. You would never guess he could do such clever … wicked work.’

‘He is undoubtedly clever,’ said Charlotte.

‘Yes, yes. Look at this one.’

It was a picture of the King – looking quite ridiculous and yet somehow so exactly like her grandfather that there was no mistaking him. He was seated at a bench making buttons. There were rows of them on the bench and beneath the picture was written ‘The Royal Button Maker’. There was another of the King wearing leggings and with straw in his hair. It was called ‘Farmer George’. There was one of the King and Queen – the Queen wearing an apron and frying sprats while the King toasted muffins. This was ridiculing the humble way they liked to live.

‘They have some very wicked ones,’ said Mrs Udney with a laugh. ‘Miss Humphrey serves below with Betty Marshall who can’t stop giggling. They know me well. I’m a good customer.’

‘I wonder my grandfather does not send him to prison.’

‘Oh, we’d have all London up in arms and marching on St James’s if he did. No one would be allowed to lay a finger on Gillray. London would see to that. He makes the people laugh too much … and they like to laugh. Miss Humphrey thinks he’s a genius, which is not surprising, considering …’

‘Considering what?’

Mrs Udney winked.

‘She’s his … m … mistress?’ asked Charlotte.

Mrs Udney nodded significantly. ‘Well, you’ve got to know how your future subjects live, haven’t you? Your Highness would be surprised. It’s very respectable, mind. They’re as good as married. Betty Marshall told me one day that he and Miss Humphrey did start out for St James’s Church to get married and before they got there he got an idea for a cartoon and that made him change his mind. So they went back and things went on just as they had been.’

Charlotte was vitally interested and wanted to hear more about James Gillray and Miss Humphrey.

There was a great talent in his work, and he was very prolific. According to Mrs Udney, he had made not only a name for himself but a fortune.

Mrs Udney had brought an old cartoon with her of Mrs Fitzherbert and the Prince with Mr Fox and Mr Pitt which had been done soon after the Prince’s secret marriage to Mrs Fitzherbert. Pitt and Fox were both dead now but Charlotte knew a great deal about them. A study of politics was essential to her education and no study of English politics could be complete without these two illustrious names.