Jean Plaidy
The Captive of Kensington Palace
Chapter I
THE ROYAL SISTERS
The Duchess of Kent seated at her bureau, her gown a mass of lace and ribbons, her hair piled high under her enormous feathered hat, was smiling with some complacency at her extremely handsome Comptroller of the Household, Sir John Conroy.
Such a treasure of a man! thought the Duchess. Dear Sir John. And if people liked to speak of them scandalously, let them. Heaven knew there were scandals enough in the family, and if she were a little more friendly with Sir John than his position made necessary, who could blame her? She was eight years widowed, still young and vital and even her enemies must admit decidedly attractive so surely it was to be expected. She might have married again on the death of her Duke, but that would have been most unwise. Her position was unique; she was no ordinary widow. She was the mother of the most important little girl in the Kingdom, a fact which she would never forget – nor allow anyone else to.
‘So the arrangements are completed,’ she said.
‘As we could wish, dear Duchess.’
‘My dear Sir John, everything you do is for our good, I know well.’
‘It is not only my duty, dear Madam, but my utmost pleasure to serve the interests of the family.’
‘Within a day or so the Prince will arrive. The Clarences are taking him as their guest.’ The Duchess grimaced. ‘Poor dear fellow. William is such a buffoon and Adelaide so dowdy. Still, she has a good heart, and of course she adores my darling Victoria.’
‘She wishes our Princess was hers. I see it in her eyes.’
‘But there is no malice in her … unlike some. As for William, he is a fool. God help England if ever … I really don’t think there is much to choose between them. His Majesty is either living in that odd way with Lady Conyngham at that ridiculous cottage of his in Windsor or like some Eastern potentate at the Pavilion or Carlton House. It is really shocking. It’s a state of affairs that can’t last.’
They exchanged glances. They shared an ambition to see the Duchess’s daughter Victoria on the throne and a Regency established; and of whom should that Regency consist but of the little Queen’s mother? And who would be her adviser, at her right hand to guide and care for her? Who but her handsome Comptroller of the Household, Sir John Conroy.
Sir John’s expression had become slightly apprehensive. His dear Duchess was a little indiscreet; she was apt to talk too loudly and too much; and although they conducted their conversation in German – the Duchess’s English was not always intelligible – there might be spies in the household.
‘I suppose when we speak of His Majesty and his brothers we should whisper,’ he suggested.
The Duchess nodded so vigorously that the enormous pale blue feather momentarily covered her right eye.
‘How right you are! And how clever to have made a friend of that woman, who is extremely vulgar. I really cannot understand His Majesty. He has always been said to have such exquisite taste.’
Sir John bent closer to the Duchess so that his mouth almost touched her ear.
‘His Majesty is failing fast. They say his eyesight has almost gone and he is so full of water that he is too heavy to walk and has on some days to be carried up and down stairs.’
‘He can’t last.’
‘And Clarence could be as unstable as his father.’
‘Poor George III. I never knew him. But what a tragedy! A mad King of England!’
‘The people won’t want another.’
‘Do you really think William …?’
‘They say that but for Adelaide he would have been in a strait-jacket by now.’
‘Adelaide is a far more significant person than people are led to believe.’
‘Your Grace speaks with your accustomed wisdom. If she were not so devoted to Victoria …’
‘She is devoted to all the children, but I believe she has a special feeling for Victoria.’
‘How could she help loving our plump little pet.’
‘Dear me! Such storms! She will have to be guided.’
‘Indeed yes … and with such a mother …’
She returned his fond glance. ‘Who is so fortunate to have such a faithful …’ She hesitated. She could not call him a servant. He was an extremely proud man. ‘… helper,’ she concluded. ‘And I was saying it was clever of you to have won the favour of that odious Lady Conyngham. It’s so helpful for knowing what is going on at Windsor … even though she is so vulgar.’
There was a glint in the Duchess’s eyes. Sir John did seem to be able to charm rather easily; and there was no doubt that he had made an impression on the King’s mistress. He must not alienate the Duchess because she was essential to his success. It was comforting, of course, to be on good terms with the King’s mistress but once the King was dead – and that could happen at any moment – Lady Conyngham’s power would be nonexistent. She was only useful as long as the King lived.
He said quickly: ‘Indeed, I have often wondered what His Majesty saw in her. The Princess Lieven said that she is at a loss to understand that too. All the lady has, so says that Princess, is a hand for taking jewels and a magnificent balcony on which to display them.’
‘He always liked those large-bosomed females … or almost always. Maria Fitzherbert was his ideal and she was almost as lavishly endowed – as far as balconies are concerned – as Conyngham.’
‘It is fortunate that she is friendly towards … us. It is so useful to be informed of the King’s intentions. And with Cumberland so close to him …’
The Duchess shivered. ‘That man. My God, he is evil. I tremble sometimes to think of him and what may be going on in his mind.’
‘Never forget that you have good friends who are ever watchful of your interests and would stop at nothing to further them.’
The Duchess was sober. He was forgiven his friendship with Lady Conyngham. Of course everything was permissible if it kept them informed of what was going on in the King’s household.
‘She was exceedingly helpful when we were at Windsor,’ went on Conroy, stressing the point. ‘Your Grace will remember how His Majesty laid speculative eyes on the Princess Feodora.’
‘I remember full well. Everyone noticed. He kept her at his side and it was clear what was in his mind. Even Victoria said that she thought he liked Feodora better than he liked herself and that he wanted to marry her.’ The Duchess smiled fondly. ‘That child is too precocious.’
‘She is certainly bright but in need of control as we have agreed.’
‘She shall be controlled. But in spite of her storms and waywardness I am proud of her.’
‘Justly so, Duchess.’
‘And proud of my dearest Feodora, too.’
‘Your Grace should be justly proud of all your children.’
The girls, at least, thought Conroy. He was not sure of Charles, the young Prince of Leiningen, the Duchess’s son by her first marriage, who, he had heard, was expressing his desire – and more serious still, his intention – to marry a woman who was most unsuitable.
This was not the time to refer to the affairs of the young Prince of Leiningen; it was the Duchess’s two daughters with whom they must concern themselves. The constant concern being Victoria, the Duchess’s daughter by the Duke of Kent, fourth son of King George III.
Feodora, the Duchess’s daughter by her first marriage, was a delightful creature – twenty-one years old and a real beauty – as he believed their ‘plump little partridge’ Alexandrina Victoria would never be; and as a sister to the future Queen of England, Feodora was a very desirable parti.