‘You should put on a clean dress … and comb your hair and then … you will be in readiness,’ she babbled.
‘Help me then. I must be ready. I daresay they will give us only an hour together or something silly.’
Charlotte hastily put on a clean dress and allowed Lady de Clifford to comb her hair.
‘I should return to the schoolroom,’ she said, ‘for they will expect me to be there and that is where they will look for me.’
Lady de Clifford agreed and returned to the schoolroom with her.
They had not been there very long when they heard the commotion from without.
The Princess of Wales had come out to her carriage. Oh dear, thought Lady de Clifford, she does not look in the least like a princess. No wonder the dear Prince …
Caroline’s black wig was a little awry; her heavily rouged cheeks were startling beside the white lead with which the rest of her face was covered apart from those very black brows which had been painted on.
She was talking loudly in her atrocious English. She was trembling with rage, clenching and unclenching her fists and even turned to shake one at the windows.
It was clear to Lady de Clifford that the Princess of Wales was being turned away from Windsor.
‘Cliffy,’ whispered Charlotte, ‘what does it mean?’
She wanted to run down to the carriage to tell her mother that if no one else wanted her she did.
Lady de Clifford had laid a hand on her shoulder; she was saying: ‘I doubt not the Princess has come without an invitation.’
‘Without an invitation! To see me … her own daughter!’
The coachman had whipped up the horses, Lady de Clifford noticed with relief, and the carriage started to move.
‘They have driven my mother away,’ cried the Princess Charlotte.
Gentle Amelia tried to comfort Charlotte.
‘You see, Charlotte dear, His Majesty cannot visit the Princess nor allow her to visit us until this little matter is settled.’
‘What little matter?’
‘The Princess of Wales has been entertaining people at Montague House who are not quite the sort of people who – who should be the friends of royal people, do you understand?’
‘How is that? I met Sir Sydney Smith there. He is a great Admiral and he fought for his country. You should hear how he defended Saint Jean d’Acre. He told me about this. He could tell wonderful tales. And he used to carry me round on his shoulders.’
‘He could have been a very brave and daring sailor but still unfit to mix with a royal princess. You are too young to understand.’
‘I am not too young,’ said Charlotte rudely. ‘I liked Sir Sydney. And there was Thomas Lawrence too. He is a very great painter. It is a good thing to paint well, I suppose you’ll agree.’
‘It is very good, but to be able to paint does not mean that one is fit …’
‘And my mother is not allowed to see me because she knows these people?’
‘One day you will understand.’
‘One day!’ cried Charlotte scornfully. ‘What’s the good of one day when this is Now. Why is it that learning some things is so good for one and others have to wait till “one day”! I should have thought all knowledge was good. Don’t you think that’s true, Aunt Amelia?’
Aunt Amelia said that when she was older she would understand; and she then began to cough; and as, when Aunt Amelia coughed, everyone had to try to stop her doing so because it so upset the King, Charlotte had to run and get her soothing syrup and that was the end of that little conversation.
But, determined Charlotte, they are not going to keep me from my mother. I love her, and she loves me. She wouldn’t have come to Windsor to be insulted by Them if she did not.
She thought constantly of her mother and longed to see her again.
Augusta told her that there was to be a party for young people at Windsor and she could ask anyone she wished.
‘I thought,’ said Aunt Augusta, ‘that you might like to askLady de Clifford’s grandson, young George Keppel, and perhaps little Sophia Keppel as well. You may invite them both if you wish.’
‘You said that I might ask anyone I wished?’
‘Yes, that is so.’
‘Then I ask my mother,’ she said boldly.
Aunt Augusta looked as though she were going to have a fit of the vapours. Really, she confided to Elizabeth afterwards, Charlotte could be most embarrassing.
The will of the People
CHARLOTTE WAS GLAD to be back in Carlton House for that meant visits to Lady de Clifford’s house in South Audley Street and to Mrs Fitzherbert’s in Tilney Street.
Here she could play with George and Minney and she constantly plagued Lady de Clifford to take her and George to Tilney Street.
These were the most exciting expeditions because she never knew when her father would call. What fun to ride in the carriage sitting beside George while Lady de Clifford sat smiling opposite them, pleased because she was going to enjoy a tête-à-tête with dear Maria Fitzherbert and Charlotte always seemed to behave more decorously in her house than anywhere else.
It was a small house, compared with Carlton House, but Charlotte loved it. On the first floor, french windows opened on to a balcony and from this one could look out on Park Lane, for the house was on a corner. Charlotte loved to open those french windows, stand on the balcony and pretend that there were crowds below cheering her because she was to be their queen. She often thought as the carriage rolled along and people took little notice: Oh, you do not know that in this carriage is one who will one day be your queen.
Mrs Fitzherbert received her as though she were really pleased she had come, and she whispered to her that she had a promise from the Prince of Wales that he would look in that day.
Charlotte returned the pressure of Mrs Fitzherbert’s hand and it was as though they shared a secret.
‘Do you think he will be pleased to see me here?’ whispered Charlotte so that neither George nor Minney could hear.
‘He will be delighted. He has told me so.’
That was wonderful news. Now when he came she would not be nervous; perhaps she would not stutter and be able to seem as bright as she did in her own schoolroom.
She would feel safe while the plump figure of Mrs Fitzherbert presided over the scene like a benevolent fairy.
The Prince of Wales left Carlton House for Tilney Street with mingled feelings. He had to face the fact that since the Seymour case, during which his friendship with the Hertfords had become a very close one, he had fallen in love.
Falling in love had, of course, been the major preoccupation of his life, but when he had returned to Maria he had believed that as long as he had Maria he would never seriously hanker after another woman.
How wrong he had been! But then how could he have guessed there would have been such perfection in the world as that possessed by Isabella Hertford?
He had already confessed his devotion to her, but she remained aloof.
‘Your Highness’s kindness is appreciated, and I trust that my husband and I will always remain your very good friends.’
‘It is more than friendship I need.’
She smiled at him. ‘Your Highness will remember that I am a married woman and you are a married man … some say doubly so.’
Her fresh coolness delighted him; in his heart he wondered whether he really wanted her to surrender. When he thought of the sexuality of Lady Jersey he was nauseated. How different was Isabella. She would not surrender, she implied, on any terms. And what could he do? There was nothing he could offer her that she should possibly want. She was as rich as he was – richer possibly – and her great passion was politics – Tory politics at that. When the Prince considered all that lay between them – his politics, her frigidity, virtue she called it – it seemed a hopeless case. And yet it was the hopelessness which he had always found so attractive; and while she held no hope of surrender, she implied that she was not displeased by his attempts to seduce her.