Текст книги "Queen in Waiting "

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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**Is it not a rule," he said, "that the wives of men in my service should leave that of the Prince and Princess of Wales if they happen to be with them?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And what of your wife?"

"She has refused. Your Majesty."

The King knew of this and he had not insisted at the time because he had thought it would plague Caroline, and do George Augustus no good in the eyes of the people, to keep his mistress.

But the affair seemed to be accepted and Caroline no doubt saw that it was conducted with decorum.

The King nodded. He saw the chance of making trouble with a little scandal.

"It is your duty to insist that your wife leaves Leicester House and comes to you here."

Henry Howard bowed and said he would obey the King's orders.

When Henrietta received a letter from her husband demanding that she return to him and leave the household of the Prince and Princess of Wales, she did not take the matter seriously. She knew that Henry was drinking heavily, that he did not want her and was in fact glad to be rid of her; so she ignored the letter and forgot about it. But a few nights later there was a disturbance at the gates of Leicester House. Next morning everyone was talking about it and when Henrietta went into the apartment where the maids-of-honour were noisily discussing it, there was a silence.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Did you hear the noise last night?" asked Molly Lepel.

"Yes. What was it?"

"A ... a man ... the worse for drink. The doorman turned him away but he was shouting for a long time."

Mary Bellenden said gravely: "It was your husband, Mrs. Howard. He was asking for you. He said he wanted to take you away with him."

Henrietta turned pale and said: "There is some mistake."

No one answered; and Henrietta went to Caroline's apartment to tell her what she had heard.

Caroline listened gravely. "Do you think he really vants you to return to him, Henrietta?"

*'No." Henrietta was shivering with apprehension and Caroline had never seen her so before.

"You're frightened, Henrietta."

"I could not live with him, Madam. He is a drunkard. He's a brute. He ill treated me before. I have never been so happy as I am here with you ... and the Prince."

And the Prince! thought Caroline. How much does he mean to her? Can she really care for him? Surely not! She wanted peace and comfort; she did not seek power or great riches, but this life suited her and she was in terror of losing it.

"It is strange that he should come here. There must be some meaning behind it."

Caroline did not say that she suspected the King, for poor Henrietta was in such a state of anxiety to which this could only add.

"Don't fret," said Caroline ."I shall not let you go. If I send this brute avay ... avay he must go. Do not fret, Henrietta. Here shall you stay."

Henrietta was comforted; but she was uneasy. So was Caroline. Could the man force his wife to live with him? And if he took this matter to court and if the court decided that a husband had rights over his wife, must Henrietta go? And then would George Augustus be seeking a new mistress ... or mistresses? Young girls of the bedchamber who lacked the tact of Henrietta, who might have to be taught that familiarity with the Prince did not mean that liberties could be taken with the Princess?

A few days later Caroline received a letter from the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Marriage was a sacrament, he pointed out. The Princess would do well to bear this in mind. She must bear in mind the privileges of a husband and the duty a wife owed to him. She must therefore command a certain woman of her household to return to her husband and remember that although she was a Princess she had a duty to God.

Caroline read the letter thoughtfully.

Why had the Archbishop written to her? Would Henry Howard have gone to him and drunkenly suggested that he should do so?

Of course not. She saw the hand of the King in this.

Slowly she tore up the Archbishop's letter.

Caroline was resting. It had been a heavy dinner and she followed the Hanoverian custom of retiring afterwards. In his apartments George Augustus would be sleeping heavily; and afterwards he would come to her apartments and tliey would take a walk together.

She was thinking of Henrietta and what steps the King might take to force her to send the woman away. What an implacable enemy he was, and how he hated them! Not content with striking the worst blow any man could give any woman by taking her children from her, he must think of these little pinpricks to torment her.

She heard a scuffle at her door and rising from her bed she threw a robe about her.

*'I will see her," cried a voice. "I insist. You can't keep me away."

The door was flung open and a man with bloodshot eyes, his coat bedraggled, his wig awry, burst into the room.

"Who ..." began the Princess.

"I'm Henry Howard," he cried. "And I've come for my wife."

"How dare you. Go away at once. You vill hear more of this."

"And so will you. Madam, if you hide my wife. Where is she? In the Prince's bed? I tell you I'll have her out of that. I'll have her where she belongs."

"This is very unseemly," said Caroline, and wondered how she remained so cool; for she had heard Henrietta say that her husband was half mad and when he had been drinking entirely so. Certainly he had been drinking now.

"Do not think that I shan't have my wife. If I have to pull her out of your coach, I'll get her."

He stood before her, hands on his hips, his bloodshot eyes leering. The window was behind them and for one moment Caroline thought that he was going to pick her up and throw her out of it.

She was aware of the open door and one of the footmen standing there, mouth agape. She managed to move swiftly from the window and as she stood with her back to the footman facing the window, she felt safer.

Her moment of complete panic had passed.

"I assure you no one vould dare take any servant of mine from my coach."

He was aware of the footman and the open door for he lost a little of his truculence. Caroline was quick to seize the advantage.

"Your wife shall certainly not be forced to go vith you. It is a matter she herself vill decide. If she vishes to go vith you that is her affair."

"Madam, I warn you I shall take my case to the King."

"Do so if you vish. The King has nothing to do vith my servants. And if you do not leave my presence immediately you vill be thrown out."

Henry Howard gaped at her for a few moments; then he muttered something, bowed and went out.

Caroline shut the door quickly and leaned against it.

This had gone farther than she had thought. Henry Howard would never have dared break into her apartment, he would never have spoken to her as he had if he had not had the support of the King behind him.

Henrietta came running into the apartment, her hair hanging in disorder, her eyes wide with terror.

She threw herself at Caroline's feet and embraced her knees.

"Oh, Madam, Madam ... he has been here. He will drag me away. What shall I do?"

"Be calm, Henrietta. This is the King's doing."

"The King!"

"Ve must face the truth. He only vants to cause more trouble, more scandal for us."

"Madam. You don't want me to go away?"

Caroline's face hardened. "Vat! And play right into their

hands. No. Ve must fight them. If they take this to a court ve must let them know what sort of a man your husband is. Ve'll prove him the cruel half-insane creature he is. That von't look so veil for one of the King's servants, vill it?"

"But he can take me away ... Oh Madam "

The Prince burst into the apartment, his face pink, the veins knotted at his temples, his eyes blazing.

"Vot the devil...."

"Mrs. Howard's husband has been here demanding her return."

"She shall not go. I vill not it allow."

"No, ve vill not allow it," said Caroline.

"Got damn him," cried the Prince and taking off his wig started to kick it round the apartment.

Caroline caught it as it came her way. She picked it up and gently replaced it on his head.

"It is not goot to disturb ourselves," she said gently, "ve vill this matter settle."

Henrietta raised her eyes to Caroline's face and her look was almost trustful; the Prince was undoubtedly soothed.

Even in this, thought Caroline, they look to me; and the thought gave her a grain of comfort.

The King lost interest suddenly; he had achieved his purpose; everyone knew that Henry Howard had broken into the Princess's apartment and drunkenly demanded she give up her husband's mistress and that she had refused to do so. It made an amusingly ribald story and the lampooners were busy with it.

This could bring little credit to Leicester House, thought the King.

Henry Howard however did not see why he should abandon a project which could be profitable and decided to take the matter to court. Everyone concerned knew that the law could force a wife to return to her husband and all sides were in a panic—Henry Howard because he did not want his wife back and Henrietta, the Prince and Princess because they feared she would have to go.

It was an absurd situation. Howard's advisers suggested he ask for a reasonable settlement from the Prince on receipt of which he would be prepared to let the matter drop.

Negotiations went on through the winter and when the Prince and Princess of Wales moved to Richmond for the summer, Henrietta left disguised with the Duke of Argyll and his brother Lord Islay—two of the Prince's greatest friends– and arrived at Richmond earlier than the royal party.

Eventually the matter was settled. Henry Howard would allow his wife to remain in the Princess's service for an annual payment of £1,200 a year.

He believed he had come out of the affair very nicely. As for the Prince, Princess and Henrietta, they could only be delighted that the affair was over; and Caroline began to wonder whether the quarrel might be mended, for while this unhappy state of affairs continued they could expect such unpleasantness from the King. Moreover the longing to have her children with her was becoming too acute to be endured.

Time was passing. They were growing away from her. Should she seek some compromise?

She was beginning to think that she would agree to almost anything if she could have her children back.

She was turning over in her mind whether Sir Robert Wal-pole might have some suggestion to make.

The Reconciliation

It was Walpole himself who suggested the reconciliation.

The King unable to stay away for long from his beloved Hanover had paid another visit and had left a Council of Regency, consisting of thirteen Lord Justices to govern during his absence, in which this Prince of Wales had no part.

Caroline had realized then that she and the Prince had everything to lose from the continuance of this quarrel. Walpole during his visits to Leicester House had made her aware of the situation in Spain where the all powerful Cardinal Alberoni ruled for weak Philip V. As a guest at this Court was James Stuart, known there as James III of England, and the Spanish were ready to help him drive out the Hanoverians.

"They believe," Walpole had explained, "that the people are weary of Hanoverians and that they long for the return of the Stuart."

"Do you believe this to be true?" asked Caroline. "I want a truthful answer please."

Walpole had looked her straight into her face and said: "Madam, anything but the truth between us would be both

pointless and dangerous. I do not believe the people of England are tired of your family; but I do believe they are tired of your family quarrels."

"Then let us end them," she cried passionately. "I would be prepared to immediately."

"There would doubtless be conditions on both sides."

"There is only one condition I should insist on: The return of my children."

"There is the Prince," Walpole reminded her.

"I would do anything ... and persuade the Prince to ... if I could have my children back."

Walpole smiled slowly. "It must be arranged," he said.

And her hopes were higher than they had ever been. There was a strength about Walpole. She trusted him.

George Augustus was not easy to control. He deeply resented the fact that he had been left out of the Regency. He talked slightingly of his father and Caroline was anxious because she knew that the King's spies were everywhere and that they would report every word that was said.

"My father thinks he has the better of me," boasted George Augustus. "But time vill tell. He is getting old and can't live forever. Then it vill be my turn. Things vill be different then."

Caroline shivered. The last thing any man—King or commoner—wanted to hear was how much better his successor would carry out his tasks when he was dead.

George came back from Hanover. The Spanish attempt to put James back on the English throne had failed but there were Jacobite rumblings all over the country.

Furious with his son, having heard that he had boasted of what he would do when he was King, George tried to pass the Peerage Bill through the Commons and Lords. This proposed to limit the House of Lords so that when the Prince became King he would be unable to create any new peers.

This bill almost became law but Walpole made such a brilliant speech against it that it was rejected. Stanhope and his ministers had long been trying to persuade Walpole to come

back into the Government but he had held back and had professed himself content with the rebuilding of Houghton and the collection of pictures, content now and then to take his seat in parliament and play the part of an ordinary member.

This was not true, of course. He was an ambitious man; he loved the country life it was true; he liked to drink with congenial companions; but he was well aware that he was a master of politics and he longed for power.

He pointed out to Stanhope that this quarrel in the royal family was undermining the country's prestige abroad. Time which should have been given to serious matters was taken up in petty spite and pinpricks.

"If there is a reconciliation between the King and the Prince I should come back into the government ... not otherwise," he declared. And when Stanhope asked if he could bring about that reconciliation, he said he would try to.

*'So you will approach the Prince?"

Walpole laughed. "Oh no," he replied. "The Princess."

Lady Cowper grumbled to Mrs. Clayton that that fellow Walpole monopolized the Princess. "At every gathering," she complained, "he's at her side. Everyone is noticing it."

"They know, of course," replied Mrs. Clayton, "that he is trying to bring about a reconciliation. If anyone can do it ... he can."

"I don't trust him. Out for himself is Master Walpole."

But Caroline trusted him; and now her great desire was to have her children back. Every time she saw them it was becoming increasingly hard to say goodbye. They noticed her sadness and told her that although they were separated from her they thought of her every day and longed for the next meeting as much as she did.

But they never saw their father. That was forbidden.

And what were they hearing of him> wondered Caroline. She knew that at St. James's and Hampton they could not be unaware of the criticism ... no, it was worse than that ... ridicule.

And how easy it was to ridicule the Prince I

She was deeply touched when they gathered a basket of cherries which they sent to him.

"Tell Papa that we gathered these ourselves/'

She had told them he would be so delighted that he would want to keep them for ever.

"That," replied Anne, "would not be a very clever thing to do for they would soon be unfit for anything."

What do they hear of him? wondered Caroline. I must have them back. This is the time when we should all be living a happy family life.

She told Walpole: "I must have the children back. I know this stupid quarrel is no good to us ... no good to the family. But give me my children back and I shall accept anything the King likes to impose on us."

"Madam, would you approach the Prince? Will you discover whether he would be willing to write a conciliatory note to His Majesty? If he would do this ... we might begin negotiations."

"I vill talk to the Prince," promised Caroline.

It was not easy.

"A letter to that old rascal! This I vill not do. It is that von who should send me a letter."

"It is the only vay. If ve are to have the children . . ,"

"He is von scoundrel. To take our children..."

"And ve must get them back. It is a matter on vich ve agree. If he vill give them back to us..."

"Yes, he must give them back. But he must pay my debts too

and all my servants I vill vant And to be kept from the

royal palaces ... that is von scandal."

"But to have our children back ... living under the same roof ... that is the first thing. Ve agree on that."

"That ve must have," said the Prince.

The King said: "It is not for him to make conditions. He has behaved atrociously. He wants a reconciliation, but I am not sure that I am prepared to give it."

Walpole reminded him that the quarrel was having bad effects on foreign policy.

"The Prince is of no account," said the King. "He has no effect whatsoever."

"The stories of the quarrel are exaggerated by our enemies, sir. I think the Spanish would not have attempted to help the Stuart if they did not think we were a house divided against itself. The quarrel is ridiculed by our writers. There are lampoons and ballads distributed all over the country."

"And so my son is a buffoon to amuse the people! They like to be amused."

"They like to be amused, yes, sir. But they ridicule the royal family and this is never good. There will be trouble if a reconciliation does not occur soon."

"And you are on the side of the Prince?"

"I am on the side of the House of Hanover and my country."

George looked shrewdly at Walpole. This was a good man; he had been sorry when he had left his government. It was men such as this one that they needed.

He grudgingly admitted that he would consider the matter.

Walpole brought a letter he had drafted to Caroline.

"The Prince should copy this and send it to the King," he said. "The first move must come from him."

"And if he signs it?"

"The King will then be prepared for a reconciliation."

"And my children?"

Walpole hesitated. The Princess was obsessed by one thing. He was not at all certain that the King would relinquish the little girls but he knew that Caroline would not move until she had an assurance that he would.

Walpole was a politician and politicians sometimes had to take risks.

"Let the Prince sign this and you will have your children."

Caroline took the paper, and went away to begin the difficult task of persuading the Prince to humble his pride.

George said: No. He would not give up the little girls. It gave him pleasure to have them in the palace. They amused him. It was true he did not see a great deal of them; but they were his grandchildren and he was the King. It was fitting that he should have control of them and keep them living under his roof.

Walpole pointed out that their mother would be prepared to accept anything if they could but be returned to her.

"It is not for the Princess to make terms," said the King coldly.

Here was trouble, thought Walpole. The King was ready to return the Prince's guards to him; to allow him to live in the royal palaces and take back the honours due to the Prince of Wales. There was only one condition he would not accept and that was the return of the children.

It was difficult to face the Princess and tell her this. She would immediately tell the Prince that they must not give way, and as the Prince would as usual be made to see her point, the reconciliation would not take place; the quarrel would continue, probably more bitter than before; and Walpole would have failed. The last was inconceivable. But how get the King to relent? How get Caroline to forego her children? The King was the most obstinate and vindictive man on earth; and Caroline was a woman crying out for her children.

He would try first to persuade the King; and if that failed he did not know what he would do, but of course he would find a way.

He presented himself to Caroline.

"The King is not prepared to part with the children ... yet," he began cautiously.

Her face grew stony. "Then the quarrel goes on."

"It should not go on. If it does there will be more Jacobite risings. They might not always fail."

"I vant my children," she said stubbornly.

"It has occurred to me the Duchess of Kendal might help."

"That... woman! "

"She has a good heart. She also has a daughter of her own."

"Whom she calls her niece and whom we all know is the King's daughter."

"She would understand a mother's feelings perhaps, and might be on your side in this matter."

"Vat do you suggest?"

"That you speak to her ... explain "

"That I humble myself to the King's harlot?"

"He regards the Duchess as his wife. They have been together for nearly tliirty years. She is a kind woman "

"You think it might help?" asked Caroline piteously.

"I do, Madam."

So she went to Ermengarda, Duchess of Kendal, told her how she longed for her children and asked her to imagine what it meant to be separated from three little girls wliom she was only allowed to see now and then, as though she were a stranger.

The Duchess wept with her.

"It is very sad," she said.

"The King does not seem to understand."

"So many state matters occupy his mind," said the Duchess.

"If you could explain to him...."

"I! " The Duchess was alarmed.

"I know of your devotion to each other."

"But I would never presume to advise the King."

Caroline looked at her sadly and thought No, I suppose that is why you have held your place so long.

She had humbled herself unnecessarily.

Walpole was in a quandary. The King would not give up his guardianship of his granddaughters. He would grant concessions, yes; but the grandchildren should remain under his roof.

The Princess was in despair.

"It's no jesting matter to me," she told Walpole. "I shall not give in. I shall continue to complain until I have my children.'*

Yet the reconciliation must be made. He had determined on it. His own reputation depended on its success for he had sworn that he would bring it about. Moreover it was creating bad feeling abroad. Not only Walpole but England needed it.

The Prince was his hope. George Augustus had debts to the amount of about one hundred thousand pounds. He needed money badly. The Prince, Walpole believed, would be ready to give way if he received in return certain honours and money. The King would not be prepared to pay his debts but Walpole knew of a way of making money through the South Seas venture and if he could do this for the Prince, if he could bring him those concessions which his vanity craved, George Augustus would be ready to give in.

It was only Caroline who insisted on having the children.

As Walpole had predicted the Prince was delighted to have money; he wanted his beefeaters and his guards; he wanted to be treated as the Prince of Wales.

For this he would write the letter, the draft of which Walpole had sent him; and having received it the King, for he must take the advice of his ministers, would, if a little ungraciously, receive the Prince.

Therefore the matter could be concluded without the Princess.

Walpole regretted this for he respected the Princess and was eager for her goodwill; but when she insisted on having her children back under her care she was clinging to the one condition to which the King would not agree.

News came from the Palace of St. James's both for the Prince and Princess. To the Prince came a command from his father. For the first time since the quarrel he was prepared to see him. For the Princess was a letter from Lady Portland who wrote that Anne was sick and the smallpox was feared.

The Prince had reached St. James's by the time Caroline's

letter was brought to her. There the King received his son with some embarrassment.

George Augustus knew that he had to be humble. Walpole had made that clear; and for the sake of the bribe and the glory of having guards again and being treated as Prince of Wales he was ready to be so.

"I liave come to express my grief in causing Your Majesty displeasure," he said, "and with all my heart I thank you for giving me leave to wait upon you. It is my sincere hope that during the rest of my life I shall give Your Majesty nothing of which to complain."

The King muttered that it was his son's conduct "Your

conduct..." he repeated.

Little more was said but the King made it clear that if the Prince was ready to behave in a seemly manner he would be treated as the Prince of Wales.

When he left the King—and they were only five minutes together—he went to see his children. Anne was well enough to see him and he was told that she was not as sick as had been feared.

News of the interview had crept out and people were congregating outside the palace to see the Prince emerge from the Palace. As his chair was carried through the streets it was accompanied by guards and beefeaters and although he had arrived like a private person in a Sedan chair he made the return journey like a Prince.

Cheers filled the air. Everyone was tired of the quarrel which had been so diverting in the first place.

En route he met the Princess in her chair on her way to the Palace to see Anne.

When Caroline saw his chair she called to her chairmen to halt. For a few terrible seconds she thought that he had been summoned to the Palace because Anne was worse.

She alighted; so did the Prince.

"All's veil," he cried. "The King and I are friends again."

"And Anne...."

"I have seen her. I have seen the children. They are veil ... and Anne is not so ill as they thought. All is veil now, my tear."

He embraced her to the cheers of the people.

The following day Caroline went along to St. James's to make her peace with the King and was granted an interview. Before seeing the King she went to Anne who was well enough to be overjoyed by her mother's presence.

**Good news, my darling," said Caroline. "Your father and the King are now friends and we are all to be together again."

Anne clung to her mother's hand and her expression betrayed how happy she was.

After that Caroline went to Amelia and Caroline and taking Caroline on to her lap while she held Amelia in the crook of her arm she explained to them that the trouble was over, their father and grandfather were now good friends, and as a result they would live together under one roof and as one family.

"Now," said Amelia, "we shall no longer live like charity girls."

Caroline kissed them tenderly; and went along to the King's apartments for the promised interview.

George received her coldly—but she had not expected anything else.

He told her that he was glad George Augustus had come to his senses and that he would never have had any quarrel with her if she had not supported her husband.

"I am sure Your Majesty would not have expected anything else from a good wife."

"No, but I expect a gocd subject to obey her King."

"So would I do in all things," she answered, "but in disobeying the wishes of my husband."

George grunted.

"Well now you can please us both, for your husband repents of his conduct and has regained his status."

"I rejoice in Your Majesty's good favour."

He grunted again.

"I have told the children," she said. "They love you but they will naturally be pleased to be back with their parents."

The King looked startled. "That matter remains as before."

Caroline was astounded. "I do not understand, Your Majesty."

He looked at her grimly. "There is to be no change," he said. "My grandchildren stay under my care."

"No..." she began.

He had turned away but she saw the triumph in his eyes and the grim determination of his lips.

"Frederick is to remain in Hanover," she began indignantly. "The girls..."

"Frederick to remain in Hanover," he said, "and the girls will continue as before."

"I understood ..."

"You misunderstood," said the King.

She was crying; she could not stop the tears, crying with frustration, rage and an infmite sorrow.

She had been cheated. The Prince and Walpole had gone behind her back. They had settled without her; and the one condition she had insisted on had been thrust aside.

There was no victory. The King, the Prince ... and Walpole had outwitted her.

The Bubble

The King was away on yet another visit to Hanover when panic struck London.

All through the year people of all kinds—the nobility and the poorest in the land—had been excited by the South Sea Trading Company, through which it was believed fortunes could be made in a few days. So busy was the Stock Exchange that desks had to be set up for clerks in the street to cope with all the business, for anyone who had any money was eager to invest it. People dreamed of riches, talked of riches, and many became rich.

It was there for everyone to see; those who had never dreamed of owning a carriage now had three or four. Humble merchants became millionaires. It was not only humble merchants; it was cabinet ministers, members of the nobility, the King's German mistresses—the Prince himself. Everyone was determined to grow rich through the exploitation of the South Seas. It was as though a fever was raging through the country– a fever of excitement, and to become rich quickly was the aim of every man and woman.

Stock worth one hundred today could be worth a thousand tomorrow so great was the demand for it.

So popular was the South Seas company that many other companies were floated. No project was too absurd to float a company; and still people rushed into them, eager to invest the guinea that they were convinced would miraculously turn to ten within the space of a few weeks.

Such a state of affairs must come to an end. The South Sea Company, knowing that its methods were being imitated by companies which had nothing at all to offer, decided to expose them; this it did and no sooner had the enquiries begun than fraud was exposed and the panic began to set in. The dream was evaporating; but in uncovering the fraudulent dealings of others the South Sea Company had exposed its own vulnerability.

It was a genuine trading company, but so far on no sound financial basis, and as soon as the panic stricken investors began to back out the company itself collapsed. Shares consequently tumbled in price and investors saw not only their dreams disappearing but their original investments.