Jean Plaidy - The Regent’s Daughter

‘You cannot mean …’ began Cornelia.

‘I do. It happened last night at Carlton House.’

‘So you agreed.’

‘Well, not exactly. It happened. I did not quite know how but one moment my father asked me how I felt and the next I was engaged.’

Cornelia stared in horror at Charlotte, who swept past her, and Cornelia following went down to greet the Prince.

Oh dear, thought Cornelia, hardly prepossessing. Really plain … and he does not look healthy. She cannot really be in love with him. In love with him! But of course she is not.

But perhaps she is, for she loves strange people. Gloucester for instance. But that was not serious. Devonshire, Hesse, Fitzclarence. They all except Gloucester, who did not count, had a romantic air about them which this young boy from Holland lacked.

She could hear the betrothed pair talking together. They sounded like two ordinary young people getting to know each other. Charlotte did not seem desperately unhappy so perhaps she was reconciled to her father’s wishes.

When he had left the Princess was uncommunicative – but quiet and serious. Cornelia wished that Mercer were here so that they could discuss the matter together.

The next day the Prince of Orange came again and with him was the Prince Regent.

The latter was more cordial to Cornelia than he had been for some time; he was clearly good-humoured and delighted with himself and the young people.

‘The Prince of Orange was so eager to call on the Princess,’ he told Cornelia, ‘that I thought I would accompany him here. Charlotte, you and the Prince will have a great deal to say to each other and I will sit awhile and talk to the Chevalier. I have something to say to her.’

Cornelia felt a twinge of apprehension, wondering what the Regent had to say to her.

She soon discovered. He had not forgotten her rather careless conduct in riding out to Chiswick with the Princess. He wanted her to be especially careful, particularly now that Charlotte was affianced. He had noticed that his daughter’s behaviour was sometimes what he would call ‘light’. He did not think those who had been put in charge of her should allow her to behave in this way. She was an innocent young girl, he was fully aware of that. But he did not want people to suppose for one moment that it could be otherwise. And people were inclined to put unfortunate constructions on the most innocent actions. He did not want to have to lay the blame at any door, there were so many who would say that there was some fault in her household.

Cornelia thought of the Hesse letters and shivered.

This rather disturbing conversation was brought to an end by the sound of violent sobbing in the next room. The Regent sprang to his feet and hurried in the direction of the sobs. Charlotte had thrown herself on to a sofa and was crying bitterly while the Prince of Orange was standing helplessly by.

‘Is he taking his leave of you?’ asked the Regent. ‘Well, well, you must not be distressed. You will have plenty of chances to be alone with him.’ He turned to Orange. ‘In spite of her protests I fear we must depart now. Don’t forget you have an important engagement.’

How like him! He did not want to know the cause of her tears and had implied it was because Orange was saying goodbye to her. He decided how people should act to give him most comfort, and that was the way he pretended they did.

When they had gone Charlotte said: ‘I don’t want to be engaged to him, Cornelia. I never wanted it. And he told me that I shall have to live part of the year in Holland. I won’t. I swear I won’t.’

Cornelia did her best to comfort her, but they were both conscious of how implacable could be the will of the plump and benign-looking Regent.

Charlotte lay listlessly in her bed. For some days she had felt very unwell. The pain in her knee had intensified; she had no desire to go out. Louisa tried to mother her, but she did not respond. Cornelia, who knew the cause of her apprehension, wrote to Mercer and told her how uneasy she was.

When Mercer arrived Charlotte brightened considerably and the two of them discussed her affairs with Cornelia. Charlotte admitted that she did not want to marry Orange although she did not dislike him as much as she had thought she would, and she knew she had to marry someone; but the thought of having to leave England horrified her.

‘Imagine,’ she cried, ‘to be in a strange land, parted from all one’s friends. Besides, my place is here. One day I shall be the Queen. Should the Queen of England live abroad?’

Mercer was thoughtful. ‘You could not, as Queen of England, live abroad.’

‘And could he, as ruler of Holland which he will one day be, live in England?’

There was silence and then Mercer said: ‘Don’t worry, let things go for the moment and do not let the Regent know that you are determined on this point. You could not possibly go abroad for a long time. The state of Europe would not permit it. And your betrothal has not yet been publicly announced. I would say wait and see what happens.’

Cornelia was nodding her approval of this idea; and Charlotte felt relieved. Her two friends had comforted her as they always did.

THE FOLLOWING JANUARY was the coldest Charlotte ever remembered. By the middle of the month the Thames was frozen and booths were set up on the ice that a fair might be held. It was impossible to travel outside London for the roads were blocked with snow; trade was coming to a standstill; but the mood of the people continued exultant because the end of the Napoleonic war was in sight.

The Regent was stricken with influenza and gout. He was peevish and his doctors were constantly at his bedside; Charlotte herself was far from well; she said she only had to put her nose outside the door to shrivel up like a lemon.

But by the end of the month the thaw had set in and everyone’s spirits rose.

On her birthday Charlotte went to visit her mother. She was feeling hurt because she had not seen her father. It was true he had remembered her birthday and had explained to her that he would be unable to see her on that day as he had promised to attend a christening. But, Charlotte asked herself, if he had really wished to be with her he would not have allowed this other engagement to be made. He had given her a splendid diamond bracelet for a birthday present when he had told her that he would be unable to see her; it was very grand and valuable and she had worn it constantly since – even on unsuitable occasions – but she could not tell him that his presence would have meant more to her than the glittering gift.

At least she could see her mother and Caroline received her with many explanations of delight and affection. If her little girl had not come to her on her birthday she would have called in Brougham and Whitbread to do something about it, she declared. She was not going to be kept away from her darling in this way. And now Charlotte must come and see her library which had just been completed. Connaught House delighted her. It was far far better than stuffy old Kensington Palace.

Charlotte admired the library which was ornate in the extreme with its six large bookcases designed by the Princess of Wales herself. Caroline called Charlotte’s attention to the pedestals at the end of the bookcases on each of which was a statue holding a lamp. There were many statues in the room and such a quantity of pictures that there was hardly a space on the wall which was not occupied.

‘There!’ cried Caroline. ‘What do you think of it, my cherub?’

‘It is very splendid, Mamma.’

‘I was determined it should be. Why should I not surround myself with splendour … and people … and amusing, clever people, eh? Because he despises me that does not mean the rest of the world does. Oh, no!’

‘Of course not, Mamma.’

‘Not my little Charlotte, eh? She loves her old mother, and I do believe that if it were possible she would come and live with me tomorrow. Is that not so?’

‘If it were possible,’ said Charlotte hesitantly.

‘One of these days it may be. They can’t treat you like a child for ever, can they?’

‘When I am married …’

‘Married. These rumours!’

Charlotte realized that her mother had not been informed of her betrothal; and indeed it had not been publicly announced, but she thought her mother should have been told.

‘So,’ cried Caroline, ‘they are true!’

‘Well, Mamma, there is an understanding between myself and the Prince of Orange.’

‘Orange! That thin little boy … without a chin and a kingdom too, until a little while ago.’

‘My father is eager for the match.’

‘The old rogue! Why? Why should my precious daughter be thrown away on that stripling! It’s monstrous! And the Regent wants it. You can’t want it, Charlotte. You can’t want him. He’ll be no good to you.’

‘I … don’t find him unpleasant.’

‘You don’t find him unpleasant! Why, bless you, that’s no way to talk about your future husband. Do you find him pleasant? Of course you don’t. I know what he wants, the old devil. He wants you out of the way. He’s jealous of you, Charlotte. He knows the people are fond of you and he knows they hate him. So he wants you out of the way … so that they’ll forget you.’

‘I don’t want to go to Holland.’

‘You must not go to Holland. You must stand out against it, my pet. And to think they did not tell me of the betrothal of my own daughter!’

‘I shall refuse to leave England.’

‘That’s right. You refuse. And refuse him too. You’re throwing yourself away, Charlotte … and why should you? You should choose your own husband … someone like little Hesse, eh?’ Caroline nudged her daughter slyly. ‘Oh, there was one you felt very fondly for, eh? And I’m not surprised, a little charmer, he was.’