She was beginning to feel that the English were really pleased to see her. Perhaps this was why next morning as she was prepared to continue the journey and knew that that day she would come face to face with her husband, she allowed Elizabeth to persuade her to adopt an English mode of dress. In fact she was rather pleased with the effect, for the English fashion was more becoming than the German, and when she did not look at the dazzling beauty of her two English ladies-in- waiting she felt she looked tolerably well. Her fly cap had laced lappets which were very fine; and the stomacher with which she had been presented was decorated with diamonds, her gown was a white brocade with gold embroidery. It was quite magnificent and more elegant than anything she had ever possessed.
When they set out and she saw how many people had come to see her she was glad she had worn a dress more in keeping with what these people had been accustomed to think of as high royal fashion. She sat in her coach smiling at them as she passed along.
At Romford the King's servants met her; they surrounded her coach and prepared to bring her into the capital; and along the road the cavalcade was joined by more soldiers, all in dazzling uniforms, all come to escort her on her way. And so she came to London.
She was bewildered and fascinated so much so that temporarily she forgot the ordeal before her.
As her coach rattled over the cobbles past the magnificent buildings such as she had-never before imagined existed the magic of the great city enveloped her. She saw the people jostling for a look at her; from the windows of the houses they called to her; she could not understand what they said, but she knew it for a welcome and she bowed and smiled and her delight in what she saw was obvious, so London took her to its heart. She was plain they saw; but they liked her no less for that. She was a young bride for their young King; her coming would mean a wedding a day of holiday and revelry, then a coronation.
"Long live the Queen” shouted the people of London.
She saw the gaily coloured signs hanging from the shops; apprentices with their masters and their masters' wives; ladies in their chairs, elegantly scented, powdered and patched. There were men in brocaded coats, their quizzing glasses held up in the procession, delicate lace ruffles falling from their wrists; and there were beggars, ragged and, dirty, and women with children in their arms and dragging at their skirts; there were the street traders who yelled their wares, to mingle with the shouts of loyal greetings. The ballad sellers, the pie men, the milk girls with their panniers on their shoulders, the pin woman, the apple woman, the gingerbread-seller ... they were all there to play their part and add to the noise and squalor, the colour and excitement of the London streets.
Charlotte stared in amazement as the coach rumbled on. The Marchioness was amused by the effect the London scene was having on Charlotte. She looked at the watch which hung at her side and declared: "Your Majesty will scarcely have time to dress for your wedding, which is to take place tonight.”
"Tonight! But surely I shall have a day or so to ... grow accustomed to the King?”
"It has been arranged, Madam, that it shall take place tonight.”
The significance of this suddenly struck Charlotte. She was almost at St. James's. There she would come face to face with the man they had chosen to be her husband; she was to be hurried through a ceremony and then left with him alone. I cannot do it, she thought. It is too much to ask. The Marchioness was looking at her oddly.
"Your Majesty is not well," she began, then cried out in alarm for Charlotte had fallen sideways, her face ashen.
"Quick," cried the Marchioness to the Duchess, 'the Queen is about to faint. We shall be there in a minute. She can't be laid at her bridegroom's feet... in a faint!”
The Duchess took a bottle of lavender water from her pocket and opening it threw the contents into Charlotte's face. As the sweet scent filled the carriage, Charlotte opened her eyes.
"She is recovered," whispered the Marchioness.
"Oh, thank God! Your Majesty, we have arrived.”
The coach had stopped before a garden gate and a young man was coming towards it.
"The Duke of York," whispered the Marchioness to Charlotte.
Using all her will power Charlotte threw off the faintness which had almost overwhelmed her in the coach and looked about her; it seemed as though a crowd of people were pressing in on her.
Oh, God, help me, she thought. I am going to faint again.
A tall young man had stepped towards her. She knew at once who he was, for the miniature with which she had been presented was a fair likeness. Flattering, of course, but there were the prominent blue eyes, the heavy jaw, the mouth which was trying hard to smile but which in repose could be sullen.
This was her husband ... the man whose children she was to bear ... whose bed she would share this very night if it were true that they were to be married without delay. Her knees felt weak and unable to support her. She was about to sink on to them when he took both her hands and kissed them. He could not meet her eyes and she noticed this and she guessed that he was disappointed in her. She knew he must be. Doubtless they had told him she was if not beautiful tolerably attractive. And she felt so ill, so faint.
But he spoke to her kindly and his voice was tender. At least he was determined to hide his disappointment and she was grateful for that.
"My mother is waiting to greet you," the King told her. "Allow me to conduct you to her.”
He took her hand and the rest of the company fell in behind them as they went into the Palace.
Beside Augusta, Dowager Princess of Wales, stood a tall man, middle aged, but still outstandingly handsome. Charlotte guessed this was Lord Bute whose name she had heard mentioned many times as a great power in the land on account of his influence with the King and his mother.
The King presented her to his mother first and Charlotte was aware of a pair of shrewd eyes studying her; she was not sure of the meaning behind their expression but she fancied it was one of approval.
"My sister, the Princess Augusta," he said, 'who wishes to welcome you into England and the family.”
The Princess Augusta, a year older than the King, looked anything but pleased, thought Charlotte; she made a formal speech in French to which Charlotte responded; and after that Caroline Matilda was presented a girl not much more than ten years old, Charlotte realized; and she too made her speech of welcome.
Then it was the turn of Lord Bute - 'my dear friend', the King called him and Charlotte's hand was most courteously kissed and Lord Bute told her, with emotion in his voice, how delighted he was to have her with them.
The Dowager Princess had risen and said that there was little time to spare, for the wedding was to take place at nine o'clock.
"Your wedding garments are all ready in the wardrobe room," she was told. "But it may well be that some alterations will be necessary." The Princess Dowager looked as though they could hardly have expected George's Queen to be quite so thin and little.
"So we will lose no time," said the Dowager Princess, and Charlotte was walking with her into another apartment. The King had remained behind with Lord Bute and a panic seized Charlotte.
She had felt safer with her husband than with the women: the cold woman who was her mother- in-law; the supercilious girl who was her sister-in-law and the young Caroline Matilda who, she felt, was secretly amused. Why? Because she was thin and small and ugly, and the child felt this to be some sort of joke?
"Oh" cried Caroline Matilda as they entered the apartment in which the clothes were laid out.