She believed he would. For at heart, in spite of the gay and romantic life he led, George was kind; and while he wanted to enjoy his own life to the full and that was doubtless the main purpose in it, he did like to see those around him enjoying theirs. Whereas with Papa— boredom was synonymous with goodness.
Oh dear, what a life we lead! And I am nearly thirty and see no hope of escape. ‘Princess Royal, take the dog out.’ The Queen’s voice sounded severe. She should have noticed, of course. ‘And Gouly, your voice sounds tired. I think Miss Planta might care to read now. You may take over her sewing.’
When the Princess Royal returned to the apartment it was to find that a paroxysm of coughing had seized Amelia.
‘Pat her back,’ commanded the Queen, which Sophia who was nearest immediately did. ‘There, is that better?’
Amelia said it was. But a little later she began to cough again. She had got that nasty cough and it was a mild source of anxiety to the Queen. She would grow out of it, she told herself; but what did terrify her was that if the King should hear the child’s coughing, it would upset him so.
Amelia was now herself— small and dainty and very pretty. The word frail came into her mother’s mind. Oh, no, Amelia was well enough. If she could throw off that wretched cough— But she would and the most important thing of all was that the King should not hear it. If he did he would begin to fret; he would make something out of it. Nothing must touch his darling Amelia and he would remember that Octavius and Alfred had had unpleasant little coughs before they died.
‘Are you better now, Amelia?’ asked the Queen sternly.
‘Yes, Mamma.’
‘Don’t cough when you are with Papa. He does not like coughs.’
Amelia would do her best. It was a breach of etiquette in any case to cough or sneeze in the presence of royalty. The lady-in-waiting grew quite hilarious explaining the methods employed to stop a sneeze. The favourite one was to place the finger horizontally beneath the nose. That was if one felt it coming in time.
Coughing could be restrained more easily.
What silly rules! thought Princess Royal. How happy I should be if some prince offered for my hand. I should not let them refuse for me— not in any circumstances. Anything would be better than this boring life at Kew. It was time now for the Queen to retire to her apartments so she rose. The Princesses rose too and dropped their bows and curtsies as their mother passed out of the room.
She went to the King’s apartments and found him seated at his table poring over State papers. This was something she would not have dared do before his illness. Now she was in command for he recognized himself as a feeble old man who had once suffered a bout of madness; and the fear of its return was never far away.
He consulted her now. She and Pitt were the powerful ones. Although some would like to see the Prince and Fox in that position.
‘The Prince is now eager for the negotiations to go forward,’ said the King.
‘That is a good sign, eh; what?’
‘To Brunswick?’ said the Queen hastily.
‘To Brunswick. My sister will be pleased, I am sure.’
‘She should be. The daughter from an obscure little Court to become the wife of the heir to the Throne of England. Very pleased indeed.’
Charlotte remembered the excitement in as small a Court when the news had come to Mecklenburg-Strelitz that the Prince of Wales— now King of England and this poor man seated there at his table— had asked for her hand.
‘Very pleased. Keeping it in the family, eh, what? I’m relieved he is thinking of settling down at last. It’s not before it’s necessary either. Perhaps he’ll soon have children. That should sober him.’
‘If anything could sober him,’ retorted the Queen. ‘I am wondering if this Caroline is the best choice—’
‘There is only a choice of two— my niece or yours. And he has made that choice. It is to be mine.’
The Queen’s mouth tightened. He had done it to spite her. He had passed over beautiful intelligent Louise of Mecklenburg-Strelitz for the sake of this creature from Brunswick. And there was nothing she could do about it.
‘I am writing to Malmesbury at Hanover,’ said the King. ‘The time has come for him to go to Brunswick and there make the formal offer for the hand of Princess Caroline.’
So, thought the Queen, it is too late then. She remained with the King while the letter was written and sealed.
Then she left him and went to her own apartments. She thought of the Princess who would be coming to the Court; she imagined how gauche she would be, for had she herself not been exactly so on her arrival? The English Court was certain to be quite different from the poor little one of Brunswick. She herself had been very young— only seventeen and Caroline was twenty-seven, so she should at least be more mature. But was that a point in her favor? A young girl would have been easier to mould.
The Queen remembered those first weeks at her young husband’s court when one of her biggest enemies had been. her sister-in-law the Princess Augusta who had determined to make her life as unpleasant as possible. Waspish and angry, doubtless because she was unmarried, she had tried to make trouble between the new young Queen and her mother-in-law, the Dowager Princess of Wales, and the latter had been nothing loath, for she had meant to keep her hold on the King and not have it slackened by the young bride, Queen though she might be.
I hated my sister-in-law Augusta, thought the Queen now. Arrogant mischief-maker. How pleased I was when she married and went off to Brunswick. And once she had gone she was never welcomed back. Nor shall her daughter be, Charlotte promised herself . I already hate the creature.
The Prince of Wales looked up from his writing table and across St. James’s Park.
He then sighed and read through what he had written.
And I don’t mean a word of it, he said to himself, and taking his kerchief flicked it across his eyes. But it was a half-hearted gesture as there was no one there to witness it.
He quickly read through the letter. ‘Whichever way the Princess is to come, I am clear it should be determined on instantly—’
Instantly, he thought. That meant that in a few weeks she could be here.
‘The very thought of it makes me feel ill,’ he murmured. ‘Yet it has to be.
There is no other way out.’
When he was married an adequate allowance would be his. Even his father and Pitt could not deny him that. And his creditors were clamouring for payment now. He was so deeply in debt that he dared not calculate how deeply. He had always had debts from the time he had been old enough to accumulate them but never thought of them very seriously until the reckoning came. Parliament settled them. It was one of the duties of Parliament. How could they expect a Prince of Wales to live like a pauper?
They realized this but they did come along with their damned conditions and he had been obliged to give way and agree to marry this German woman; at one time it had seemed the reasonable and only solution, but the closer he came to it the more the idea sickened him.
Frances kept assuring him that all would be well. He would still have Frances, and she continued to fascinate him; but deep in his heart he wanted Maria— not urgently but rather to know that she was there in the background of his life, to return to again and again, to confess, to repent and to be forgiven. Only Maria could fill that need in his life; and in his heart he knew that Maria was the woman he loved, the woman he regarded as his wife and that that ceremony which had taken place ten years ago in Park Street was a true ceremony of marriage.