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‘Your Highness will acquire it.’

‘You are beginning to talk like my dearest Malmesbury. I hear my uncle the King is a good kind man. I love him already. Yet— I am afraid Rosenzweig— very much afraid.’

The gay mood had passed and Caroline’s expression reflected her melancholy. ‘I esteem and respect the Prince of Wales, but I cannot love him with ardour yet, can I?’

‘You will not be expected to. That will grow.’

‘Dear, dear Malmesbury, for you sound just like him!’

She stood up and drawing herself to her full height clasped her hands together and tried to draw her features into an expression resembling Lord Malmesbury’s.

She said in a voice which was a fair imitation of his: Your Highness cannot be expected to feel passion as yet, but that will come. That will come. And you will in due course— but in due course, Your Highness, have your ten children. ‘Ah, but I should not poke fun at his dear lordship, should I, for I love that man. I do really. Ah, if he were but my Prince of Wales— But he is a little old, and perhaps he would not be able to give me those children— not all ten of them.’

‘Your Highness!’

‘Yes, yes. I will try. You see, Rosenzweig, while I am not averse to my marriage, I think I am indifferent to it. I shall try to be happy, but my joy will not be enthusiastic. I once loved a man. Did you ever hear of Major von Töbingen?

But they took him away from me. How happy we might have been! But they sent him away. He was there— and then he was gone. He was not good enough, they said. He was only a Major, and I am a princess. Princesses must marry princes— more’s the pity. Oh God help me, Rosenzweig, it is my Major whom I want.’

Mademoiselle Rosenzweig was alarmed; she feared the Princess was going to have one of those hysterical fits of which she had heard.

‘Your Highness, I beg of you, do not say such things. If it were to come to the ears of my Lord Malmesbury he might feel it his duty to report it to the King of England.’

‘Let him. Let them bring back Major von Töbingen. Let them give him to me — and I will gladly hand them back their Prince of Wales.’

‘Your Highness, Madam, you are not thinking what you are saying.’

Caroline was silent for a few moments; then she said sadly, ‘No. I am not, am I; and I must. All the time I have to think. I have to remember what I have been told. I must not do this. I must do that. Oh, you, my dearest secretary, will be kind to me, won’t you? You will listen to my ravings, Won’t you? You will let me talk to you sometimes of my darling Major if I feel that if I do not I shall go mad— mad— mad—’

‘Hush, Your Highness! Hush!’

Caroline threw herself against her secretary and dung to her. Mademoiselle Rosenzweig soothed her. ‘It will be all right. I shall be there with you. You can tell me whenever you wish and whatever you wish. It shall be our secret. No one else shall know that we talk of these things.’

‘I will tell you how I loved him. How we planned to marry. I gave him an amethyst pin and he wore it always. He said that when he died it should be buried with him. He loved me— oh, he loved me.’

They were silent for a while and then Caroline said: ‘But I must do my duty must I not? Dearest Lord Malmesbury would tell me so. He is anxious that everything should go without a hitch and I must please him, must I not? So, dear Rosenzweig, I shall endeavour to study the English language and I shall in time speak it fluently. I shall do all. I can to make my husband happy.’

‘That is wisely spoken, Princess.’

‘I shall try to please him. I shall try to interest him in my favour, for the Fates have decided, have they not, that I am to be Princess of Wales.’

A few days later Major Hislop arrived at the Court of Brunswick.

He brought letters from the Prince which expressed His Highness’s urgent desire to see his prospective bride in England. For Caroline there was a portrait of the Prince.

She ran with it to her bedroom and summoned Mademoiselle Rosenzweig.

‘Look,’ she cried. ‘He must be the most handsome man on Barth. Tell me, my dear, did you ever see one more handsome?’

‘I never did.’ declared the secretary.

‘Look at that beautiful hair. Look at his blue eyes. And the star on his coat.

Do you think that is velvet or very fine cloth? And what a beautiful shade of blue.

My bridegroom is a very exquisite gentleman, is he not?’

Mademoiselle Rosenzweig said that she had always heard that the Prince was very handsome.

‘He is the Prince of princes,’ said Caroline.

She kept the picture by her bed so that ‘the first thing I see upon opening my eyes is my Prince beside me’. Then she laughed for she saw that Mademoiselle Rosenzweig thought that a rather improper remark for a woman to make before her wedding.

But she was often discovered examining the picture; and after receiving it she seemed to grow more and more reconciled to the marriage.

A few days later the proxy marriage took place. A royal carriage drove Malmesbury from his palace to that of the Duke and the ceremony began. The Duchess was weeping throughout; the Duke looked stern but anxious; but Caroline, though pale, gave her responses in a firm voice.

In half an hour it was over and Caroline was declared Princess of Wales. The party drove to the palace of the Duke’s mother, the Dowager Duchess, where a banquet was waiting for them.

Malmesbury was relieved. His duty towards his royal masters was accomplished. But he could not rid himself of the feeling that he had a duty towards the new Princess of Wales. He saw her as a forlorn creature doomed to tragedy and partly because he believed her to be the most unsuitable wife that could have been chosen for the Prince of Wales he felt an irresistible urge to help her.

The following day the marriage treaty was drawn up in French and Latin and the signatures of all concerned added to it.

Now, thought Malmesbury, the time has come for us to leave for England. The Duchess took the first opportunity of speaking to him.

‘I hope,’ she said, ‘that the journey will not be long delayed. I shall not be happy until I know that my daughter has taken her marriage vows with the Prince beside her’

‘The weather is somewhat inclement for sea travel,’ Malmesbury pointed out.

At the back of his mind was a thought that if they waited until January and February were over Caroline would have time to improve her English and her manners.

‘December is not so bad,’ declared the Duchess. ‘It is January, February— and the March winds which are intolerable. I think that you should start out now.’

‘I cannot make those arrangements until I receive the instructions to do so from my king,’ Malmesbury pointed out.

The Duke had a different attitude.

‘I do not wish my daughter to embark on the seas until I hear that an English fleet has arrived to conduct her to England,’ he said.

‘There is nothing to be done until I have those instructions, sir,’ replied Malmesbury. I expect them at any time now.’

‘We will await them.’ said the Duke; ‘and in the meantime such a marriage should be celebrated with rejoicing.’

So there were the banquets and balls and visits to the Opera— which occasions gave Malmesbury many opportunities of conversation not only with the Duke, the Duchess and Madame de Hertzfeldt, but with Caroline herself.

He took one of those opportunities at a masquerade which was being held at the Opera House.

He had been turning over in his mind how he could warn her of what was in store for her without betraying his acute anxieties and make his meaning plain to her without stepping too far outside the language of diplomacy. For instance, how could he possibly advise her to pay more attention to her personal toilette?