Jean Plaidy - The Regent’s Daughter

And dear Louisa. She hoped the King would reward her and dear Mrs Gagarin for their services most handsomely and give them a house to live in and look after them.

And Mrs Udney. That made her laugh.

‘To Mrs Udney,’ she wrote, ‘nothing, for reasons.’ Everything she did seemed to raise a storm, thought Charlotte. Who would have believed that the mere act of making a will could have caused such trouble.

She had omitted to put the will away and ‘someone’ had read it and reported to Lady de Clifford.

That Mrs Udney, I’ll swear, thought Charlotte, and chuckled to picture the woman reading what had been written about her.

‘Of course,’ said Mrs Udney to Lady de Clifford, ‘you see what has happened. Mrs Campbell dictated the will. Sharing her jewellery with you! Do you think Charlotte would have thought of that?’

‘It would not surprise me what Charlotte thought of.’

‘Campbell always hated me and so does Dr Nott. That man is quite a menace. It’s time someone spoke to the Bishop about him.’

Mrs Campbell was red-eyed and Charlotte wanted to know why.

‘They are saying I dictated your will. They are making the most hideous slanders. My health won’t stand it.’

‘They are wicked,’ said Charlotte. ‘I will go to Cliffy and tell her that I am quite capable of making a will without being dictated to.’

‘It’s no good,’ sighed Mrs Campbell. ‘I feel so faint. I really think I ought to resign from Your Highness’s service.’

‘No, no, dear Camby. I won’t allow it.’

‘Dearest Princess, if only everyone was as sweet as you!’

‘Sweet,’ cried Charlotte. ‘I do not like that word. Are you going to eat me then? Sweet! I think it is such a silly word for a person.’

‘My dear good Princess.’

‘Good! Good for what? What am I good for?’

Mrs Campbell sighed. Her Highness was in a cantankerous mood doubtless because of all this fuss about the will for which she blamed herself.

She had almost made up her mind to retire. She looked forward to a quiet life in which she could devote herself to her ailments.

Dr Nott was in a quandary. This was most embarrassing. The Princess Charlotte had suggested that he should be made a bishop and that much should be done for him. Had this been put into the mind of the Princess, everyone was asking. And who would have put it there but Dr Nott?

With downcast eyes Dr Nott gave her her Latin lesson. She was not listening; she was thinking of poor Campbell who had been so wrongfully accused and who had really seemed as if she wanted to go away and be ill in comfort.

‘Your Highness is not attending this morning.’

She sighed. ‘No, dear Doctor. I have a great deal on my mind.’

‘It was good of Your Highness to have mentioned me for a bishopric in your will.’

‘Good again,’ she said. ‘Good for what? as I said to dear Campbell. It was not good at all. It was being just. You deserve a bishopric and I trust the King will grant my request.’

Dr Nott smiled in his meek way and said that if it meant he must wait for the Princess to die that he might receive the bishopric it would be a great tragedy for him ever to have it offered to him, so he trusted Her Highness would outlive him by many years – which he thought was most likely – and he would be happy to serve her for as long as she needed him.

‘That was a pleasant speech, dear Doctor,’ she said, ‘and it moves me so much that I am in no mood for Latin this morning. Therefore let us put an end to the lesson.’

She rose, but unfortunately he had put his foot on the train of her gown and as she leaped up and moved away there was the sound of tearing material and she saw that the train was almost torn from her skirt.

Poor Dr Nott, he was the sort of man, she reflected, who would often find himself in embarrassing situations.

‘Your Highness’s pardon … I fear I have ruined your gown. How unfortunate. It would only have been a little tear if it had not run as it did.’

Charlotte examined the damage.

Then she burst into loud laughter.

‘Well, we can hardly blame you because it ran, Doctor. You most surely held it!’

Then rolling the torn train about her arm she ran out of the room, leaving the saddened Dr Nott shaking his head over this most difficult, unaccountable and wild young pupil, who could at times be lovable.

The result of the writing of that will was certainly felt throughout the household.

Mrs Campbell resigned. Her ill health made it essential, she said, but everyone knew it was due to the horrible things that were being whispered of how she was trying to win benefits from the Princess by flattery.

Dr Nott was suspected of the same fault. He did not leave but he too pleaded ill health. He needed a rest from his duties, he declared, which with such an important pupil were indeed arduous.

Charlotte was in despair. She had lost Mrs Campbell and now Dr Nott was talking of going. And she was left with the Bish-Up and Mrs Udney. They were the ones who should have gone.

She went to Lady de Clifford and told her how she enjoyed her studies with Dr Nott, how she felt it would be impossible to work without him. He must go away for a little rest because he was ill, but he must promise to come back.

At length it was arranged that this should be the case and Charlotte took a tearful farewell of Mrs Campbell.

Meanwhile there was the Bishop, whose visits were more frequent during the temporary departure of Dr Nott.

And Mrs Udney remained, sly and calculating, with a temper – carefully concealed – which rivalled Charlotte’s.

How strange the things that can happen to a princess and those who serve her, thought Charlotte – the Bish-Up who had his bible and prayer book and Mrs Udney who had nothing seem more content than dear Campbell with her promised jewels and Dr Nott with his future bishopric.

There was a lesson in it, she was sure.

But then, was there not a lesson in everything?

MRS FITZHERBERT SAT on her balcony looking over the Steyne and watched the scene below. Brighton – the place she loved best in the whole world because she had known such happiness there. Now that the Prince had made such extensive alterations at the Pavilion she had moved from the little house she had occupied close by, but this one suited her perfectly. It was to her the homeshe shared with her husband and her dearest daughter.

It was a strange irony of fate that many would say that the man she called her husband was not, and her daughter was adopted.

She shivered a little in the bright May air, for an awareness of the uncertainty of life had come to her. All was happy at the moment, but she knew it could change within a few weeks.

The Prince would always have an eye for women and although he assured her at every meeting that she was his dear love, his soul, the wife of his heart, that did not prevent his indulging in minor love affairs now and then. He always returned to her penitent and contrite but because she had a hot temper she could not always restrain her comments. There could be a little rift and although the reconciliations which followed were pleasing to them both, there were moments of uneasiness when she felt that she wished to imprison every bright moment and keep it for ever – just in case in the future there was change.

And then Minney – darling Minney – her comfort and solace, her beloved child could be snatched away from her by her relatives who were at times trying to take her. Life was full of alarming possibilities.

Miss Pigot, her faithful friend and companion who had been with her when she had first set up house after her marriage to the Prince, came on to the balcony, fussing a little. The sun was bright but there was a keen wind. Wouldn’t Maria like a silk wrap about her shoulders?

‘Oh, Pig, you treat me like an old woman,’ she said, ‘or a child perhaps.’

‘People who sit in draughts behave like children,’ retorted Miss Pigot.

‘Sit down a moment and talk to me. Where’s Minney?’

‘At her lessons. She’s having difficulty with her essay. That’s why she’s been kept.’

‘Dear child. What a good little thing she is! Oh, Pig, how lucky I am to have her.

‘And lucky she is to be with you.’

‘Sometimes I’m afraid of too much happiness.’

‘Nonsense, Maria. What’s happened to you? Everything will be all right.’

‘But this case. It drags on and on.’

‘Cases always do.’

‘But what if they should win and take her from me?’

‘His Highness will see they don’t do that.’

Maria smiled. ‘You look upon him as a god, I think.’

‘Well, he is the Prince of Wales. God bless him. Now don’t you fret. Would you like me to bring a dish of tea?’

‘Wait until Minney joins me.’

‘That shouldn’t be long if I know Miss Minney. And it wouldn’t surprise me if His Highness was here at any minute. He’ll be putting in an appearance at the usual place, I’ll be bound.’ Miss Pigot laughed. ‘It always amuses me. The way he appears and no one sees him coming. Well, that’s our little secret.’

‘Such things are a constant delight to him. He’s a boy at heart – and always will be, I think.’

‘And what’s wrong with that? I must say when we heard you were to lose that nice little house right in his garden so to speak, I was a bit put out. But this you might say is even closer to the Pavilion even though it’s farther away. It makes it like part of the place and that’s how I reckon it should be. And what amazes me is how all the time it was being made there was no talk about it.’