The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (49 page)

Charlotte was writing long letters to Mercer and they were full of the perfections of F.

‘He is so bold,’ she wrote. ‘I am sure that if my father got to hear of our friendship and tried to stop it,
he
would find some means of continuing it.’

The Duchess of Oldenburg was amused. She discussed the
affair with F, for she was determined that the Orange match should not take place.

‘Dearest F,’ she said to him one day, ‘how would you like to be consort of the Queen of England?’

To her amazement F was not enthusiastic.

‘The point is, dear Duchess, that I am scarcely a marrying man.’

‘Oh, I know you have had love affairs with every pretty girl in Germany but surely you will settle down one day and where could you find a more gilded settlement?’

‘Nowhere. I’m sure of that.’

‘And yet you hesitate?’

‘Do you think I would be acceptable to your plump friend?’

‘Plump the gentleman is, but not my friend. My dear F!’ The Duchess laughed with relish. ‘Charlotte could be made to see that her wishes are consulted and if she tried she could no doubt get her way. Have you noticed how the people love her – and her vulgar mother; and how they dislike the fat gentleman? I think he will have to act very carefully, and it may be he has the sense to know it. So don’t despair.’

He was silent and she said: ‘I can’t believe it can be so, but it would seem that you are not over eager.’

‘Perhaps I’ve been free too long.’

‘Good God, you don’t still hanker after Madame Récamier? That woman’s an iceberg. And her only claim to fame is that she was painted on a sofa.’

The Prince did not wish to discuss the only woman with whom he could say he had ever been in love, although he had made love to many.

‘I find Charlotte’s youth and naïveté attractive,’ he admitted.

‘And she is even more attracted to you than you to her. What a pleasant situation for you! Think about it, my dear F. Don’t throw away such a glorious chance … just for a whim. You must admit that it is all very amusing.’

F was ready to agree with that.

The Regent, aware that his daughter was making certain flighty friendships and that although her visits to the Duchess of Oldenburg had been curtailed she was still making undesirable acquaintances through that woman, decided to hurry on the marriage.

The Prince of Orange was now expressing his devotion to Charlotte; they met frequently and she did not dislike him, though she found him not in the least exciting. The Duchess, discussing the affair with another of her impecunious princes, who were only too glad to be members of the Russian entourage, declared that if nothing was done the poor princess would be hustled into marriage by her overpowering parent.

‘Poor child,’ she murmured. ‘It is the last thing she wants.’

‘Her mother is against it, I hear,’ said the Prince.

‘Her mother is against everything the Regent desires. Did ever a child possess such parents? I feel I must do something for her. Orange is a weakling. He’ll never do for her. Someone should save the poor child from him.’

‘Your Imperial Highness for instance?’

‘Since no one else will, I must do what I can … and you have always said that you would do anything for me.’

‘I am entirely at Your Highness’s service, as you know.’

The Duchess laughed and tapped him lightly on the arm.

‘Little Orange either drinks a great deal or is unable to carry what he does take. It came to my ears that he has been seen once or twice the worse for drink.’

‘What gentleman is not?’

‘But my little Charlotte happens to find the habit somewhat nauseating. You should have heard her account of a dinner party to which she was invited by her father. The Regent, his brother of York and certain of the guests at their table were unable to stand at the end of the banquet. York actually fell off his chair and cut his head open, and trying to save himself grasped the tablecloth and pulled its contents on top of him. She told me that she was quite disgusted and that she thought that to be the worse for drink was a weakness she would never tolerate in a husband.’

‘The Princess is a puritan.’

‘About drunkards, yes – and there is this young Billy of Holland who can’t carry his drink. Charlotte should know.’

‘Surely someone will tell her.’

‘Telling is not the same as seeing. It is our duty to let her see him drunk.’

‘Our duty, Highness?’

‘Our bounden duty,’ said the Duchess solemnly. ‘So … accompany him to the races. Let him be merry there and make
sure that he rides back … dead drunk and publicly.’

The Prince bowed. ‘At Your Imperial Highness’s service,’ he said. ‘I shall make it my duty to see that the Princess Charlotte is a witness of the inebriate habits of Slender Billy.’

‘I knew we could rely on you.’

Charlotte was angry.

‘I tell you this, Notte,’ she said. ‘I will not marry a drunken man. Do you know, he drove back from
Ascot
quite
insensible.
And this is the husband they have chosen for me. I will not marry him.’

Cornelia soothed her. ‘Your Highness should stand firm. I am sure that if you do you will marry the man of your choice.’

‘I am going to write to dear F immediately. I am going to tell him that I will not tolerate Orange’s drunkenness. As soon as I have written you will take the letter to your friend and see if there is one for me. Cornelia, I am sending him my ruby ring. It is a token of my feelings for I do believe the foolish man believes that I am not serious.’

‘And Your Highness?’

‘Deadly serious,’ said Charlotte.

So in the circumstances, thought Cornelia, surely she was not wrong to act as go-between. The fact was that if she did not Charlotte would be cold towards her; and that was something Cornelia could not endure.

She was relieved when Brougham and Whitbread came to see the Princess. Cornelia conducted them to Charlotte’s apartment and asked if it was the Princess’s wish that she should remain during the interview.

Charlotte hesitated and the two men decided that Cornelia should stay with them. She could help to advise the Princess, they thought, because there was no doubt that Her Royal Highness needed strong friends.

‘The Princess of Wales will most assuredly leave the country if your marriage to the Prince of Holland takes place,’ Brougham told her.

‘Leave the country!’ cried Charlotte.

‘Indeed yes, Your Highness. She is declaring that you are the only reason she remains. She has been so ill-treated here, so humiliated that she wishes to leave. But while she feels that you may need her, she will stay. Your marriage to Dutch William
would mean that you had placed yourself with her enemies and that would decide her.’

‘I would never place myself with her enemies,’ cried Charlotte. ‘Oh, please assure her of my unwavering affection.’

‘I will do so,’ said Brougham. ‘But the best assurance would be your refusal of the Dutch marriage.’

Charlotte’s eyes sparkled. She was not alone. She had her mother to work for her – and her mother’s friends.

‘Pray tell my mother,’ she said, ‘that I think of her often. Tell her that I am touched to know that she remains here on my account. If she left me I should feel desolate. Pray tell her that.’

The men left, feeling that their mission had not been without success.

As for Cornelia, she could assure herself that in helping Charlotte to carry on her clandestine affair with F, she was doing the right thing.

Charlotte received a note from the Prince Regent. He saw no reason why the wedding should be delayed and they would fix a date immediately. He was sending her a list of those who would be present at the wedding. If there was any of whom she did not approve would she strike out that name.

She studied the list headed by herself, the bridegroom and the Regent.

There was no mention of her mother! So they were planning a wedding at which the bride’s mother was to be excluded!

Boldly, thinking of her friends – her mother, Brougham, Whitbread … and thinking too of the ardent F – she took up her pen and struck out the name of William, Hereditary Prince of Orange.

She awaited the Prince’s angry repercussions. They did not come.

Perhaps he had not seen the list. Or perhaps he preferred to ignore what he thought was facetious folly.

But she could not stand idle. Unless she were going to be hustled into marriage she must do something quickly.

William called at Warwick House as he was now making a habit of doing. Every day she saw him and she became more and more convinced that she would not marry him. She kept
thinking of him the worse for drink; and sometimes it was quite clear that he was recovering from a drinking bout of the previous night. He came to her once slovenly dressed, and she was sure it was on this account.

She had complained because he had not been lodged at one of the royal palaces or at Carlton House but had merely been given lodgings over a tailor’s shop in Clifford Street. Now she was glad. Serve him right, she thought. It was all he deserved; and since Leopold of Saxe-Coburg had had to lodge over a greengrocer’s shop, Clifford Street was good enough for Orange. But she had stopped thinking of Leopold, she reminded herself, when she had recognized the superior attractions of her darling F.

She had made up her mind. She was not going to marry Orange, and she could be bold because she had friends and supporters. She had her mother and her mother’s friends.

She was in a truculent mood on this day. He was a little astonished for he did not realize that she had steeled herself to this.

‘You are in a perverse mood today, Charlotte,’ he said.

‘I often am,’ she replied.

‘You are always frank.’ He smiled, implying that he liked her frankness.

‘I am thinking of my mother. You know that I am not allowed to visit her as I wish. I have to have permission. Do you think that is a reasonable manner in which to treat me?’

She was disconcerting. He wanted to please her, but he did not want to say anything that might be reported to the Regent and annoy that important gentleman. He was in awe of the Regent who was grand, so friendly sometimes yet so imperious. His intended father-in-law could be jocular; with his passion for nicknames he had given William the one of ‘Young Frog’ which William was not sure that he liked; but there seemed to be a certain amount of affection in it so he accepted it with a good grace. Indeed how could he do otherwise? He had to keep in the Regent’s good books until the marriage had taken place. When they were in Holland he could be more free.

‘I am sure your father knows what is best,’ he said diplomatically.

She gave him a withering look. Chinless William, who had no spirit either. Slender Billy, Young Frog! And this was the
mate they had chosen for her when there were princes in the world like F … and Leopold.

‘When we are married,’ she said, ‘I shall expect to see my mother when I please.’

‘I am sure that then your father will have no objection.’

‘We shall receive her in our house whenever she wishes to come. Do you agree to that?’

‘I don’t think that we can allow her to visit our house.’

‘So you will not have my mother in our house?’

‘I do not think it would be wise, Charlotte.’

‘Then if you cannot accept my mother I cannot accept you as my husband.’

He looked startled. But now she was in a truly militant mood. She had started and she was not going back.

‘When we are married, you will expect me to live in Holland, I suppose?’

‘For some part of the time, yes. It will be necessary.’

‘Then let me tell you at once that I have no intention of leaving England … ever. My place is here and here I shall stay.’

‘Your place is with your husband.’

‘That may be, but since my place is in England I will not marry a man whose place is not there also.’

‘Charlotte, what can you mean?’

‘I should have thought I had made it very clear. But I see I have not. I shall put it on paper. Yes, that is the best way. I shall write it. Then you will know that I mean what I say.’

A bewildered Prince of Orange drove away from Warwick House. Charlotte was extraordinary. Sometimes he wondered whether she was as mad as her mother was reputed to be.

Her Uncle Augustus, the Duke of Sussex, one of her favourite uncles, called to see her.

He had heard that all was not going well between her and Orange.

‘The plain fact is,’ said Charlotte, ‘that I don’t like him. We are not of a kind and I have no intention of leaving this country.’

Uncle Augustus applauded her decision. ‘Your father wants you out of the country, I fear. That’s why he’s so eager for the marriage. He doesn’t like your popularity and you know that he wants to divorce your mother so that he can get a son.’

She felt hurt and angry. She had begun to think that he had some affection for her, and it was all a pretence to get her married to William so that she would have to go to Holland.

‘I won’t leave the country,’ she said firmly.

‘You are right,’ he said. ‘You must not. Your whole future depends on your staying here. Why, if you went you could lose the Crown. You must stay, but at the same time don’t anger your father. I am worried about his health. It is not good, you know.’

How like Uncle Augustus – at one moment he was all for her, then he swayed to his brother. At one time he had married his Augusta and given up everything for her sake; but that did not last and he and Goosey were no longer together. It was their son Augustus d’Este who had gazed longingly at her. He was rather charming and Charlotte was sure he would have liked to marry her. But he was too much like his father and was not the man she would look up to as a husband. She wanted a strong man like F … or Leopold. How stupid to think of
him.
He was not strong. He had run away rather than face her father’s anger. What she wanted was a prince who would be prepared to live in England and be consort of the Queen; she would choose her own husband and if F offered for her and if it were possible, she would take him. Most willingly, she thought fiercely, and refused to think of that handsome young man who had made such an impression when he had handed her into her carriage at the Pulteney Hotel.