Jean Plaidy - The Regent’s Daughter

But how dared she speak to him in this manner. ‘You seem to think that you are the only one in the world who can make Minney happy.’

‘I do think that and I know it’s true.’

‘I happen to think that Minney has some affection for me.’

‘She has – but if she were aware that you were in this diabolical plot to separate her from me, you would lose that affection, let me warn you.’

‘You warn me!’

‘Certainly. If you wish to keep Minney’s affection do not make plans with your paramour to take her from me.’

This was too much. Tears filled his eyes. He – the Prince of Wales – had tried to talk to her reasonably and she had come here to abuse him.

‘You forget,’ he said, ‘that you were allowed to take Minney because of my intervention. I persuaded Lord and Lady Hertford that it was my pleasure that the child should come to you. And this I did solely to please you because your comfort and happiness had always meant so much to me.’

‘And for Minney’s too, I hope. You know how frightened the child was at the prospect of leaving me.’

‘Children forget. She will be happy with the Hertfords.’

‘You talk as though the matter is already settled.’

He went on as though she had not spoken. ‘Minney will see me … frequently. I daresay that if you do not displease the Hertfords they would allow you to call.’

Maria’s eyes were blazing with rage and determination.

‘Let me tell you this: Minney is not leaving me. Understand this and make the Hertfords understand it. She is happy with me; she feels secure … or she did until that woman came with her sly and cruel suggestions. Minney was disturbed when the case was in progress. I shall not allow her to be upset again. I will do anything … simply anything to prevent this. You may go to Lady Hertford. Do so if you so wish it. But let me tell you this: If you attempt to take Minney from me I shall fight for her with all my power and I do not think you will succeed in taking her from me.’

‘There is the justice of this case. Hertford is the head of Minney’s family. It was he who allowed you to take her.’

‘And you will make him see that it would be wise for him to allow matters to stay as they are.

‘I fear I do not understand you.’

‘I think you do. I do not forget that you and I were married in my house in Park Street on the 15th December 1785. I have a certificate to prove this. I have never produced this evidence because I did not think it proper to do so. I allowed you to permit a denial of our marriage. I have never published the true facts. I considered it beneath my dignity to do so. You are not very popular with the people. They used to cheer you wherever you went. You have no one but yourself to blame. Pray do not look at me like that. I tell you truths which others dare not. You may be the Prince of Wales but you are also my husband and I will speak my mind. You are my husband … whatever you say to the contrary. I should have been stronger and refused to go through that ceremony with you. I should have gone away as I intended to. You will remember that it was you who persuaded me that you could not live without me. So … there was that ceremony. You married a Catholic. And what if I publish evidence of this? What if your marriage to the Princess Caroline is in question? What if Charlotte is a bastard? What then? Oh, you will say that our marriage was no marriage in the eyes of the State though it was in those of the Church. Perhaps some will agree with you but there will be many who do not. What a storm about the ears of a prince who will one day be king. Is he married or is he not? Yes, say some. No, say others. And what of your father? What of Charlotte? Is she the true heiress to the throne? You see what a storm you will be raising if you allow me to publish that important certificate of marriage.’

‘You would not do it, Maria. You have always said you would not do it.’

‘I have said so and I have kept my word all these years, have I not? But Minney is my child. I love her as my own daughter. I know she needs me … as I need her. If she were torn from me she would suffer … terribly. Minney is not going to suffer. I have decided on that. I will do anything to prevent it. You will admit that I have evidence which could possibly make your throne rock. Now is your chance to choose again. Your dear Lady Hertford would love to wound me and clever woman that she is she sees that the best way of achieving this is through Minney. But my child is not going to be used for the sport of that woman. Perhaps you wish to please her … If you do, remember that you could lose your crown through doing it in this instance.’

‘I never heard such dramatics over a matter that has not been thought of in any seriousness.’

Maria smiled, relieved.

‘I am delighted that this absurd and cruel plot was not seriously thought of. I hope you will explain this to Lady Hertford.’

‘Maria …’ His eyes had filled with tears. Maria was magnificent; she was a good woman; he had always known that. It was her goodness which often irritated him.

‘Well?’ She was imperious as though she were royalty and he the subject.

‘You have been behaving very badly lately. How dared you refuse my invitations to the Pavilion?’

‘Because I did not wish to accept them. I will not be chaperon to your mistress. Do make that plain to her.’

‘I have suffered a great deal for you,’ he began.

‘Then you will be relieved that you need suffer no more. Pray do not invite me to the Pavilion for I have no intention of coming while Lady Hertford is your guest of honour. And I beg of Your Highness to understand that Minney is my child and I would die rather than give her up.’

With that she swept out of the anteroom leaving the Prince staring after her.

He wanted to burst into tears. How dare she talk to him in such a manner! His dear magnificent Maria? She knew that she would always have a special place in his heart and she did not seem to care.

She will be placated, he thought. He would tell the Hertfords that Minney stayed with Maria. Then she would see that he was in truth her friend.

Back in Tilney Street Minney was anxiously awaiting the return of Maria. As soon as she came in Minney flung herself into her arms.

‘It’s all right, darling,’ said Maria. ‘Everything is all right now.’

Minney looked up into Maria’s face and knew that this was true.

‘You have seen Prinney?’

‘Yes, dearest. I have seen Prinney and he is going to stop the Hertfords taking you from me.’

‘Oh, dearest Prinney!’

Maria stroked Minney’s hair. No point in telling her that Prinney had had to be blackmailed into allowing her to stay and that when he was enamoured of a woman he would brush aside a child’s happiness to please her.

What did it matter? thought Maria. Minney was her child. She had won.

Minney was the most important thing on earth to her. That was a discovery. Through this case she had gained a child and lost a husband. But if she could keep Minney she would not complain.

She had reached a new stage of her life. She would no longer be dominated by the Prince. Once she had loved him exclusively; but now Minney came first.

IN THE YEAR 1809 Charlotte celebrated her thirteenth birthday.

‘Another year,’ she told Mercer, ‘and I shall cease to be a child.’

‘That,’ replied Mercer with her sound good sense, ‘will rather depend on how you develop in the meantime.’

Charlotte was sure that continued association with her beloved Mercer would enable her to grow up more quickly than anything else. Between Mercer, who was so high-minded, and Mrs Udney, who was perhaps a little low-minded, one could grasp life in its various layers which, reasoned Charlotte, was rather necessary if one was to understand it in all its aspects.

One February day Mercer arrived to tell her that Drury Lane theatre had been burned down. This was a terrible calamity, for the place had been gutted and the reservoir on the roof was quite useless.

‘Poor Mr Sheridan!’ sighed Mercer. ‘I am so sorry for him. So brilliant, so clever! But the theatre was insured against fire for which I am indeed thankful. I hear the House of Commons expressed its sympathy; so I am sure all help will be given in building a new theatre.’ From this Mercer went on to talk of Mr Sheridan’s exciting career and how he and Mr Fox had worked together. Fox, being one of Mercer’s heroes, was one of Charlotte’s too – and Charlotte was delighted because her father had been so fond of him.

‘A good Whig,’ said Mercer, which was high praise from her. ‘And the finest playwright of his age. There are many politicians, but I have heard it said that there is no man living who can write plays to equal Sheridan’s. But perhaps he does well to continue in politics, for it is better to lead the people than to amuse them.’

Charlotte agreed wholeheartedly, as she did with everything Mercer said.

Mercer knew exactly what was happening throughout the world; she could talk excitingly of Napoleon’s exploits; she gave her opinions freely and she taught Charlotte to be a good Whig.

She made Charlotte long for the days when she would be able to appear in public, to attend the opera or the theatre. In Mercer’s opinion she should always have been allowed to attend these places if only for special performances. Not that Mercer believed she should have gone to the first night of the new theatre at Covent Garden, where Mercer told her, they had opened with Macbeth. Mr Kemble had spoken the address though the uproar had been so great that no one had heard him. That was not suitable for a princess, but the opera certainly was, thought Mercer. She feared that the Princess’s education was neglected in some respects. She, Mercer, would try to remedy that.