They worked in silence at the table. She was very happy. She loved all the world. She finished the Latin in a very short time and watched George frowning over the French. She would give him a watch. He had no watch. It would teach him to be more aware of the time and then he would not be behind with his Latin and French lessons. She would give him a horse, too.
She would speak about all this to Lady de Clifford at the first opportunity. And in time she would be on such terms with her father that she would implore him to take back her mother; and they would all live together like a happy family – her mother her father and dearest Mrs Fitzherbert.
George had finished his French and picked up the Latin.
‘There are lots of mistakes in it,’ he said.
‘Be thankful it’s done,’ retorted Charlotte severely.
He would like a watch, she thought fondly. And he shall have it.
Mrs Udney was secretly amused.
‘Pray, Mrs Udney, what do you find so funny?’ demanded Charlotte.
She saw then that Mrs Udney was holding a paper behind her back.
‘Something in the paper, is it?’ said Charlotte. ‘Let me see it.’
‘I don’t think it would be my duty to allow Your Highness to see it.’
‘Mrs Udney, I command you to show me that paper.’
Mrs Udney raised her eyebrows and continued to hold the paper behind her back, but with a quick movement Charlotte snatched it and ran to the window with it.
‘Your Highness!’
‘You may report to Lady de Clifford that I have no manners if you wish. I shall report that you are most … d … disobedient.’
‘I am only concerned for Your Highness’s good and I am not sure whether it is good for you to see that paper. I beg of you … most humbly … to give it back to me.’
‘I shall see first what it is you are trying to hide from me.’
‘It is on the second page, Your Highness.’
‘Oh,’ said Charlotte, ‘and it is about my mother I daresay.’
‘Oh no, Your Highness. It is you this time.’
There was no doubt that Mrs Udney was pleased … the horrid creature.
‘Would Your Highness like me to find it for you?’
Charlotte looked at her through narrowed eyes. Perhaps it was as well to let her do so. There might often be pieces in the paper which she ought to see and therefore if she made it clear that she expected Mrs Udney to show her, the woman might do so – for clearly she enjoyed these pieces.
Charlotte handed her the paper and Mrs Udney opened it and laid it on the table.
‘There, Your Highness.’
‘But what is it supposed to be? That’s meant for Mrs Fitzherbert I suppose. It is not much like her.’
‘Yet Your Highness recognized her.’
‘It’s Mrs Fitzherbert all right, but it makes her nose longer and it is just not beautiful enough.’
‘The object of these cartoons is not to show off beauty but to make the point.’
‘Point? What point? And who is the child she is carrying in her arms? Minney Seymour, I suppose.’
‘Oh, no no. See, the diadem she is wearing. That proclaims her to be royal.’
‘You … you mean … my … myself?’
‘Who else, Your Highness? You have been visiting the lady a great deal lately and the point is that the people don’t like it.’
‘The … p … people! What has it to do with the people?’
‘Everything the royal family does is the concern of the people.’
‘But …’
‘You see, Your Highness, she has been given a pair of wings and she is flying up to heaven with you in her arms. Look what you are holding. A rosary … and images of the saints. You see, it means that she is making a Catholic of you.’
‘But it’s nonsense.’
‘She is a Catholic and she does seem to be a very special friend.’
‘She has never talked to me about religion.’
‘The people won’t believe that.’
‘It’s just n … nonsense,’ said Charlotte angrily and picking up the paper she threw it on to the floor before walking haughtily out of the room.
Lady de Clifford never took her to Tilney Street now; this meant that not only was she cut off from Mrs Fitzherbert but from the Prince of Wales.
‘Why do I never go with you to see Mrs Fitzherbert and Minney nowadays?’ she demanded in her forthright way.
Lady de Clifford looked embarrassed.
‘My dear Princess, it is really better not.’
‘Why not? I liked visiting Mrs Fitzherbert. She is my good friend.’
‘In view of the circumstances …’
‘What circumstances?’
‘You don’t understand these things.’
‘Nothing makes me more angry than to be told I don’t understand. If I don’t understand, then explain.’
‘Mrs Fitzherbert is … scarcely a lady you should visit.’
‘Why not? Nobody could be kinder. She is like a queen. I often think Queen Elizabeth must have been a little like her only not so kind. Come along, my lady, do not try to change the subject. Why must I not visit Mrs Fitzherbert?’
‘Your mother …’
‘My mother always spoke most kindly of her – and in any case I am not allowed to see her either.’
Oh dear, thought Lady de Clifford, I shall be saying something most indiscreet soon. I really think the task of looking after such a princess is too much for me. It was better to tell the truth otherwise she might say something more shocking.
‘You know that Mrs Fitzherbert is a Catholic and that you may well one day be Queen of England.’
‘I shall be Queen of England one day, my lady.’
‘Therefore the people do not wish you to become a Catholic.’
Charlotte stamped her foot. ‘Am I not receiving my religious instruction from the Bish-Up and do you think he would make a Catholic of me?’
Lady de Clifford put her fingers to her ears and begged Charlotte not to utter such heresy.
‘Then tell me how I am in danger of becoming a Catholic.’
‘You are in no danger of course, but the people remember that Mrs Fitzherbert is a Catholic and it is possible that, if you see her very often, she might persuade you to become one.’
‘It’s nonsense … nonsense.’
‘The people are often mistaken, but princes and princesses have to behave in a way which pleases them.’
‘So the people have decided that I am not to see my dear Mrs Fitzherbert.’
‘They have made this quite clear.’
‘I suppose the old Begum has given her orders.’
‘Her Majesty has said nothing as yet, but she will as soon as she reads the spate of comments in the newspapers.’
Charlotte felt an impulse to cry – loudly and angrily. But she did not. There was too much weeping in the family and it had made it a rather ridiculous habit. Real tears should be for real tragedy; and this was one she felt; but she must not cry.
‘Cliffy,’ she said, ‘dear Cliffy, could I see Mrs Fitzherbert once … just once more? Could we ride there … with me dressed like an ordinary young lady … just once … so that I could talk to her? I promise it would be just that once.’
‘It would be very unwise,’ said Lady de Clifford.
But Charlotte knew how to wheedle her governess.
She did allow herself the luxury of tears when she was alone with Mrs Fitzherbert.
She lay against the sweet-smelling bosom and told Maria how unhappy she was that they were not to meet.
‘I shall have news of you,’ soothed Maria. ‘And perhaps later on this nonsense will be forgotten.’
‘You see,’ Charlotte explained, ‘it had started to change. You changed it. But it won’t go on now.’
‘It can. I will talk to the Prince about you. I will make him interested in what you are doing.’