How pleasant it was to talk of the future. They also discussed the politics of the past; Mercer was widely informed on the Colonies question and she told how they would never have been lost if Fox had been in power. Fox was the greatest politician of the age and he had simply never had a chance to show his genius. Poor Lord North had vacillated – and the King with him – and so England had lost America. Mercer wanted to free the country from Tory influence, so Charlotte did too.
How exciting the world had become since she had known Mercer – and to think that she had once thought it the height of bliss to sit on a stool in Mr Richardson’s bakery and eat his buns!
Lady de Clifford reported the absorbing friendship to the Queen, who decided to speak to Charlotte.
‘Future rulers,’ said the Queen, ‘should never make particular friendships. People are apt to presume on such … they may be the best of people but the fact that one is going one day to be in a position of importance should make one very careful.’
What is the old Begum talking about? thought Charlotte.
‘Your great and only source of happiness comes from your father,’ went on the Queen. ‘You should not look for it in other directions until he advises you to do so.’
Now what did that mean? Until her father procured a man and said ‘Marry him’? She would not allow herself to be forced into that, Mercer believed in independence. ‘If you are weak people will impose on you,’ said Mercer. How right she was. How right she always was. And how adorable! The best friend in the world.
Charlotte looked obliquely at her grandmother.
If she thought she was going to spoil her friendship with Mercer, she was very much mistaken.
Nothing was done to prevent the friendship, which strengthened as the months passed. Then a series of tragedies struck the royal family and it seemed to Charlotte that she was jerked out of her childhood and nothing was ever quite the same again.
The trouble appeared to start because of a conflict between two of her uncles, Edward, Duke of Kent, whom she had never liked, and her favourite of them all, Uncle Fred, Duke of York.
It was such a scandal that try as they might they could not keep it from her; and that was the beginning.
The rival Dukes and Mary Anne
EDWARD, DUKE OF KENT, was a frustrated man. His military career had been a bitter disappointment and the only one in the world who understood how he suffered was Julie – known as Madame de St Laurent. She was the only person in the world for whom he cared; for years now he had regarded her as his wife; and he wanted no other. The family accepted her, for it was realized that as he was a royal duke there could be no marriage ceremony, and Edward therefore must dispense with it. The affairs of the Prince of Wales and Mrs Fitzherbert and the Duke of Sussex with his Goosey had shown how worthless such ceremonies were.
Julie was beautiful, discreet and in every way except one, worthy to marry into the royal family; and that one reason was that she was not royal. She would not allow this fact to give Edward the smallest cause for anxiety. Julie made it clear that she was content with her lot; and she wanted Edward to be the same. He was certainly content with Julie; it was the way in which he had been treated which angered him.
He was unlike the Prince of Wales in that he lacked that easy charm which was so much a part of his elder brother’s character. Edward was a soldier who had been trained in the grimmest of schools. He was without humour; he behaved like a Prussian; and that had made him unpopular with Englishmen.
It was his Prussian attitudes which were responsible for his recall from Gibraltar.
Only to Julie could he talk of this matter; only to her could he explain the frustration. Julie understood it and it alarmed her because she sensed his growing jealousy of his brother, Frederick. ‘Frederick, Duke of York, Commander-in-Chief of the Army!’ He always gave him his full title when he spoke of him; and the bitterness he revealed made her shiver.
It would have been too wounding to point out that Frederick’s easy-going nature ensured his popularity with the men – something which Edward, good soldier though he was, could never win.
He had begun to talk constantly of his brothers. ‘George,’ he would say with a sneer, ‘thinks of nothing but his own pleasure. He’s seen about with that ridiculous dandy Brummell and they discuss coats and neckcloths ad nauseam. And now he is creating a scandal with that Hertford woman, behaving like a lovesick schoolboy, following her round, gazing at her like a sick cow … tears in his eyes … and all the time living with Maria Fitzherbert. And this is the man who could one day be king … any day … by the state of my father’s health. But Frederick … Commander-in-Chief of the Army …’ He could not go on. His anger choked him.
‘I think you should be careful not to quarrel with your brothers, Edward,’ said Julie gently.
‘My dear, I must say what I mean. I’m a blunt soldier. My feelings have not been considered. My father has treated me like a boy in the nursery.’
Julie tried to soothe him.
He had been sent from home when he was eighteen to Hanover, Luneburg and afterwards to Geneva because his father had believed that no young man could receive education or military instruction in England to compare with what he could get in Germany. Julie had heard all about the life he had led and the strictness of Baron Wangenheim’s regime. But Edward always said with grudging admiration: ‘He taught me how to be a soldier and I learned something that Frederick, Commander-in-Chief, never did.’
He had hated Geneva so much that he came home without permission and had been sent at once to Gibraltar where he had not been popular and his Prussian methods had almost caused a revolt. ‘How like them,’ he used to say, ‘to send me to Prussia to learn German methods and then revile me for putting them into practice.’ He had been recalled from Gibraltar and sent to Canada.
‘The only piece of luck I ever had,’ he used to say; for it was there that he met Mademoiselle de Montgenet – Julie herself – with whom he fell in love and who lived with him as his wife and changed her name then to Madame de St Laurent after the St Lawrence river, the scene of their blissful courtship.
Seventeen years they had been together and they still hated to be apart; when he was sick she nursed him; and when for health reasons he returned to England to take the waters of Bath she came with him.
He had to admit that his brothers, led by the Prince of Wales, rallied round him when he and Julie set up house in Knightsbridge, and Maria Fitzherbert became a particular friend of Julie’s; and when Maria wanted to sell her house, Castle Hill in Ealing, Edward bought it and it became their home. Julie was the Duchess of Kent in all but name.
But of course he could not remain idle. He was a soldier and Frederick, Commander-in-Chief, had wanted to do something for him. Discipline on the rock of Gibraltar was bad and Edward was noted for his discipline. The Commander-in-Chief had talked to his brother – very jocular, very friendly, explaining to him the need to deal tactfully with the situation and reminding him of his unpopularity previously on the Rock.
He then began to scorn Frederick, who was in his opinion no true soldier; but he had believed he could reinstate himself in the eyes of the Army and the family and had accepted the challenge.
And the result was disaster.
He had quickly discovered that the reason for the trouble was drink. The soldiers spent half their time in the liquor shops and he found many drunk on duty. These he ordered to be severely flogged. He closed half the wine shops and forbade any but commissioned officers to go into those which remained open. His unpopularity soared. He did not realize how dangerously.