Текст книги "Caroline the Queen"
Автор книги: Виктория Холт
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‘She is vithout power.’
‘She is on the spot. And the King of Prussia may yell make a big offer for the vill.’
‘I vill send a trusted man at vonce.’
‘And I vill write to the Duchess assuring her of my friendship. It vould be yell if she came back to England ... and quickly.’
The King despatched a messenger without delay and the Queen went to her apartments and immediately wrote to the Duchess.
‘My first thought, my dear Duchess, has been of you in the misfortune which has befallen us; I know well your devotion and love for the late King, and I fear for your health; only the resignation which you have always shown to the divine will can sustain you under such a loss. I wish I could convey to you how much I feel for you, and how anxious I am about your health, but it is impossible for me to do so adequately. I cannot tell you how greatly this trouble has affected me ...’
Caroline paused to smile cynically. What joy it had brought! No more to he plagued by that old scoundrel, to have her children with her. Would poor Ermengarda see through this hypocrisy? Not she! She had always been simple—except in money matters. Ah, there was the point. If she knew of the existence of that will, she would guess that she would be one of the main beneficiaries and she would no longer be the King’s simple Ermengarda Schulemburg whom he had made Duchess of Kendal. Money had always sharpened Ermengarda’s wits.
Caroline continued:
‘I had the honour of knowing the late King, and you know that to know him was sufficient to make one love him also ...’
Oh, no! That was too much! But in Ermengarda’s present mood she would accept it. George I had been a god to her when he lived; now he would naturally have become a saint. And Ermengarda must come back to England; she must be safely settled in the shadows for ever more.
‘I know that you always tried to render good service to the present King. He knows it too and I hope you realize that I am your friend. It is my pleasure and duty to remind you of the fact and to tell you that I and the King will always be glad to do all we can to help you. Write to me, I beg you, and give me an opportunity to show how much I love you.
Caroline.’
Its falseness was apparent in every line. But Ermengarda might not see this. She was almost out of her wits with grief for the King whose constant companion and devoted mistress she had been for so many years.
Caroline despatched the letter that it might arrive at the same time as the Duke of Wolfenbüttel received the handsome sum George was sending in payment for the will.
There were many anxious days before the copy of his father’s will was in the King’s hands and, once there, immediately given the same treatment as the other copy.
Coronation
EVERYONE’S thoughts were now occupied with the coronation.
The Queen had dismissed the governess of her eldest girls and had decided that she would supervise their education. It was a little late now, Anne being nearly nineteen years old and even Caroline only four years younger. Oh, how angry she could become even now when she thought of the years that old monster George I had kept them from her. Still that was over now and she must make the best of it.
Here she had all her children under her care now. Even Frederick would have to come soon.
Not yet, she thought. The longer they kept him out of England the better.
She went to the nursery, for she had commanded the elder girls to be there with their little sisters and brother as she wished to talk to them all together.
When she entered the elder girls curtsied, but the young ones rushed at her and Anne looked on with haughty disapproval as young William claimed first attention.
She could never resist him. He was her favourite and she was touched by love and pride every time she saw him. Darling William, already Duke of Cumberland.
‘My darling!’ said Caroline fondly. ‘And you have been goot boy?’
‘He is never a good boy, Mamma,’ said Anne coldly. William swung round and ran at his sister preparing to pummel her.
‘I am a good boy. I am. I am. I am the best boy in the world, I tell you.’
‘Oh, William, William, that vill not do. Come here at vonce to Mamma.’
William stuck out his lower lip and grimaced at Anne before turning to his mother.
‘Now, you vill tell me how you are getting on with your lessons.’
‘I am very clever, Mamma.’
‘So he says,’ retorted Amelia.
‘No, no. It is Jenkin who says so.’
‘And you have been reading Mr Gay’s fables.’
William nodded, smiling at the memory of the fables. Anne interrupted by saying: ‘Mamma, what are we to wear for the coronation.’
‘Ah, the coronation! That is vy I have to you come. You vill all be taught your part and I know you vill do as you should. It vill be von great experience to see your father and me crowned. And I shall so proud of yen be.’
‘ I shall be there!’ cried William.
‘And that,’ retorted Anne sourly, ‘will ensure the success of the occasion.’
William nodded gravely, believing this to be so, and his mother laughed.
Anne was so angry she could have slapped the spoilt child. The only thing that gave her satisfaction was that his arrogant little nose would soon be put out of joint. for surely Frederick would have to come home shortly. Then Master ‘William would learn that he was only a young brother. From the way he behaved now one would think he was the heir to the throne.
‘Mamma, shall we carry your train?’ asked Amelia. ‘Yes, my dear, you three eldest shall carry my train.’
‘ I will carry it!‘ cried William.
The Queen laughed as though he had said something very clever.
‘You are too young,’ Anne told him. ‘And boys don’t carry trains.’
‘If I want to carry a train ...’ began William ominously. But Amelia interrupted: ‘Can three of us carry the train then, Mamma?’
‘Oh, yes. You three will carry it and you will be wearing your purple robes of states, with circlets on your heads.’
‘Not coronets?’ asked Anne, always anxious that no outward sign of royalty should be omitted.
‘No, dear. These vill be borne before you by three peers.’
Anne clasped her hands ecstatically. ‘Oh, how I wish that I were going to be crowned. Mamma, you must be the happiest woman in the world.’
‘I am happiest most to have my children vith me.’ ‘Shall I be crowned?’ asked William.
Anne laughed loudly. ‘You are not even Prince of Wales. It is the Prince of Wales who becomes the King. You were born a little too late, dear brother.’
‘Mamma, why was I born too late?’
Never was there such an arrogant six-year-old, thought Amelia. It was time brother Frederick came home if only to show Master William that although his mother spoilt him outrageously, he was not the most important member of the household.
‘My darling, these things vill be.’
The Queen was regretful. William himself could not have wished more heartily than she that he was the firstborn and therefore Prince of Wales.
‘But I don’t want them to be.’
‘And even William, Duke of Cumberland, can’t have everything he wants,’ replied Anne.
How sharp she is, how acid! thought the Queen. That must be corrected. And there was Amelia looking almost mannish although so good looking; and little Caroline stooping too much. Mary and Louisa were such babies, of course, but they seemed to be her very own because they had not been taken from her and she had always had charge of them. She feared that the quarrel with the late King had had a marked affect on her family.
She must correct their faults, but gently because she loved them tenderly and wanted to keep their love.
‘Soon,’ went on Anne, addressing William, ‘your brother will return and you will meet the Prince of Wales who will be the most important of us all.’
William looked questioningly at his mother who said: ‘I daresay your brother vill come to England in due course.’
‘Should he not be here for the coronation, Mamma?’ ‘That is impossible. He could not leave Hanover yet.’ ‘But when, Mamma, when?’ insisted Amelia.
‘That ve cannot yet say.’
The pleasure was spoilt. It was true he would have to come home. And she, his mother, had to admit that she didn’t want him. To her he would be as a stranger, a German stranger!
Perhaps she could get Walpole to help her contrive some scheme for keeping Frederick in Hanover. It was an idea. Frederick to remain as Elector of Hanover and William to be Prince of Wales. Even Walpole could never arrange that. Still, the longer they could keep Frederick in Hanover, the more hope there would be of making young William Prince of Wales.
She could not take her eyes from him—her beloved son. He was already a little man at six years old—very sure of what he wanted; and clever, too, if she could believe his most excellent tutor Jenkin Thomas Philipps who had published for William’s use his Essay Towards a Universal and Rational Grammarand Rules in English to Learn Latin.
‘Now,’ said the Queen, ‘I vant to hear from you all. How are you elder girls spending your time, eh? And you little ones must tell me how you are progressing with your lessons. ... Come Louisa, my dear.’ She lifted the three-year-old on to her lap. ‘And you too, Mary.’ Mary, a year older than Louisa, was overawed by the presence of her elder sisters who were almost strangers to her, and came shyly to her mother. But William was of course pushing for the first place.
The elder girls remained rather aloof—Anne haughtily, Amelia indifferently, and Caroline diffidently.
Oh dear, thought the Queen, how difficult this welding together of her family was proving! Every day her grudge against the late King seemed to deepen when she considered what his cruelty had done to her family.
If I had always had them under my care ... she thought.
She was determined to be a good mother, and good mothers were supposed to love all their children equally. At least they always swore they did. She could not help it if her gaze rested a little more lovingly on young William. After all he was her son.... There was Frederick, but she couldn’t count him.
She had tried calling him Fritzchen in her mind in the hope that it would help her return to the love she had once had for him; but it was no use. She did not know what he looked like, for a young man of twenty must look very different from a boy of seven. And to think he had been only seven when she had left him. Another thing to blame that wicked old monster for. He had parted a mother from her son and during thirteen years the longing for her child had been suppressed until, with the coming of other children, it had been stifled altogether.
What is the use of pretending? Caroline asked herself. I don’t care if I never see Frederick again.
But his name was on everyone’s lips. Even here in the nursery her children were talking about him.
When is Frederick coming home?
The question came between her and her peace of mind. She did not want Frederick and the reason was that she deeply regretted he was her firstborn; she wanted all the honours that would be his for her adorable, bright, and utterly spoilt six-year-old William.
‘At least,’ said Anne, ‘we shall be properly dressed for the coronation. Papa will not be allowed to be so mean as to stop that.’
‘Oh, Anne!’ cautioned the Princess Caroline.
‘It’s the truth,’ replied Amelia. ‘Papa hates parting with money. That is why we are all kept so poor. It’s not fair.’
‘He asked to see my accounts,’ complained Anne, ‘and when Mrs Powis brought them he said that the braid on my top coat was too wide and could have been half the width—thus saving money. Who would think we were princesses. We might be charity girls!’
‘Sometimes I think,’ said Amelia, ‘that it would have been better not to be so highly born. I am sure maids of honour enjoy a freer life than their mistresses. There is our mother, Queen of England, but not daring to speak her mind for fear she offends Papa.’
‘But he does all she tells him nevertheless.’
‘Without knowing it,’ said Amelia. ‘I think our father is not half as clever as he thinks himself.’
The elder girls began to laugh and Caroline looked a little shocked. ‘He is after all our father and the King.’
‘Dear Caroline! You always believe the best of everyone. For me I prefer rather to tell the truth than deceive myself.’ That was Amelia. She was kneeling on the window seat in a pose which her mother would have deplored, for it was not femininely graceful. She glanced down to the courtyard below and her manner changed; a smile touched her lips and she waved a greeting.
Anne was quickly beside her.
‘So ... you are flirting with Grafton.’
Amelia was still looking at the man on horseback whose dark handsome looks and physique made him outstanding.
‘I am acknowledging the greeting of Charles, Duke of Grafton,’ retorted Amelia tartly.
‘You know that is most unwise.’
‘I cannot see that it is unwise to give or return a greeting.’
‘Greeting! You know it is more than that. You know you have a fancy for him.’
‘ You are inclined to think youknow too much, sister.’
Caroline moved away to another window and stood there gazing out. She was always seeking to escape from her more forceful sisters who were constantly quarrelling. Quarrels were commonplace in this family. There had been the Great Quarrel between Grandfather and Papa—and now that was over minor ones were continually springing up between members of the family.
‘Who is Grafton?’ demanded Anne. ‘I think you forget that you are royal.’
‘It is as well that all of us don’t keep reminding everyone on every occasion of the fact,’ retorted Amelia. ‘And the Duke of Grafton is as royal as you are.’
‘His grandfather was a king, I know, since his father was the bastard of Barbara Villiers and Charles II. A very pleasant recommendation.’
‘They say he inherited his father’s brilliance and charm and his mother’s beauty,’ said Amelia.
‘And doubtless the immorality of both. For shame, Amelia! You know you are all but betrothed to the Crown Prince of Prussia.’
Amelia shivered. ‘I hope that I never have to make that marriage.’
Caroline drew farther into her corner, shivering slightly. She had heard stories of the terrible King of Prussia who beat his children, locked them up and starved them and then worked out how much he had saved by keeping them without food. He quarrelled constantly with his wife, their aunt Sophia Dorothea, tried to beat her too, and because that wasn’t possible contented himself by spitting into her food when it was a dish she especially fancied.
What a household for poor Amelia to enter l No wonder she thought longingly of staying in England and marrying a man who was as handsome and charming and daring as the Duke of Grafton.
Caroline was terrified of the day when she might have to go away. It wouldn’t bear thinking of. But they were growing old now and they were no longer merely the granddaughters of a king; they were the daughters of one; and that made a difference. Matches would be made for them and princesses always had to do what was expected of them.
How sad it was for a princess to grow up It was better to be young even though their childhood had been overshadowed by the Great Quarrel when Grandfather would not allow them to see their parents. Caroline had suffered then because of dear Mamma who loved them so and whom they loved. Not being allowed to see Papa had been no great hardship, for they could not help being a little ashamed of the way in which he strutted and was so conceited, and anxious to prove he was the master of them all—which he wasn’t although he was King, for kings were ruled by their parliaments; and it was becoming well known that the Queen had a bigger influence, and the only one who wasn’t aware of this was the King. All this made him a ridiculous figure in spite of his brilliant uniforms and all the pomp with which he liked to surround himself, for although he was mean enough with his daughters, he was not with himself.
Caroline listened to her sisters quarrelling over the Duke of Grafton and let her own thoughts stray pleasantly.
She wouldn’t think of the time when she too must go away. Perhaps it would never happen. After all, the King had so many daughters, he couldn’t find royal marriages for all of them. Some might be allowed to marry in England.
There was one figure which kept intruding into her mind—that of elegant Lord Hervey of whom her mother was so fond.
He was one of the most brilliantly clever young men of the Court—clever in a different way from Sir Robert Walpole. Lord Hervey made amusing verses and witty conversation; he was very very handsome and, she was sure her mother agreed with this. one of the brightest lights of the Court.
He had recently married Molly Lepel, one of the Court beauties, but she remained in the country and rarely came to Court, so it was almost as though Lord Hervey was a bachelor.
So Caroline sat dreaming of Lord Hervey while Anne and Amelia quarrelled over the Duke of Grafton.
* * *
The coronation was to take place in October and during September little else was talked of throughout the Court and the city.
The King strutted in the Park wearing brilliant uniforms, reviewing troops. He was very pleased with himself. The Queen busied herself with state affairs, going carefully through all documents in order to render, as she told the King, the little assistance of which she was capable.
He was pleased, and as long as she never showed that she had a firmer grasp of affairs than he had, as long as she always made a show of waiting for his opinion before passing her own, he was contented.
Caroline was delighted that he showed such a pleasure in pomp and ceremony, for this was what the people enjoyed; they would gather to cheer him in the Park and often when she was at Kensington she would watch him from her window.
She too must not give up her habit of sauntering, always remembering to smile and chat affably with the humblest who approached her. She realized the importance of this. It was where George I had failed so wretchedly. In fact, sauntering tired her more than it used to. It might have been due to that unmentionable infirmity of which she refused to think; there was a touch of gout in her legs which was almost as disturbing, for if she could not walk with the King whenever he wished it, he would be irritated and it might be necessary to confess that she was unable to. That must never happen.
George was in the highest spirits at this time. He was a new enough king to be a novelty to his subjects and had as yet had not had time to do anything of which they could disapprove. All he had to do was parade in splendid uniforms and acknowledge the cheers. He was delighted with the manner in which he believed he had acquired a larger Civil List than his father, for he was immediately able to forget the part Caroline had played in this and she, in accordance with her practice, made no effort to remind him. He was eagerly awaiting the coronation which would be the most dazzling spectacle of all.
He came to the Queen to talk to her about it. She was busy with state papers, her feet resting on a footstool which seemed to ease her legs, but when the King came in she hastily kicked it aside.
‘Ha!’ He glanced quickly at the papers and then sat down stretching his legs out before him.
‘I have been looking at the robes,’ he said with a smile. ‘They are very fine.’
She smiled at him. ‘Crimson velvet edged with ermine vill suit you. You have tried them on?’
He confessed it, and she had a quick picture of him strutting before mirrors. She tried not to think of the suppressed smiles of his attendants but she guessed they would have bcen there.
The cap of state is very fine,’ went on the King. ‘I remember seeing your father vearing it.’
The King laughed. ‘It did him not much become!’ he jeered. ‘He looked as if he vere going to his execution rather than his coronation.’
‘You vill look so different.’
His expression changed. Rarely was a man so easy to read, thought Caroline; and was thankful for it. It helped her to assess his moods quickly and so avoid pitfalls.
‘The jewels in this cap are very goot. They sparkle yell against the crimson velvet.’
‘The people vill be delighted.’
‘It vill be the best coronation they have ever seen.’ The King reluctantly turned his mind from the contemplation of his own splendour to think of the Queen’s.
‘You too must dazzle them, my dear.’
‘It vill be the King on whom every eye vill rest.’
‘But they vill not forget the Queen. He had no queen. They remembered she was shut away in prison ... and he had put her there. No queen ... only those two mistresses of his. I remember how the people laughed at him. Our coronation vill be different. You vill be there ... the Queen ... and the girls vill hold your train. They vill see that we are von big and happy family ... now that the old scoundrel can no longer plague us. You must sparkle vith jewels.’
‘Ah, jewels,’ said Caroline. ‘Vere shall I find them? Your father gave away all the jewels to those mistresses of his. I vas looking into this only today. There is nothing left but one pearl necklace.’
‘The old scoundrel....’ George’s eyes bulged in the familiar way. ‘But jewels there must be. They must them give back.... We must have jewels...
‘I vill find a vay of acquiring some.’
He nodded. He was not really interested in her jewels. He was seeing himself smiling, bowing, his hand on his heart. He could hear the acclamation of the crowds. Everybody was going to be glad on that day that the old King was dead and a new one was being crowned.
* * *
The Queen was at her wits end to know how to procure jewels for the coronation. The King would be displeased if she did not glitter from head to foot; and how could she, when the royal jewel cases were empty and she could not even trace which of the late King’s mistresses were in possession of the gems. Ermengarda Schulemburg, Duchess of Kendal, no doubt possessed many of them, but she was still abroad and certainly could not be asked to return her late lover’s gifts ... not by letter at any rate.
Caroline summoned her two most trusted women, Mrs Clayton, on whom she depended perhaps more than any other, and Henrietta Howard, the King’s mistress, who had for many years proved herself a good and discreet servant to the Queen. That these two ladies disliked each other intensely did not disturb Caroline.
‘I need jewels,’ she said. ‘There is only one pearl necklace in the jewel boxes.’
‘But, Your Majesty, that is impossible!’ cried Mrs Clayton.
‘I fear not. The late King vas occasionally a generous man to his mistresses ... particularly as he grew older.’
‘I’ll swear that harlot Anne Brett has looked after herself.’
‘Ve can scarcely blame her for that. Perhaps ve should all have done the same in her place. But I need jewels. I must have them for the coronation.’
Henrietta Howard said: ‘I’m sure every lady in your household would be delighted to lend Your Majesty everything she has.’
‘You think so, Henrietta.’ The Queen smiled. ‘It is a strange position—a coronation and no jewels for the Queen to wear.’
‘If Your Majesty will give me permission I will discover discreetly whether I can acquire the jewellery.’
‘Yes, Henrietta, you vill be discreet I know.’
Henrietta bowed her head. She was a little weary of discretion. She herself received very little reward for her services. She was a little tired of those regular visits of His Majesty. Sometimes she wanted to laugh aloud when she saw him come into the apartment, watch in hand. ‘It is exactly nine o’clock, Henrietta. Time ve made love.’ It would be hysterical laughter. She knew that throughout the Palace people would be looking at the time and making ribald remarks about her and the King.
It was said that she had all the disadvantages of being a king’s mistress and none of the advantages. It was true.
If she had not a husband from whom she wished to escape; if she were free; she would like nothing better than to retire from Court, perhaps marry again, this time using more judgment, retire into private life, perhaps to the country, far away from the Court where she must wait on the Queen and be prepared to receive the King at precisely the same hour every evening for precisely the same purpose.
And now she must find jewels for the Queen’s Coronation.
Mrs Clayton was thinking how shocking it was that the Queen should be without jewels; she was a self-important self-righteous woman and prided herself on her understanding of religious matters. The fact that Henrietta was the King’s mistress disturbed her far more than it did the Queen, and although Henrietta had had no jewels to boast from the King she was linking her now with those rapacious women who had denuded the Queen of her rightful possessions.
‘I am sure,’ said Mrs Clayton, ‘that I can find the jewels Your Majesty will need.’
* * *
At a very early hour in the morning Caroline was dressed by her women—and everything she put on had to be new. She then went quietly out of the Palace where a chair, bearing no distinguishing marks, was waiting for her. Mrs Howard who accompanied her was carried in a hack Sedan, and thus, Mrs Howard preceding her by a very short distance, the Queen was carried across St James’s Park to the House of Lords and there in Black Rod’s Room she was dressed in her state robes.
This was Coronation Day.
As her robes were being adjusted she looked with pride at the diamonds which decorated her skirts and which had been borrowed from the Jews of London for the occasion because although so many ladies had been eager to provide her with their pearls and jewels she needed more than they could give. She wanted to glitter on this occasion as no Queen had ever glittered before. The King would expect it; so would the people; and she was nothing loath. She enjoyed these ceremonies; and on this day of her coronation she was determined to forget everything but the fact that she was being crowned Queen of England. She refused to think of her painful legs or of that other matter which she kept so secret, or the fact that she must continually placate the King and make sure that she never gave him an inkling of who really reigned, or the fact that Frederick would have to come home and her darling William could never be Prince of Wales.
This was the great day and she intended to enjoy it, decked out as she was in borrowed finery, which was comic really considering she was the Queen.
From the House of Lords she was escorted to Westminster Hall where George was already seated under the canopy—a glorious glittering figure. He gave her a quick glance of approval, so it was well worth borrowing from her ladies and the Jews. How fine he looked! She was reminded of the day he had come courting her, incognito as Monsieur de Busch; he had attracted her then; and over the years, the often difficult years, she had she supposed, grown used to him. But she was fond of her little man for all his conceit, for all his infidelities; and he was fond of her; she often thought that however many mistresses he took she would always have first place in his affections.
These thoughts made her happy.
The sword and spurs were presented and the Dean and Canons of Westminster had appeared carrying the regalia. For George St Edward’s crown, the orb, sceptre, and the staff; and for her, the crown, sceptre, and ivory rod.
On their cushions of cloth of gold these were presented to the King and Queen and then given to those who would carry them in the procession to the Abbey.
Now it was time to make their way from the Hall to the Abbey and the way they would take was canopied in blue cloth and a rail had been fixed on either side of this path.
The people were crowding into the streets so as not to miss a moment of the ceremony and a military band was playing as it led the procession from the Hall to the Abbey. The King’s herb woman led a party of the Queen’s maids to sprinkle fragrant herbs and flowers along the way the procession should pass. First came the peers and peeresses, magnificent in their robes of state, holding their coronets, and after them the Lord Privy Seal, the Archbishop of York, and the Lord High Chancellor.
Caroline who followed them, preceded by the Duke of St Albans, who was carrying her crown, was conscious of this being the proudest moment of her life. She had always secretly loved pomp and ceremonies even in the days when she had lived as a girl with the erudite Sophia Charlotte, Queen of Prussia, and had pretended to despise what Sophia Charlotte called empty ceremony because Sophia Charlotte had. But it wasn’t true. She loved the glitter of the diamonds she had borrowed, the milky sheen of pearls, the richness of velvet and ermine; and, most significant of all, the crown which St Albans carried with such reverence. If only Sophia Charlotte could see her now, what would she say? Don’t mistake the glitter of tinsel for gold; don’t attach more importance to power than to understanding. But the old Electress Sophia—through whom the Hanoverian branch of the family had come to the throne—would feel as Caroline did, for what Sophia had longed for beyond everything on Earth was the crown of England.
Oh yes, this is a proud moment. Somewhere among the people who were assembling in the Abbey would be Sir Robert Walpole and Caroline believed that if they were careful—and of course they would be—between them he and she would rule England, for the little man—today such a splendid little man—who was at the very heart of this procession could be manipulated as though he were a puppet doll, provided one pulled the strings so expertly that he was unaware of their existence.
On either side of her were the Bishops of Winchester and London and the three Princesses were bearing her train. Anne would be a proud girl on this day. As Princess Royal she would make sure that her sisters behaved with decorum. Not that one need fear they wouldn’t. Amelia had her own dignity and Caroline was quite meek. They must look very charming in their purple robes with the gold and jewelled circlets on their heads. She hoped theirs weren’t as heavy as hers for it pressed hard on her head and was giving her a headache. Her legs were a little painful too.
