The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (26 page)

‘And for Minney’s too, I hope. You know how frightened the child was at the prospect of leaving me.’

‘Children forget. She will be happy with the Hertfords.’

‘You talk as though the matter is already settled.’

He went on as though she had not spoken. ‘Minney will see me … frequently. I daresay that if you do not displease the Hertfords they would allow you to call.’

Maria’s eyes were blazing with rage and determination.

‘Let me tell you this: Minney is not leaving me. Understand this and make the Hertfords understand it. She is happy with me; she feels secure … or she did until that woman came with her sly and cruel suggestions. Minney was disturbed when the case was in progress. I shall not allow her to be upset again. I will do anything … simply anything to prevent this. You may go to Lady Hertford. Do so if you so wish it. But let me tell you this: If you attempt to take Minney from me I shall fight for her with all my power and I do not think you will succeed in taking her from me.’

‘There is the justice of this case. Hertford is the head of Minney’s family. It was he who allowed you to take her.’

‘And you will make him see that it would be wise for him to allow matters to stay as they are.

‘I fear I do not understand you.’

‘I think you do. I do not forget that you and I were married in my house in Park Street on the 15th December 1785. I have a certificate to prove this. I have never produced this evidence because I did not think it proper to do so. I allowed you to permit a denial of our marriage. I have never published the true facts. I considered it beneath my dignity to do so. You are not very popular with the people. They used to cheer you wherever you went. You have no one but yourself to blame. Pray do not look at me like that. I tell you truths which others dare not. You may be the Prince of Wales but you are also my husband and I will speak my mind. You are my husband … whatever you say to the contrary. I should have been stronger and refused to go through that ceremony with you. I should have gone away as I intended to. You will remember that it was you who persuaded me that you could not live without me. So … there was that ceremony. You married a Catholic. And what if I publish evidence of this? What if your marriage to the Princess Caroline is in question? What if Charlotte is a bastard? What then? Oh, you will say that our marriage was no marriage in the eyes of the State though it was in those of the Church. Perhaps some will agree with you but there will be many who do not. What a storm about the ears of a prince who will one
day be king. Is he married or is he not? Yes, say some. No, say others. And what of your father? What of Charlotte? Is she the true heiress to the throne? You see what a storm you will be raising if you allow me to publish that important certificate of marriage.’

‘You would not do it, Maria. You have always said you would not do it.’

‘I have said so and I have kept my word all these years, have I not? But Minney is my child. I love her as my own daughter. I know she needs me … as I need her. If she were torn from me she would suffer … terribly. Minney is not going to suffer. I have decided on that. I will do
anything
to prevent it. You will admit that I have evidence which could possibly make your throne rock. Now is your chance to choose again. Your
dear
Lady Hertford would love to wound me and clever woman that she is she sees that the best way of achieving this is through Minney. But my child is not going to be used for the sport of that woman. Perhaps you wish to please her … If you do, remember that you could lose your crown through doing it in this instance.’

‘I never heard such dramatics over a matter that has not been
thought
of in any seriousness.’

Maria smiled, relieved.

‘I am delighted that this absurd and cruel plot was not seriously thought of. I hope you will explain this to Lady Hertford.’

‘Maria …’ His eyes had filled with tears. Maria was magnificent; she was a good woman; he had always known that. It was her goodness which often irritated him.

‘Well?’ She was imperious as though she were royalty and he the subject.

‘You have been behaving very badly lately. How dared you refuse my invitations to the Pavilion?’

‘Because I did not wish to accept them. I will not be chaperon to your mistress. Do make that plain to her.’

‘I have suffered a great deal for you,’ he began.

‘Then you will be relieved that you need suffer no more. Pray do not invite me to the Pavilion for I have no intention of coming while Lady Hertford is your guest of honour. And I beg of Your Highness to understand that Minney is my child and I would die rather than give her up.’

With that she swept out of the anteroom leaving the Prince staring after her.

He wanted to burst into tears. How dare she talk to him in such a manner! His dear magnificent Maria? She knew that she would always have a special place in his heart and she did not seem to care.

She will be placated, he thought. He would tell the Hertfords that Minney stayed with Maria. Then she would see that he was in truth her friend.

Back in Tilney Street Minney was anxiously awaiting the return of Maria. As soon as she came in Minney flung herself into her arms.

‘It’s all right, darling,’ said Maria. ‘Everything is all right now.’

Minney looked up into Maria’s face and knew that this was true.

‘You have seen Prinney?’

‘Yes, dearest. I have seen Prinney and he is going to stop the Hertfords taking you from me.’

‘Oh, dearest Prinney!’

Maria stroked Minney’s hair. No point in telling her that Prinney had had to be blackmailed into allowing her to stay and that when he was enamoured of a woman he would brush aside a child’s happiness to please her.

What did it matter? thought Maria. Minney was her child. She had won.

Minney was the most important thing on earth to her. That was a discovery. Through this case she had gained a child and lost a husband. But if she could keep Minney she would not complain.

She had reached a new stage of her life. She would no longer be dominated by the Prince. Once she had loved him exclusively; but now Minney came first.

Mystery in St James’s

IN THE YEAR
1809 Charlotte celebrated her thirteenth birthday.

‘Another year,’ she told Mercer, ‘and I shall cease to be a child.’

‘That,’ replied Mercer with her sound good sense, ‘will rather depend on how you develop in the meantime.’

Charlotte was sure that continued association with her beloved Mercer would enable her to grow up more quickly than anything else. Between Mercer, who was so high-minded, and Mrs Udney, who was perhaps a little low-minded, one could grasp life in its various layers which, reasoned Charlotte, was rather necessary if one was to understand it in all its aspects.

One February day Mercer arrived to tell her that Drury Lane theatre had been burned down. This was a terrible calamity, for the place had been gutted and the reservoir on the roof was quite useless.

‘Poor Mr Sheridan!’ sighed Mercer. ‘I am so sorry for him. So brilliant, so clever! But the theatre was insured against fire for which I am indeed thankful. I hear the House of Commons expressed its sympathy; so I am sure all help will be given in building a new theatre.’ From this Mercer went on to talk of Mr Sheridan’s exciting career and how he and Mr Fox had worked together. Fox, being one of Mercer’s heroes, was one of Charlotte’s too – and Charlotte was delighted because her father had been so fond of him.

‘A good Whig,’ said Mercer, which was high praise from her. ‘And the finest playwright of his age. There are many politicians, but I have heard it said that there is no man living who can write plays to equal Sheridan’s. But perhaps he does well to continue in politics, for it is better to lead the people than to amuse them.’

Charlotte agreed wholeheartedly, as she did with everything Mercer said.

Mercer knew exactly what was happening throughout the world; she could talk excitingly of Napoleon’s exploits; she gave her opinions freely and she taught Charlotte to be a good Whig.

She made Charlotte long for the days when she would be able to appear in public, to attend the opera or the theatre. In Mercer’s opinion she should always have been allowed to attend these places if only for special performances. Not that Mercer believed she should have gone to the first night of the new theatre at Covent Garden, where Mercer told her, they had opened with
Macbeth
. Mr Kemble had spoken the address though the uproar had been so great that no one had heard
him. That was not suitable for a princess, but the opera certainly was, thought Mercer. She feared that the Princess’s education was neglected in some respects. She, Mercer, would try to remedy that.

She it was who told the Princess of the duel between Mr Canning and Lord Castlereagh, which had taken place because it had reached the noble lord’s ears that Mr Canning had thought him unfit for office.

‘Do you mean they fought … with pistols?’ cried Charlotte, her eyes round with wonder.

‘I mean exactly that,’ replied Mercer. ‘And Mr Canning’s bullet took the button off Lord Castlereagh’s coat and Mr Canning was wounded in the thigh.’

‘Poor Mr Canning! I trust he did not bleed to death.’

‘No, he walked off the field. But can you imagine such folly? Two grown-up men … using such a means to settle a quarrel!’

‘Men have always settled their quarrels in this way,’ Charlotte reminded her friend.

‘There is no need for them to continue in such folly.’

‘When I am Queen I shall forbid men to fight duels,’ declared Charlotte, and Mercer looked at her pupil with approval.

Yes, it was very pleasant, talking to Mercer, and Charlotte felt that she was becoming really knowledgeable under her tuition.

She told Mercer how Mr Canning used to bow to her when she was held up to the window to wave to him.

‘I used to tear my caps imitating him,’ she said, and laughed boisterously to remember it; but Mercer liked her to be serious.

So from Mercer she learned much of politics and the affairs of the world and from Mrs Udney those secrets which others sought to keep from her.

‘Do you know,’ whispered Mrs Udney, ‘Mary Anne Clarke had a service of plate which once belonged to a prince of the Bourbon family. My word, she did well for herself!’

‘Do you think she’s doing well for herself now?’

‘Ha, ha. Those very saleable letters. You can bet your life she will be very highly paid for them.’

‘Poor Uncle Fred! He must be feeling dreadful. I’m glad Aunt Frederica came up to London to be with him.’

‘I doubt he ever wrote such letters to
her
.’

‘All the more reason why she is to be praised for standing by him,’ retorted Charlotte.

But although she snubbed the woman she was often friendly towards her because she wanted to hear all that Mrs Udney had to tell as well as learn from Mercer. So it was Mrs Udney who showed her the cartoons about Uncle Fred and Mary Anne Clarke and told her how cheeky the woman had been at the Bar.

It is all very regrettable, said Charlotte, but one has to know about one’s own family.

She liked to hear stories about the people. How a sailor had died in Guy’s Hospital and when his body had been opened up eighteen clasp knives had been found in him.

‘He’d swallowed them all when he was drunk. It was for a wager,’ said Mrs Udney. ‘The things people do!’

There were stories of thieves, one of whom had broken into the house of a pelisse maker and murdered him and his family; there was another of a man who had shot a young girl when she refused to marry him.

It was all exciting and highly entertaining if, thought Charlotte, one did not know the people personally, for she would not have cared for any of her acquaintances to be shot dead by disappointed lovers.

But this, she assured herself, was as much a part of life as what Napoleon was doing in Europe.

In October began the great jubilee year. The King had been on the throne for fifty years. Fifty years! thought Charlotte. It was a lifetime. But poor Grandpapa was hardly in a fit state to enjoy a jubilee.

‘And,’ said Mercer, ‘who wants this jubilee? The Tories of course. And for what reason? Because there is so much trouble at home and abroad that they want to turn people’s attention from that to these celebrations at home.’

Charlotte settled down to hear an account of the troubles at home. The loss of trade because of the Napoleonic wars; the difficulty of calling a halt to Napoleon’s domination of Europe. The general ineffectiveness of Tory rule. Mercer would have liked to mention the state of the King’s health, but that was hardly a subject fit for his granddaughter’s ears. There were rumours that his strangeness was increasing; everyone would be prepared now for a return of his malady. He had aged so
much in the last few years and was now almost blind and quite often wandering in his mind.

Hardly the man to wish to celebrate his jubilee. But there were banquets and fireworks and festivities everywhere. The Queen and the Princesses had given an open-air fête at Windsor, in spite of the fact that it was autumn; there were coloured lamps in the city of London and fireworks constantly lighted up the sky accompanied by the red glow from bonfires. The various houses of business illuminated their premises with signs of their trade; and in addition to all this there were many thanksgiving services in the church all over the country. The theme was ‘God Save the King’.

Exciting times, thought Charlotte, in which anything might happen.

But she was unprepared for the great scandal which hit the family and put even the Mary Anne Clarke scandal into the shade.

It was Mrs Udney who told her of this.

As soon as Charlotte saw the woman she knew that something especially exciting had happened.

‘I don’t know if I should tell Your Highness. It’ll be common knowledge soon enough … but there’s been a terrible tragedy in your Uncle Ernest’s apartments at St James’s.’

‘Do you mean Uncle Ernest is dead?’ asked Charlotte, her eyes round with horror.