Charlotte thought of the letters which he had not returned and drew away from her mother, remembering that it was she who had fostered that friendship.

‘And Fitzclarence too; and I hear that Sussex’s bastard has been casting eyes at you.’

Charlotte laughed. ‘Oh, d’Este,’ she said. ‘He has written me a most passionate letter.’

‘The young rip. What hope has he, eh?’

‘None at all, but he writes very charmingly.’

‘I’ll warrant he does and fancies himself as your cousin … although from the wrong side of the blanket … . for although that woman insists she’s married to Sussex she’s not, you know, and they’d never let you have young d’Este though he may insist he’s your cousin.’

‘I am affianced to Orange in any case.’

‘And you’re not happy about it. I can see that. Tell your Mamma.’

Charlotte explained her feelings and Caroline sat nodding sympathetically. It was easy to talk to her mother, she found.

‘Why, my love,’ said the Princess of Wales, ‘if I had any say in this, which as a mother I should have, I’d never let them marry you to a man you didn’t fancy. I know the miseries of an unhappy marriage; and I should have thought he would know, too. I cannot understand his forcing you into this … for forcing you it is.’

‘I don’t think he believes he actually forced me. I did see Orange and said that I found I liked him … just a little.’ Again that need to protect one parent in the presence of the other. But her mother was certainly soothing.

‘My dearest,’ she said, ‘you shall neyer be forced to do what is distasteful to you. You must always come to me and we will find a way out.’

‘I have some good friends. Miss Knight and Miss Elphinstone are very calm and practical and they think always of my good. They say that I should wait and see what happens. My betrothal has not even been made public yet.’

‘Dear good people!’ cried Caroline. ‘I’m glad they are with you. But never forget – you always have your mother.’

‘I don’t forget. Mamma. I know you are always there and would always help me … if you could.’

‘With all my heart, my precious. And to think they are trying to force you into a marriage you do not fancy. It must not be. Look at your Mamma. I was married … not exactly against my will. I was told I was to have the best match in Europe. Oh, my dear, what tales I heard! And the picture they sent me of him! Framed in diamonds and must have been painted twenty years before. What a rude awakening! They didn’t tell me how fat he was; and his manners. He took one look at me and asked for brandy to sustain him. That was your First Gentleman of Europe. I’ve had the fortune-teller. She should read your hand, Charlotte. Do you know that she told me that I’d be rid of him, that I’d travel. I always wanted to, Charlotte. It was one of my dreams. To travel and have lots of babies … babies of my own to look after and love. “Yes, Madam,” she said, “you’ll travel the world and you’ll have a husband … a new husband who dotes on you.” So there.’

Charlotte looked uneasy. ‘Papa would have to die first.’

Caroline put her head on one side. ‘Not necessarily, my pet. You know he’s been longing to divorce me for years. Perhaps he’ll succeed. He won’t if I can help it … but he might. He’s got the powers-that-be with him … but then so have I. Ha, that would be amusing, would it not? A new husband who adored me! Perhaps we’d have a child. Why not? There’s time. But I’d never have anyone I cared for as I do for my dearest Charlotte.’

Charlotte was uneasy and Caroline, for once, seemed to sense this and started to talk of that day eighteen years ago when they had come to her bedside and said to her: ‘You have a baby girl.’ ‘And they put you in my arms, my dearest, and I knew what it meant to be really happy. Nothing else in the world mattered. He was preparing to throw me aside … but I didn’t care. I had my baby … my own Charlotte … and there wasn’t a happier woman in London.’

Then she talked of Charlotte’s endearing ways; she had many stories most of which Charlotte had heard before, but she enjoyed hearing them again; and when it was time for her to leave she clung to her mother tenderly. Caroline supplied, oddly enough, a certain security. She was the most unstable of women, but her attitude towards her daughter had always been predictable. Charlotte believed that her mother would always willingly do her utmost to help her. It was a very pleasant feeling. Caroline seemed to sense her thoughts, for she said: ‘Never forget, dearest Charlotte, that when you need help, there is always your mother.’

‘I shall remember,’ replied Charlotte soberly.

And she felt contented as her carriage took her along the icy roads to Warwick House.

This was victory year and from all over the Continent visitors came to England to pay their respects to the Prince Regent because of the significant role England had played in the downfall of Napoleon. Wellington was the military hero and the Regent associated himself with the great general to such an extent that it seemed sometimes as though he actually believed he had been on the battlefield directing Wellington himself.

There should, he decided, be lavish entertainment for the foreigners. Carlton House and the Pavilion should be the setting for many a fête and banquet. The bells would ring out; the cannons should be fired; and this reminder of the country’s glory might even win back a little of that popularity which had been so lavishly bestowed on him in earlier days.

Charlotte must play a part in these entertainments, he decided. Orange had returned to Holland and no date had been fixed for the wedding which, said Cornelia, and Mercer agreed with her in this, was all to the good and showed that the Princess was wise not to worry at this stage about leaving England.

With the coming of April Napoleon signed his abdication of the French throne and he was given sovereignty of the island of Elba with a pension of 2,000,000 francs. Louis XVIII left his country retreat and came to London accompanied by the lifeguards en route for France – where he was received by the Regent. There was a touching meeting between them during which the King bestowed the order of St Esprit on the Regent. It was an occasion such as the Regent loved; magnificent and beneficent, tears in his eyes, flowery phrases on his lips, constant expression of friendship – all these he lavished on Louis who, plump and unctuous, swore undying friendship to his cousin of England who had made his exile so pleasant and who now rejoiced even as he did at the return of the monarchy to France.

The Regent declared that nothing would please him better than to accompany his dear cousin to Dover; and with great pomp, the King and the Regent riding together, the cavalcade set out while Napoleon left Fontainebleau for Elba.

The foreign visitors began to arrive and one of the first of these was Catherine, Duchess of Oldenburg, the sister of the Tsar of Russia (the Tsar was to follow later). She was twenty-four at this time, widowed and reputed to be very beautiful, although the British ambassador at the Hague described her as being ‘platter-faced’. This was an allusion to her Mongolian cast of features which others said was one of the reasons why, to western eyes, she was considered so fascinating.

The Duchess arrived after a somewhat uncomfortable journey, during which she had wished that she had never set out. The sea was rough; she had been dreadfully ill; and she did not consider she had been given the warm welcome in England which was the right of a sister of the Tsar – and a favourite sister at that.

She had decided to make her home in London the Pulteney Hotel and to this she came on an April day which was cold and blustery, and this did not improve her temper. She was not sure that she liked the English, but she was looking forward to seeing the Regent of whom she had heard so much.

‘An interesting ménage,’ she commented to one of her attendants. ‘He is by all accounts a most exquisite gentleman and there is this hoyden of a daughter and the most vulgar of wives of whom he seeks to rid himself.’

The Duchess’s long narrow eyes glittered. The Prince Regent would be king in due course; and she was a widow. He had only to rid himself of that woman who created such scandal. Surely not an impossibility.

She was looking for excitement in London.

She had not been a day in London when the Regent’s equerry called at the Pulteney Hotel to tell her that his master begged permission to call on his most distinguished visitor.

Catherine was excited. He was, it was said, the perfect lover – impeccably mannered, romantic, the First Gentleman of Europe. It would be amusing when her brother Alexander arrived to tell him that the Prince Regent was devoted to her and between them they would put their heads together and find a way of ridding him of the obstacle which stood between them and marriage.

She replied that she would be delighted to receive His Royal Highness and planned a magnificent toilette to astonish him. Unfortunately one of her servants had made a foolish error about the time and the Prince arrived half an hour early with the result that she was not ready and had to keep him waiting, which did not please him; and then instead of receiving him graciously as she had planned, she was obliged to go into the drawing room, where he had been taken, and there greet him as though she were some ordinary hostess.

In the drawing room she found a somewhat peevish fat gentleman who, had she been the vision of beauty he had been expecting, would have readily forgiven the delay. But she was not. She was dark, slit-eyed and flat-faced; not in the least like his own Maria Fitzherbert, with whom he still unconsciously compared all women. She was not to his taste. Where were the luscious white arms and bosoms that he so admired; the golden hair, the blue eyes, the brilliant complexion? She was dressed in some dark and exotic garment. No doubt striking, but not to his taste at all.