Caroline the Queen

by Jean Plaidy

  ‘I’ll see him in hell first! ‘ cried Anne.

  Lord Baltimore looked astonished and Anne hurried on. ‘You can get out. You can tell him that anything he has to say to me he can say himself . . . You can tell him ...’

  Lord Baltimore held up a hand. ‘You have not heard all,’ he told her. ‘His Highness will continue to give you £1,600 for life if you obey. If you do not, you will not receive one penny.’

  ‘And ... his son?’

  ‘The Prince will take care of his education here in England.’

  ‘So I am to be separated from my son?’

  ‘Those are the Prince’s terms. It is for you to accept or reject them. But pray consider what rejection would mean. All those who have been your friends when you enjoyed the Prince’s favour would perhaps change their feelings towards you when you were poor and of no consequence . . which you will most certainly be if you fail to agree to His Highness’s conditions.’

  She did not speak. In a few moments her life was collapsing about her. She knew that the Prince was fickle; she would not have been surprised to hear of his unfaithfulness, but that he should send another man to tell her he was giving her up hurt her pride and robbed her of her dignity.

  She controlled herself sufficiently to say that she could not reply to the Prince yet. She would think of what Lord Baltimore had said: and Lord Baltimore hurriedly took his leave.

  As soon as he had gone Anne sent a message to Lord Hervey. She must see him without delay.

  * * *

  As soon as Lord Hervey reached the house in Grosvenor Street Anne threw her arms about him and told him what had happened.

  He listened carefully, weighing up how best he could embarrass the Prince.

  ‘It is not that I care for that young fool,’ said Anne. ‘His protection was worth having ... nothing else. I’ll be glad to be rid of him, but if I go out of England how am I going to see you?’

  Hervey considered this. He enjoyed their meetings, though when she was no longer the Prince’s mistress she would not be able to give him the accounts of that young man’s follies; all the same he was by no means tired of her.

  He told her that he did not see why she should be banished from England. She must write to the Prince and tell him that she refused to go.

  ‘I write! But you know I am useless with a pen.’ A mischievous look had come into her eyes. ‘Not like you, my lord. A pen in your hand is a sword ... or whatever you want it to be.’

  It was true. Hervey could scorn, wheedle, plead, and make love with words.

  He sat down and wrote a letter in the name of Anne. In this he reminded the Prince of all they had been to each other. She regretted that he was to marry, but she had been prepared for this; what she was not prepared for was banishment. Her child was the only consolation she had left and she could not leave him. Nothing but death would make her leave the country in which her child was. The letter hinted at the blame which would attach itself to him when it were known how he had treated her.

  When she read the letter Anne chortled with delight. She wanted to send it to the Prince immediately, but Hervey would not allow this. She must copy it out in her own handwriting before she sent it.

  He suggested that she sit down and do it while he watched her and forced her to obey it. Once this was done Hervey took the precaution of destroying the original.

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘we must not be hasty. Before you send this letter to the Prince you must show it to your brother and ask him whether he thinks it is advisable to send it, for if he did not and blamed you for it he might disown you and that could be disastrous since it would give the Prince the support he needs to act in this dastardly way.’

  Anne looked at him with admiration.

  ‘I will obey you in all things,’ she told him; and while she went to her brother’s house he returned to his lodgings in St James’s to think about the matter.

  The Queen was breakfasting with her family and Lord Hervey was in attendance when the Prince of Wales called. He was in a passion of rage and never had he looked more like his father.

  He threw the letter on to the breakfast table, for since his father had gone to Hanover his manners inside the family circle had grown worse. He was very angry with his father for refusing him the Regency and with his mother for having it, and as his friends continually pointed out the injustice of this he could never forget it.

  And now in addition to that he had received a letter the like of which he declared could never have been addressed to a Prince before.

  ‘Read that, Madam, and tell me if you think it was written by Mistress Anne Vane.’

  The Queen read the letter and Amelia and Caroline stood on either side and looked over her shoulder reading it with her.

  ‘You should be able to tell far better than we whether she wrote it,’ said Amelia. ‘We were never on such terms of intimacy with the creature as you were.’

  ‘She is certainly erudite,’ said the Queen. ‘Look at this, my lord, and see if you don’t agree.’

  Hervey took the letter and read it.

  ‘She has a way with her pen,’ he admitted.

  ‘What nonsense! ‘ cried the Prince. ‘The woman never wrote that letter. Some scroundrel wrote it for her.’

  ‘Has Your Highness any idea which scoundrel?’ asked Hervey. ‘There must be so many in Your Highness’s circle.’

  The Prince was too incensed to feel the barb. ‘No,’ he cried, ‘but I am going to find out.’

  ‘Will she not tell you?’ asked the Queen. ‘She must be proud of a friend who would do so much for her.’

  ‘She swears she wrote it herself. She is showing it to all her friends and boasting about her cleverness.’

  ‘How difficult it is to cast off a mistress!’ sighed the Queen. ‘I pray you will not allow too large a scandal to be created over this woman. The people would not like it, nor would your bride.’

  ‘You can depend upon me to settle this matter to my satisfaction! ‘ cried the Prince.

  And not glancing at Lord Hervey whom he detested, he flung out of the room, cursing his father for not allowing him to be Regent, Miss Vane for daring to send him such a letter, and Hervey for being in continual attendance on his mother.

  * * *

  Poor Frederick always seemed to get the worst of any bargain, and even in this one Anne Vane outwitted him. So piteously did she tell her story that the whole Court was humming with it. She could starve in England, she declared, if she would not go abroad and be parted from her child.

  This was a dastardly way to behave, said Anne’s brother and Lord Hervey and others. The woman had been his mistress; he no longer desired her and he was about to marry; but he must remember his obligations.

  Frederick floundered ineffectually. He denied that he had sent such a message; then he recapitulated and said he had written to Miss Vane because a friend of hers had intimated that the settlement he offered would be agreeable to her.

  Everyone was talking about the affair of Miss Vane, and the Prince was in such a position that he could only declare that she should continue in her house in Grosvenor Street and that he would pay her her £1,600 as long as she lived.

  Hervey walked to her house and was let in by Anne herself and smuggled up to her bedchamber that her servants might not see him.

  She was exhilarated.

  ‘I’ve never been so comfortably placed in my life,’ she said. ‘All this and no encumbrances. I wish him joy of his Augusta. Poor girl, I pity her!’

  They laughed over the affair and she told him that she had had some anxious moments, for after all it was dangerous to do battle with a Prince; but she had such good friends and she would always be grateful to them. However, the affair had brought on her fits of colic and her doctors had suggested she go to Bath for a few weeks.

  ‘I shall leave little Fitz with my brother and his family while I go,’ she said. ‘They’ll be happy to have him.’

  ‘Don’t stay away too long,’ L
ord 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 Co
urt. 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.’