The change in him was miraculous. She thought: If he could be shut away from State affairs and his troublesome sons, he could be a happy family man. He should be concerned with only small matters. Poor George, to have been born heir to a crown!
"I am eager to hear," he told her.
"Do you remember the authoress we met at dear Mrs. Delaney's ... the famous Miss Burney? I was thinking of giving the place to her."
The King's face lit up with pleasure. "Dear Mrs. Delaney," he said. "I remember well."
That was a pleasant memory. He had set Mrs. Delaney up in a house close to Windsor Lodge; he had supplied all the furniture himself and had even seen to the stocking of the kitchen cupboards. She remembered his great glee when he brought Mrs. Delaney to see it and tears of pleasure now came into his eyes at the memory.
"Miss Burney," said the King. "A very clever young lady, so they tell me."
"There can be no doubt that she is clever. I should like to hear her read her own books. We are in need of a reader and it seems to me an excellent plan to have a famous authoress in the household."
The King was nodding. Such a pleasant encounter. Miss Burney had been so overcome by royal condescension and both he and the Queen had talked to her of her books.
"Yes, yes, yes," went on the King. "I think you should give the place to Miss Burney."
It was ten o'clock on a hot July morning when the carriage containing Miss Burney and her father left St. Martin's Street for Windsor. Dr. Burney was delighted with this honour bestowed on his daughter; Fanny herself was less certain.
What was she, a famous novelist, the darling of London literary society, accustomed to enlightened conversation, going to do in what she knew must be the stultified atmosphere of the royal household?
Perhaps it was not such a fortunate day when she had gone to stay with Mrs. Delaney and had made the acquaintance of the King and Queen. Who would have thought from that meeting that this would have happened?
But one did not apparently decline what was undoubtedly looked upon as an honour.
Oh dear, thought Fanny, there is nothing to be done but submit.
And she thought of the Queen—the squat ugly little woman with the German accent; and the big alarming King with those fierce eyebrows and that disconcerting habit of shooting questions at one which perhaps did not need an answer. "Eh, eh? What, what?" And speaking so quickly that if one were a little nervous—and who would not be speaking to the King?—one just could not understand what he was talking about.
But Father, dear Father, was delighted; and so were the family. She could imagine them all boasting: "Fanny, you know our famous Fanny, is now in the royal household, on terms—but the most familiar terms—with Her Majesty the Queen."
Dr. Burney was now looking as pleased as though he were taking his bow on a concert platform after the most successful performance of his career.
How, Fanny asked herself, in these circumstances, can I reveal my true feelings?
Her eyes rested on her bag. In that were her clothes which she was sure would be most unsuitable. She had no feeling for clothes and never would have. But in that bag was her diary and that should be her comfort, her solace, and in it she would write frankly of her feelings and impressions; she would also write to her sister Susan. Yes, whatever alarms and discomforts, she would always be able to write.
Dr. Burney was talking of the King with respectful awe. The King, whatever people might say of him, loved music, so Fanny should hear some good music in the royal household. There were concerts every night.
Yes, I know, thought Fanny. But what conversation will there be?
She thought of the old days when she had listened to dear Dr. Johnson and James Boswell and Mrs. Thrale.
Oh dear, thought Fanny, I feel like a nun about to be incarcerated in a monastery—or a bride who is going to a husband who is a stranger to her. Thus must the poor Queen have felt when she came here from Mecklenburg-Strelitz all those years ago. At least my plight is not as bad as hers. It is not for ever. Fanny giggled to herself. And I shall not be expected to bear the royal children.
Her father smiled at her. Fanny was realizing the honour which was hers.
They came into Windsor and there was the Castle—grand and imposing.
"You will not live in the Castle, of course," her father reminded her, "but in the Upper Lodge."
"Less imposing," said Fanny, and added hopefully: "But perhaps more comfortable."
The carriage had arrived at Mrs. Delaney's house and here they alighted. Mrs. Delaney welcomed them into her house, beaming with pleasure, for she regarded this appointment of Fanny's as her doing.
While the luggage was being taken out Mrs. Delaney sent a message to Upper Lodge to say that Miss Burney had arrived. Then Fanny, Dr. Burney and their hostess sat together in the little drawing room while Mrs. Delaney gave Fanny a grounding in Court etiquette.
" I am certain to do something wrong," declared Fanny. "I know it."
"My dear," said Mrs. Delaney, "you will find Her Majesty very kind."
"She will need to be," said Fanny grimly.
"Remember, my dear, that you are a famous novelist and that the Queen has enjoyed your books. In fact she is hoping that you will read them aloud to her and the Princesses."
"But you know my voice. It is low, and when I raise it it ... it squeaks. Oh, dear Mrs. Delaney, I shall be the most dismal failure." Fanny brightened. "But then I shall be dismissed and go home again. So perhaps that will not be such a bad thing."
"It is a good thing," said Dr. Burney, "that Her Majesty cannot hear you talking in this way."
A message was delivered at Mrs. Delaney's that the Queen had heard of the arrival of Dr. and Miss Burney and was ready to receive them.
"So," said Mrs. Delaney, "you may go and good luck go with you."
Fanny put her arm through her father's and they crossed the short distance between Mrs. Delaney's house and the Upper Lodge.
In the Queen's drawing room Her Majesty was seated, and standing beside her was a large and extremely ugly woman to whom Fanny took an immediate dislike.
Forward, thought Fanny, remembering Mrs. Delaney's instructions. Kneel, look suitably humble, do not speak until spoken to.
"Dr. Burney ... Miss Burney."
The Queen was smiling. "It gives nic great pleasure to sec you. Miss Burney, we hope you are going to be happy with us."
"Your Majesty is very gracious," murmured Fanny.
Dr. Burney, at ease, said something about his daughter's being overcome by the honour done to her.
"It is delightful to have a novelist with us who has given such pleasure with her books," said the Queen. "This is my Keeper of the Robes. She will tell you what your duties will be. Schwellenburg, pray take Miss Burney to her apartments. I daresay she is a little tired and perhaps would like to rest before she begins her duties."
The cue to depart, thought Fanny, her spirits which were never downcast for long, beginning to rise.
She walked out backwards—a necessary procedure, Mrs. Delancy had told her, and a most awkward one, Fanny decided. Oh dear, I'm sure I shall trip and if I have to wear high heels how shall I manage it?
At last the door had shut and she was able to walk naturally.
She smiled up at the grim face of Madam von Schwellenburg and thought it extremely unpleasant.
"This vay com," were the words which came from that excessively ugly mouth.
I do not think, thought Fanny, as she was led to her apartments, that I underestimated the trials of life in the royal household.
Fanny's apartments were on the ground floor of the Queen's Lodge. She had a drawing room, which gave her a view of the Round Tower and a small bedroom which looked out on a garden. Not exactly commodious, she thought, but adequate. Less comforting was the door next to that of her drawing room which led up to the apartments of Madam von Schwellenburg.