Jean Plaidy
The Regent’s Daughter
Father and daughter
‘THERE ARE WORSE people in the world than your snuffy old grandmother,’ said the Princess Charlotte, giving George Keppel a push with her elbow.
George said nothing. He was never quite sure of Charlotte. If he agreed with her too readily she would be angry. ‘You have no opinions of your own,’ she would say. ‘You think you have to a … agree with me.’ And when she stammered he knew she was really angry. ‘How shall I ever know what people are thinking if they always agree with me? Eh, George Keppel?’ And when she did not have her own way she would kick the furniture in a sudden rage; but these moods were often worth while because they were over quickly and then she would laugh and be anxious to make up for what she would call ‘a most regrettable display of my ill temper’. ‘Why don’t you tell me I’m an ill-tempered beast, George Keppel?’
Pretty Minney Seymour was a far more comfortable person, thought George Keppel.
The fact was that Charlotte was older than either of them; three years older than he was and about two older than Minney; and Charlotte was not only ten years old but the daughter of the Prince of Wales.
‘Never forget,’ said his grandmother, Lady de Clifford, the snuffy one to whom Charlotte had referred, ‘that Her Royal Highness could one day be your queen.’
It was difficult to imagine Charlotte a queen, though she could be rather an arrogant little girl. She was not dainty like Minney; she leaped about rather awkwardly; she had pale blue eyes, hardly any eyebrows and lashes, and a very white skin. If she had had some colour in her face she would have been pretty, for she was very animated. But she had a way of leaning to one side which was not very graceful. She certainly was not his idea of a queen.
George and Charlotte had called with Lady de Clifford at Tilney Street, for Lady de Clifford was a friend and near neighbour of Mrs Fitzherbert and it was only a short distance from Lady de Clifford’s house in South Audley Street to Mrs Fitzherbert’s in Tilney Street and how pleasant for Minney to have children of her own age – or near enough – to play with while the two ladies enjoyed a tête-à-tête in Mrs Fitzherbert’s drawing room.
The three children were at the window looking out on the street when Charlotte had made her remark; it was obvious the other two knew that this was a preliminary to some revelation. Charlotte had a deep sense of the dramatic.
She turned from the window and gave each of them a little push. This was a sign that window gazing was over and Charlotte was ready to talk.
‘Something is going to happen … soon,’ she said dramatically, and as Minney looked alarmed, went on impatiently: ‘It has nothing to do with you. I have heard nothing about your affair.’
‘I’m going to stay with dear Mamma?’ asked Minney fearfully.
‘She is not your Mamma, however much you wish she were,’ declared Charlotte. ‘So let us have truth, Minney, please.’
‘Yes,’ said Minney meekly, ‘but I do want to go on living here with Mamma … I mean Mrs Fitzherbert. But I know I shall. Prinney says I shall and he won’t let anything stop it.’
There was silence. Minney knew she should not have mentioned Prinney, who was Charlotte’s father but behaved more as though he were Minney’s. The complicated ways of adults were very difficult to understand and often caused misgivings to the young. Charlotte, who was always a little sad when Prinney was mentioned, was thinking of her father, that great and glittering personage of whom everyone whispered and for whose approval she longed. She remembered how when she was younger she had been received by him while he was at breakfast. There she had stood watching him, never failing to marvel at the wonder of his person: the colours of his cravat which lay in such elegant folds high about his neck so that she had the impression that his chin was trying to escape from it and that it would not let it; the pinkness of his face verging on red; and his pale blue eyes smiling at her kindly although they would rest only fleetingly on her. Her aim was to claim their attention and have them smile at her with love. He had a slightly turned-up nose which made her want to laugh and gave her pleasure because in some way it detracted from his great dignity and made him human; his tight buckskin breeches were so smooth and white and his legs in their fine stockings enormous, but most wonderful of all were the masses of curling hair from which came a faint but exquisite perfume; a few diamonds glittered on the whitest and most elegant of hands; this was the Prince of Wales, Charlotte’s Papa and Minney’s Prinney.
‘It is the law which will decide,’ said Charlotte quickly. ‘And that is right and how it should be.’
Minney looked hurt and George Keppel said reassuringly: ‘It’s going to be all right, Minney. No one’s going to take you from your Mamma.’
Charlotte shrugged her shoulders impatiently.
‘I was going to tell you something,’ she reminded them. ‘I have not been allowed to see my Mamma. Oh, it is all very well for them to say she is indisposed, but I know that not to be so. Why must I not go to Blackheath? Why must she not visit me? There must be a reason.’
Minney and George waited for Charlotte to give it.
‘It is because something is going on. Do you know what, Minney?’
Minney declared her innocence and one thing about Minney was that she was so innocent that one had to believe her.
‘You should keep your ears open,’ said Charlotte. ‘It must be discussed with Mrs F … Fitzherbert.’
She hesitated to say Mrs Fitzherbert’s name because she knew that that lady was deeply concerned in the troubles of her family. She believed that she ought to dislike her. But how could one dislike Mrs Fitzherbert – that affectionate, comfortably shaped woman who was one of the few people in Charlotte’s world who knew how to mingle affection and authority in a manner acceptable to young people. There were times, thought Charlotte, when she envied Minney Seymour, that was if she were allowed to stay with Mamma Fitzherbert which, Charlotte was fully aware, was not certain; and if Minney had to leave that loving guardianship she would be the most unhappy little girl in the world. Poor Minney! Charlotte was immediately touched by the sorrows of others. She could not pass a poor man, woman or child on the road without wanting to give them something. ‘My dear Princess, restrain yourself,’ was Lady de Clifford’s constant warning.
She must restrain herself; there was so much she must learn; she was going to be Queen of England one day because it was certain that Papa and Mamma would have no more children. How could they, when they hated each other and never saw each other? She, young Charlotte, aged ten years, knew that the most important factor in her life was the relationship between her parents.
That was why she was so disturbed by what she had overheard.
It was true that she kept her eyes and ears open. Lady de Clifford would have a shock if she knew what her charge had discovered. She had found a means of reading the newspapers – and one could learn a great deal from them. When she visited Mamma at Blackheath she had a most unusual time; but then Mamma was a most unusual woman. There she was allowed to read the papers and see the cartoons, the lampoons, the prints which could be bought in the shops and the subject of these was very often the affairs of the Prince and Princess of Wales. Dignified Mrs Fitzherbert was not exempt. Charlotte considered that it was not everyone whose father had two wives.
She had adjusted herself to her life: Carlton House where she was the Princess destined for a throne, where she had to be plagued by a bevy of tutors and never forget her great destiny; and Blackheath where life was conducted in the most eccentric manner, where she met strange people and for a brief hour or so every week tasted freedom. There she had enjoyed the passionate devotion of her wild mother (‘Charlotte, my angel, my love, my little baby. Why should they take you away from me?’), and they would weep together, but they mostly laughed and Mamma taught her to be most disrespectful to Grandmamma, whom she hated in any case (and she was one who was more snuffy than Lady de Clifford) and to the spinster aunts who alternately cooed over ‘darling Charlotte’ and criticized her manners, her stammer and the way she leaned to one side.