‘It’s Charlotte!’ cried the people, and there was a special cheer for her after Lord Byron’s poem. She was good Princess Charlotte as opposed to the wicked Regent. Sometimes she was pleased about that, sometimes sorry; it was all part of her mixed feelings for her father. She could not really decide how she felt about him when sometimes she was saddened by his unpopularity, at others elated by it.

At the opera house she was received with ceremony and conducted to her box.

How they cheered as she stepped into it. She came to the front, bowing and smiling and waving in an exuberant if not exactly a regal manner. The people did not mind. She was young and fresh and so obviously pleased to be among them.

‘God bless the Princess Charlotte!’ they called. And there were cries of ‘Down with the Prince Regent!’

Lady de Clifford was in a fever of anxiety, but the Duchess was as calm as ever; and Colonel Bloomfield decided that it was his duty to report to the Regent how she had been applauded, for fear he should hear through some other source.

During the intervals people looked up at her box and she could not resist waving to them. There was excitement throughout the opera house, and it was clear that the audience was delighted to have the Princess among them and to see her in a new light – no longer a girl but a young woman destined to be their queen.

When she left they crowded round her carriage cheering her; she waved and smiled and even threw kisses.

‘Princess Charlotte!’ murmured Lady de Clifford in embarrassment, and was certain that Colonel Bloomfield would report to the Prince that she had no control over her charge.

She was right. He did.

Thus the Prince learned that Lady de Clifford was nervous with the Princess and had no control over her; that she was constantly in the company of that forthright and most forceful young woman Miss Margaret Mercer Elphinstone who was a fervent Whig and determined that Princess Charlotte should be the same.

As a result the Regent paid an unexpected call at Warwick House.

There was a flutter of excitement throughout the Princess’s establishment. Lady de Clifford was visibly trembling; she ran into the room where Louisa and Mrs Gagarin were mending one of the Princess’s gowns and asked if they had any idea why His Royal Highness should have called.

They were astonished. Surely Lady de Clifford should have more idea than they. But had the Princess any notion that her father was coming? None that she had imparted to them, said Louisa.

She ran out distractedly.

‘Dear me,’ said Louisa, ‘I do fear the task really is becoming too much for her ladyship.’

‘Charlotte has no respect for her,’ said Mrs Gagarin sadly. ‘It is time she went.’

‘But for whom would Charlotte have respect? I am not sure that Miss Elphinstone is good for her.’

‘You’re jealous, Louisa,’ said Mrs Gagarin. ‘Perhaps we both are. She’s like our very own child, I suppose … and we don’t like to see others taking too much of her attention. I hope and pray I live to see her happily married.’

‘Don’t talk like that,’ said Louisa sharply. She could not imagine the apartments without Mrs Gagarin and she was angry with her when she talked as though her end was not far off. Louisa could not bear the thought of change. She wanted to go on with Charlotte their own dear tomboy for ever.

Meanwhile the Prince had summoned his daughter to his presence.

He looked at her coldly.

‘I have come to tell you,’ he said, ‘that you are to leave for Windsor without delay.’

‘W … Windsor,’ she stammered, and he frowned. After all the teachers she had had she had never completely mastered that unbecoming hesitation in her speech. It was most trying.

‘I said Windsor,’ he repeated, enunciating very clearly.

‘I hate W … Windsor.’ There! She had been so determined not to stutter. That was why she had repeated the name of the hateful place; and she had done it again.

‘Nonsense,’ said the Prince. ‘How can you hate Windsor?’ And as he spoke he knew perfectly well why she hated Windsor. He had always hated it himself.

‘It’s cold and draughty and … dull, and the old …’ She stopped in time. ‘I want to stay here,’ she added boldly.

‘That is unfortunate,’ he retorted coldly, ‘since you are going to Windsor. Pray, let us have no more childish scenes. You will leave tomorrow. And there is one friendship you have made which shall be discontinued. I refer to this unseemly familiarity with Miss Elphinstone.’

‘M … Mercer,’ she cried.

‘I said Miss Elphinstone. I wish all contact with her to cease.’

‘That’s not p … possible.’

‘Charlotte, pray don’t be absurd. I shall expect you to see no more of this young person until I give you permission to do so.’

‘B … but she is my greatest friend.’

‘You are too old for foolishness now. You have been making yourself familiar with the people. That means that your actions are under supervision. There is no place in them for sentimental friendships.’

‘Friendship is a very good thing. So I have been taught.’

‘I believe this woman would seek to direct you. That is something I cannot have – nor should you. You will see no more of her. Do you understand what I say?’

She hesitated; her lower lip jutting out defiantly. Then she said: ‘Yes, Papa.’

‘Very well. I am most displeased with your conduct. That tearful scene of which so much has been made quite disgusted me. Pray try to be a little more responsible. Remember that you happen to be my daughter. Now you may go. Tomorrow you shall leave for Windsor and you understand me when I say that you shall make no further contact with Miss Elphinstone until I give my permission for you to do so.’

‘Yes, Papa,’ she said meekly.

Of course, she said to herself, I understood what he said. Does he think I am a fool who can’t understand English? I understood but I didn’t promise. And in any case if I implied I promised, promises given in such circumstances are not binding.

To prove to herself that she was not going to be dictated to by him she took out a piece of paper and picked up a pen to write to her dearest Mercer to tell her that she was to leave for Windsor the next day and that the ‘P.R.’ had instructed her to cut off all communication with her dearest Mercer.

‘He thought I promised but I did not. And I should never promise such a thing, my best of friends. I would die rather than give you up, as you well know.’

Mercer’s response was to send her a bracelet which was engraved with their names.

Charlotte wept over it when she received it and declared that it would always be a great joy to her. She needed some solace because by that time she was at Windsor, and what was there to do at Windsor but attend dreary Drawing Rooms presided over by the Queen who was becoming more and more stern with her granddaughter and was even more critical than the Prince Regent; and when she rode out it was usually with one of the Old Girls.

What a life! Her visits to her mother were less frequent and the Princess of Wales was growing restive. She was hinting that she would not much longer endure the situation and was giving out dark hints as to what she would do.

Then Mrs Udney brought her a note which had come through the Princess Caroline. It was from Captain Hesse who was coming to Windsor when he hoped he would have the pleasure of seeing the Princess Charlotte. Charlotte was delighted and after that she often contrived to give the grooms the slip and meet Captain Hesse in the forest.

One must make the most of dull old Windsor. What was there to do but ride and practise dancing and write to Mercer telling her how she longed for her company? George Fitzclarence had arrived and what fun it was to divide her smiles between the two young men.

The aunts were shocked.

‘I do declare, Charlotte,’ said Aunt Mary, who had once been the prettiest of the Old Girls and still was, though faded, ‘that you are a regular flirt.’

Poor Aunt Mary who hoped to marry her cousin the Duke of Gloucester. Charlotte wondered why they didn’t because surely the Prince Regent would put no obstacles in their way. It was only poor mad Grandpapa who had done that – and of course the Begum. That wicked old woman did not wish her daughters to marry because she did not want them to have any independence and wanted to keep them dancing attendance on her. But if Mary and Gloucester were ever going to marry they should do so now before it was too late. Perhaps the Regent would give his consent if they asked it, but it might be that having waited so long they had lost the urge to marry.

Poor old things! thought Charlotte. When one was approaching the charming age of seventeen one could be sorry for these old people – particularly such as Aunt Mary who had never lived any life but one in subservience to the old Begum. So what did she know of flirts? Though, considered Charlotte, I believe I am inclined to be one. She would write and tell Mercer. Dear Mercer, who meant more to her than anyone.

During that stay at Windsor when she was not reading Mercer’s letters smuggled in to her very often by the services of Mrs Udney, or writing her own to be smuggled out by the same ready hand, when she was not writing to Captain Hesse – and how much more familiar she could be on paper than in conversation when they were so spied upon (and in any case she had inherited her father’s gift for letter-writing and his indiscretion in the art, because after all it was indiscretion which made a correspondence exciting) – she became aware of a certain tension in the atmosphere. Poor old Lady de Clifford seemed to have become more scatter-brained than ever; Mrs Gagarin was remote and Charlotte feared she was sometimes in pain, a fact which disturbed her greatly; Louisa was worried about Mrs Gagarin; and there was something secretive about the aunts. As for the Queen, she was more tight-lipped than ever, more disapproving, and attendances on her were becoming intolerable.