‘It was a pretty sight. The King wept openly.’

‘He weeps very easily.’

‘And the Prince was so proud.’

‘I don’t think he could have been really proud for he sings so well himself. He probably pretended to be proud because it was good manners to do so. He thinks so much about manners.’

‘And all the Princesses applauded and the Queen was pleased.’

‘She is not often pleased with me.’

‘Oh, she was very pleased. It was a beautiful occasion.’

Charlotte was pensive suddenly. ‘But something bad came out of it. Oh dear, I’m afraid I am very wicked. The next day I asked my music master how I had sung and he said, “Perfectly.” I was in a sudden rage because it wasn’t true. I was angry with myself really for standing up there and not singing perfectly. So I turned my anger on him and I said he was a fool and I would not be taught by a fool who was afraid to correct his pupil because she was a princess.’

‘Well, that was good. It shows how right you were not to accept flattery.’

‘But I refused to allow him to teach me and he was dismissed and although afterwards I asked my father to bring him back to teach me, he did not. So you see that was pride in a way … pride in a sort of virtue which ended in that poor music master’s dismissal. I hope he has forgiven me. Oh, let’s not talk of me. Let’s talk of you. Tell me about Mr Gagarin, do please. I love to hear of him. I wonder where he is now. In Russia do you think? But perhaps it pains you, dear Gagy. Does it?’

‘It’s all too long ago.’

‘Then tell us again.’

So Mrs Gagarin told the story of her love for Mr Gagarin … only he wasn’t plain Mr Gagarin; he was a great nobleman in Russia who had come to the English Court on some mission.

‘No sooner had he set eyes on you,’ said Charlotte, ‘than he fell violently in love.’

‘It’s true,’ said Mrs Gagarin, her eyes momentarily soft.

‘And you ought to be the lady of a great mansion in Russia, dear Gagy, instead of mending my old dresses. Do you wish you were there with … him?’

‘It’s all so long ago, Your Highness.’

‘And what happened? What happened?’

‘You know.’

‘Yes, but I want to hear it again. And then you received a letter. Go on from there.’

‘It was from his wife, for he was married already.’

‘And so you were not his wife at all. Oh, my poor, poor Gagy. Your heart was broken.’

‘Yes, my dear Charlotte. I thought so.’

‘But it was mended again. I mended it, didn’t I! Oh, say it. You used to say it. You said that when you came to look after your dearest Charlotte. You did.’

‘Yes, as soon as I came to look after my dearest Charlotte, it began to mend.’

Charlotte was delighted. It was the reason why she wished to hear the story so often.

‘Then,’ she said solemnly, ‘I cannot be so bad, can I? In spite of my lord Bish-Up’s terrible warnings of what will become of me if I continue in my ways.’

She rocked back and forth in her chair.

‘You’ll break it one day, dearest Princess, if you jerk it back so sharply.’

She did not care. What was a broken chair when she had mended a broken heart?

They dressed her in the Charity School girl’s gown with much clicking of tongues. Indeed, what if His Highness the Prince of Wales saw fit to call? What would he say to see his daughter so attired?

Well, it was the Bishop’s order and the Bishop would have to answer for it.

And how did Her Highness feel to be so humiliated? She gave no sign that she was distressed. She was smirking at her reflection in the mirror. And no Charity School girl’s gown could disguise the royal features. In fact she looked more than ever like her father.

‘I hope,’ said Louisa Lewis, as angry as it was possible for one of her mild nature to be, ‘that my lord Bishop will be satisfied.’

Charlotte smiled at her dressers – her dear good faithful Louisa and Gagy of the mended heart. She loved them both dearly. She embraced them fervently, disturbing the coiffure of one and almost tearing the sleeve in the dress of the other; but they were accustomed to her rough caresses and would not have had them changed one bit.

Into the room she went where the Bishop was waiting for her. If he expected to see her enter shamefacedly he was disappointed.

‘Good morning, my lord Bish-Up,’ she cried. ‘It’s a very bright morning. And look at my new gown. It’s a good fit. Do you not agree? It might have been made for me.’

She beamed at him and pirouetted so that he might see the back as well as the front.

He was disconcerted. He had expected some shame.

But what could one do with such a pupil? he plaintively asked Lady de Clifford later. He feared the worst.

In an effort to make her conscious of the evil of her ways the Bishop had warned her to repent.

‘How can you know,’ he had asked, ‘when your last moment will come? What if you were to die with all your sins upon you?’

That made Charlotte think a great deal, not so much about her own fate but of that of her possessions which she would leave behind her.

What of her darling dogs, her precious birds? She loved them so much. What a tragedy for them if she should die.

Then there were her books. And what of her jewels? As the daughter of the Prince of Wales she had some very valuable jewels; she had even been allowed to wear some of them when she had attended her grandmother’s Drawing Room. She must really look into her affairs.

‘I will make a Will,’ she told Mrs Campbell.

‘At your age?’ demanded that lady.

‘My dear Mrs Campbell, who of us knows when our last hour shall come?’

Mrs Campbell grew pale. She was constantly talking about her mysterious illnesses. Charlotte listened when she was sorry for some bout of ill temper because she knew how much Mrs Campbell liked talking about the terrible state of her inside. Charlotte was very fond of Mrs Campbell because it was always possible to discuss any topic with her and fond as she was of illnesses – and she seemed positively to dote on death – she liked to argue about everything and could always be relied upon to take the opposite point of view for the sake of the argument.

So this was one subject on which she was in agreement with the Princess.

‘That’s true,’ she said. ‘Sometimes by the way my heart beats … unevenly and thump, thump, thump … I could certainly believe my last hour is close at hand.’

‘Exactly,’ said Charlotte. ‘I am young yet but who knows Old Death may be waiting round the corner for me. So, dear Camby. I must make my will.’

‘You do that. It’ll keep Your Highness amused for quite a while, I shouldn’t wonder.’

And it did.

What fun to think of all one possessed and how pleased people would be when they received their legacies. But perhaps they would be a little sorry. Dear Charlotte, they would say, she was always such a hoyden but she had a good heart. And although she plagued the Bish-Up she mended Mrs Gagarin’s heart and she and Louisa Lewis loved her dearly.

Charlotte was almost in tears thinking of her own funeral. The drums would roll; and all over London the bells would toll. Her rooms would be hung with black and the Prince of Wales would weep such tears as even he had never wept before. The Princess of Wales would be in a frenzy of grief. She might say to the Prince: ‘Let us be together. Let us have another child. It is what Charlotte would have wished.’

But I wouldn’t wish it. Because they hate each other and I don’t want them to have another child. I want to be the only one so that I shall one day be a great Queen like Queen Elizabeth. But what would it matter, if I were dead? But I don’t really want to be dead.

One only made a will in case one died. That was what one had to remember. It was just in case she should die suddenly and no one would know what to do with her possessions.

‘The Last Will and Testament of Her Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte.’ How important it looked. And what were the most valuable things she had? Her dogs and her birds – her most cherished possessions. Dear Mrs Gagarin was so good with them and they were almost as fond of her as they were of Charlotte herself. She would leave dear Gagy her dogs and birds. There would be no need to tell her to take care of them. She would be a good mistress to them.

Charlotte felt sad to think of her darling dogs looking in vain for their mistress; they would sit at the door of the death chamber and howl and refuse to be comforted. Perhaps like the little dog which had belonged to Mary Queen of Scots they would refuse to eat and pine away in spite of all Gagy’s efforts to comfort them.

But it was only in case she died. It did not mean that she had to because she made a will.

There were her jewels. People would say that they were the most valuable things she possessed. They were jewels which belonged to an heir to the throne. They did not really belong to her; when she married they would be passed on to her son’s wife or perhaps her daughter. They were not really hers to leave. She sighed. What fun it would have been to have given dear Campbell a pearl necklace worth a fortune. But no, princesses had their duties.

Her jewels then to the Prince and Princess of Wales. But not all of them … only those very valuable State jewels. She could do something with the lesser trinkets, so Mrs Campbell should have some of them and Lady de Clifford some. They would be delighted. All her books she would leave to Dr Nott. ‘With my papers,’ she wrote, ‘some of which it will be necessary for him to burn.’ He was so much more pleasant than the Bishop so she expressed the wish that the King would look after him and make him a bishop. That would put the Bish-Up’s nose out of joint and she would leave him merely her Bible and Prayer Book – he, being such a good man, would think these the greatest gifts anyone could bestow.