Charlotte obeyed as always and when the letter was written she felt so frightened that the pain in her knee was almost unbearable and on Mercer’s suggestion she went to bed.
The Regent would be reading the letter now! she thought. It would only take a very short time to deliver it, as Warwick House was next door to Carlton House and if he were at home it would be in his hands now.
Several days passed during which Charlotte found the suspense intolerable.
The foreign visitors left England. The Duchess of Oldenburg – slyly delighted at the thought of the impending storm which she had helped to raise – took a fond farewell of Charlotte and wished her all happiness in the future.
F was leaving with the Russian party. He came to see Charlotte but Mercer would not allow a private tête-à-tête, insisting that Cornelia be present.
F was not entirely sorry to go; he knew that trouble was imminent and he was not sure that the life of a Prince Consort was one which would suit him; he liked to roam the world in search of romance; he could see how stultifying to a man of his temperament marriage – even such a brilliant one – would be. Moreover, Charlotte’s naïveté was delightful, up to a point; he preferred the cultured company of Madame Récamier. But he was automatically ardent. Charlotte did not know it but it was a habit of his with the woman of the moment and his great success was due, as he was well aware, to his ability while he was with a woman, to make her feel that she was the only person in the world of any consequence to him. Whereas F, being a realist, admitted to himself that the only person of any consequence in the world to him was F himself.
‘You will write to me,’ said the young Princess.
‘Nothing will prevent me.’
‘Cornelia will arrange that your letters reach me and mine reach you.’
Cornelia swore that she would do so; and on that guarantee the lovers parted.
A few days passed. It was Mercer’s opinion that the Regent had been waiting for the departure of the visitors, whom he had accompanied to Dover with great pomp and ceremony, before allowing the storm to break. He would not want to have his visitors laughing at his domestic troubles behind his back.
‘It’ll come now,’ said Mercer; and as usual, Mercer was right.
The Prince Regent commanded his daughter Charlotte to come to Carlton House in the company of Miss Knight.
Charlotte, pale and trembling, rose from her bed and immediately collapsed into the arms of Louisa Lewis.
‘It’s my knee, Louisa. I can’t stand.’
Mercer was called. ‘You must write at once to your father and tell him that you are too ill to go to him and beg him to come to you.’
The letter was sent and a day of anxiety followed. Charlotte got up and found that she could walk more easily.
It would be better to face him standing up than lying down.
At six o’clock in the evening the Regent arrived accompanied by the Bishop of Salisbury. He ignored everyone and strode into the drawing room. Then he cried in a voice of thunder: ‘Pray tell the Princess Charlotte that I command her presence here without delay.’
Cornelia, trembling, turned to Mercer who stood whitefaced though calm.
‘What can I do, Mercer?’ implored Charlotte.
‘There is only one thing you can do,’ said the intrepid Mercer. ‘Go down and see him. He commanded you to go in any case, and you must go quickly for his mood will not be improved by delays.’
‘Oh, Mercer …’
‘If you stand by your decision, he cannot force you. Remember that.’
Charlotte turned away and went into the drawing room.
He was standing by the fireplace, his back to it, his arms folded behind as though warming himself although there was no fire on that hot July day. The Bishop of Salisbury stood by, self-righteous, resigned, firm ally of his Regent, prepared to support him in whatever action he decided to take against his recalcitrant daughter.
Charlotte looked imploringly at her father, but his expression was cold and it was clear that at this moment he hated her.
He took first the familiar self-pitying role. ‘What have I done to be treated in this way?’ he demanded plaintively. ‘Have I deserved such an ungrateful child?’
The Bishop gave a sympathetic little cough but Charlotte wanted to shout: Yes, you have. You have never loved me as I wanted to be loved … as I needed to be loved. If you had, everything would have been different.
But she was silent.
He went on pitying himself for a few moments and then his anger flared up. ‘You have broken off this marriage … without consulting me. You have decided that a match, to which I and my ministers have given much thought, much consideration … and all for your good, your personal benefit … is to be broken off in this churlish fashion. I do not understand how a daughter of mine can behave in such a way.’
And on and on. She was not listening to the words; she was watching the expressions fleeting across his face. He is acting, she thought; he always acts. He does not know it but he has been acting all his life. He is listening to his own voice now, admiring it. In a moment he will weep. He will be Lear weeping for a daughter’s ingratitude. If only one could explain to him. But how could one? He never saw anyone clearly. He only saw the Prince Regent as he wished to see him and people were good or bad according to their behaviour towards him.
If she remembered this she could be defiant. She could tell herself that she no longer cared for his esteem, that she hated him.
I have my mother, she thought. She loves me. And the thought sustained her.
‘You and your household have consistently gone against my wishes,’ he was saying. ‘I am going to put a stop to that. Your household here is to be dismissed and you are to leave Warwick House.’
‘W … when?’ she stammered.
‘This very night. You will come tonight to Carlton House and stay there until you move to Cranbourne Lodge.’
‘C … Cranbourne Lodge!’
‘Pray do not repeat me in that stuttering fashion. It offends me. I have a new household for you and you will shortly be introduced to them. They will serve you at Cranbourne Lodge.’
Cranbourne Lodge, she thought. In Windsor Park. She would leave London. The Queen and the Old Girls would be at Windsor and she would have to be constantly in their company. And Cornelia … was Cornelia dismissed? How then was she going to keep up her correspondence with F?
‘I must ask you …’
‘You must ask nothing. You must merely obey. Very shortly your new household will be arriving here to meet you. In the meantime go and tell your women that you are leaving Warwick House for Carlton House tonight – and tell Miss Knight to come to me here.’
She stumbled out of the room.
She found Cornelia alone in her room in a state of great apprehension.
‘It is terrible,’ she cried. ‘There is to be a new household. You are to go at him at once.’
‘Miss Knight.’ The Regent looked at her with such coldness that she began to shiver.
‘Your Highness.’
‘I am sorry, Miss Knight, to put you to inconvenience, but I’m afraid I must ask you to leave Warwick House without delay.’
‘Tonight, Your Highness?’
‘Tonight. Your room will be needed for one of the ladies of the Princess’s new household. I must inform you that the Princess Charlotte is leaving tonight for Carlton House where she will spend a few days before travelling down to Cranbourne Lodge in Windsor Park with her new household.’
‘New household, Sir, but …’
‘With her new household,’ repeated the Prince, painfully surprised that Miss Knight should interrupt him. ‘I think it will be better for all concerned if the Princess is not allowed so much freedom. The Queen will be at Windsor and for a time I wish her to be the only visitor whom Charlotte will receive. The Countess of Ilchester will be at the head of the new household and she will be assisted by Lady Rosslyn and Mrs Campbell. Now, Miss Knight, I repeat I am distressed to have to put a lady to inconvenience but I shall need your room and no doubt you will have a few preparations to make before you leave Warwick House this evening.’