Charlotte slipped her arm through her father’s and his good humour was restored; he liked outward displays of affection; and it was good for people to see them after all the scandal there had been over family quarrels.

‘Being a wife becomes you.’

‘And, er … er … Coburg?’

So it was Coburg! thought the Prince. Quite formal. Good God, has Leopold been schooling her already?

They sat in the drawing room while refreshment was brought and he noticed how little Leopold drank. It was almost a reproach to the Regent, but he was determined to remain in good humour. He said that Leopold had looked well in his General’s uniform and had he been aware of the uniforms of the guard? He then went on to discuss these uniforms in detail which set Charlotte yawning and longing for his departure, while Leopold listened intently and feigned an interest.

‘Camelford House is not really suitable,’ said the Regent. ‘You must go out and look at that place at Esher. I think it would be an ideal spot. You will probably wish to make changes there and if you need any advice I shall be pleased to give it.’

He was off on another of his favourite topics, the additions to Carlton House and the Pavilion. He gave Leopold an account of the Pavilion’s history, how it was a near-derelict old farmhouse when his major-demo Weltje had discovered it.

The visit seemed to last a long time.

When he left, the Regent said playfully to Leopold, ‘Be careful or she will govern you. You should begin as you intend to go on.’

‘Dearest Papa,’ replied Charlotte, ‘there is no question of one governing another. I shall do as Coburg wishes because it is my deepest pleasure to do so.’

‘Spoken like a loving bride,’ declared the Regent; and he added cynically to himself: In the first week of her honeymoon.

But he was sad when he left them, thinking of those days of ecstasy which had followed a certain ceremony in Maria Fitzherbert’s house in Park Street.

He said then as he had said thousands of times before: I should never have left Maria.

‘When you are happy there is nothing to write about,’ said Charlotte to Louisa.

She was thinking of Mercer, who had once meant so much to her. It was an excuse perhaps for not writing, but Mercer was surely not showing her usual good sense for she had written of her intentions to marry the Comte de Flahault, a man of whom Leopold could not approve. Perhaps it was because she had never met anyone of Leopold’s profound good sense that she had been so impressed by Mercer’s. At least Mercer would be so busy with her own affairs and perhaps she would not notice the absence of Charlotte’s letters. In the past the correspondence had been so regular. But how different it was when one was married!

It was only natural in this most perfect of unions that the most desired event should occur almost immediately. Charlotte was pregnant.

‘We will not mention it,’ said cautious Leopold, ‘until we are absolutely certain.’

Darling Doucement, he knew his Charlotte’s weaknesses. She would have announced to the entire household and in no time there would have been cartoons and lampoons circulating throughout the country. It was a matter, in any case, said Leopold, that he would not care to be the subject for crudities.

How she agreed with him! And though bubbling over with excitement she managed to suppress it.

It was not easy, particularly as, at Camelford House, which was on the corner of Oxford Street and Park Lane, they were in London and it was necessary for them to show themselves frequently. When they went to see Mr Kean perform in Bertram the ovation was the biggest she had ever heard. How proud she had been of Leopold Coburg for the occasion – in his General’s uniform and all the decorations which proclaimed his bravery displayed on his chest.

But when she and Leopold were to see Mrs Siddons in the role of Lady Macbeth, for which she was famous, Charlotte had felt suddenly unwell; and it had been necessary to cancel the arrangement.

The first shadow then touched the ideal marriage. Charlotte had a miscarriage. She was not very ill, for the young life had scarcely begun, but her doctors ordered her to rest and the papers discovered the reason. The people were sorry and they loved her more than ever.

Leopold consoled her. It was but a slight misfortune, and they were both so young.

Charlotte hoped she would recover in time to attend the marriage of the Princess Mary to the Duke of Gloucester. She was delighted that this was at last to take place for she had felt many an uneasy qualm at the trick she had played on Mary when she had pretended that she had wanted Silly Billy for herself.

But when the day came her doctors advised her that it would be unwise for her to attend.

She was petulant. ‘But this,’ she said, ‘is the marriage of my dear old aunt. I must go.’

The doctors shook their heads.

‘I shall go!’ she declared.

Leopold, who was present, quietly signed to the doctors to leave.

‘My dearest,’ he said when they were alone, ‘you should obey the doctors.’

‘I feel very well and I must go to Mary’s wedding … if I don’t she will think it is because I still have a fancy for Silly Billy.’ That made her laugh that loud laugh which always made Leopold wince a little.

Then she told him, with much laughter, of how when they had been trying to force her on Orange she had pretended she would have Gloucester instead.

‘So you see, dearest Leo, I must go to this wedding.’

‘I do not see that it is necessary.’

‘Oh, my darling sober old Doucement, you must allow me to know best about my own family.’

‘But, dearest Charlotte, I do not accept that you know the state of your health better than the doctors.’

‘A lot of old women! I am going in any case. Poor Mary, she has waited years and years for this. When she came yesterday she described her wedding dress to me. It’s very fine … as fine as mine and very like it, too. Silver tissues and scalloped lamé and Brussels point lace. Her headdress is diamonds, too. She will look quite lovely, in spite of her age. Poor old girl! And I am sure Silly Billy will be proud of her.’

Leopold coughed lightly – a sign of disapproval. ‘Charlotte, you should not talk of our royal kinsmen in this way.’

‘Oh, but I do, Leo darling, and as you have discovered I do a great deal that I should not. I always have.’

‘There is no reason why you should continue to perform these not very admirable acts.’

‘Leo, darling, I love the way you talk … as though you are addressing the House of Commons instead of your adoring wife.’

‘I am not sure that she does adore me.’

‘Leo, how can you utter such perfidy!’

‘She does not please me.’

‘How can you say that? Ah, I know what it is. You have another woman. Did I see you glancing admiringly at Wellington’s sister-in-law?’

‘You are being foolish now. She is an old woman nearly twenty years older than I.’

‘That’s no reason why you shouldn’t admire her. Papa always likes mature women. Perhaps princes do. Oh, Leopold, am I too young for you?’

‘Sometimes I think this inconsequential behaviour may be due to youth.’

She was angry suddenly. Was it true that he had liked Wellington’s sister-in-law? Oh, she couldn’t bear it! And she must go to Mary’s wedding. How could she possibly not see her poor old aunt, after waiting all these years, married to solemn old Silly Billy! She could imagine herself in Mary’s place for although she had not been serious, some people had thought she was.

‘I am going to Mary’s wedding,’ she said coldly.

Leopold stood up, clicked his heels, bowed and departed.

The first quarrel. She could not endure it. Leopold was displeased with her. He had never before looked at her so coldly.

Yet if I wish to go, I’ll go, she told herself. He must remember that even though he is my husband I shall be the Queen of England and he merely my Consort.

What should she wear for the wedding? A very special dress. Gold lamé – no longer silver because now she was a married woman.

But there was no comfort in thinking of her dress, no comfort in making Leopold realize that she would have her own way. In fact, she did not want her own way. In her heart she knew that she only wished to please Leopold.

Yet, I must remember that one day I shall be Queen and he must remember it too.

What a miserable day! He avoided her; and when she saw him in the presence of others he seemed aloof.

He was right, of course. The doctors had said she should not go. How foolish she was and how disappointed Leopold must be in her.

She called to one of her women: ‘Go and tell … go and ask the Prince of Saxe-Coburg if he will come to me here … as soon as he finds it convenient to do so.’

He was with her almost immediately.

‘Charlotte.’

‘Oh, Leo … dearest Doucement, how stupid I am! How right you were to let me know it. What can I say? I shall not go to Mary’s wedding. It would be such folly. Oh, Leopold, can you forgive me for my stupid ways?’

Leopold could and did.

He was grave and tender. He loved his dearest Charlotte more than ever; he admired her courage in admitting that she was wrong. He was so proud of her.

‘Then it is as it was … before? Oh, Leopold, that makes me so happy. I was thinking this … this difference between us Was going on and on and that nothing would ever be the same again.’

‘We must never allow differences to go on and on.’

‘We must never allow differences, dearest Leopold.’