The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series), page 5
‘The Last Will and Testament of Her Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte.’ How important it looked. And what were the most valuable things she had? Her dogs and her birds – her most cherished possessions. Dear Mrs Gagarin was so good with them and they were almost as fond of her as they were of Charlotte herself. She would leave dear Gagy her dogs and birds. There would be no need to tell her to take care of them. She would be a good mistress to them.
Charlotte felt sad to think of her darling dogs looking in vain for their mistress; they would sit at the door of the death chamber and howl and refuse to be comforted. Perhaps like the little dog which had belonged to Mary Queen of Scots they would refuse to eat and pine away in spite of all Gagy’s efforts to comfort them.
But it was only in case she died. It did not mean that she had to because she made a will.
There were her jewels. People would say that they were the most valuable things she possessed. They were jewels which belonged to an heir to the throne. They did not really belong to her; when she married they would be passed on to her son’s wife or perhaps her daughter. They were not really hers to leave. She sighed. What fun it would have been to have given dear Campbell a pearl necklace worth a fortune. But no, princesses had their duties.
Her jewels then to the Prince and Princess of Wales. But not all of them … only those very valuable State jewels. She could do something with the lesser trinkets, so Mrs Campbell should have some of them and Lady de Clifford some. They would be delighted. All her books she would leave to Dr Nott. ‘With my papers,’ she wrote, ‘some of which it will be necessary for him to burn.’ He was so much more pleasant than the Bishop so she expressed the wish that the King would look after him and make him a bishop. That would put the Bish-Up’s nose out of joint and she would leave him merely her Bible and Prayer Book – he, being such a good man, would think these the greatest gifts anyone could bestow.
And dear Louisa. She hoped the King would reward her and dear Mrs Gagarin for their services most handsomely and give them a house to live in and look after them.
And Mrs Udney. That made her laugh.
‘To Mrs Udney,’ she wrote, ‘nothing, for reasons.’ Everything she did seemed to raise a storm, thought Charlotte. Who would have believed that the mere act of making a will could have caused such trouble.
She had omitted to put the will away and ‘someone’ had read it and reported to Lady de Clifford.
That Mrs Udney, I’ll swear, thought Charlotte, and chuckled to picture the woman reading what had been written about her.
‘Of course,’ said Mrs Udney to Lady de Clifford, ‘you see what has happened. Mrs Campbell dictated the will. Sharing her jewellery with you! Do you think Charlotte would have thought of that?’
‘It would not surprise me what Charlotte thought of.’
‘Campbell always hated me and so does Dr Nott. That man is quite a menace. It’s time someone spoke to the Bishop about him.’
Mrs Campbell was red-eyed and Charlotte wanted to know why.
‘They are saying I dictated your will. They are making the most hideous slanders. My health won’t stand it.’
‘They are wicked,’ said Charlotte. ‘I will go to Cliffy and tell her that I am quite capable of making a will without being dictated to.’
‘It’s no good,’ sighed Mrs Campbell. ‘I feel so faint. I really think I ought to resign from Your Highness’s service.’
‘No, no, dear Camby. I won’t allow it.’
‘Dearest Princess, if only everyone was as sweet as you!’
‘Sweet,’ cried Charlotte. ‘I do not like that word. Are you going to eat me then? Sweet! I think it is such a silly word for a person.’
‘My dear good Princess.’
‘Good! Good for what? What am I good for?’
Mrs Campbell sighed. Her Highness was in a cantankerous mood doubtless because of all this fuss about the will for which she blamed herself.
She had almost made up her mind to retire. She looked forward to a quiet life in which she could devote herself to her ailments.
Dr Nott was in a quandary. This was most embarrassing. The Princess Charlotte had suggested that he should be made a bishop and that much should be done for him. Had this been put into the mind of the Princess, everyone was asking. And who would have put it there but Dr Nott?
With downcast eyes Dr Nott gave her her Latin lesson. She was not listening; she was thinking of poor Campbell who had been so wrongfully accused and who had really seemed as if she wanted to go away and be ill in comfort.
‘Your Highness is not attending this morning.’
She sighed. ‘No, dear Doctor. I have a great deal on my mind.’
‘It was good of Your Highness to have mentioned me for a bishopric in your will.’
‘Good again,’ she said. ‘Good for what? as I said to dear Campbell. It was not good at all. It was being just. You deserve a bishopric and I trust the King will grant my request.’
Dr Nott smiled in his meek way and said that if it meant he must wait for the Princess to die that he might receive the bishopric it would be a great tragedy for him ever to have it offered to him, so he trusted Her Highness would outlive him by many years – which he thought was most likely – and he would be happy to serve her for as long as she needed him.
‘That was a pleasant speech, dear Doctor,’ she said, ‘and it moves me so much that I am in no mood for Latin this morning. Therefore let us put an end to the lesson.’
She rose, but unfortunately he had put his foot on the train of her gown and as she leaped up and moved away there was the sound of tearing material and she saw that the train was almost torn from her skirt.
Poor Dr Nott, he was the sort of man, she reflected, who would often find himself in embarrassing situations.
‘Your Highness’s pardon … I fear I have ruined your gown. How unfortunate. It would only have been a little tear if it had not run as it did.’
Charlotte examined the damage.
Then she burst into loud laughter.
‘Well, we can hardly blame you because it ran, Doctor. You most surely held it!’
Then rolling the torn train about her arm she ran out of the room, leaving the saddened Dr Nott shaking his head over this most difficult, unaccountable and wild young pupil, who could at times be lovable.
The result of the writing of that will was certainly felt throughout the household.
Mrs Campbell resigned. Her ill health made it essential, she said, but everyone knew it was due to the horrible things that were being whispered of how she was trying to win benefits from the Princess by flattery.
Dr Nott was suspected of the same fault. He did not leave but he too pleaded ill health. He needed a rest from his duties, he declared, which with such an important pupil were indeed arduous.
Charlotte was in despair. She had lost Mrs Campbell and now Dr Nott was talking of going. And she was left with the Bish-Up and Mrs Udney. They were the ones who should have gone.
She went to Lady de Clifford and told her how she enjoyed her studies with Dr Nott, how she felt it would be impossible to work without him. He must go away for a little rest because he was ill, but he must promise to come back.
At length it was arranged that this should be the case and Charlotte took a tearful farewell of Mrs Campbell.
Meanwhile there was the Bishop, whose visits were more frequent during the temporary departure of Dr Nott.
And Mrs Udney remained, sly and calculating, with a temper – carefully concealed – which rivalled Charlotte’s.
How strange the things that can happen to a princess and those who serve her, thought Charlotte – the Bish-Up who had his bible and prayer book and Mrs Udney who had nothing seem more content than dear Campbell with her promised jewels and Dr Nott with his future bishopric.
There was a lesson in it, she was sure.
But then, was there not a lesson in everything?
Minney, Prinney and Mrs Fitzherbert
MRS FITZHERBERT SAT on her balcony looking over the Steyne and watched the scene below. Brighton – the place she loved best in the whole world because she had known such happiness there. Now that the Prince had made such extensive alterations at the Pavilion she had moved from the little house she had occupied close by, but this one suited her perfectly. It was to her the homeshe shared with her husband and her dearest daughter.
It was a strange irony of fate that many would say that the man she called her husband was not, and her daughter was adopted.
She shivered a little in the bright May air, for an awareness of the uncertainty of life had come to her. All was happy at the moment, but she knew it could change within a few weeks.
The Prince would always have an eye for women and although he assured her at every meeting that she was his dear love, his soul, the wife of his heart, that did not prevent his indulging in minor love affairs now and then. He always returned to her penitent and contrite but because she had a hot temper she could not always restrain her comments. There could be a little rift and although the reconciliations which followed were pleasing to them both, there were moments of uneasiness when she felt that she wished to imprison every bright moment and keep it for ever – just in case in the future there was change.
And then Minney – darling Minney – her comfort and solace, her beloved child could be snatched away from her by her relatives who were at times trying to take her. Life was full of alarming possibilities.
Miss Pigot, her faithful friend and companion who had been with her when she had first set up house after her marriage to the Prince, came on to the balcony, fussing a little. The sun was bright but there was a keen wind. Wouldn’t Maria like a silk wrap about her shoulders?
‘Oh, Pig, you treat me like an old woman,’ she said, ‘or a child perhaps.’
‘People who sit in draughts behave like children,’ retorted Miss Pigot.
‘Sit down a moment and talk to me. Where’s Minney?’
‘At her lessons. She’s having difficulty with her essay. That’s why she’s been kept.’
‘Dear child. What a good little thing she is! Oh, Pig, how lucky I am to have her.
‘And lucky she is to be with you.’
‘Sometimes I’m afraid of too much happiness.’
‘Nonsense, Maria. What’s happened to you? Everything will be all right.’
‘But this case. It drags on and on.’
‘Cases always do.’
‘But what if they should win and take her from me?’
‘His Highness will see they don’t do that.’
Maria smiled. ‘You look upon him as a god, I think.’
‘Well, he is the Prince of Wales. God bless him. Now don’t you fret. Would you like me to bring a dish of tea?’
‘Wait until Minney joins me.’
‘That shouldn’t be long if I know Miss Minney. And it wouldn’t surprise me if His Highness was here at any minute. He’ll be putting in an appearance at the usual place, I’ll be bound.’ Miss Pigot laughed. ‘It always amuses me. The way he appears and no one sees him coming. Well, that’s our little secret.’
‘Such things are a constant delight to him. He’s a boy at heart – and always will be, I think.’
‘And what’s wrong with that? I must say when we heard you were to lose that nice little house right in his garden so to speak, I was a bit put out. But this you might say is even closer to the Pavilion even though it’s farther away. It makes it like part of the place and that’s how I reckon it should be. And what amazes me is how all the time it was being made there was no talk about it.’
‘He took Minney to the Pavilion the other day by means of the passage. She was delighted.’
‘How he loves that child!’
‘And she him.’
‘Well, who could help it?’
‘Pig, you’re a besotted old fool.’ Maria looked at Miss Pigot fondly. ‘And so am I,’ she added.
But why worry on a lovely May morning when everything seemed well, and below, the Steyne was gay with the colours of the promenaders’ fashionable clothes and every now and then one of them would look up and bow to the regal figure seated on the balcony. Maria Fitzherbert was ‘Mrs Prince’ to some who took the epithet from old Smoker, the man who dipped the Prince in the sea each morning, and to many others she was the Queen of Brighton, the true Princess of Wales although the Prince had married for reasons of State and the scandalous Princess of Wales was living apart from him at Montague House, and there was young Princess Charlotte to prove that Mrs Fitzherbert was not his legal wife, for how could he have married a foreign princess and produced a child who was heiress to the throne if that were so?
But these were matters which had been the cause of too much controversy and Maria was ready to take Miss Pigot’s advice and forget them.
And here was Minney – pretty dainty Minney come to the balcony, having escaped from the schoolroom for her hour with dear Mamma, as she called Maria; and, she thought fiercely, no one was going to stop her doing so.
‘Minney, my love, Piggy is going to bring us a dish of tea.’
‘That will be lovely, Mamma. What a glorious day, but shouldn’t you have a shawl?’
‘Piggy has just been scolding me for the same reason. Between you you will make an old woman of me.’
Minney ran inside and came back with a grey silk shawl which she placed about Maria’s shoulders.
‘Darling child, what should I do without you?’
There were lights of fear now in Minney’s eyes. ‘But you are not going to do without me.’
‘We shall do everything in our power.’
‘No one will dare go against Prinney’s wish.’
‘This is matter of law, dearest, and your aunt could claim that she is nearer to you than a woman like myself who am no relation.’
‘But my mother gave me to you.’
‘Don’t distress yourself, dear. We shall have to await the verdict and abide by it.’
‘If they take me away from you, I shall never abide by it.’
‘We should see each other now and then.’
‘But this is my home. I couldn’t imagine any other. You are my dearest Mamma. I never knew another and I will never accept another.’
‘My darling Minney, you are my great comfort.’
Minney looked alarmed. Oh dear, was Prinney being bad again? She knew a great deal about the wickedness of Prinney. When she sat on his knee and they laughed together he was such a jolly man, and he seemed so happy; he always looked at Maria in a melting way which was very affecting and tears came into his eyes when he talked of how happy they all were together. And yet there were whispers about him and she couldn’t help knowing that he did make dearest Mamma unhappy at times. And then when she played with Charlotte, that very knowledgeable young person would tell her secrets which she had picked up through keeping her eyes open which, she was always pointing out, was a talent Minney seemed sadly to lack. All was not as well as it often seemed. There were undercurrents which Minney did not understand; and that was why dearest Mamma was often a little sad and Piggy went around clicking her teeth.
But when he came large and glittering, when he laughed and wept and said how happy he was to be home with his dearest ones, how pleasant life was. Minney could always be deluded then into thinking that that was how it was going to be for ever. There he would sit with his elegantly arranged neckcloth which always seemed to be trying to keep his chin from escaping (‘My chin, Minney,’ he had said when she told him so. ‘I’ll tell you a secret. I have more than one.’), the beautiful cloth of his coat so smooth to the touch, fitting his large torso so neatly, the great diamond star, which she never failed to find fascinating – he was indeed a fairytale Prince and next to Maria she loved him best in the world with Miss Pigot a very close third. It was their home – the three of them were in a magic circle. And if Maria was Mamma, Prinney was Papa, although it was difficult to think of Prinney in such a role, particularly as he was in fact Charlotte’s father.
Well, thought Minney, he is my Prinney, and our names even rhyme.
Maria, looking at the child, thought: Should I prepare her? It would be a terrible shock to her if she had to go. I am sure her Aunt Waldegrave would do everything to make her happy, but Minney is such a loyal little soul and she has already given her allegiance to me.
Miss Pigot arrived with the tea and Minney poured gracefully and charmingly. How can I ever bear to part with her? thought Maria, and watching her Miss Pigot knew what was in her mind.
I pray God the case goes our way, thought Miss Pigot.
While she sipped her tea Maria was thinking of the first time she had seen Minney. That was at the period of her greatest despair when the Prince of Wales had married Princess Caroline of Brunswick. It had happened more than ten years ago and she would never forget the day when Orlando Bridgeman, Lord Bradford, had brought her the news that the ceremony had taken place. She had fainted, for that had seemed like the end of everything.
But she had been so sorry for him when she had heard how he loathed the marriage, how his bride was repulsive to him, and how as soon as she was with child and he had done his duty he left her. And when little Princess Charlotte was born he had declared that he would never live with his wife again. She knew that he hated the woman, that he could not bear to hear her spoken of, and that nothing would please him more than to be rid of her. And now that this investigation was going on, who knew what would come out of it?
But it was not the end. He had tired of Lady Jersey, who had influenced him so strongly at the time of his wedding, and he had sought every opportunity of returning to Maria. With his usual abandon he had begged her, implored her, gone to all the lengths which she had experienced before. The most telling of course was his imminent death. So it had been when he had attempted suicide for her sake. Some denied he had really done this and that it was a piece of play-acting on his part, but she liked to believe it was true. She had stood out against him, telling him that in marrying Caroline of Brunswick he had denied his marriage to her and since he denied it she had no wish to remind him of it.
