The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) (46 page)

The Regent declared that nothing would please him better than to accompany his dear cousin to Dover; and with great pomp, the King and the Regent riding together, the cavalcade set out while Napoleon left Fontainebleau for Elba.

The foreign visitors began to arrive and one of the first of these was Catherine, Duchess of Oldenburg, the sister of the Tsar of Russia (the Tsar was to follow later). She was twenty-four at this time, widowed and reputed to be very beautiful, although the British ambassador at the Hague described her as being ‘platter-faced’. This was an allusion to her Mongolian cast of features which others said was one of the reasons why, to western eyes, she was considered so fascinating.

The Duchess arrived after a somewhat uncomfortable journey, during which she had wished that she had never set out. The sea was rough; she had been dreadfully ill; and she did not consider she had been given the warm welcome in England which was the right of a sister of the Tsar – and a favourite sister at that.

She had decided to make her home in London the Pulteney Hotel and to this she came on an April day which was cold and blustery, and this did not improve her temper. She was not sure that she liked the English, but she was looking forward to seeing the Regent of whom she had heard so much.

‘An interesting ménage,’ she commented to one of her attendants. ‘He is by all accounts a most exquisite gentleman and there is this hoyden of a daughter and the most vulgar of wives of whom he seeks to rid himself.’

The Duchess’s long narrow eyes glittered. The Prince Regent would be king in due course; and she was a widow. He had only to rid himself of that woman who created such scandal. Surely not an impossibility.

She was looking for excitement in London.

She had not been a day in London when the Regent’s equerry called at the Pulteney Hotel to tell her that his master begged permission to call on his most distinguished visitor.

Catherine was excited. He was, it was said, the perfect lover – impeccably mannered, romantic, the First Gentleman of Europe. It would be amusing when her brother Alexander arrived to tell him that the Prince Regent was devoted to her and between them they would put their heads together and find a way of ridding him of the obstacle which stood between them and marriage.

She replied that she would be delighted to receive His Royal Highness and planned a magnificent toilette to astonish him. Unfortunately one of her servants had made a foolish error about the time and the Prince arrived half an hour early with the result that she was not ready and had to keep him waiting, which did not please him; and then instead of receiving him graciously as she had planned, she was obliged to go into the drawing room, where he had been taken, and there greet him as though she were some ordinary hostess.

In the drawing room she found a somewhat peevish fat gentleman who, had she been the vision of beauty he had been
expecting, would have readily forgiven the delay. But she was not. She was dark, slit-eyed and flat-faced; not in the least like his own Maria Fitzherbert, with whom he still unconsciously compared all women. She was not to his taste. Where were the luscious white arms and bosoms that he so admired; the golden hair, the blue eyes, the brilliant complexion? She was dressed in some dark and exotic garment. No doubt striking, but not to his taste at all.

His dismay was obvious to her immediately and she was a woman who could hate fiercely; in that moment she hated the Regent. A fat dandy, she thought. Where is all this much vaunted charm?

I’ve seen flower girls in cotton smocks prettier than she is, thought the Regent; and his disappointment was acute.

He gave her his famous bow, however, which even she had to admit to herself was a masterpiece of elegance; and they talked desultorily, he of the war and the battles – as though he had been present and won the lot, she thought derisively – and very shortly he took his leave.

Nothing will come of this, thought the Duchess. She would have to find other means of amusing herself in London than with the Prince Regent.

She found them in his daughter, Charlotte, for naturally the girl must call on her and pay her respects. Sitting at her window brooding on her situation, waiting impatiently for the arrival of her brother Alexander, looking out across Green Park, she had decided to cultivate the Princess. She had learned of the situation between the Prince and his daughter; it was full of tensions; Charlotte was betrothed to Orange and the girl was obviously not ecstatically happy about that. It had been a match of the Regent’s arranging.

Interesting, thought the Duchess. Orange was a sickly youth but now that his father had been reinstated and the young man would be the ruler of Holland, he was not to be despised and she had thought he would make an excellent match for her sister, the Grand Duchess Anna. Quite clearly this could not be if he married young Charlotte; and the obvious answer to that was that he must not marry young Charlotte.

As she had shown her indifference to the Regent so she showed friendship to his daughter. She set out to charm the
child and Charlotte – innocent, frank, ready to laugh and believe the best of everyone – was an easy victim.

Returning home in her carriage, Cornelia beside her, Charlotte said: ‘I do believe that the Duchess of Oldenburg must be one of the most amusing and charming women in the world.’

‘Your Highness can scarcely make such a hasty assessment of character.’

‘Stuff and nonsense, Notte,’ cried Charlotte. ‘I tell you she is charming. I like her very much.’

‘Time will either confirm or deny that.’

Charlotte was filled with irritation. ‘Really, I don’t know what has become of you. Ever since Devonshire’s breakfast you have been so touchy and irritable that I find it difficult to tolerate your moods.’

Cornelia was shocked. Charlotte had never spoken to her in that way before. She was immediately contrite. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Notte. I didn’t quite mean that. But the Duchess
is
charming and she was so pleasant to me and I find her so interesting. It’s silly for you to carp.’

Cornelia was silent for the rest of the journey.

In spite of his dislike for her, the Regent must entertain the important sister of the Tsar, so he gave a dinner for her at Carlton House to which he invited the most important of his ministers and members of the nobility.

Her entrance was a shock to them all for she appeared in the long flowing black draperies associated with widowhood. Even the Regent could not hide his surprise, and she determined to assail his reputation for perfect manners in all circumstances and asked in a loud voice why he disapproved of her gown.

It was most becoming, he declared, and far from disapproving, he admired. But he did wonder whether it resembled the costumes worn by widows.

‘I am a widow,’ she said.

‘One so young and beautiful will not remain a widow for long,’ he announced coldly, to which she replied pointedly that at the moment she felt no temptation to change that state.

The dinner party was not a success.

At every function she tried to draw him into verbal battles and he often had difficulty in extricating himself gracefully. He declared to Liverpool that ‘he would be glad when the Tsar
arrived, for then he would devote his attention to him and the devil could take his waspish sister.

Meanwhile Charlotte was invited frequently to the Pulteney Hotel and there the Duchess exerted all her charm.

Cornelia was wrong, said Charlotte. The Duchess was fast becoming one of her best friends. Cornelia did not like her. Poor Notte, thought Charlotte, she was actually jealous! Was she to be denied interesting company just because a lady’s companion was jealous?

Certainly not, said Charlotte.

In June Alexander, Tsar of Russia, arrived in London with a magnificent suite among which were many princes of European States. Now the real hospitality began. The Regent was delighted to find Alexander handsome and affable – very different from his sister; he was easy to entertain and the Regent forgot the unpleasant Catherine and devoted himself to Alexander. The most extravagant entertainments were given at Carlton House. The bankers and merchants gave banquets for the visitors, and Alexander declared his desire to see all that his dear cousin of England would allow him to see. There were visits to the Bank of England, Westminster Abbey, the dockyards and the Arsenal at Woolwich; there were grand reviews in Hyde Park. The visit was not to be a long one so that there was a great deal to be crowded into a short time. Everywhere he went the Tsar was cheered; his good looks and pleasant manners endeared him to the people; and the Regent was able to bask in his reflected popularity. No longer were there sullen silences and it pleased him to imagine that he was included in the cheers.

The Duchess had not forgotten Charlotte and continued to be charming to her.

One day when the Princess came to the Pulteney Hotel as she had been encouraged to do informally, she found one of the most handsome young men she had ever seen seated beside the Duchess in animated conversation with her.

Charlotte, who had entered unannounced – for one of the most delightful things about the Duchess was the informality that could be enjoyed with her – started, somewhat awkwardly, and wondered how to proceed. The young man immediately rose to his feet, bowed, kissed the Duchess’s hand and walked
to the door. Coming face to face with Charlotte he clicked his heels, bowed from the waist and departed.

Charlotte’s cheeks were pink, and the Duchess laughed. ‘Why, my dearest Charlotte, you are blushing. Well, it is most becoming. I am sure Leopold thought so.’

‘Who is that young man?’

‘A young prince and a delightful one, I do assure you. One of my favourite princes. And in fact a family connection. His sister Juliana is married to my brother Constantine. I am so glad Alexander brought him in his suite. He is so charming – interesting and intelligent too.’

There was no subterfuge about Charlotte, and being interested in the young man she made no attempt to hide the fact.

‘Tell me more of him.’

‘Sit down, my dear and make yourself comfortable and we will talk of Leopold of Saxe-Coburg.’

‘A German?’

‘Well, is there anything wrong with that? You yourself have much German blood in you.’

‘I think of myself as English. But pray, dear Duchess, tell me about this Leopold.’

‘He is the youngest of a large family … well, six or seven of them.’

‘The youngest.’

‘You are thinking he will be a poor young prince. That may be, but what he lacks in worldly possessions he makes up for by his handsome face. Do you agree?’

‘I thought him handsome.’

‘Why, he’s the best-looking prince in Europe.’ She leaned over and touched Charlotte’s hand. ‘I believe you are already comparing him with poor Orange.
Poor
Orange!
He
won’t come very well out of the comparison. Not many would with Leopold. Now if you were not betrothed I would say: “There is the man for you.” He’s a Protestant too so there would be no trouble on that score.’

Charlotte giggled. ‘I don’t know what my father would say if he could hear us.’

‘Well, is that not why we enjoy each other’s company … because we don’t have to stand on ceremony, because we can say what we mean … and if we wish to discuss the most handsome prince in Europe I don’t see why we shouldn’t … and
compare him with others less fortunate … if we wish to. Don’t you agree?’

‘I do agree,’ said Charlotte fiercely.

The Duchess was smiling secretly when Charlotte took her leave, for she had a shrewd suspicion as to who would be waiting at the door of the chamber. Leopold would surely not miss such an opportunity, for he was a very ambitious young man.

Thus when Charlotte passed out of the room she immediately saw the young Prince of Saxe-Coburg standing at attention. Again that military bow which was very attractive – less elegant but more masculine than that famous one of the Regent’s.

He looked at her, her eyes brilliant with excitement and he said: ‘I waited in the hope that Your Royal Highness would allow me to conduct you to your carriage.’

‘That is good of you,’ Charlotte said graciously.

She laid her hand on his arm and he declared that he was extremely sensible of the honour done to him. How serious he was! There was no sign of gaiety in his eyes; it was a very solemn occasion.

Cornelia stared in amazement to see Charlotte’s escort, but Charlotte did not look in her direction as Leopold handed her into her carriage.

‘I shall be glad to see you at Warwick House,’ she told him.

At which he made another of his solemn bows and stood back to watch the carriage as it drove away.

Cornelia said: ‘Who was that?’

‘His Serene Highness, Leopold of Saxe-Coburg,’ said Charlotte grandly.

‘I see, and he was presented to you by the Duchess, I presume?’

‘He was with the Duchess when I called. Cornelia, don’t you think he is the most handsome man you ever saw?’

‘I think I could be accused of hyperbole if I agreed to that.’

‘I wouldn’t accuse you. Don’t be so stuffy, Cornelia. You must admit he is very charming.’

Cornelia sighed. Was this going to be another Hesse affair?

Charlotte looked at her companion coldly. What had happened to old Notte? She just wanted to spoil everything. She might have agreed that Leopold was handsome. It was so obvious.

How charmingly he had bowed and what an exciting day!

She must find out all about Saxe-Coburg and the ruling family. The Duchess was informative. The House of Saxe-Coburg occupied a small territory of some eight towns and two hundred and seventy villages, and it ruled over less than sixty thousand subjects.

‘Very small,’ commented Charlotte, ‘compared with England … or Holland for that matter.’ Oh yes, Leopold was a minor prince as far as worldly possessions were concerned.

‘But he is a Protestant,’ pointed out the Duchess, ‘and that is in his favour. He is a very serious young man and has proved his courage on the battlefield. His brother Ernest, the reigning Duke, is devoted to him – as are all his family. They constantly sing the praises of their dear young Leopold. He has been such a good son to his widowed mother for he has a strong sense of duty.’