The Queen did not know. She wanted to soothe him, to stop him talking too rapidly. She knew her son well enough to realize that if his father tried to direct his actions he would be more rebellious than ever.
And as the King walked up and down murmuring half sentences to himself she was more concerned for him than for her son. Loving young George she believed that there was nothing really wrong with him. He was a little wild, it was true. But he would grow out of that. The fact was that he was so attractive that he could not help being the centre of attraction, but he would settle down.
She was a little worried about the play actress, though. That was the woman who had made a scene at the Oratorio when George had attracted so much attention by staring at her.
She sighed. But young men would be young men and until they found a wife for him he must she supposed have a mistress.
She wished though that he would choose some good quiet young woman – someone at Kew so that he could call and see his mother often – and perhaps confide in her.
She had to prevent the King becoming too excited and she said something of this to him.
‘Young men will be young men. They must not be judged too harshly.’
And oddly enough this did seem to soothe. Then she suggested a little walk or a drive in the carriage round ‘dear little Kew which I know Your Majesty loves as much as I do.’
This was indeed a success, for he agreed to go. It was so pleasant riding in Kew, for the place was like a little village with the houses round the Green which were occupied by the children’s governesses and tutors, the ladies-in-waiting, doctors and gardeners. ‘Dear little Kew,’ murmured the Queen; and the King echoed her sentiments, for to him this little world seemed far from the ceremonies of St James’s or Buckingham House; and here George was the Squire – the benevolent landlord, beloved of his tenants. Farmer George, in fact, who delighted in the people who came out of their cottages to curtsey and pull a forelock as he and the Queen rode by.
The river flowed peacefully by and there on Strand-on-the-Green the Queen saw Mrs Papendieck about to go into the painter Zoffany’s house where she had lodgings, but when she heard the royal carriage she turned and curtsied; the King raised his hat and inclined his head. He liked Mrs Papendieck and Charlotte could see that he was forgetting his troubles momentarily, as she had intended he should.
The Queen thought a great deal about the play actress, trying to remember what she looked like. She recalled the performance of The Winter’s Tale in which the woman had played Perdita. What a pity they had ever gone to see that play! But then they would have seen something else and it would probably have been another play actress.
If only he could have found a nice lady – not an actress. There had been Mary Hamilton to whom he had been devoted and had written charming letters and looked upon as a sister. And that had taken him often to his sister’s apartments and no one could say that wasn’t a good thing! But a play actress! Suppose he had fallen in love with someone in the Queen’s household and it was all very discreet. The Prince would visit his mother often – and that could do nothing but good.
How pleasant if he would break this association with the play actress and find a kind, clever and above all discreet lady in his mother’s household.
At the Queen’s robing Madam von Schwellenburg was ordering the women to do this and that in her hectoring manner.
Charlotte had been helped on with her gown and her powdering robe was being put about her. While her hair was being dressed she read the newspapers and looked for references to the Prince and Mrs Perdita Robinson. She always tried to keep these from the King.
She was well aware that her women discussed this matter; in fact she believed that the whole Court was discussing it.
Perhaps she should ask Schwellenburg. Not that she wanted to talk of it, but at least Schwellenburg was German and she would be honest. She never chose her words with much care and would be as outspoken to the Queen as to anyone else.
While her hair was curled and crimped she was thinking of the women of her household. It would have to be someone young and there was no one young. It would have to be someone beautiful and there was no one really beautiful … at least not that a young boy of eighteen would think so; and most important of all discreet. The trouble was that people who possessed youth rarely had discretion and vice versa.
Should she speak of the matter to the King? She imagined his dismay at the thought of providing a mistress for his son. She wondered at herself. But she was desperate; and she proved in the past that, docile as she might seem, when she was determined she could act boldly.
She wanted to save the Prince from folly and the King from anxiety and surely it was worth while stepping outside one’s usual moral code to do that?
The thought of intrigue was exciting. This was one of the rare times in her married life when she was not pregnant. And the King had agreed with her that in view of the fact that Alfred was their fourteenth and that neither he nor Octavius were as strong as the others, perhaps the time had come to call a halt to child-bearing.
Just suppose she were successful in finding the right sort of woman who would lead the Prince away from his wicked uncle and bring him back into the family circle? Whatever means were necessary, the result would justify them.
She decided that she would choose an opportunity to speak to Schwellenburg to discover what was being said among the women; and she might even find out through her if there were any women of the household who combined enough beauty to please the Prince and enough discretion to satisfy his mother.
Madam von Schwellenburg was in her room surrounded by her caged toads when Madam Haggerdorn came to tell her that the Queen requested her presence.
Before obeying the summons she insisted on Madame Haggerdorn’s witnessing the cleverness of her favourite toad by tapping on his cage with her snuff box.
‘He know. He know,’ she cried animatedly. ‘Listen … see, he croak. You hear?’
Madam Haggerdorn said it was a wonderful performance, for like everyone else in the Queen’s household she was afraid of offending Schwellenburg. The woman was heartily disliked; the King had made two mild attempts to have her sent back to Germany; but for some reason the Queen – although she herself did not greatly care for the woman – had insisted that she stay; and because the King was determined to keep his wife out of important affairs he conceded her complete sway in her own household. Consequently Schwellenburg remained, growing more objectionable and arrogant every week.
Schwellenburg’s repulsive face was softened by her affection for the animals – the only living creatures who could soften her; and Haggerdorn reminded her that the Queen was waiting.
‘Go when want,’ said Schwellenburg and deliberately went on tapping the cages and listening ecstatically to the croaking of her pets.
When Haggerdorn had left, with a studied leisureliness, Schwellenburg made her way to the Queen’s apartments.
Charlotte was alone and invited her Mistress of the Robes to be seated.