‘Someone called Jerome Bonaparte now rules in our palace … some relation of that man. He’s splitting up Europe between them and we … the true rulers … are exiled wanderers on the face of the earth. My dear child, I can’t tell you what difficulty I had to escape. I came through Sweden … and so to England. I thought I should never arrive. What adventures … at my time of life! And when I came – what a welcome! George was kind, of course. A kind heart … though an addled head … but Charlotte … It’s a pity they named you after her, but don’t forget you have another name: Augusta. And that’s mine … so although you were named for her you were named for me too. Is that not strange? You bear both our names.’
‘Yes,’ said Charlotte, ‘it’s true. I was named after my two grandmothers. Is my uncle here?’
She had met her mother’s brother who was now the Duke of Brunswick, also in exile. He seemed different from the rest of his family – calmer, and yet a brave man. She had heard how he had fought with his men through the territory occupied by the French to the coast where a fleet of British ships was assembled to bring him to England with his motherless little boys.
That had seemed romantic and so had he in his dashing uniform and with his fine pair of moustaches giving him such a handsome look.
His little boys, Charles aged six and William four, were in this house occupying the upper rooms with their nurses and servants. Charlotte wondered whether she should go and see them before she left and suggested this.
‘Poor mites,’ said Caroline vaguely. ‘Perhaps if there is time … but we have only these two miserable hours and I suppose it will be reported if we try to make it longer. I want to spend every minute with my own sweet Charlotte.’
‘Dear, dear,’ said the Duchess. ‘So you and the Prince are still at loggerheads. I must say it is a very odd way of going on. I found him charming. He invited me to Carlton House. “Dear Aunt,” he said, “I shall be desolate if you don’t attend.” And so I went. How charming he is. What manners! I have never seen anyone bow with such grace and charm. I said to him: “My dear nephew, you are indeed the first Gentleman of Europe.”
‘You should have seen him on his wedding night. Drunk. He had to be supported on his way to the altar. Yes, he did. They had to stand very close to him to prevent his falling down.’ Caroline burst into loud laughter.
‘A charming man,’ said the Duchess, ignoring her. ‘I do not think that in all my life I have ever met a more charming man than my nephew, the Prince of Wales.’
‘He spent part of the wedding night under the grate. Very charming. I consider myself well off without him.’
Charlotte listened to this conversation with an eager horror. Her mother and her grandmother seemed to be carrying it on independently of each other and she wondered whether they were aware of her. But every now and then her mother would refer to her sweet Charlotte, her angel, her love, to remind her daughter that she was conscious of her presence.
Thus passed the two hours and Lady de Clifford was fidgeting to be off, for as she said to Charlotte, if they exceeded their stay the visits might be cut down to once a fortnight.
‘How strange,’ said Charlotte as the carriage carried them back to Carlton House, ‘that I am only allowed to visit my own mother once a week.’
Lady de Clifford did not think it strange at all when that mother was the Princess Caroline, when she had just emerged, scarcely unscathed from the Delicate Investigation, when it seemed almost certain that she was leading a very odd if not immoral life. It appeared to be very reasonable that her daughter – the future Queen of England – should be allowed only brief meetings with her.
Charlotte was silently thinking of her family.
‘It’s like a menagerie,’ she said. ‘A royal menagerie.’
Princess Charlotte was sickening for something. She was constantly shivering and to Lady de Clifford’s alarm had developed a fever. She called the doctors and Charlotte was sent to bed; she was too listless to protest and a few days later the rash indicated that she was suffering from measles.
There was consternation throughout the family and the Prince of Wales sent his first physician to attend his daughter.
He said to Maria: ‘If Charlotte should die they would tell me it was my duty to have another child. Maria, I could not do it. The thought of being near that woman makes me sick.’
Maria comforted him and said it was only the measles and most children recovered from this very quickly. Moreover, Charlotte was a strong child.
He scarcely left Maria’s side. It was at times like this that he realized how much he needed her. Maria was happy too; it was going to be all right, she was sure. His ridiculous passion for Lady Hertford was not important. That woman was as cold as ice and would never become his mistress. Maria had nothing to fear. He was wayward by nature; it was a sort of compulsion for him to stray. It meant little. Maria was his lifelong companion and after that other separation when he had deserted her for Lady Jersey he had come to realize this.
Miss Pigot was called in and gave her views on the measles; she prepared a few possets which she was sure the doctors would say were beneficial. And the Prince talked of nothing but Charlotte’s measles – not alas, Maria noted, because he cared so much for the child, but because he feared that her death would put him into a repulsive position.
The King and Queen discussed Charlotte’s measles. The King was worried. ‘She always seemed such a healthy child. Romping here, jumping there … eh, what? Measles. How bad is it? Are they telling us the truth, eh, what?’
The Queen said it was a childish complaint and Charlotte was in no danger. She was going to give very special instructions to Lady de Clifford and was sending some James’s Powder for the child. It had wonderful healing properties; and she was going to instruct Lady de Clifford not to allow the bed linen to be changed until she ordered that this should be done.
‘I could not sleep all night thinking of it,’ said the King. ‘The Princesses should not visit the child. That must be made plain. It’s a very contagious disease. Did you know that, eh, what?’
‘Indeed I know it, but once someone has had it they cannot have it again, so you need not fear for the Princesses.’
‘They’ll be wanting to go and nurse her, I daresay. I won’t have Amelia …’
‘Amelia shall not go and see her niece until it is perfectly safe for her to do so. You must trust me.’
The King nodded. He was forced to trust to the Queen for everything. A change from what it used to be, he thought, eh, what?
The carriage of the Princess of Wales arrived at Carlton House. Caroline alighted and brushed aside all who would detain her.
‘Where is my child?’ she demanded. ‘Take me at once to the Princess Charlotte.’
The pages and footmen were in a quandary. They knew that the Princess Caroline was not to be received at Carlton House. What could they do? How refuse her? She was after all the Princess of Wales.
‘Come, don’t try to obstruct me.’ She spoke in an odd mixture of French, German and English which they pretended they could not understand, and they allowed her to push her way into the house and to Charlotte’s room.
She flung open the door.
‘My angel! My little love!’
Charlotte said weakly: ‘Mamma. It is you?’
‘Of course it is me, my Lottie love. My baby ill and her Mamma not with her. Why I should be with you every hour! It should be my duty and my pleasure. How are you?’
‘I’m getting better, Mamma. But I have lots of spots all over me.’
‘Why bless you, you’ll soon be well again. I missed our two hours together.’ She grimaced and laughed aloud. ‘Life is not the same for me without my little Lottie, you know.’