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The Captain said he believed everyone would want to be kind to the Princess Charlotte.

That made the Princess Caroline laugh; she fell back in her chair and her short legs, which did not reach the floor unless she sat forward, shot up rather indecorously showing grubby lace petticoats.

The Captain pretended not to see and asked Charlotte whether she had ridden lately. The Princess of Wales sat listening to them for a while, sly amusement on her face. Then she went to the window where she stood fingering the heavy curtains.

‘New ones I have in some parts of this place, Charlotte, I want your opinion.’ Charlotte rose and her mother said: ‘You too, Captain. Your opinion is sought also.’

Charlotte was surprised when her mother led them to her bedroom.

‘Come in, come in,’ she said. ‘Oh, that wicked Willie. He has been playing with my paint and lead. Naughty boy!’ She left them standing in the middle of the room and suddenly she was at the door crying: ‘Amuse yourselves!’

They were alone, for the door had shut on them and with something like panic Charlotte heard the key turn in the lock.

The Captain’s panic was as great as Charlotte’s. Here he was locked in a bedroom with the heiress to the throne of England. He could be accused of treason. Suppose Charlotte had been in similar circumstances before. Suppose …

He grew faint with apprehension at the thought.

Charlotte herself spoke: ‘We … we must get out of here … at … atonce …’

The Captain nodded.

He went to the door and rapped on it.

‘Open this door. Your Highness, I beg of you open this door at once.’

They heard Caroline chuckling.

Had they said her father was mad? thought Charlotte. They could say that of her mother and perhaps it would be true.

‘Mamma,’ she cried. ‘I am frightened. I beg of you open this door at once.’

There was a pause before the key was turned in the lock. There was the Princess of Wales laughing immoderately.

‘Well, my children,’ she cried, ‘all I say is that you did not make the most of your chances.’

‘It is time for me to leave,’ said Charlotte.

‘Not yet. We have a little longer.’

They went back to the Princess’s drawing room and sat uneasily and very soon the Captain was making his excuses and begging leave to retire.

When he had left Caroline embraced her daughter.

‘My love, you shouldn’t have been frightened. I should not have left you there … unless you had wanted to stay. I wanted to think what Madam de Clifford or de old Begum would have said if they had known you were locked in a bedroom with the dear little Captain. Oh, I am a wicked one you think. But no, you do not. You know your poor Mamma too well. You know she loves her darling Charlotte as she loves no one else and she cannot bear this separation and she wants most of all for us to be together. She is wild and foolish and does mad, mad things … but she loves too. Here is a warm heart, dearest Charlotte, a heart that wants to give love all the time and is kept from her treasure. Oh Charlotte, my little girl, tell me you understand.’

‘Y … yes, Mamma, I understand but please do not try to shut me up with Captain Hesse … or with any man, again.’

‘Never, unless my angel wishes it. It was Mamma’s silly way of saying she loves her little girl and wants to give her all that the others take away from her. Say you understand. Say you love your Mamma. It is the only thing she has … her little Charlotte.’

‘You have Willie, Mamma. He is as a son to you.’

‘I have Willie … but he is the substitute for my own little girl. Try to understand me, Charlotte, and love me.’

‘I do, Mamma, I do.’

They wept together. I do love her, Charlotte told herself, I do.

‘Promise me, dearest, that when you are your own mistress you will not forget your mother.’

‘I promise,’ said Charlotte.

‘So perhaps it is not so long to wait, eh?’ Mischievous lights shot up in the eyes of the Princess of Wales. ‘And in the meantime we plague them in all ways we know, eh?’

Charlotte did not answer.

Poor Mamma, she thought, she is starved of love. I must try to understand and help her.

But when she went back to Warwick House, sitting in the carriage with Lady de Clifford, she wondered what that lady would say if she knew what had happened in her mother’s bedroom and she shivered with apprehension.

It was a great trial to be a princess and heiress – though only presumptive – to the throne of England and at the same time to be a buffer between two such strange parents.

Charlotte in revolt

MRS GAGARIN AND Louisa Lewis were dressing the Princess for her birthday ball. It was to be a grand occasion at Carlton House given by the Prince of Wales because she was sixteen years old.

‘Soon,’ she was saying, ‘they will have to stop treating me as a child. I’m longing to wear feathers. When I do, you will know then that I really am no longer regarded as a child.’

‘Don’t you be in such a hurry to grow up,’ advised Louisa. ‘It’ll come soon enough.’

‘Not soon enough for me. Do you think the Prince R. will be proud of me tonight? Now don’t say “Yes, yes, yes”. Stop and think. Think of him and all his elegance. I have to be rather good to come up to his standards. Why, what’s the matter with Gagy?’

‘It’s all right, Your Highness, just a stitch in my side.’

‘Better sit down,’ advised Louisa. ‘You know …’

Mrs Gagarin flashed her a warning look which Charlotte intercepted.

‘Now what is this?’ she demanded imperiously. ‘Gagy, you are not ill, are you?’

‘No, no. It’s nothing. My dinner did not agree with me.’

Charlotte looked suspicious and felt a sudden touch of panic. Birthdays made one realize that time was passing. It did not seem so long since her last; and some of these people who had been with her for so long that she thought they would be with her for ever, were getting old.

Mrs Gagarin had a grey tinge to her face today. Charlotte threw her arms about her and said: ‘Gagy, you mustn’t die. Don’t forget I made you want to live after you lost Mr Gagarin, didn’t I? I still want you. You mustn’t be ill.’

‘What a fuss,’ said Mrs Gagarin, ‘about a touch of indigestion. Anyone would think I was on my death-bed.’

‘Don’t talk about death,’ commanded Charlotte. ‘I don’t like it.’

‘All right,’ said Mrs Gagarin. ‘Let’s see that you look your best for this party.’

‘Do I?’

‘Lovely,’ cried Mrs Gagarin. ‘Doesn’t she, Louisa?’

Louisa adoringly agreed.

It was silly, Charlotte assured herself, to think poor Gagy was going to die just because she had indigestion. There were years and years left yet to them all.

She was in a slightly sombre mood, however, on the journey to Carlton House, but she was soon elated, for her father had determined this should be a special occasion. The people who had gathered to watch her alight from her carriage cheered her and she waved as Lady de Clifford had told her many times she should not – instead of bowing regally. But the people liked her for her free and easy ways and she was not going to obey Lady de Clifford’s orders much longer.

Her father looked splendid and she was thrilled as always to see him and proud that he was her father; and the odd feelings of resentment and pride fought together in the familiar way; but resentment was defeated on this night, because he smiled as he embraced her affectionately, even with a glint of tears in his eyes, and told her that she looked charming.

She was happy as, holding her lightly by the hand, he led her into that house which the old gossip, Horace Walpole, had described as the most perfect in Europe. She was proud of the tasteful decorations; they had all been done under his supervision; and from the moment she passed through the front porch with its Corinthian portico, because he was leading her there and seemed pleased to have her, she knew this was going to be a happy evening, a birthday to remember.