The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (24 page)

As for William, he shrugged his shoulders. Really Fred was a fool. The other brothers were sorry for him but they did think he had been too absentminded or indulgent or plain stupid. Edward did not come near his brother; he couldn’t help chuckling when he remembered Frederick’s recalling him from Gibraltar. Was Frederick remembering that now? To think he had complained of Edward’s behaviour.

‘Ha, ha,’ said Edward to himself; but not to Julie who might have been a little shocked. Dear Julie, he wouldn’t have liked her to be otherwise. But she couldn’t understand a man’s pride in the profession for which he lived and worked; and what it meant to see an inferior placed above him – just because he was older, just because their father doted on him, just because he was easy-going and good-natured. This would teach them.

So poor Frederick was wretchedly unhappy while the case was being tried. There was no comfort anywhere … except with George, though even he couldn’t entirely hide the fact that he thought Frederick had acted like a fool; he couldn’t go out to any of his clubs because he knew that people were talking about him, remembering phrases from his letters to Mary Anne, tittering over the banal manner in which he expressed his sentiments.

Frederick stood before his mirror and said to himself: ‘Damn it, I’m not a writer. I’m a soldier.’ His reflection mocked him. A soldier. He was an even worse soldier than a writer it
seemed; at least that was what his enemies were trying to prove.

There was no one who really stood with him. He had never felt so friendless in his life. George – yes, George— but he knew that things had never been the same between them since their quarrel over Maria Fitzherbert and the Duchess of York.

The door of his bedroom was quietly opened and someone was standing there looking at him. He stared at his wife. ‘You here?’ he stammered.

‘Yes.’ She came into the room and sat down on the bed.

‘You have been hearing of this … affair,’ he said; and he thought: She has come to mock me, which is understandable. She is my wife but I never loved her and I showed it quite clearly. As for her, she always preferred her animals.

She nodded. ‘I have heard,’ she said. ‘And I think at such times it is well that we are under the same roof.’

‘What?’ he cried.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘It is why I have come to London.’

‘But you hate London.’

‘I prefer the country.’

‘And your dogs and cats and birds and monkeys … you prefer them.’

‘They are well looked after. They do not need me now.’

‘And … I do.’

‘It is well at such times that a wife should be with her husband … to show that she believes him innocent of what is being proved against him. They should be seen
together.
At other times, let them go their own ways … but in times of trouble they should be together.’

He looked at her rather mistily. He was sentimental like the Prince of Wales, and now he was deeply touched that she, of all those near to him, should have been the one to stand by his side.

The case ended with Frederick’s being acquitted of complicity in corrupt practices by 278 votes to 196.

Pacing up and down the drawing room at Castle Hill Edward received the verdict with jubilation.

‘He’ll have to resign his command,’ he told Julie. ‘It’s not possible for a Commander-in-Chief to have suffered the indignity of such a case.’

‘Even though he is not proved guilty?’

‘My dearest Julie, 196 people believed he was guilty. He’ll have to resign.’

‘Will they give you the command?’ she asked.

His mouth was grim. ‘Who can say? It may be that they’ll have had enough of royal dukes. Frederick has disgraced the family as well as himself.’

‘Never mind,’ soothed Julie. ‘They must appreciate you one day.’

‘At least,’ he said with satisfaction, ‘Frederick has got his deserts. I doubt my father is calling him the Hope of the House now. As for George, he’s making a regular fool of himself over that Hertford woman.’

‘What a pity, Edward, that you were not born the eldest. But if you had been they would have married you to the Princess Caroline.’

‘God forbid!’ cried Edward. ‘There could never have been anyone for me but you, Julie.’

She knew and she was contented.

‘I am thankful that they at least had a child. Otherwise they might not have left us in peace,’ she said.

‘Yes, they have that girl. A hoyden by all accounts. She wants a little discipline.’

‘Poor Charlotte,’ said the tender-hearted Julie. ‘Don’t forget how difficult it must be for her with such a father … and such a mother; and this antagonism between them.’

‘It doesn’t seem to affect Madam Charlotte. I heard she is giving herself more airs every day and behaving as though she is already Queen of England.’

‘Poor dear! It’s a great burden for her.’

Soon came the news that Frederick Duke of York had resigned his post as Commander-in-Chief of the Army.

‘Operation completed,’ murmured the Duke of Kent.

But this was not quite the case; there was scandal to come. Mary Anne had been promised rewards, but where were these rewards? Colonel Wardle could not provide them; nor could Major Dodd for he knew how hard pressed his master was. Martinet that Edward was he had the family habit of living beyond his means.

Mary Anne was furious. She had emerged from her hiding place so that she was an obvious target for her creditors; she
had gone to some expense to provide the adequate wardrobe for her act in the House of Commons – and no one could deny that she had given a first-class performance – and now, here she was, tricked. The £5,000 promised was not forthcoming.

Her first plan was to write to the Prince of Wales to tell him that there was information in her possession that she was sure would be of interest to him. The Prince of Wales’s fondness for pretty women was well known and if he could chase that old piece of ice Lady Hertford and still be living with Maria Fitzherbert who was decidedly old and who had lost her teeth – and replaced them by a set which were obviously false – surely he would be a little interested in enchanting Mary Anne?

But the Prince of Wales had no desire to be involved in the unsavoury affair; he was in any case too deeply committed to Lady Hertford, and too anxious about his relations with Maria to think of a possible romance with Mary Anne. He sent his equerry to see what Mary Anne had to say and when he returned with a tale of rivalry between his brothers he was doubly determined to have nothing to do with her.

Mary Anne in desperation wrote and published a book which she called
The Rival Princes
and in which she dealt with the relationship between the Dukes of York and Kent. That there should have been friction between the brothers and that this was behind the investigation was a source of great interest to the public and many copies of the book were sold. Mary Anne was thus able to placate her creditors for a while. She had now developed a taste for writing sensational and profitable literature so she produced another book,
The Rival Dukes
or
Who is the Dupe?
In this she attacked Colonel Wardle for his part in the affair and as a result Wardle brought a libel action against her.

She had no objection to appearing in court again; she had been such a success as a witness in the case against the Duke of York that she was certain that she was going to win against Wardle, and she was right, for she was found Not Guilty.

But her pressing need was for money. She had always known that her greatest asset was those letters which she had so carefully preserved. She now announced her intention of publishing them.

Frederick, disillusioned and disgusted that ‘his dearest angel’, ‘his sweetest darling love’ could have written what she
did and so shown her true grasping nature, had discontinued her pension. He was seen everywhere with the Duchess who had left her animals to be with him. They were the best of friends and seemed to enjoy each other’s company. They had not become lovers. That would have been asking too much on either side; but he would never forget her loyalty and coming to his aid when he needed her. They would be good friends as long as they lived and he was grateful to her. And the more grateful he became to Frederica the more he despised Mary Anne.

When he heard that she was about to publish his letters he went at once to Frederica and told her.

‘This will be worse than ever,’ he told her. ‘I have said the most foolish things to that woman in the most foolish manner. The whole country will be laughing at me. I’ll never hold my head up again.’

But Frederica consoled him. ‘Nonsense. It’s not the first time a man of rank has written foolish letters. There is only one way of dealing with it – and it will be dealt with in this way because it is not only what is best for you but what is best for that odious woman. And it is what she is striving for. The letters will be bought.’

Frederica was right. They were bought for £7,000 down and a pension of £400 a year.

Mary Anne paid her debts and decided that it was time she set about preparing her daughters to make good marriages. Frederica returned to her animals; the Duke of Kent discussed his hopes of the future with Julie de St Laurent and hoped to catch the prize which he had helped to take from his brother. Great was his disappointment when it was awarded to Sir David Dundas. His consolation must be, said Julie, that he had done his duty. It was a pleasant way of looking at it and Julie as usual brought him some comfort. As for the Duke of York, he took a new mistress and tried to reconcile himself to having lost his post.

Maria triumphant

CHARLOTTE WAS VERY
much aware of the scandals through the cartoons and pamphlets Mrs Udney brought into the household, and her mother was constantly showing them to her. Caroline laughed gleefully at the Mary Anne Clarke affair.

‘I thought I was the one who brought trouble into the family. I’d like to know what de old Begum says about her Frederick.’

‘Frederick doesn’t want to know,’ said Charlotte. ‘I hear he keeps out of her way. We don’t see him in the royal apartments since all this happened.’

That made Caroline laugh louder and Charlotte felt that she and her mother were conspirators against the rest of the family.

It was pleasant to belong and be so fiercely and passionately loved, but she sometimes wondered how much deep feeling there was behind those outward demonstrations. Caroline was so wild, so fervent in all her declarations, that she called her servants ‘my love’ and ‘my angel’ indiscriminately.

And the manner in which she discussed the Prince of Wales was rather embarrassing, for Charlotte disliked hearing her father disparaged.

There were always men at Caroline’s apartments in Kensington Palace. Caroline would push Charlotte at them and say: ‘Is she not a little charmer, this Charlotte of mine? Ah, she is going to be a fascinator. Like her Mamma, did you say, naughty boy? Then you should.’

Odd, thought Charlotte, yet fascinating. And when she reported it to Mercer, her dear friend was disapproving. And because of her attitude Charlotte began to feel the same because all her views were being coloured by Mercer.

Visits to Spring Gardens were of dubious pleasure, although they enlivened the days a little. Grandmamma Brunswick had settled into that dreadful house as though it were a palace and Charlotte often thought that she saw it as such. She was sure poor Grandmamma was unaware of the shabbiness and the lack of furniture and where there was nothing she saw gilded stools; the old chair in which she sat was a throne; her shabby clothes were velvet and ermine; and there in Spring Gardens she was a queen. Poor Grandmamma, she had always longed to be a queen and if she had had no brothers she would have been.

The only member of the family who was really kind to her was the King. He called on her occasionally and was received with ceremony – royalty visiting royalty. He wanted the Queen to be kinder to her, but the wicked old Begum refused and the Old Girls followed their mother in everything.

It was a pity that the King was so vague. He wanted to help and he was determined to and then he would go away and forget; which was not surprising for he called people by the oddest names. He had called Charlotte Sarah once and said she had pretty hair. So of course when he went away from Spring Gardens it was only natural that he should forget all about poor Grandmamma Brunswick.

‘Poor George!’ repeated the Duchess. ‘A kind heart but an addled head.’

She made Charlotte come and stand near her so that she might talk to her; and Charlotte would sit on a stool at her feet and look round that room which had scarcely any furniture in it but had cobwebs in the corner. Couldn’t they have done something better for poor Grandmamma? Charlotte was so sorry that it was not in her power to provide a better lodging that she tried to please the old lady as much as she could by appearing to be interested in her repetitious chatter.

‘An invitation from the Prince of Wales, if you please. “Dearest Aunt,” he says, “pray come to Carlton House. Stay as long as you please. I will have a suite reserved for you.” So charming … so utterly charming. I do believe he is the most charming man in the world. Of course some people do not think so. Some people cannot get along with him at all. I cannot think why. It’s a mystery to me.’

‘If you knew him as well as I do,’ cried Caroline, ‘you wouldn’t be in any doubt.’

‘His elegance … and his manners. I never saw the like. And so charming to his old aunt.’

‘Why did you not go to Carlton House, Grandmamma?’ asked Charlotte. ‘There you could have lived in state.’

The Duchess sighed. She brought her lips down to Charlotte’s ear. ‘It was prevented.’ She threw a sly look at her daughter. ‘My son was against it, too. The relationship being what it is … and so on and so on … and so I must decline the most gracious invitation so graciously given. And I remain here.’ She threw out her arms in a dramatic gesture and
Charlotte thought that in comparing this dingy old place with Carlton House, she saw it as it really was.

What a strange family I have! thought Charlotte. She must discuss them with Mercer. It might well be that all families were as strange as this. No, she couldn’t believe that. There was only one menagerie – and that was the royal one.