The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (56 page)

But when the day came her doctors advised her that it would be unwise for her to attend.

She was petulant. ‘But this,’ she said, ‘is the marriage of my dear old aunt. I must go.’

The doctors shook their heads.

‘I
shall
go!’ she declared.

Leopold, who was present, quietly signed to the doctors to leave.

‘My dearest,’ he said when they were alone, ‘you should obey the doctors.’

‘I feel very well and I must go to Mary’s wedding … if I don’t she will think it is because I still have a fancy for Silly Billy.’ That made her laugh that loud laugh which always made Leopold wince a little.

Then she told him, with much laughter, of how when they had been trying to force her on Orange she had pretended she would have Gloucester instead.

‘So you see, dearest Leo, I must go to this wedding.’

‘I do not see that it is necessary.’

‘Oh, my darling sober old Doucement, you must allow me to know best about my own family.’

‘But, dearest Charlotte, I do not accept that you know the state of your health better than the doctors.’

‘A lot of old women! I am going in any case. Poor Mary, she has waited years and years for this. When she came yesterday she described her wedding dress to me. It’s very fine … as fine as mine and very like it, too. Silver tissues and scalloped lamé and Brussels point lace. Her headdress is diamonds, too. She will look quite lovely, in spite of her age. Poor old girl! And I am sure Silly Billy will be proud of her.’

Leopold coughed lightly – a sign of disapproval. ‘Charlotte, you should not talk of our royal kinsmen in this way.’

‘Oh, but I do, Leo darling, and as you have discovered I do a great deal that I should not. I always have.’

‘There is no reason why you should continue to perform these not very admirable acts.’

‘Leo, darling, I love the way you talk … as though you are addressing the House of Commons instead of your adoring wife.’

‘I am not sure that she does adore me.’

‘Leo, how can you utter such perfidy!’

‘She does not please me.’

‘How can you say that? Ah, I know what it is. You have another woman. Did I see you glancing admiringly at Wellington’s sister-in-law?’

‘You are being foolish now. She is an old woman nearly twenty years older than I.’

‘That’s no reason why you shouldn’t admire her. Papa always likes mature women. Perhaps princes do. Oh, Leopold, am I too
young
for you?’

‘Sometimes I think this inconsequential behaviour may be due to youth.’

She was angry suddenly. Was it true that he had liked Wellington’s sister-in-law? Oh, she couldn’t bear it! And she
must
go to Mary’s wedding. How could she possibly not see her poor old aunt, after waiting all these years, married to solemn old Silly Billy! She could imagine herself in Mary’s place for although she had not been serious, some people had thought she was.

‘I am going to Mary’s wedding,’ she said coldly.

Leopold stood up, clicked his heels, bowed and departed.

The first quarrel. She could not endure it. Leopold was displeased with her. He had never before looked at her so coldly.

Yet if I wish to go, I’ll go, she told herself. He must remember that even though he is my husband
I
shall be the Queen of England and he merely my Consort.

What should she wear for the wedding? A very special dress. Gold lamé – no longer silver because now she was a married woman.

But there was no comfort in thinking of her dress, no comfort in making Leopold realize that she would have her own way. In fact, she did not want her own way. In her heart she knew that she only wished to please Leopold.

Yet, I must remember that one day I shall be Queen and he must remember it too.

What a miserable day! He avoided her; and when she saw him in the presence of others he seemed aloof.

He was right, of course. The doctors had said she should not go. How foolish she was and how disappointed Leopold must be in her.

She called to one of her women: ‘Go and tell … go and
ask
the Prince of Saxe-Coburg if he will come to me here … as soon as he finds it convenient to do so.’

He was with her almost immediately.

‘Charlotte.’

‘Oh, Leo … dearest Doucement, how stupid I am! How right you were to let me know it. What can I say? I shall not go to Mary’s wedding. It would be such folly. Oh, Leopold, can you forgive me for my stupid ways?’

Leopold could and did.

He was grave and tender. He loved his dearest Charlotte more than ever; he admired her courage in admitting that she was wrong. He was so proud of her.

‘Then it is as it was … before? Oh, Leopold, that makes me so happy. I was thinking this … this difference between us Was going on and on and that nothing would ever be the same again.’

‘We must never allow differences to go on and on.’

‘We must never allow differences, dearest Leopold.’

He smiled his grave judicious smile. ‘They might occur, but let us make a vow now that we will never let the sun set on any misunderstanding … however small.’

‘Oh, do let us do that,’ she said, and they took their solemn vow.

So Charlotte did not attend the Princess Mary’s wedding to the Duke of Gloucester.

Claremont was the perfect setting for her idyllic marriage, Charlotte decided. Here she and Leopold could shut themselves away from the world and live, as she called it, like simple folk.

She wanted to live quietly, in a domestic fashion, she told Leopold. She wanted to know what went on in her household – like any housewife. He smiled indulgently. She was becoming more docile every day.

They had both loved Claremont from the moment they had seen it. The situation in the beautiful vale of Esher was perfect. The Earl of Clare had bought the estate from Sir John Vanbrugh and built this house on it, giving it his name. When Charlotte had first seen it she had run excitedly up the thirteen steps of the entrance. She had fondly touched the Corinthian pillars which held up the pediment, and she had known, she told Leopold in her impulsive way, that she had come home.

There were eight very large rooms on the ground floor and she had run through them delightedly. She felt like an ordinary housewife, she told her husband, choosing the home in which she was to bring up her family.

Leopold had restrained her in his usual tender way. She should be happy in her home of course, but it was not wise for the future Queen of England to think too frequently of herself as an ordinary housewife.

‘Nor an important prince as an ordinary husband,’ she went on. ‘And indeed you are not that. You are the best husband in the world.’

Then she was throwing her arms about him, kissing him there in the drawing room of Claremont where anyone could have seen.

She laughed at him indulgently. How she enjoyed teasing him!

Claremont, she thought, is the most lovely house in the world because no one has ever been as happy as I am going to be in it.

She loved the half-mile drive and the first sight of the house on a slight incline, she loved the island on the lake immediately inside the drive; she loved the old woman who lived in the lodge and who had been so terrified when she knew the Princess was coming to Claremont because she feared that she would be turned out. Charlotte had gone in person to reassure her, and when she discovered that she took pupils to help to keep herself and her blind husband, Charlotte’s heart was touched.

‘You will find me your friend,’ she declared, ‘and you shall remain here as long as you wish. It pleases me to see you so devoted to your afflicted husband.’

They were the happiest days of her life, she declared; even happier than those of the honeymoon.
Then
she had had to learn so much. Now she promised herself, she had learned.

She and Leopold were happy at Claremont. They lived as simply as possible. Charlotte drove about the countryside, interested herself in the people and was delighted when it was possible to bring some comfort to her poor neighbours. She even went to the kitchens and concerned herself with the buying and cooking of food.

Most of all she enjoyed looking after Leopold. He was amused by her fussing. She insisted on airing his linen. ‘How otherwise do I know it is properly aired?’ she demanded. ‘And do not forget when you first arrived you had that dreadful rheumatism!’ She herself would test the hot water which was
brought for his bath, and very often when he went out shooting with the members of his household she would prepare the food he would have on his return. She took a great delight in combing his hair.

One could not of course live the simple life all the time. There were visitors from London including the Regent himself.

‘But,’ said Charlotte, ‘having had our ceremonies it makes me return all the more gleefully to the simple life.’

And soon she was happier still; for she discovered that she was to have a child.

‘This time,’ said Leopold, ‘we must make sure that nothing goes wrong.’

He lifted a warning finger, which she seized and bit – just to shock him a little and to amuse him too. For however he tried to change her, she reminded him, she would remain Charlotte, the impulsive hoyden.

He pretended to sigh and murmured: ‘I suppose it is so.’

She could not resist writing to Mercer now and then, for after all it was a habit of years; and Leopold had not said it would displease him if she wrote.

Poor Mercer, who was married to that dreadful Comte de Flahault, could not enjoy this bliss.

‘This marriage makes my whole happiness,’ she wrote, and happily she signed herself Charlotte Coburg.

The end

ALL WAS IN
readiness. Soon, thought Charlotte, my baby will be born. She hoped for a son … a son for England. But did she really care? This would be the ultimate happiness, her own child; she, the young Princess, to be a mother.

‘I can scarcely wait for the day,’ she told Leopold.

‘Patience!’ he warned, and that made her laugh aloud.

‘Really, how
can
one be patient at such a time?’

‘One not only can but one must,’ was the answer.

Dearest Leopold! Right as usual!

The baby’s layette was folded and lay in readiness in the drawers, delicately scented; she took out the little garments and folded them again. Sir Richard Croft the well-known
accoucheur
was to be in attendance with Dr Baillie, one of the most important doctors in England.

Leopold said that he was going to have his own physician, Dr Stockmar, at hand in case he should be needed. Leopold had a great faith in Stockmar and Charlotte liked him; she had had many a conversation with him during the preceding months and she had been amused at first because she sensed his disapproval of her boisterous ways. His stern Germanic ideals, so like Leopold’s, made him look for more modesty in a woman, even though she was a princess. But in time dear Stocky as she called him had succumbed to her charms and was now one of her ardent admirers.

‘He can look after
you,
dearest Doucement,’ she announced. ‘For I do declare that from the fluster you are sometimes in over this affair it would seem that it is your ordeal rather than mine.’

In addition to the doctors there was to be Mrs Griffiths – an excellent nurse recommended by the doctors.

‘And so,’ sighed Charlotte, ‘all we can do now is wait, patiently if possible and if not … well, as you so rightly point out, my dearest, wait in any case.’

The Queen called at Claremont. She said she wished to assure herself that all was well with her dearest granddaughter.

Charlotte sat with her in the drawing room overlooking the Park and the Queen talked of confinements of which, Charlotte conceded, she must be very knowledgeable, having given birth to fifteen children.

‘You have the best possible doctors,’ said the Queen, ‘and Griffiths is excellent. I have made absolutely sure that you are in good hands.’

‘I feel very cherished, Your Majesty.’

‘It is a very important occasion. The child you are to bear will one day be a king or queen of England.’

‘It’s a sobering thought, Grandmamma.’

‘I am glad,’ commented the Queen, with a touch of asperity, ‘to see you serious.’

‘I have changed. Grandmamma.’

‘I am glad to hear it. I shall go to Bath very relieved.’

‘And I shall pray that the waters have the desired effect and you will come back in much better health.’

‘If the great event should occur I shall return immediately. We have taken three houses at Sydney Place near the Parade. Elizabeth is coming with me and will be such a comfort. But I am going to insist that Sir Richard Croft moves in to Claremont House without delay. Griffiths too.’

‘We could get them here in a very short time, Grandmamma.’

‘No doubt. No doubt. But I prefer them to
be
here and I have given orders that it shall be. They will arrive tomorrow.’

The autocratic old Begum! thought Charlotte almost tenderly.

Becoming a mother made one see other people in a different light. Or perhaps she did not care any more that she was treated like a child, who could not make her own decisions.

All she cared about was Leopold and the child that was soon to be born.

She was glad that Mrs Griffiths had come for she took an immediate liking to her. The nurse was respectful yet firm and she cared passionately for babies and would talk about them by the hour.

She told Charlotte what to expect when the pains started, and trusted that the labour would be over quickly.

‘Don’t worry,’ laughed Charlotte. ‘I promise not to bawl or shriek.’

Mrs Griffiths said: ‘Your Highness will have the very best of doctors and that is a mighty relief.’

And every day they waited for the pains to start; in the stables the horses were ready and the grooms were on the alert so that the news that the birth was imminent could be carried round to those who should be present on this important occasion.

The days began to pass. Charlotte grew larger but there was no sign of the birth.