Caroline was not very pleased at the thought of having her mother living in England but she saw that she must receive her graciously. Her brother also was in exile since he had been driven from his country by the invader, so he too just come to England.
It was a dreary prospect, but there was nothing to be done but bow to it. The royal family made no effort to welcome their relations so Caroline put Montague House at her mother’s disposal while she herself remained in Kensington Palace.
This was a hardship because the unconventional life she could lead in Blackheath was more to her taste than that in Kensington.
The King, though, was a family man, and he was sorry rot, his sister who chattered incessantly and talked of the changes in England since she had left and all that she had suffered in Brunswick. And eventually he took pity on Caroline and gave the Duchess a house in Spring Gardens.
It was by no means grand but the Duchess contrived to make it so; and she would sit in the dingy rooms as though in a palace and receive, for now she had returned to England she was very conscious of her royalty and wished everyone else to be so too.
Caroline ran through Montague House declaring how good it was to be back.
‘Poor Mamma!’ she said to that diligent recorder Lady Charlotte. ‘I believe she is so happy to be here. It reminds her of the old days when she was Princess Royal. And her little Court there in Spring Gardens— it is sad, don’t you think Lady Charlotte? Court! I call it a Dullification. I have rarely been so bored as at dear Mamma’s Spring Garden Court. Ah, you are thinking how sad it is that she has been driven from her home but perhaps it is not so sad as you think. She always had to take second place, you know, when my father was alive. Madame de Hertzfeldt, his mistress, was the power in the land. Dear Lady Charlotte, you always tempt me to shock you because you are so easily shocked. Never mind. I like you. You are my dear friend, my angel, and we shall entertain now. I confess I am eager to fill this place with people who make me laugh.’
So she planned parties with amusing people and ran shrieking among her guests playing Blind Man’s Buff, a game which had always been a favourite of hers.
One day the King called. As soon as she saw him, Caroline thought he looked strange. He kept telling her how pleased he was to see her, that she was a beautiful woman and constantly in his thoughts.
It was pleasant to be back on the old terms of affection which had been interrupted by the Delicate Investigation; and she told him how happy she was.
‘Ah,’ he said almost roguishly. ‘I believe you love your old uncle.’
But indeed I do. No one has been kinder to me. Why I do not know what I should have done without your friendship, for I have had little from the rest of the family.’
‘Let us sit down,’ he said and drew her on to a sofa.
She was alarmed, for his manner had become stranger and he called her Elizabeth. Then he talked incoherently of his love for her and what he would do for her and how she was in fact his Queen.
Caroline realized that his mind was wandering and when he fell on her she rolled off the sofa and ran out of the room. She stood at the door listening and peeping in she saw him sitting on the sofa, his head in his hands.
Poor Uncle George! she thought. He mistook me for someone else. He is truly going mad. She went back into the room and when he looked up she realized that he had no remembrance of what had happened. ‘It is good of Your Majesty to call on me,’ she said.
He stood up and as he approached, she curtsied.
He said: ‘I should like to see a reconciliation. It’s not good, eh, what? The Prince of Wales and his wife living apart— not together. It’s wrong. You understand that, eh, what?’
She said she did understand but it was the wish of the Prince of Wales and nothing could alter that.
When he had left she was depressed thinking of him.
He is close to the brink now, she thought. And if I lost him I wouldn’t have a friend at Court.
There was always scandal circulating round the royal family and the King lived in perpetual fear of some fresh exposure. He could not understand why his sons should have this habit for creating trouble. It made him all the more determined to see that his daughters had no chance of doing so. He was glad there were no marriages for them. Only the Princess Royal had achieved it and she appeared to be living quietly with her husband. No husbands for the others, he had told himself grimly. They shall be kept here— under my eye and that of their mother. The Prince of Wales was creating fresh scandal with Lady Hertford— another of his famous grandmothers. Not content with refusing to live with the Princess of Wales he had returned to Mrs. Fitzherbert— a good woman and a beautiful one who should have been enough for anyone. But no, now it was Lady Hertford and God alone knew what fresh trouble was in store there.
And he was so anxious about Amelia, his youngest, his favourite, his darling.
He used to tell himself that no matter what trouble the others caused him there was always Amelia.
But even she caused him anxiety for she grew more wan every day. She had developed a lameness in her knee which he knew gave her great pain.
He would weep when he saw her and embrace her covering her face with kisses.
‘Your Papa feels the pain with you, my darling. You, understand that, eh, what?’
And she would nod and tell him: ‘But it is not such had pain, Papa,’ just for the sake of comforting him. His angel, his darling! How different from his sons.
The sea bathing at Worthing had done her good but only for a time. And he had to face the fact that as the months passed she grew no better.
She was his little invalid. He asked after her continually. ‘She is better today, Your Majesty,’ they would tell him; and he believed that they told him so on the Queen’s orders, for the Queen was determined that the King must not be upset.
His eyes were failing and he would put his face close to hers trying to tell himself that she looked a little better than when he last saw her; and whenever he asked her, she would always say, ‘Much better, Papa. Much, much better.’ And perhaps add: ‘I took a little walk in the gardens today.’
So even the best of his children gave him cause to worry. In spite of his expectations, trouble came from an unsuspected quarter.
The Prime Minister, Lord Portland, came to see him on a grave matter.
‘It concerns the Duke of York, Your Majesty, and a certain Mary Anne Clarke.’
‘Mary Anne Clarke!’ He had never heard of the woman. And Frederick couldn’t have made one of those marriages his sons were fond of making because he was married already. ‘Who is this woman?’
‘A woman, Your Majesty, of dubious character.’
‘ H’m. And what is the trouble, eh, what?’
‘A question has been raised in the House of Commons, sir, by a Colonel Wardle. He brings a charge against the Duke for wrong use of military patronage which as Commander in Chief of the Army he has been in a position to carry out.’
‘And what has this— woman to do with it?’
‘She is the Duke’s mistress, Your Majesty, and has been selling promotions which she has persuaded the Duke to give.’
‘Oh, God,’ cried the King. ‘What next?’
The Prime Minister said that he feared a great scandal as the House was insisting on an enquiry which would of course expose the Duke’s intrigue with this not very reputable young woman and would— if the charges were proved— result in his being expelled from the Army.