‘But how, Papa,’ she asked, ‘could my marriage affect it?’

‘If it became public knowledge, there would be scandals about you. Only marriage could prevent those scandals. I know one who would marry you at once. You know you did listen to slander about him.’

‘Not Orange, Papa.’

‘They poisoned your mind against him, you know.’

She was stubborn as he remembered her from the past.

‘Never, never will I marry Orange,’ she declared.

He sighed and patted her hand. In his new role it was necessary to be the indulgent parent.

He summoned Mercer to Carlton House and hoped that the flattery of a private tête-à-tête would influence her.

‘Come and sit beside me, my dear. How beautiful you are looking! I want to tell you how grateful I am to you for being such a good friend to Charlotte.’

Mercer blushed with pleasure; she remarked that Charlotte’s friendship was what she valued most in her life.

‘It is so comforting for a father to know,’ he said. ‘Your word carries great weight with her. That infamous affair with Hesse. I shudder to recall it and what might have happened but for the intervention of Providence.’

Mercer agreed solemnly.

‘It is necessary for Charlotte to marry to put an end to any gossip which might arise.’

Mercer looked puzzled.

‘Yes,’ he said firmly. ‘Marriage is necessary and I should like to see her affianced to Orange again.’

‘Your Highness, she would never agree.’

‘Why should she not be persuaded, eh?’

He smiled at her, knowing how flattering it must be to be invited into a conspiracy with the Regent. But Mercer had her principles; she was not going to attempt to persuade Charlotte to something with which she did not agree, even at the risk of displeasing the Regent. Moreover she knew it was hopeless.

‘I am sure, Sir,’ she said, ‘that nothing I or anyone could say could possibly make the Princess change her mind. I know her to be adamant on this point.’

The Prince coolly began to talk of other things. He no longer seemed to find Mercer attractive.

Charlotte could not understand the change in the Queen. She seemed less harsh, but perhaps she was ill. She still went on in her dreary routine; she was still highly critical, but her manner had seemed to soften in some way. It was almost as though she were sorry for Charlotte. She criticized her manners which were decidedly not royal; she lectured her; but on one occasion she said: ‘Your father is eager for the Orange match,’ And as Charlotte shrank from her she went on: ‘Do not be persuaded, my child, to marry a man you do not like.’

Charlotte was startled.

‘One grows old,’ said the Queen as though talking to herself. ‘One learns lessons. One looks back and sees perhaps more clearly. Don’t marry anyone you don’t like. You could ask my help.’

Charlotte could not believe that she had heard correctly. But she was elated. The old Begum was with her in this; and if she was, so would her daughters be.

It was pleasant to visit Oatlands again. The Duchess’s menagerie had grown since Charlotte had last seen it. She had to become once more accustomed to the smell of animals and not be surprised to find a monkey perching on her shoulder.

She visited the pets’ cemetery and saw the new graves; she listened to the Duchess’s account of the ailments of this one and the death of that.

Then one day when the Duchess sat in her chair, a large cat lying against her feet and a dog on her lap, she said to Charlotte: ‘The Duke tells me that a certain young prince wants to ask your father for your hand in marriage.’

‘A certain young prince?’ asked Charlotte, alert. ‘What … who?’

‘I thought I would sound you and tell the Duke how you felt. I believe you met him once.’

‘Please tell me who he is.’

‘He came over here with the Russians. It’s Leopold of Saxe-Coburg.’

The Duchess, stroking the dog fondly, said: ‘I see that the suggestion is not repulsive to you. May I tell the Duke?’

His Serene Highness, Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, feeling cold and ill, left the boat at Dover and stepped into the waiting carriage. Ever since he had received the summons to come to England to ‘woo’ the Princess Charlotte he had been fighting his wretched physical condition. He remembered her so well. A bouncing exuberant young woman of great charm and some good looks which might be converted into real beauty with grace, poise and decorum. She had attracted him apart from the glittering prospects she could offer a prince whose future hopes without a grand marriage were scarcely promising.

Heiress to the throne of England and more than that – a girl who had excited him from the moment he had first seen her when the Duchess of Oldenburg had hinted that his attentions might be welcomed. How wise he had been to retire from the field when he had done so! Had he stayed he would most certainly, while perhaps making some headway with the Princess, have ruined his chances of being accepted by her father.

Leopold always paused to think before he acted for he had at an early age learned that this was a wise way of life.

And now he was invited to England and such an invitation would never have been made if his success was not almost certain. He had, naturally, to win the regard of Charlotte herself and she was a young woman of some spirit for had she not sent Orange packing, although it was a match on which her father had set his heart!

He wished he did not feel so ill; the pain in his head – ‘rheumatism’ the doctors called it – made him dizzy; but when it was warmer he would feel better. This February east wind seemed to cut right into his bones. He must remember that he had acquired these ailments on the battlefield and a life of peace and comfort would soon banish them. He was, after all, a young man.

Lord Castlereagh who had come to meet him advised him to bury his face in his fur collar and make sure his travelling coat was wrapped about his legs. They were going to London where His Serene Highness could rest for a day and after that the Prince Regent would receive him at Brighton.

Charlotte sat bolt upright in the carriage which was taking her to Brighton. There was the faintest colour in her cheeks, a sign of intense excitement. Ever since she had heard that Leopold was coming to England she had had to restrain her emotion; she did not want everyone to know how elated she was. Leopold! Now she could think of him freely; she did not have to attempt to banish him when he came into her mind. How glad she was that F had not offered for her; what tragedy if she had taken him!

Leopold! The most handsome man she had ever seen. Or he had been. Was he still? That was something she would know in a very short time. She could scarcely wait.

She looked from Lady Ilchester seated beside her – so calm, so unaffected by this great occasion – to Old Famine opposite, bony hands on her lap, looking more like a skeleton than ever.

I’m glad, thought Charlotte, that I am not thin, but that would be very unlikely for a member of our family. But does he like thin women? Surely not. Everyone must like a certain amount of plumpness. Was she too plump? In some places perhaps. But Louisa always said she had beautiful arms because they were rounded and white and well covered. Did he like tall women? Well, she was not tall, and she was not short, either. And her complexion really was very good – if pale – for this smooth white skin was attractive. F had commented on it; so had Hesse. But she did not want to think of them.

The Pavilion glittered in the early spring sunshine like an oriental vision. She hoped her father would be kind to Leopold. He would be openly so because good manners would demand it, but if she heard that cold note in his voice she would know that there was going to be trouble.

Oh, dearest Papa, she thought, please like Leopold.

And then she laughed at herself. She didn’t eyen know whether she herself liked him yet. After all he had run away when he had thought there was going to be trouble.

She would remind him of that.

Her father, seated in a chair on wheels which he could operate himself, was waiting in the Chinese drawing room. His gout was bad, he told her, and he could not, without great pain, put his foot to the ground.

She expressed her concern which pleased him; and she was concerned to see him look so old. Even his impeccable clothes seemed for once to do little for him. She thought he looked as fat and ugly as old Louis XVIII. But perhaps that was because she was dreaming of a Prince Charming and with that image in her mind everyone else looked ugly.

‘Well, Charlotte,’ said the Regent a little sadly, still thinking of Orange perhaps, ‘very shortly this young man will be here.’

‘Yes, Papa.’

‘We shall see. We shall see.’

‘I am hoping that we are both going to like him,’ she said.

‘H’m,’ said the Regent, inclined to be predisposed not to like Saxe-Coburg when it should have been Holland.

He glanced at Charlotte. He had rarely seen her look so attractive and she was not uncomely this daughter of his. Lately she had improved.

Charlotte intercepted his glance and knew what it meant. She wondered what he would have said if he knew that the night before she had left Cranbourne Lodge she had put on an officer’s uniform and ridden out into the forest. It was a daring thing to have done but she had felt the desire to do it. She had passed through villages and people had glanced casually at her – an officer from the Guards at Windsor. What would they have said if they had known that it was the Princess Charlotte!