The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (30 page)

At least he could do this for his family.

And now to Oatlands, to a sort of children’s ball. Charlotte was growing up, no doubt to be a plague to him. Maria had warned him that if he did not show some affection towards her she would turn to her mother and as soon as she was free to do so might ally herself openly with that woman. Who knew what consequences that would entail!

Maria, his good angel … with a devilish temper. He had provoked her, of course. But she had never really understood that however he strayed – and how could he help his own nature? – it was Maria to whom he always wanted to return. He wanted to return to her now – to Minney and old Pig. But how could he? If he tried to get back now what a stream of complications would ensue. But he still kept her picture and he looked at it often.

Here they were at Oatlands. A monstrosity of a place. A pity they had not asked
his
advice after the old place had been burned down. He’d scold Fred about that. What was it now though, but a home for animals? Frederica was an odd creature; but he did not dislike her as much now as he had at one time.

A flutter of excitement ran through the house because the Regent had arrived. He was aware of it and expected it but it always pleased him. Even Frederica would have to stand on a little ceremony today. There she was waiting to greet him and Charlotte was beside her, a demure Charlotte, he was glad to see.

Frederica swept a deep curtsey.

‘Oh, come,’ he said, ‘this is a family affair.’ He kissed her hastily. She did not attract him with her pockmarks and smell of dog. And Charlotte. He embraced her. The poor girl clung awkwardly for a moment.

‘Your looks assure me that you are well, Charlotte,’ he said.

And then into the house with Adam and Sherry – a changed house, thought Charlotte, with its atmosphere of awe because it was offering hospitality to the Prince Regent.

‘Oh,’ sighed Charlotte to Louisa Lewis, ‘How I love gaiety!’

‘And the gentlemen,’ added Louisa quietly.

‘And the gentlemen,’ conceded Charlotte. ‘I confess to a fondness for Mr Adam.’

‘As he would to Your Highness.’

‘Come, Louisa, you must not let your mind run on. Mr Adam is a very proper gentleman
and
some forty years older than I … more perhaps. So a little flirtation with such a gentleman cannot come amiss, surely? It will put me in practice for the younger ones.’

‘Such as Master Fitzclarence and Captain Hesse, I daresay.’

Charlotte lowered her eyes at the mention of Captain Charles Hesse. There was indeed a charming young man and she confessed inwardly that she was a little taken with him. He looked splendid in his uniform of the Light Dragoons and he was very sure of himself because he claimed to be a son of the Duke of York. It was almost certain that he was and therefore half royal like George Fitzclarence and like George, her cousin. Oh, these wicked uncles, what lives they led! She was not sure that her father behaved more scandalously than his brothers; it was merely that he was a more prominent target for gossip.

And that brought her to Charles Hesse again. How amusing to ride in Windsor Great Park with Charles one day and George the next – and another day with both, each vying for her favour. Growing up
was
amusing.

She was sorry they were not at Oatlands now; still, she would have to turn her wiles on ancient Mr Adam who was, perhaps because of his age, more skilful in the arts of flirtation than either George or Charles.

‘Well,’ sighed Louisa to Mrs Gagarin, ‘we have to face the fact that our young lady is growing up.’

‘It is always desirable to face facts,’ Charlotte reminded them.

She was excited. Now that her father was here it would be different. There would be no more singing duets with those two young girls Aunt Frederica had had brought to the house as companions for her. Silly little things Charlotte thought them in their simple muslin dresses and with their innocent chatter. She would have much preferred Charles Hesse or George Fitzclarence. The girls reminded her of the young Minney Seymour; sometimes she wondered about Minney but not often. It was all rather long ago.

She liked the sight of her bare shoulders. If she were not so pale she would be very pretty; her brows and lashes were so light that it was almost as though she had none; but her hair
was good and so was her skin. On the whole she was a fairly handsome girl on whom a pretty dress could work wonders.

‘I must look my best tonight, Louisa,’ she said, ‘because the Regent will open the ball with me.’

‘He’ll be so proud of you.’

Charlotte grimaced to hide her emotion. If only that could be true, how pleasant it would be! She pictured his telling her how pretty she looked and how proud he was to have such a daughter. If Mrs Fitzherbert were here perhaps she would have called attention to Charlotte’s dress, her hair, her skin and how pretty she was growing. But there was no one else who could, because there was no one else to whom he would listen.

Perhaps if he saw how Mr Adam liked her, he would begin to think she was not so stupid and unattractive after all.

The Prince took her hand and led her on to the floor. How magnificent he was with the diamond star on his breast and the diamond buckles on his shoes; and everyone was looking at him, Charlotte was sure. She herself was a glittering figure because she was allowed to wear her diamonds for this occasion and her dress seemed almost as becoming here in the ballroom as it had under the adoring eyes of Louisa Lewis and Mrs Gagarin.

He danced exquisitely in spite of his bulk; he was so light on his feet and of course she must seem clumsy beside him. But when she caught the eyes of kind Mr Adam he conveyed the fact that he thought her very charming and she was grateful to him. After all, she thought, the Regent is a fat old man and I am young and as royal as he is and if he is King in all but name one day I shall be the Queen.

Poor Sheridan was looking on with bleary eyes. He had been in a state of semi-intoxication since his arrival. It was difficult to believe that he was the brilliant author of
The School for Scandal
and
The Rivals,
which she had read so many times and longed to see played; but of course he had suffered terribly after the burning down of Drury Lane and was always in debt and couldn’t sleep and was often in cruel pain, so she’d heard, from his varicose veins. It was hard to see in him the romantic young figure who had eloped with Elizabeth Linley, herself long since dead. But men such as Sheridan were talked of and their past glories remembered. She was glad Papa was still
friendly with him because although he was witty and clever, he was no longer handsome and, thought Charlotte severely, his poor second wife cannot find him a very good husband.

Charlotte much preferred the gallant Mr Adam.

She glanced at her father’s profile as they danced, plump and pleasant, with that attractive nose which gave such a jolly look to his face, and made one feel there was no need to fear a man with a nose like that. At least that was how Minney had felt – and George Keppel too. She had made them admit it. But of course they were not
his
children.

The others were falling in behind them now and the ball was open, and after a while the Prince led her back to the Duchess and said that she danced well; and after that she danced with Uncle Fred, which was good fun, and they tried the waltz.

‘Said to be most improper,’ Uncle Fred told her, ‘except when the partners are a lady and her uncle. Then it is quite proper.’

‘Then it gives you a chance to be proper for once, Uncle Fred,’ she retorted, and that made him laugh, for Uncle Fred laughed easily.

After that she waltzed with Mr Adam, which was a little daring, but delightful because he danced well for such an elderly man; and he told her she was looking exceedingly charming and that he was sure the Regent on this occasion must find his daughter the most beautiful young lady in the ballroom.

Very pleasant to hear; and they could talk of Mercer, too, because Mercer was related to Mr Adam’s wife, who was now dead; so that there was a family connection. Charlotte could extol Mercer’s many virtues; she could tell Mr Adam that Mercer was her greatest friend and she could not imagine how she could ever have existed without that friendship; to which Mr Adam replied that he was delighted that a connection of his – although only by marriage – could be of such good service to the Princess, but he advised her to modify her language when discussing Mercer’s good qualities with people other than himself, for with such an important young lady as Charlotte there were spies all about her and there would be many who might try to spoil the friendship if they knew how deep it was.

Charlotte listened intently; she was remembering her
grandmother’s references to ‘particular friendships’.

The music stopped and the Prince Regent was heard trying to explain the movement of the Highland Fling to the Duchess.

He glanced towards them. Charlotte’s heart beat faster because she thought he was going to ask her to join him in the Highland Fling, and because she had no idea how this dance was performed and would have hated to confess ignorance to her father she tried to hide herself behind Mr Adam. Apparently she was successful, for the Prince cried: ‘Come, Adam, you know the dance. We will give an exhibition.’

So Mr Adam went on the floor with the Prince and with one hand lightly on his hip and the other held above his head Mr Adam executed a few steps of the Highland Fling. The Prince said that was the idea and greatly to the amusement of the entire company the two of them danced, when suddenly the Prince gave a cry of pain and would have fallen had not Mr Adam caught him.

The Duke and Duchess came hurrying over.

‘I’ve done my foot some damage,’ cried the Prince. ‘Stab me, Fred, the pain is intense.’

The Duchess called to her servants and in a moment the atmosphere of the ballroom had changed. Charlotte stood by helplessly watching, longing to be the one who looked after him and amazed them all by her calm competence. But clearly her services were not needed; and the Prince was carried to the best of the bedrooms where he lay groaning until the doctors came and gave the verdict that he had injured his ankle and must rest for a few days.

Uncle Fred said that he must stay at Oatlands where it would be his privilege – and that of the Duchess – to look after him.

Since it was necessary to care for the Regent, the Duchess had no time to devote to Charlotte, so she and her retinue returned to Warwick House.

Warwick House, as the Princess said, was not her favourite residence. She had always hated it and was constantly planning to get away from it. For some years now she had spent a certain amount of time there and it was recognized as her particular residence. It was an old house and in fact part of the outbuildings of Carlton House; and it had been allotted to her
because it was so close to her father’s mansion. Charlotte had said that her father had put her there so that he could, when he thought of her, keep an eye on her; and at the same time not be bothered with her. She never went back to Warwick House without a sense of grievance.

The house was in a cul-de-sac at the end of a narrow lane, and the buildings which surrounded it made it gloomy. The two sentries stationed at the entrance of the lane, Charlotte said, made her feel like a prisoner. It was not pleasant to come back to Warwick House after the jollities of Oatlands.

‘I think I prefer the smell of animals to that of damp,’ she complained to Lady de Clifford.

Lady de Clifford was also disappointed. Warwick House did her rheumatics no good; in fact, as she said often to her daughter, the Countess of Albermarle, she could not go on much longer and was only waiting for the right opportunity to relinquish her post. If it were not for the fact that dear Princess Charlotte needed her she would have done so long ago.

‘I’d almost rather be at Windsor,’ Charlotte told Mrs Udney.

‘I’m not surprised at that,’ replied that lady with a wink. ‘Your Highness does so enjoy her rides in the Park and finds the company so congenial.’

‘Company?’ said Charlotte, flushing.

‘Delightful company, I believe,’ went on the incorrigible Mrs Udney. ‘And in particular the gallant Captain Hesse.’

‘You have seen us riding together?’

Mrs Udney laughed. ‘Your Highness should not be alarmed. I should not dream of mentioning the matter to Lady de Clifford, and if I did … she would not know what to do about it. It strikes me that her ladyship becomes more and more flustered every day.’

It was true, thought Charlotte. And a good thing too. One must have the opportunity to exercise a little freedom.

‘How I wish I could go to Windsor,’ she sighed, at which Mrs Udney laughed conspiratorially.

Later that day she produced a note which she said the gallant Captain had asked her to give to the Princess.

Charlotte read it through with pleasure. It was very daring of him. He missed their rides. He longed to talk to her. She was not only the most beautiful of Princesses but the most witty.

Oh, how daring of him! And what Lady de Clifford would say if she knew. Or her father for that matter.

But I’m growing up and I must live, she told herself. I do not want to become like one of the Old Girls.

She rode to Oatlands to see her father. He lay on a couch, looking large and unusually pale. Mr Adam was with him. She kissed his hand and inquired anxiously after his health.

‘Not good,’ he said languidly. ‘Not good.’

‘Oh, Papa … if there is anything I can do …’

He looked at her in amazement. Anything she could do? What was she talking about? She blushed and stammered: ‘I … j … just thought …’ She did not know how to continue and he, who was so articulate, despised incoherence.

The Duchess who was present came to her rescue. ‘Charlotte is naturally disturbed by Your Highness’s indisposition. But don’t fret, Charlotte my dear. His Highness is improving every day.’

‘I’m not sure that I am,’ said the Regent crossly. He frowned at the Duchess. He had never really liked her since she had refused to receive Maria. All those animals she kept about the place were disgusting; she was not pretty and her dignity reminded him of Maria and made him wish that he were in Tilney Street or at the house on the Steyne, going to it through the secret passage from the Pavilion. How well Maria would have nursed him!