‘In their presence and on all public occasions I think you should refer to me as Coburg.’
She laughed hilariously. ‘Coburg indeed. My dearest Coburg! Coburg! The way in which I will say it it will sound even more affectionate than Leo.’
‘But you will say it, my love … to please me.’
‘Dearest Leo Coburg, I would die to please you.’
The Prince Regent rode over to Oatlands to see how the honeymoon was progressing. For the first time in her life Charlotte would have preferred him not to bestow a mark of affection.
He could not come without a certain amount of pomp and he broke up the honeymoon intimacy of Oatlands.
He held out his arms and embraced her.
‘I see that I have intruded into paradise,’ he said with a Jove-like smile.
‘Dearest Papa, it is so good of you to come.’
‘My only child, I have been thinking of you.’
He wrinkled his nose. The smell of animals offended him. One of the Duchess’s dogs came to sniff at those highly polished boots.
Charlotte whistled to the dog and the Regent winced; he noticed that Leopold was not always pleased at Charlotte’s stable-boy manners. The fellow had some dignity, he thought – perhaps too much for an insignificant princeling but now he was basking in the reflected glory of a future Queen of England. He couldn’t like him, however. Whenever he saw him he thought of all the trouble over Orange and how much he would have preferred a Dutch match.
Charlotte slipped her arm through her father’s and his good humour was restored; he liked outward displays of affection; and it was good for people to see them after all the scandal there had been over family quarrels.
‘Being a wife becomes you.’
‘And, er … er … Coburg?’
So it was Coburg! thought the Prince. Quite formal. Good God, has Leopold been schooling her already?
They sat in the drawing room while refreshment was brought and he noticed how little Leopold drank. It was almost a reproach to the Regent, but he was determined to remain in good humour. He said that Leopold had looked well in his General’s uniform and had he been aware of the uniforms of the guard? He then went on to discuss these uniforms in detail which set Charlotte yawning and longing for his departure, while Leopold listened intently and feigned an interest.
‘Camelford House is not really suitable,’ said the Regent. ‘You must go out and look at that place at Esher. I think it would be an ideal spot. You will probably wish to make changes there and if you need any advice I shall be pleased to give it.’
He was off on another of his favourite topics, the additions to Carlton House and the Pavilion. He gave Leopold an account of the Pavilion’s history, how it was a near-derelict old farmhouse when his major-demo Weltje had discovered it.
The visit seemed to last a long time.
When he left, the Regent said playfully to Leopold, ‘Be careful or she will govern you. You should begin as you intend to go on.’
‘Dearest Papa,’ replied Charlotte, ‘there is no question of one governing another. I shall do as Coburg wishes because it is my deepest pleasure to do so.’
‘Spoken like a loving bride,’ declared the Regent; and he added cynically to himself: In the first week of her honeymoon.
But he was sad when he left them, thinking of those days of ecstasy which had followed a certain ceremony in Maria Fitzherbert’s house in Park Street.
He said then as he had said thousands of times before: I should never have left Maria.
‘When you are happy there is nothing to write about,’ said Charlotte to Louisa.
She was thinking of Mercer, who had once meant so much to her. It was an excuse perhaps for not writing, but Mercer was surely not showing her usual good sense for she had written of her intentions to marry the Comte de Flahault, a man of whom Leopold could not approve. Perhaps it was because she had never met anyone of Leopold’s profound good sense that she had been so impressed by Mercer’s. At least Mercer would be so busy with her own affairs and perhaps she would not notice the absence of Charlotte’s letters. In the past the correspondence had been so regular. But how different it was when one was married!
It was only natural in this most perfect of unions that the most desired event should occur almost immediately. Charlotte was pregnant.
‘We will not mention it,’ said cautious Leopold, ‘until we are absolutely certain.’
Darling Doucement, he knew his Charlotte’s weaknesses. She would have announced to the entire household and in no time there would have been cartoons and lampoons circulating throughout the country. It was a matter, in any case, said Leopold, that he would not care to be the subject for crudities.
How she agreed with him! And though bubbling over with excitement she managed to suppress it.
It was not easy, particularly as, at Camelford House, which was on the corner of Oxford Street and Park Lane, they were in London and it was necessary for them to show themselves frequently. When they went to see Mr Kean perform in Bertram the ovation was the biggest she had ever heard. How proud she had been of Leopold Coburg for the occasion – in his General’s uniform and all the decorations which proclaimed his bravery displayed on his chest.
But when she and Leopold were to see Mrs Siddons in the role of Lady Macbeth, for which she was famous, Charlotte had felt suddenly unwell; and it had been necessary to cancel the arrangement.
The first shadow then touched the ideal marriage. Charlotte had a miscarriage. She was not very ill, for the young life had scarcely begun, but her doctors ordered her to rest and the papers discovered the reason. The people were sorry and they loved her more than ever.
Leopold consoled her. It was but a slight misfortune, and they were both so young.
Charlotte hoped she would recover in time to attend the marriage of the Princess Mary to the Duke of Gloucester. She was delighted that this was at last to take place for she had felt many an uneasy qualm at the trick she had played on Mary when she had pretended that she had wanted Silly Billy for herself.
But when the day came her doctors advised her that it would be unwise for her to attend.
She was petulant. ‘But this,’ she said, ‘is the marriage of my dear old aunt. I must go.’
The doctors shook their heads.
‘I shall go!’ she declared.
Leopold, who was present, quietly signed to the doctors to leave.
‘My dearest,’ he said when they were alone, ‘you should obey the doctors.’
‘I feel very well and I must go to Mary’s wedding … if I don’t she will think it is because I still have a fancy for Silly Billy.’ That made her laugh that loud laugh which always made Leopold wince a little.
Then she told him, with much laughter, of how when they had been trying to force her on Orange she had pretended she would have Gloucester instead.
‘So you see, dearest Leo, I must go to this wedding.’
‘I do not see that it is necessary.’
‘Oh, my darling sober old Doucement, you must allow me to know best about my own family.’
‘But, dearest Charlotte, I do not accept that you know the state of your health better than the doctors.’
‘A lot of old women! I am going in any case. Poor Mary, she has waited years and years for this. When she came yesterday she described her wedding dress to me. It’s very fine … as fine as mine and very like it, too. Silver tissues and scalloped lamé and Brussels point lace. Her headdress is diamonds, too. She will look quite lovely, in spite of her age. Poor old girl! And I am sure Silly Billy will be proud of her.’
Leopold coughed lightly – a sign of disapproval. ‘Charlotte, you should not talk of our royal kinsmen in this way.’