Текст книги "Caroline the Queen"
Автор книги: Виктория Холт
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‘Don’t stay away too long,’ Lord Hervey instructed.
She passionately assured him that she would not and that very soon they would resume their exciting adventures.
This they did not do, however, for Anne had not been long in Bath when her little son died of a convulsion fit. When she received this news Anne had an attack of what she called the colic. It was rather more severe than the previous ones and her doctor ordered her to keep to her bed for a few days.
In a week she was dead.
The Prince of Wales was overcome with grief at the loss of the little boy whom he claimed to be his son.
‘I should not have thought him capable of such emotion,’ said the Queen.
The King’s Temper
MEANWHILE the King was finding it more and more difficult to delay his departure from Hanover, for with each day Madame de Walmoden seemed to grow more irresistible.
There were despatches from Walpole. His presence was needed in England. His Majesty had not forgotten his birthday and that his subjects would take it ill if he was not in London on that day, which was one of universal celebration.
He knew it—yet he delayed. But the time came when he could delay no longer if he were to be in England in time for the birthday. He had already given himself the minimum of time to reach home, not accounting for any delays which could so easily occur on the way.
Madame de Walmoden declared that she did not know what she would do without him. He meant everything to her. He was the most handsome, charming, intelligent man she had ever met and if he were the humblest servant in his own household she would still love him.
George basked in this admiration and believed it. His mistress was so convincing. She had also told him that she was pregnant and she could not bear that he should not be there when their child was born.
‘I will soon be here again,’ he promised.
‘Do you mean that?’ she asked tearfully. ‘Will you swear?’
‘I swear,’ he declared solemnly.
‘I must have a date to look forward to.’
He sighed. November ... December ... January....
She shivered. ‘You must not attempt to cross the sea during such months. I should die of fear.’
He kissed her and assured her that that fat old man in London would try to put a chain on him and certainly not let him off it so soon. ‘But ... by May ... the end of May, then I shall come. No matter what they say, I shall come in May.’
‘Seven whole months! ‘ she sighed.
‘My dearest, they do not want me to come once a year. They are going to do everything they can to prevent me in May.’
She did not press the matter but she constantly talked of the 29th May.
The night before he left Hanover there was a banquet over which he presided with a great deal of melancholy which the Hanoverians found very flattering, although they knew that the reason why he was so sad was because he must part from his mistress. Still, she was a Hanoverian —one of them; and the King made it clear twenty times a day that he loved their country and hated the one of which he was King.
Madame de Walmoden toasted him with tears in her eyes.
‘The 29th of May!’ she cried, and everyone present took up the cry.
‘The 29th of May!’ responded George.
After a night of passionate love and protestations of fidelity on both sides, the King left Hanover next morning, realizing that if he were to make the journey in time for his birthday he must travel fast.
* * *
Caroline was returning to the Palace after morning chapel when a messenger hurried to her to tell her that the King was on his way to Kensington and would be there very shortly.
She hastily summoned the Court and went to meet him.
As George alighted from his coach he managed to suppress the pain he felt. He was wretched, uncomfortable, and unhappy. It had been a trying journey for he had made it in less than five days by riding far through the night and scarcely stopping at all for rest and food. As a consequence this had brought on an attack of haemorrhoids from which he suffered intermittently; he was tired, and in pain, and moreover he was angry because he had left his mistress and wouldn’t see her for a long time, and as he grew farther and farther from Hanover and nearer to England he realized that there were going to be lifted eyebrows and worse still remonstrances when he suggested returning to Hanover as they would say ‘so soon’.
All this did not make a very happy homecoming.
And here he was at Kensington. Too grand, he thought. Too ostentatious compared with dear Herrenhausen. And Caroline. She was fat. Doubtless she had been guzzling chocolate more freely than ever since he had been away. His dearest Amelia Sophia managed to have exactly the right amount of warm, soft flesh without being fat.
But this was his dear wife and he loved her. She was his comfort and he would never forget that. She was smiling and so happy because he was home.
She bent and kissed his hand and with a gesture of tenderness he took her arm and they went into the Palace together.
He wondered how he managed to keep his temper while all the ceremonies went on. There were as many ceremonies in Hanover—but somehow they seemed more reasonable and in any case he was in pain and he wanted to go to bed and he hated being ill because he always felt that Was a slur on his manhood.
At last he was alone with the Queen.
She was anxious, but one did not suggest that the King might be ill.
She said that it must have been a tiring journey.
He told her exactly how long it had taken between each stage and grew quite animated doing this. He doubted the journey had ever been done so quickly.
‘It must have meant long hours sitting in the coach,’ she said. He looked at her sharply. So she guessed.
He said gruffly: ‘I had better see one of the physicians. Have him brought here without fuss. Let no one know that I have sent for him.’
The Queen nodded. This distressing complaint! She sympathized. He hated her to know of his humiliating illness; and she was determined to keep the knowledge of hers from everyone—except of course Charlotte Clayton. And she would never have known if she had not guessed.
‘I will see that the physician comes with as little fuss as possible. I will tell Hervey to arrange it.’
The King grunted his satisfaction and lay on the bed. She took his hand and was alarmed to find how feverish he was. How foolish of him to exhaust himself with such a journey unnecessarily. He could have taken ten days—had he given himself time.
Well, dear Lord Hervey would see that everything was conducted with the utmost secrecy.
She was right. The physician came and treated the King; but when he suggested that His Majesty should take to his bed for a few days until the fever subsided the King told him not to be a fool and he would take orders from no one.
He rested until the next morning, then he was up at precisely the same time that he rose every morning. No matter what pain he suffered, how much fever he had, no one at Court was going to know it. But there was an outward sign of his disorders which he made no effort to suppress. His temper flared up at the slightest thing; not only that, he seemed to look for trouble, as though abusing everyone around him soothed the pain he was suffering.
A pity he hadn’t remained in Hanover with his darling mistress, said the Court. That was where he wanted to be and Heaven knew no one wanted the disgruntled little man here.
* * *
The Queen was in the drawing room with her daughters, and of course Lord Hervey was in attendance, when the King came in. He looked at his watch testily as though to ask what they were all doing in this particular place at this particular hour.
The Queen looked at him nervously. He had always been of a violent temper, but it had never flared up quite so frequently—and for such trifles—as it had since his return from Hanover. She could tell that he was in pain, although the fever had subsided.
‘Gossip, gossip, gossip! ‘ he said. ‘That’s all that seems to go on in this Court. I can tell you it is different in Hanover.’
He scowled at them all and kicked a footstool out of his way; the effort clearly gave him a stab of pain which made him glare at the stool. But that inanimate object could not soothe his irritation, so he turned to the Queen.
‘Your Majesty breakfasted well?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Breakfasted well! When, Madam, did I ever breakfast well in this country? Tell me this: Is there an Englishman living who knows how to cook? Or an English woman for that matter? The English are the worst cooks in the world.’
Lord Hervey tried to soothe matters by saying that he would send his own cook to His Majesty’s kitchens for he was sure that the man could not fail to please.
‘I beg of you do no such thing,’ snapped the King. ‘There is no man in England who can cook to my satisfaction. There is no servant, sir, who knows his duty. Look at those chairs! I will not have them placed near the window thus. I have said so a hundred times. The English servants have no sense.’
The Princess Caroline hurriedly changed the position of the chairs. The King watched her with derision.
‘No Englishwoman knows how to walk across a room. They should take a lesson from the people of Hanover. And you’re getting fat like your mother. That gown is too drab. It makes you look sallow. My God, the women of England should go to Hanover and learn how to dress.’
‘Your Majesty is fortunate to possess such a paradise among your dominions,’ murmured Hervey.
The Queen was startled at the hint of sarcasm, but the King missed it; his eyes became slightly glazed with fond memories. The Queen was relieved for a moment and then it immediately occurred to her that he had never been quite like this before; he was more under the influence of that Walmoden woman than she had realized.
The King came out of his reverie and noticed the pictures. He stared as though he could not believe his eyes.
‘What has happened to the pictures?’ he asked. Everyone stared blankly at the walls.
‘Have you all turned silly?’ he shouted. ‘These are not my pictures.’
The Queen said: ‘We thought a change would be pleasant. We decided to put these Vandycks here instead of the old ones.’
‘I don’t find the change pleasant.’
‘These are very excellent pictures,’ ventured the Queen. ‘The others were of no great value.’
‘I do not find them excellent and I want the old pictures back here ... at once, do you understand.’ He looked at Hervey and said: ‘See to it....’
Hervey was startled, for some of the old pictures had been so worthless that he and the Queen had decided they were no good for anything and had given them away; others the Queen had said should be sent to Windsor.
Hervey murmured that some of the pictures had gone to Windsor and that it would not be easy to get them back quickly. ‘Would Your Majesty allow the two Vandycks to remain ... for a while. I am sure Your Majesty will agree that they are very fine.’
The King’s eyes looked red as they did when he was angry.
‘I’ll swear that you have been giving your fine advice to the Queen when she was pulling my house to pieces and spoiling all my furniture. I suppose I should be grateful that she has left the walls standing. Keep those two Vandycks if you like, but take away those nasty little children hanging over the door. I will not have them, I tell you, I will not have them. And do this quickly. I want to see it done before I leave for London tomorrow, for I know if I do not see a thing done with my own eyes it will not be done.’
‘Your Majesty cannot mean that he wants the fat Venus put back over the door.’
‘And why cannot I mean that, pray? I tell you, my lord, that is exactly what I do want ... and what I mean to have. Oh, I have not such nice taste as your lordship. I happen to like my fat Venus better than anything you have given me. See that my orders are carried out.’
‘At Your Majesty’s service now ... as always,’ said Lord Hervey.
The King turned to the Queen.
‘It is time that we walked.’
She rose immediately and he carried her off to the gardens to scold her for pulling down his house in his absence, for daring to suggest he hadn’t her fine taste, for stuffing so much chocolate that she looked like a pig, for planting too many flowers in the garden; in fact he must give way to his anger that Kensington was not Herrenhausen and Caroline not Amelia Sophia de Walmoden.
* * *
Sir Robert came to the Queen’s closet to talk to her very privately.
There was no use hiding from the truth, he said; he was a man who must speak the truth and he knew that the Queen respected frankness. In fact it was the only way in Which they could be of use to each other. The Queen assured him that she was of this opinion.
‘There is no doubt,’ said Sir Robert, that in Madame de Walmoden we have a danger which we have never had to face before.’
‘I believe,’ replied the Queen, ‘that in time he will forget her.’
Sir Robert cleared his throat. ‘And how has he been with ... Your Majesty since his return?’
The Queen hesitated and Sir Robert went on, ‘I understand. Previously the King has always been your devoted admirer. Now there is a threat in this younger woman. She is three-and-twenty and Your Majesty is three-and-fifty. You cannot compete against youth, Madam.’
Caroline was startled, but she was accustomed not only to the minister’s frankness but his crudeness of expression.
‘Before,’ he went on, ‘the King has been enamoured of your person and such feelings are of great use when it is necessary to revert to the art of persuasion. I am sure that your success with the King has been due to the effect you have had on him in the boudoir. Let us face the fact. Your Majesty can no longer hope to exert the same influence in that respect. You must now rely entirely on your intellect.’
The Queen clearly disliked this conversation and was steeling herself to remember that Walpole was only concerned with the good of their alliance and that they should not fail to carry the King with them in spite of her loosening physical hold on him.
‘He always declared that however many mistresses he has makes no difference to his feelings for me.’
‘That was in the past, Madam. That was when he desired you along with the others and you had the additional value of being his wife which to his reasoning is a fillip rather than an obstruction to passion. But now we have Madame de Walmoden.’
‘And you think that he is so enamoured of her that it has completely changed his outlook?’
Walpole nodded grimly. Had not something similar happened to him. There had been no greater rake in London than Sir Robert Walpole until he met Maria Skerrett; and now he was so enamoured of her that he was almost ready to throw up politics for her sake. At least he did not care if the whole world knew what she meant to him. And if that could happen to an old cynic like Sir Robert Walpole, how much more easily could it catch a sentimental man like George II.
‘We must try to turn his thoughts from her,’ said Walpole. ‘After all, we have an advantage in the fact that she is miles away and he cannot visit her. At least without our knowing. And we must do all in our power to prevent little trips to Hanover. That should not be difficult. I can move Parliament to put obstructions in his way. But ... he is dissatisfied and will continue to think of this woman unless we can divert his thoughts. Has he visited Lady Deloraine?’
‘He has not mentioned that he has.’
‘But he has been in the habit of giving Your Majesty details of his affairs, and if he had, it is to be presumed that he would compare Lady Deloraine with Madame de Walmoden and want to discuss the differences with Your Majesty.’
‘He has not mentioned her and I believe that he has been feeling too ill since his return. He goes about his ordinary business, but he suffers great pain although he does not show it.’
‘Except in his temper, Madam, which, though never of the best, has deteriorated since his return. How much is this due to his disability and how much to his loss of this woman we shall doubtless discover in due course. But I am not entirely pleased with Lady Deloraine. She is a fool, though I am ready to admit one of the prettiest women at Court, but fools can be used by clever men. His Majesty was at one time rather pleased with Lady Tankerville who has now gone to the country. It might be that we should get her out of the country and set her to play quadrille every night in the King’s company.’
‘He plays now with the Princesses.’
‘Madam, it is not possible that the King longs to pass his company in that of his own daughters when he has tasted the sweets of passing them with other people’s. It is better that the King should have a mistress chosen by us than by himself, and although Lady Tankerville is a fool, she is at least a safe fool.’
‘I will consider this,’ said the Queen.
‘I know that Your Majesty appreciates absolute candour,’ replied Walpole.
She did of course; but she found the interview embarrassing and it added nothing to her comfort.
* * *
When the King arrived at St James’s it was to find London almost empty.
‘For this,’ he cried to the Queen when he came to her apartments to see her before the levee, ‘I have been forced to come to London. I must celebrate my birthday. The people expect it. And then the people do me the honour of leaving London. The English are the most ill-mannered people in the world! ‘
Caroline sighed. If he continued to condemn the English in this way he was going to become even more unpopular than he already was.
‘You should be ready by now,’ he declared. ‘Your women are clumsy fools.’
Caroline saw Mrs Purcell, her hairdresser, wince. She would have to placate her in some way later. Why didn’t the King realize that people were noticing how much more ill-tempered he had become, how much more irascible since his return from Hanover; and they all knew the reason for it.
The next thing would be the spate of lampoons.
She wanted to explain to him; but when had one ever been about to explain to George?
His temper did not improve when his subjects assembled in his drawing room to pay their respects and he noticed that they were not wearing their best clothes. He had seen many of the coats before and as he never made a mistake about such details, he knew he was right.
An empty town! An ill-dressed company! A fine way to greet the King!
He asked the Duke of Grafton why he thought so many had come in their second best coats on such an occasion.
‘Your Majesty,’ answered Grafton, ‘we hope soon to be attending the marriage of the Prince of ‘Wales. Everyone is saving his best for that occasion.’
The King’s eyes narrowed. ‘I see,’ he said, ‘that the marriage of the Prince of Wales is of more importance than the King’s birthday.’
Grafton looked astonished, for believing himself more royal than George he had never hesitated to show his feelings. Naturally the wedding of the Prince of Wales would be the most important event since the coronation.
‘And I suppose,’ went on the King, ‘that you will be going to the country in a few days time?’
‘I have always gone to the country at this time of the year, sir. It is the best time for hunting.’
‘A pretty occupation for a man of your age to spend all his time tormenting a poor fox that is generally a better beast than those who pursue it.’
‘The farmers will tell you, sir, that the fox does great damage to the crops.’
‘The fox hurts no other animal and those brutes who hurt him do it only for the pleasure they take in hurting.’
‘I must tell Your Majesty that I hunt for my health.’
‘Why not walk or merely ride for your health? And if there is any pleasure in the hunt I’m sure you know nothing of it, for with your great bulk of twenty stone no horse I am sure can carry you within hearing, much less within sight, of your hounds. No. Sir Robert Walpole must leave London at this time to recuperate his health. And that I understand. His mind needs relaxation and his body exercise. And he has his private business. It is natural enough that he should take a month in the country to see to these matters.’ The King raised his voice and his face took on a deeper tinge of scarlet. ‘But why other puppies and fools have to run out of town to do their silly business now, when they have had all the summer to do it, I cannot imagine. I have come back ... against my inclination ... to find the Court empty and every young fool and every old fool running to the country. And I might have stayed in Hanover.’
It always came back to Hanover.
* * *
Life, thought Caroline, was becoming almost unbearable. The King’s continual irritation was hard to bear, more so now than it would have been earlier for she was more and more unable to ignore her illness.
There had been one or two occasions when she had almost fainted at a levee and it was only due to Charlotte Clayton and Lord Hervey that she had managed to hide this. Charlotte had now become Lady Sundon for her husband had been raised to the Irish peerage as Baron Sundon of Ardagh; and this fact had given Charlotte even more prestige in the Queen’s bedchamber.
Charlotte was very angry at the King’s behaviour and didn’t hesitate to say so.
‘It is bad enough,’ she said, ‘to have these wantons in England, but when they lure the King from his duties to his country and exert their influence from across the seas I don’t know what things are coming to!’
It distressed Charlotte to see the Queen so saddened, for in the privacy of the bedchamber the Queen could not always hide her sorrow.
Charlotte often felt that she could have slapped the little man for his lack of consideration; she would have liked to pack him off to Hanover where he could have vented his ill humour on That Woman. But of course he would have been all sweetness to her; for the very reason that he was so bad tempered was because he was separated from her.
‘Your Majesty should stay in bed for the rest of the day,’ Charlotte said one afternoon when the Queen was preparing to rise from the after dinner nap.
‘Impossible,’ said the Queen. ‘His Majesty will be coming in less than an hour to walk with me.’
‘Your Majesty is unfit.’
‘I am well.’
‘Not well enough, Madam. I know ...’
The Queen silenced her with a look. She knew. Yes, she knew! Oh, my God, why did she ever discover! thought Caroline. If this were known it would be the end. He would never return to her. It would be his excuse. And gradually he would slip away, for there was never a man more held by his emotions. The woman who shared his bed could share his confidence.
A curse on encroaching age, on female ailments, on all that could come to a woman.
How peaceful it had been when he was away in Hanover —and how dangerous it had proved!
Far from resting in bed she must rise earlier, for it took longer to dress.
Her feet were so swollen that they would not fit into her boots.
Lady Sundon was looking at them in dismay which turned to a sort of triumph. ‘Now Your Majesty will be forced to rest. I will send to the King and say that you are unwell.’
‘I forbid you to,’ said the Queen shortly.
‘Your Majesty, you cannot ...’
‘Bring me a bowl of cold water ... as cold as it can be.’
‘ Cold water, Your Majesty.’
‘That is what I said, Lady Sundon.’
Charlotte dared not disobey when the Queen spoke in that voice, so she retired and in a short time returned with the required bowl of water.
The Queen signed for her to put it on to the floor and when she had done so plunged her bare feet into it.
Your Majesty! ‘ cried Lady Sundon in alarm.
But the Queen, wincing a little, managed to smile at her.
After some minutes’ immersion in the ice-cold water the Queen was able to put on her boots and by the time the King called she was ready for their walk.
He looked a little disgruntled to find her on time because he had hoped to scold her for being late; however, he would soon find something of which to complain.
Lady Sundon looked after them as they left the apartment. She was very worried about the Queen’s health.
* * *
Caroline tried to fight off the feelings of fatigue—and, more trying still, the nagging pain.
It has worsened, there was no doubt of that; but she would not admit it. Far stronger than any discomfort was the urgent desire that no one should know.
So she smiled and pretended she was well and meekly accepted the King’s perpetual scolding.
But there were times when it was almost impossible to go on doing this.
One of these occasions occurred one morning when the King had been particularly unkind. She had borne all his complaints patiently and only the slight flush in her cheeks and the rather nervous movement of her hands betrayed her emotion.
Lord Hervey was in attendance with the Princesses and, as the King was about to leave for his own apartments, she could not hold the words which rose to her lips.
‘As Sir Robert Walpole has always been a particular friend of mine,’ she said, ‘and as he seems to be the only person at Court who is in Your Majesty’s good graces, I think I shall ask him to speak to Your Majesty on my behalf in the hope that he can persuade you to soften your treatment of me.’
The King stopped and stared at her. The whites of his eyes seemed to turn red.
‘I do not know what you mean by these complaints,’ he said.
The Queen merely smiled, which made the King grow more angry; but even he was aware of the worsening of his temper since his return from Hanover; and his anger took the form of self-pity.
‘I am ill,’ he said, ‘and I believe nobody is in the same good humour sick as well. And if I were well, do you think I should not feel and show some uneasiness for having left a place where I was pleased and happy all day long and being come to one where I am incessantly crossed and plagued?’
The Queen was suddenly stung to a retort which astonished all those who heard it.
‘If Your Majesty was so happy at Hanover why did you not stay there? I see no reason that made your coming to England necessary. You might have continued there without coming to torment yourself and us, since your pleasure did not call you. I am sure your business did not, for we could have done that just as well without you, and you could have pleased yourself without us.’
The King was so astonished at this outburst that he could think of no retort.
He was trembling with rage as he stalked out of the room.
Later Lord Hervey discussed the incident with the Queen.
‘Your Majesty has endured so much that it was time you said what you did.’
‘I fear I have shocked him deeply.’
‘Madam, is it not time that he was shocked deeply?’
‘I think he is a little repentant. He is much quieter. And he has promised me some fine horses for my coach. He says they are some of the finest he has ever seen.’
‘He must have brought them from Hanover.’
‘He did.’
‘Where,’ went on Lord Hervey, ‘horses like everything else in that paradise are much finer than they are in this poor island.’
The Queen laughed. ‘I hope you do not let him hear you talk thus.’
‘He would think I was showing good sense ... for once. But, Madam, why has he given you these horses? Firstly to show you how much finer Hanover horses are than English ones; and secondly that you may have the expense of feeding them.’
‘You are wicked, mon enfant. But what I should do without you to make me laugh in these trying times I do not know.’
