‘Devil take them both,’ cried the Prince. ‘Not only have I the most vulgar woman in the world for a wife but I have also the most capricious of daughters.’

But in view of the fact that his mother-in-law was dead he had lifted the ban on meetings because there was nothing like a death to arouse public sentimentality.

The Princess of Wales wore purple for mourning and it did not become her. Charlotte always forgot how grotesquely colourful her mother was until she came face to face with her. The brilliantly rouged cheeks, the painted black brows, the black wig with its profusion of curls always gave her a fresh shock.

‘So my angel has come,’ cried the Princess, fiercely embracing her.

‘Papa gave me permission.’

‘The wicked old devil!’ She laughed. ‘What I have to endure from him! But nothing he can do to me hurts me like separating me from my dearest Charlotte.’

‘And how is Willie?’ Charlotte always had to remind her mother of Willie when she became too effusively affectionate. Was she jealous of Willie? She did not think so but she was not sure. There was so much which bewildered her in this strange relationship with her parents.

‘Willie is adorable,’ declared Caroline. ‘He is my solace. But it is of you, my precious, that I wish to talk today. You are no longer a child, you know.’

‘I know it well,’ cried Charlotte. ‘My complaint is that others forget it.’

‘You heard the people cheering as you alighted from your carriage. We have them on our side … against him.’

‘But it is not good that they should be against him. He is after all the King in a way … until Grandpapa recovers at least and we all know he never will.’

‘Poor old King,’ said Caroline. ‘He was always my friend. The only one of the whole miserable family who showed me any kindness.’ She broke into one of her bursts of loud laughter. ‘He had a fancy for me. His mind was wandering half the time, I do believe, but he had a fancy for me. If I’d come as his bride that would have been a different story.’

Charlotte drew slightly away from her mother – repelled yet fascinated as she was so often.

Caroline had noticed. ‘They have made a Mistress Prim of you. That’s de old Begum. You’ve forgotten Captain Hesse … and those pleasant meetings you had and the letters I helped you exchange. What would de old Begum say to that, I wonder? Or His High and Mighty Highness. Imagine the scene.’ She laughed even louder at the thought. ‘He can have his games, oh yes! There’s not a bigger libertine in the kingdom. But it all has to be done like a piece of fancy play-acting.’

Charlotte was not listening. She was thinking of the meeting with Hesse which had given her such pleasure. Innocent meetings when she had felt herself to be living dangerously. They had been alone together so often in her mother’s house; and there had been that occasion when her mother had locked them in the bedroom.

What had brought this home to her with such a shock was the thought of her father’s hearing of this. He would be disgusted. He would find her as vulgar as he found her mother.

She shivered.

‘It is better to forget that,’ she said.

‘Forget your romances? Why they’re the best things in life, my angel. Ask your father. The scandals about him. Have you ever heard of Perdita Robinson? Ha! What a scandal. And then there is the biggest and best of all: Maria Fitzherbert. Did he or did he not marry her? He should not be the one to deny us a little fun, eh? But he would. He would be the first.’

Charlotte wanted to shut her ears.

Her mother, her arm about her, led her to the table. They must eat, she said, before that Leeds woman poked her sly nose in and said it was time for Charlotte to leave.

‘Silly old fool,’ cried the Princess of Wales. ‘She likes shower baths, I hear.’ Her contempt for anyone taking baths frequently was great. ‘I hope she does not try to persuade you to bathe too often, Charlotte. That could be injurious to the health.’

Charlotte did not answer that regular baths were a rule of the household and she knew that one of the reasons why her father had been so disgusted with her mother was due to her dislike of washing herself. ‘And I hear she’s no horsewoman,’ went on the Princess of Wales. ‘Chooses the quietest horse to amble along on. What a woman! And she is given to you in place of your mother!’

Willie joined them and sat under the doting eye of the Princess Caroline. She does in fact prefer him to me, thought Charlotte jealously. She looks on him as her very own. Is he? She shivered. These investigations had not proved that he was Caroline’s son, but they had left some very unpleasant doubts in everyone’s mind.

While they ate Charlotte was thinking of past visits, of her mother smiling secretively when Captain Hesse was announced, as though she were a conjuror who had brought forth a very pleasant gift for her daughter.

What an inflammable situation existed in this house – and she, Charlotte, when she had paid those lighthearted visits and had been so charmed with the company of Captain Hesse, had been playing with fire among the gunpowder.

Yet her mother had allowed it. Why? Because she was sorry for her daughter. Because she wanted to make her happy and give her some pleasure in life.

And she had. Charlotte was not going to deny that – dangerous pleasure though it might have been.

Willie was guzzling as usual. He was not the least bit impressed that the Princess Charlotte was seated at the table and that she was the future Queen of England … unless her father succeeded in divorcing her mother, marrying again and having a son.

And suppose he were in truth married to Maria Fitzherbert and his marriage to Caroline had been no true marriage, then she herself had no more claim to the throne than guzzling Willie.

What a strange household this was.

Caroline was drinking freely and her laughter was becoming louder.

‘Oh, Mamma,’ said Charlotte, ‘how I wish that there need not be this conflict in the family! How I wish that you and my father could be friends.’

Caroline looked at her daughter as though she suspected her sanity.

‘What! Me be friends with that man?’ She picked up her glass of wine and threw it across the table. Charlotte stared at the pools of red liquid staining the white cloth. ‘You may as well attempt to put that wine back in its bottle as stop my fury against people who have so maliciously used me.’

And there it was … the stained cloth, her mother laughing immoderately, Willie putting his finger into a nearby pool of wine and conveying it to his mouth, and the servants not in the least disturbed because they were so accustomed to the wild behaviour of the Princess of Wales.

Going back in the carriage Charlotte was thinking: If he knew about my friendship with Captain Hesse, what would he say? What would the people say? She thought of the things they had said because she had not appeared in public for a while.

Growing up was sometimes alarming.

Slender Billy

WILLIAM, HEREDITARY PRINCE OF HOLLAND, was on his way to London. He travelled with little enthusiasm for he was fully aware of the reason for his journey. His father, the Stadholder, was in England at this time ‘on a mission’; and young William could guess what that mission was.

They had chosen him to be the husband of the Princess Charlotte and although his father was delighted at the prospect, young William himself was not so sure. He was a good soldier; he had distinguished himself under Wellington but he wanted to carry on with his career, not settle down as the consort of an imperious young woman. He had heard reports of her – and she was certainly not the wife he would have chosen.

His father had written of his future as the husband of the heiress presumptive to England as though he were giving him a glimpse of paradise. Napoleon was on the point of defeat; and when that happy event took place, Holland would be returned to the Stadholder. As future ruler he would have to spend the greater part of his time there; but he would also be the consort of the Queen of England. He would realize the benefits of such an alliance: the Dutch and the English joined in marriage – a William of Orange once more in control of England, for he would know how to handle Charlotte and although she would in name be Queen, he would be her husband. He would be a fool if he did not understand how very advantageous such a match would be.

Advantageous, yes. William was ready to concede that. But he would be Charlotte’s husband and by all accounts she was a handful.

He was too young, he reasoned with himself as he knew he would not dare reason with his father. He was by no means prepossessing and hardly the sort of young man to appeal to a high-spirited girl. He was too thin and his teeth were not good and he was nervous and shy.

No, the Hereditary Prince of Orange would have preferred to stay with the Army than to visit the English Court.

By God, thought the Regent, the young fellow can scarcely be called handsome. What’s Charlotte going to say to him?

He received young William graciously enough, hoping that his own natural elegance would set a good example.

He was delighted, he said, to welcome the Prince to England and he hoped that his stay would be a happy one.

William mumbled that His Highness was gracious and the Stadholder looked on, anxiously guessing the impression his son was making.

Gauche or not, the Regent was thinking, he would do for Charlotte who was scarcely a model of deportment herself. Married to this young man she would be obliged to spend months in Holland. What a pleasure to pass on the responsibility to a husband! At least one of the tiresome females who haunted his life would be removed from it. And yet … she was his daughter; and sometimes when he was with her his paternal feelings would arise and he would remember that he was fond of her. If she had had a different mother …