Текст книги "Caroline the Queen"
Автор книги: Виктория Холт
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The Prince’s Mistress
IN the Queen’s apartment the company were playing quadrille. Caroline had no wish to join. She was a little tired, though determined that none should guess it. Mrs Clayton was hovering, but the Queen could not bring herself to look at her attendant—and friend.
The relationship between them had changed subtly since Charlotte Clayton’s discovery of what ailed the Queen. Charlotte never referred to this as she knew well that it was the Queen’s wish that she should not; but it was there between them. Charlotte had a great many humble relatives and it was one of her hobbies to find places for them.
The Queen sighed. It seemed that since the discovery Charlotte had brought forward a greater number of indigent relatives. ‘Your Majesty, my niece ... my nephew ... my cousin ... would like this or that....’
There was no threat. How could there have been? How could Charlotte blackmail the Queen? Besides, there was great devotion between them. But Caroline always saw that Charlotte’s wishes were gratified; and Charlotte enjoyed playing the benefactress in her impecunious family, for that must have been very pleasant to a woman who craved for power. Craved for power? Did she? As any would. She was regarded, through her place at Court, as the head of her family; and clearly she enjoyed it.
And in her heart Caroline knew that what Charlotte asked—in reason—would be hers because of the secret they shared.
Henrietta Howard was restive. She was always restive nowadays. She had no longer any desire to stay at Court. It was true her position was growing more and more humiliating. The King still called at her apartments precisely at the hour he always had. But he spent the time in abusing her, telling her of his dissatisfaction with her. Poor Henrietta! She was longing to escape. Where to? That scoundrel of a husband of hers who was being paid by the King to allow his wife to stay in the Queen’s employ? A very uneasy position for everyone. And the King was casting covetous eyes on silly little Lady Deloraine who was governess to Mary and Louisa. She was an extremely pretty woman and had a connection with royalty because her husband’s father had been Charles II’s illegitimate son, the Duke of Monmouth. A sad position for Henrietta, who was no longer even the King’s mistress; and who should have left Court long ago and would have done so if the King had been helped to break a habit of years standing.
And how can I help him, sighed Caroline, when in Henrietta’s place there might be some charming, scheming, clever woman.
Life it seemed would never run smoothly. Frederick was a constant anxiety. Charming and affectionate towards his parents as he was in public, in private he showed his dissatisfaction with what they did for him. He wanted more money; he wanted more prestige; he wanted to marry.
He must have none of these ... yet. She and Walpole could not afford to have such a rival, and rival he would quickly become with those wolves of the Opposition ready to pounce on him and make him the centre of a Party which, with Frederick at its head, might well win public support. She remembered the old days of strife between the previous King and his son. History had a way of repeating itself.
Young William was looking handsome and bright tonight; but as soon as he set eyes on his brother he would appear sullen, for he refused to hide his feelings and he deeply resented Frederick. The girls were present. Amelia looked by far the handsomest of the three, but how she favoured masculine styles and she was far too fond of outdoor sports and, Caroline knew, excelled at them. She was bold, perhaps a little brazen. One might think so now to see her openly flirting with Grafton. What a bold and handsome fellow Grafton was. Another result of the promiscuous life of that indefatigable lover Charles II. Grafton was the son of Barbara Castlemaine’s son and claimed to be the grandson of Charles Stuart. These people gave themselves airs and secretly, Caroline guessed, believed themselves to be more royal than the present German branch of the family. Grafton doubtless thought he had a chance with Amelia and Amelia would be nothing loth.
Where are we going to find husbands for the girls? sighed Caroline. It was so difficult being firmly Protestant, which they must be since it was the reason why the English had accepted them, when almost every eligible Prince in Europe was Catholic. It restricted choice so; and now that Sophia Dorothea’s double marriage scheme had come to nothing, what of a husband for Amelia, what of a wife for Frederick?
She and Walpole were not anxious to provide a wife for the Prince of course, for marriage would add to his importance. But it was certainly time Anne was married. And she was getting bitter too.
And there was Grafton trying to compromise Amelia so that marriage might be necessary.
Life was full of difficulties.
And Caroline was stooping a little, which was worrying because she was so delicate, learning to dislike her elder brother because all the others did, particularly William who would have been the Prince of Wales but for Frederick—and how she wished he had been.
She disliked her eldest son. She might as well face it, for to say anything else would have been hypocrisy. If only he had never been born there would be much less strife in the family because it was only since his coming that the trouble had been so pronounced. If she could only find suitable husbands for the girls, if William could be Prince of Wales, and being so young he would not be of age for many years which would give her and Walpole—and of course the King—years of freedom to rule as they thought fit, without interference from an Opposition which each day was seeking to draw Frederick into its net.
Troubles swirling around, conflict within the family circle! It seemed what they must always expect.
Frederick had come in and had created the usual stir. They were bowing and curtseying which was only right of course as he was the Prince of Wales. He came to her and she tried to see him dispassionately—a little man, like his father, neat as George was, and elegant too; he paid attention to the minutest detail of dress, as George did. He was so like his father that this should have endeared them to each other. It had the reverse effect. Frederick lacked his father’s quick temper. One could never imagine Frederick’s taking off his wig and kicking it round the room—a trick of George’s in the old days. Frederick was too careless; all he wanted was to enjoy life in the company of his chosen friends. And his chosen friend now was that impossibly vulgar Mr Dodington.
Frederick kissed his mother’s hand charmingly—always so charming in public. In private he would be sullen, always ready to talk of his debts, wondering why he could not have more money.
She complimented him on his healthy looks and after a short conversation he left her to wander among the guests and say a few words to each.
She watched him and saw that he had joined Anne Vane, one of her attendants, and that he stayed at her side. She knew the girl was his mistress. That was of no great Importance, except of course that the girl had not the best of reputations. She would have preferred him to have chosen a mistress as discreet and as modest as Henrietta.
She noticed that her daughter Caroline had suddenly become animated, almost pretty, a faint flush in her cheeks, her eyes brightening.
The reason was clear. Lord Hervey was presenting himself to the Queen.
Caroline’s own spirits lifted. Lord Hervey was always so amusing. She enjoyed his company more than anyone else’s —more than Walpole’s although, of course, she and the great statesman had so much of importance to discuss together.
‘My lord, it is a pleasure....’
‘Your Majesty is gracious.’
He was very handsome and most magnificently dressed. His cheeks were only faintly touched with rouge. Poor man, thought the Queen, he suffers and must disguise his pallor for he doesn’t want everyone asking after his health.
She shuddered at the thought of such a distasteful subject.
‘Pray be seated beside me,’ she said. ‘Now amuse me with the latest gossip.’
Hervey did this so effectively that now and then the Queen’s laughter rang out. The Princess Caroline came to sit on the other side of Hervey and joined in the merriment, although not in the conversation, preferring to sit quietly listening.
‘Lord Hervey,’ chided the Queen, ‘I fear you have a wicked tongue.’
‘Alas so much more entertaining than a discreet one. Is it not sad that the discreet and the virtuous are invariably bores?’
‘One could never call you that, Lord Hervey.’
‘I have always thought that I would be wicked while I was young giving myself time in which to repent and spend my last years ... no, months ... in being virtuous, a plague to myself and a bore to my friends.’
‘I should not listen to such talk.’
‘You see, I even tempt Your Majesty to forget your habitual virtue.’
‘Are you suggesting that I am a bore since I am virtuous?’
‘It is the privilege of royalty, Madam, never to bore.’
‘What do you think of this man, Caroline?’ the Queen asked her daughter. ‘Do you not think that we should dismiss him from the Court?’
The Princess Caroline blushed and murmured that the Court would be a dull place if Lord Hervey were banished from it.
‘There’s a nice piece of flattery for you,’ laughed the Queen.
Hervey looked intently at the Princess and said: ‘I hope with all my heart that it is not flattery.’
The Princess looked uncomfortable and turned her gaze on the company. Hervey was completely assured. Why was he fretting about lost favour with the Prince when he had the undisguised approval of the Princess and—what was more important—the Queen.
But this very approval made him more angry with the Prince who had treated him so churlishly as to thrust him aside for the sake of that vulgar Bubb. And Anne Vane too! How dared they!
They were whispering together now. Could it be about him? He had made a discovery about Anne Vane. He had his friends about the Court and her secret was one which she could not expect to hide for long.
Anne Vane was pregnant.
What an interesting situation. It was just possible that he himself might be the father. Harrington might be too, but of course the young woman would almost certainly bestow paternity on the Prince of Wales.
It would discountenance Mistress Vane considerably if she were dismissed from Court because of her condition.
Hervey could never resist maliciously attacking his enemies and with a sudden feeling of spite he leaned closer to the Queen and whispered: ‘I’ll swear Your Majesty is disturbed about the condition of that young woman.’
‘What young woman is this?’
‘Anne Vane. She is enceinte.’
‘ Enceinte!’ Caroline began to fan herself rapidly. ‘How inconsiderate of her! ‘
‘Very inconsiderate, Your Majesty. Well brought up young ladies should know it is an unpardonable offence. To err is natural, but to make public that which should be private is such vulgarity. Still, I am not surprised considering the company the young woman keeps.’
The Queen looked astonished for even from Hervey she would not take insults to the Prince of Wales.
‘I mean that mountain of flesh, that vulgar tradesman, that adorner of his vile and unwieldly person ... Bubb Dodington. Any man who gets himself born with such a name has no right to enter polite society.’
The Queen looked relieved. ‘I believe Mr Bubb Dodington to be a Member of Parliament and a respected citizen.’
‘He is respected by sellers of brocade, jewels, and building materials, Madam. They wrest a good living from his extravagances. Miss Vane is a close friend of his ... and I repeat that it is small wonder that she has behaved in this indecorous vulgar way.’
‘You think Mr Dodington is the father?’
‘I think, Madam, that there are a number who could claim that not very creditable role, but I do not think that gentleman’s mistress would allow him the opportunities which would be necessary if he were to share Miss Vane’s ubiquitous favours.’
The Queen smiled, but she was almost immediately serious.
‘I want no scandal at the Court.’
‘Then in that case Your Majesty will want no Miss Vane.’
‘You are right, Lord Hervey. I shall consider her case immediately.’
* * *
Caroline meant what she said. Frederick was mistaken if he thought she was going to have his mistress growing obviously more and more pregnant in evidence at her Court.
She considered very carefully how she would rid herself of Anne Vane.
She was at Kensington which was her favourite palace because it seemed to her more homely than St James’s or Hampton Court.
In her rooms on the first floor on the eastern side of the palace she lay in bed and thought that she would lose no time. She would act this very day.
She often thought this was one of the most enjoyable times of the day. She would lie in bed and rest her limbs—and she always felt better when she was lying down—and very often she would give audience from her bed. If her visitor were a man he would stand outside the door and talk to her from there, for she was determined that no scandal should touch her name. That would be immediately to alienate the King for the one thing that would be unforgivable to him would be to besmirch his supremacy in any way.
Then there would be the ceremony of dressing which took place all too soon, presided over by Charlotte Clayton who on some mornings seemed to give herself such airs of authority that the others resented it, particularly Henrietta Howard who, the Queen often noticed with relief, now made no objections about kneeling with the basin and ewer.
When she was dressed she stood at one of the six great windows looking down on the gardens. Such a pleasant sight and how she loved those gardens She delighted to walk in them; she was sorry she could not walk more often, but her legs did swell so much and there was that other unmentionable trouble. Whenever she thought of it she would give Charlotte a quick look. Sometimes Charlotte intercepted that look and an expression of reassurance would come over her face. Or did the Queen imagine that? Your secret is safe with me.
The children were waiting to join her at breakfast in Queen Mary’s gallery.
They greeted her formally and she sat down and Mrs Purcell, her retiring woman, hovered to adjust the kerchief about her neck. Charlotte’s sharp eyes were on Mrs Purcell, always watchful that none of the women should take too much upon themselves.
William was lounging by the window; young Caroline sat hunched over the table; Anne looked sullen; Amelia was already dressed for riding. The little girls were in their nursery presided over by Lady Deloraine. Oh dear, she hoped the King was not paying too much attention in that quarter. She believed that lady might become a little difficult ... not on her own account, of course; she was far too stupid. But she had heard that the Prince and Mr Dodington visited her apartments frequently. That might mean trouble. Still, that was for the future. The immediate problem was the dismissal of her son’s mistress.
The sight of Amelia made her uneasy. How far, she wondered, had her daughter’s flirtation with Grafton gone. Amelia was so arrogant, almost as arrogant as Anne, although in a less sour manner. Anne was a great trial to her. Poor girl, she should be married. She needed to be married. But whom could she marry? Only a prince would suit Anne and where was that prince?
Some kings and queens had longed for children; she and George, it seemed, had too many.
Not that she did not care for them as a mother. If only they had not been royal, how easy it would have been to have made suitable matches for them. She was sure Amelia would have willingly married Grafton.
She felt impelled to speak to her daughter and that delay might be dangerous.
‘I noticed,’ she said, ‘that you spent last evening at the side of the Duke of Grafton and scarcely spoke to anyone else.’
‘His conversation was more interesting than that of others, Madam.’
Arrogant, almost insolent. If I had had the care of them when they were young it would have been different. Resentment flared within her against the late King who had taken her children from her and refused to let them meet their parents without his permission. Therein lay the root of all the trouble. If Frederick had been allowed to live with them instead of being kept away in Hanover all those years, might there not have been a better understanding between him and his parents? Most assuredly. The troubles of the family lay within its own circle. An alarming thought.
‘I think you should be careful not to give a wrong impression with that young man,’ said the Queen.
‘Scarcely young,’ mocked Anne. ‘He’s old enough to be your father, Amelia.’
‘He is certainly more attractive than my own.’
‘Amelia!’ The Queen was horrified. If such remarks should reach the ears of the King they would never be forgotten, nor forgiven.
‘Oh, Mamma, we don’t have to flatter him when he’s not here, surely.’
Caroline glanced at the women. ‘The King does not need flattery,’ she said. ‘One only has to speak the truth.’
That made them titter. They saw their father too clearly, and they were too rebellious to pretend otherwise. One had to remember that with the exception of William—and he was precocious—and Louisa and Mary in the nursery they were no longer children.
The Queen, anxious to change the subject from this dangerous criticism of their father, turned on Amelia. ‘Your conduct with that man is causing comment. I find it disgraceful.’
‘Nothing to what it was at Windsor,’ commented William, making a face at his sister.
‘Be silent, you spoilt little beast.’
‘Mamma, did you hear what she called me?’
Anne said: ‘I endorse it. The Duke of Cumberland is a spoilt little beast.’
The Princess Caroline looked anxiously at her mother. Dear child! thought the Queen. She hates this family bickering as much as I do, and it is chiefly because she fears the effect on me.
William lunged towards his sister as though he would strike her. Caroline called him sharply to order and he thrust out his lip sullenly.
‘Now you do look beautiful,’ commented Amelia. ‘The handsome Duke of Cumberland! ‘
‘I will not have this,’ said the Queen. ‘Purcell, bring breakfast. I am hungry today.’
‘What would Your Majesty like?’
‘Chocolate, of course, and some fruit with sour cream.’ Purcell retired to bring the food and the Queen turned once more to Amelia.
‘I shall speak to Grafton,’ she said. ‘He shall come to my first drawing room.’
She was already rehearsing what she would say to that arrogant man who tried to remind her every time he met her that he was a direct descendant of King Charles II and she was merely married to a member of an odd sprig of the royal tree. Insufferable man. And now he was trying to—or possibly had—seduced Amelia.
Amelia was looking smug, certain of the manner in which her lover would discomfit her mother. It was intolerable that the Queen should submit to such humiliation. Nor would she from any but her own rebellious brood.
‘Mamma,’ said William, ‘when Amelia and Grafton were hunting in Windsor Forest they left the hunt and went into a private house in the forest. They stayed there for some hours. Everyone wondered where they were and thought it so odd that they had both disappeared ... and without attendants.’
‘How dare you say such things, William,’ said his mother.
‘You have always told us that we should speak the truth, Mamma.’
‘This is ... gossip.’
‘It is also the truth, Mamma.’
‘Amelia, I am sure you will wish to deny this.’
‘No,’ said Amelia pertly. ‘I don’t, Mamma, because you have taught me also to speak the truth.’
‘This is ... outrageous.’
‘Oh ... what are we to do?’ cried Amelia petulantly. ‘Are we to remain virgins all our lives because no one finds husbands for us.’
‘I do not think it will be possible to find a husband for you Amelia if you behave in this way.’
‘And what of Anne? She is interested in no one because there is no one at Court whom she considers worthy of her. But does she fare any better? She is husbandless too.’
‘This is a most unsuitable conversation,’ said the Queen, ‘and I forbid you to continue with it. I shall speak to Grafton and ask him for an explanation of this Windsor incident.’
‘Pray do, Mamma, if you consider it wise. But he will not care, you know; and if others hear of it they will exaggerate it and I believe you will not be pleased with the outcome.’
‘I have not asked your opinion, Amelia. And now, no more of this most distasteful subject. Ah, here comes Purcell.’
Food was always comforting and the Queen greatly enjoyed a cup of chocolate. So did the rest of the family.
The Queen sent for more chocolate and when she was drinking this the King came in to take the Queen for a walk. The Queen, hearing his voice outside, looked at her watch. As she might have imagined he had come exactly at the expected time but she had been so disturbed by the conversation that she had not noticed that they had delayed too long over breakfast.
The King looked with distaste on his family. The breakfast should have been over. He was never in a very good mood in the morning and this was the most trying time of the day for the Queen.
He took out his watch and regarded it. The Queen saw Amelia and Anne exchange glances. They must be careful, she thought. He must never know that they laughed at him.
‘Late!’ he said. ‘You people have no idea of time.’
He spoke in German. He had long given up speaking English to children who spoke it better than he did.
‘We have been talking,’ said the Queen with a quick smile. ‘It made us forget the time.’
‘Time should never be forgotten. Only fools forget time.’
He looked at her as though she fitted into that category and her spirits sank. This was going to be a difficult morning, and before her lay not only the task of placating the King but of dismissing her son’s mistress.
‘That is so,’ admitted the Queen.
‘Of course is so. William, don’t stand there like that ... slouching like some stable boy. Stand up. Hold your back straight. Look animated when I come into the room.’
William tried to do all these things and looked rather comical, but the King was already glaring at Amelia. ‘More like a man than a woman. I don’t like those clothes of yours. Do you hear me!’
‘I beg Your Majesty’s pardon but I didn’t quite catch ...’
‘Pray listen when I speak to you. Pay attention, my girl, or you will be in trouble.’ He turned to the Queen on whom he liked to bestow the full force of his irritation when he was in one of his morning moods. ‘And stop stuffing. No wonder you’re so fat. How can you expect otherwise when you sit about swilling chocolate like some fat pig at the trough.’ The King was not noted for the elegance of his expressions especially when he was irritated; and he undoubtedly was now. It was all due to their being late finishing breakfast; they had violated one of his sacred rules; they had ignored Time.
‘Well, come along,’ he said. ‘It’s time for our walk.’
So the Queen had to rise, leave her chocolate and the fruit and sour cream unfinished to go and walk in the garden.
The guards and the gardeners, the courtiers who accompanied them heard his voice raised in anger as he criticised her. She walked too slowly because she was too fat. She guzzled like a pig and that was why she was too fat. He did not like the colour of the gown she was wearing. She had dozed over cards last night. He had seen her nodding and pretending to be awake. He had heard her snore. Yes, she had snored. And when he had come to take her for a walk she had not been ready. She had kept the King waiting. He was angry; he was irritated; but he enjoyed her company more than that of any other person and there was a note of fierce pleasure in the voice that went on upbraiding her.
Oh dear, life was very difficult. Her legs had been more swollen than usual last night and the pain ... it had been impossible to ignore it. Now he was walking too fast and she found it difficult to keep up with him, but to ask him to slacken his pace would be to call down further abuse.
So she puffed along beside him and she thought that life would be intolerable if she did not know—and all wise people at Court knew—that for all his shrill abuse and for all her outward meekness she, with ‘Walpole at her side, was the real ruler of the country.
As for George, as the walk progressed he gradually grew better tempered. Even though he did abuse her for her fatness, secretly he liked her fat. He thought her the most beautiful woman at Court; he would rather be walking in the gardens with her than with anyone else. The abuse was really for those who looked on, not for her; he had never forgotten that nasty little rhyme about her being the real ruler. He had to sneer at her in public; he had to show that he was the master and she dared not answer back. It was the only way he could convince himself. So he strutted a little ahead of her like some cocky little bantam, while she puffed along those few paces behind him; and his show of irritation was the sign of inner contentment.
* * *
Back in the Palace the Queen lay on her bed to rest her legs.
Charlotte Clayton put cold compresses on them; she said she had heard of this from Lady Masham who used to do it for Queen Anne.
If it weren’t for these swollen legs I should feel very well,’ said the Queen almost defiantly.
Charlotte deliberately lowered her eyes to show she understood.
‘Of course, Your Majesty.’
Caroline sighed and at the moment Anne Vane came in to perform some duty and the Queen remembered the unpleasant task which lay before her.
‘Oh ... I have something to say to Miss Vane.’
‘Miss Vane,’ called Charlotte, a little officiously, ‘Her Majesty wishes to speak to you.’
Anne Vane came forward and curtsied. Oh yes, thought the Queen, she is clearly pregnant.
The Queen waited, expecting Charlotte to retire as would have been natural in the circumstances, but Charlotte busied herself at one of the cupboards and made no attempt to leave.
Caroline hesitated and then decided that it could not matter if Charlotte remained, for soon everyone would know that Anne Vane had been dismissed.
‘I think,’ said the Queen coolly, ‘that you may have something to tell me.’
‘I ... Your Majesty?’
She was feigning innocence, but she knew very well what the Queen was hinting.
‘It would have been better if you had told me yourself,’ said the Queen. ‘When do you expect your confinement?’
Anne gave a little gasp, but she was not really frightened. This was no ordinary indiscretion. She had the honour of being mistress to the Prince of Wales.
‘Oh ... Madam!’
Charlotte Clayton was frankly listening now, her lips pursed in disgust.
‘It is no use attempting to disguise the truth,’ said the Queen. ‘I cannot allow you to remain at Court. I asked you when your child is expected to be born.’
‘There are ... another three months, Your Majesty.’ ‘Well, it is time you were going.’
‘His Highness ...’
‘You may make your preparations immediately.’ ‘Madam, if His ...’
‘Pray go at once to your apartment and prepare to leave. You must return to your home without delay.’ The Queen turned to Charlotte. She might as well make use of her since she was here. ‘Mrs Clayton will see that you obey my orders without delay.’
‘Madam ...’ began Anne Vane.
But Charlotte had taken the girl by the arm and was leading her very forcibly from the apartment.
* * *
Anne ordered the carriage to go to La Trappe at Hammersmith.
There she was welcomed by Mrs Behan to whom she told the story of her dismissal.
‘Wait till George comes,’ advised Mrs Behan. ‘He will know what to do.’
He did. He went himself to the Prince of Wales to tell him what had happened and as a result Frederick came riding to La Trappe.
Anne threw herself weeping into his arms. She had been ignobly turned out of the Court. They were all against him and so against her for they knew how she adored him.
Frederick, who was growing more and more resentful as he grew more and more in debt, agreed with her that the way she had been treated was a slight on him. But they must think what they were going to do.
‘I can’t go home,’ cried Anne. ‘What can I do. And I can’t stay here. Oh, my Prince, what have we done.’
Frederick consoled her. He was delighted that they were going to have a child. She must not have any fears. He would look after her.
‘But where can I go?’ she asked.
Dodington suggested that the Prince might like to set her up in a house of her own. No one could prevent that; and there she could live in peace and comfort with her child.
‘That’s the answer! ‘ said Frederick; and Anne agreed with him.
‘I know of a house in Soho Square which would be ideal,’ Mrs Behan told them. ‘Anne can stay here until she is settled in, and she and I will go and look at it tomorrow.’
The Prince was very grateful to his kind friends; and the next day Anne Vane and Mrs Behan went to see the house which enchanted them both.
The Prince liked it too. It was expensive, but he never worried about money until the bills were presented to him; and who was going to worry about supplying the needs of the Prince of Wales?
The house was fitted out with the finest furniture and plate until it was almost as grande as La Trappe.
Frederick was delighted and promised Anne £1,600 a year. So the entire matter was settled to the satisfaction of Anne and the Prince, for Dodington allowed him to win £5,000 from him at the gaming table to pay for the initial costs.
This was most convenient and everyone concerned was delighted; except Lord Hervey, who realized that Anne Vane’s position was slightly more secure than it had been before.
* * *
Anne Vane began to give herself airs. She was now the acknowledged mistress of the Prince of Wales; she went about proudly proclaiming her condition and making no attempt to hide it.
It was useless for Hervey to make wry jokes about the mystery surrounding her condition. We all know what, he commented, but only Miss Vane can tell us who.
