The Regent's Daughter: (Georgian Series) Read online

  Contents

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Also by Jean Plaidy

  Title Page

  Family Tree

  Father and daughter

  Charlotte’s household

  Minney, Prinney and Mrs Fitzherbert

  The old girls and the Begum

  The will of the people

  Oatlands

  Summer by the sea

  The arrival of Mercer

  The rival Dukes and Mary Anne

  Maria triumphant

  Mystery in St James’s

  Death of an old girl

  The gallant Captain Hesse

  Charlotte in revolt

  The battle for Miss Knight

  A letter to the Morning Chronicle

  Encounter of two carriages

  Slender Billy

  The hasty betrothal

  Enter and exit Leopold

  The dismissal of Orange

  Night flight

  The reconciliation

  Charlotte in love

  Married bliss

  The end

  Bibliograpy

  Copyright

  About the Book

  The marriage of The Prince of Wales to Caroline of Brunswick was strewn with private skirmish and public scandal, yet it did bear a daughter – Princess Charlotte, heiress presumptive to the English throne. The Regent is still elegant, though moving swiftly into corpulent middle age as his wife Caroline remains determined to shock almost to the point of lunacy. Old George III rambles on into the mists of his madness and stern Queen Charlotte sits at the centre of her web of domestic spies.

  Beneath them all sparkles Charlotte, much loved by her mother but kept distant by her father and grandmother. Ever bewildered by her bizarre collection of royal relatives, Charlotte grows up to be honest, forthright and always certain of her destiny, though an unfortunate twist of fate means it is never to occur.

  About the Author

  Jean Plaidy, one of the preeminent authors of historical fiction for most of the twentieth century, is the pen name of the prolific English author Eleanor Hibbert, also known as Victoria Holt. Jean Plaidy’s novels had sold more than 14 million copies worldwide by the time of her death in 1993.

  Also by Jean Plaidy

  THE TUDOR SAGA

  Uneasy Lies the Head

  Katharine, the Virgin Widow

  The Shadow of the Pomegranate

  The King’s Secret Matter

  Murder Most Royal

  St Thomas’s Eve

  The Sixth Wife

  The Thistle and the Rose

  Mary, Queen of France

  Lord Robert

  Royal Road to Fotheringay

  The Captive Queen of Scots

  The Spanish Bridegroom

  THE CATHERINE DE MEDICI TRILOGY

  Madame Serpent

  The Italian Woman

  Queen Jezebel

  THE STUART SAGA

  The Murder in the Tower

  The Wandering Prince

  A Health Unto His Majesty

  Here Lies Our Sovereign Lord

  The Three Crowns

  The Haunted Sisters

  The Queen’s Favourites

  THE FRENCH REVOLUTION SERIES

  Louis the Well-Beloved

  The Road to Compiègne

  Flaunting, Extravagant Queen

  THE LUCREZIA BORGIA SERIES

  Madonna of the Seven Hills

  Light on Lucrezia

  ISABELLA AND FERDINAND TRILOGY

  Castile for Isabella

  Spain for the Sovereigns

  Daughters of Spain

  THE GEORGIAN SAGA

  The Princess of Celle

  Queen in Waiting

  Caroline, the Queen

  The Prince and the Quakeress

  The Third George

  Perdita’s Prince

  Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill

  Indiscretions of the Queen

  Goddess of the Green Room

  Victoria in the Wings

  THE QUEEN VICTORIA SERIES

  The Captive of Kensington

  The Queen and Lord M

  The Queen’s Husband

  The Widow of Windsor

  THE NORMAN TRILOGY

  The Bastard King

  The Lion of Justice

  The Passionate Enemies

  THE PLANTAGENET SAGA

  The Plantagenet Prelude

  The Revolt of the Eaglets

  The Heart of the Lion

  The Prince of Darkness

  The Battle of the Queens

  The Queen from Provence

  The Hammer of the Scots

  The Follies of the King

  The Vow of the Heron

  Passage to Pontefract

  The Star of Lancaster

  Epitaph for Three Women

  Red Rose of Anjou

  The Sun in Splendour

  QUEEN OF ENGLAND SERIES

  Myself, My Enemy

  Queen of this Realm: The Story of Elizabeth I

  Victoria, Victorious

  The Lady in the Tower

  The Goldsmith’s Wife

  The Queen’s Secret

  The Rose without a Thorn

  OTHER TITLES

  The Queen of Diamonds

  Daughter of Satan

  The Scarlet Cloak

  The Regent’s Daughter

  The ninth book in the Georgian Saga

  Jean Plaidy

  Father and daughter

  ‘THERE ARE WORSE people in the world than your snuffy old grandmother,’ said the Princess Charlotte, giving George Keppel a push with her elbow.

  George said nothing. He was never quite sure of Charlotte. If he agreed with her too readily she would be angry. ‘You have no opinions of your own,’ she would say. ‘You think you have to a … agree with me.’ And when she stammered he knew she was really angry. ‘How shall I ever know what people are thinking if they always agree with me? Eh, George Keppel?’ And when she did not have her own way she would kick the furniture in a sudden rage; but these moods were often worth while because they were over quickly and then she would laugh and be anxious to make up for what she would call ‘a most regrettable display of my ill temper’. ‘Why don’t you tell me I’m an ill-tempered beast, George Keppel?’

  Pretty Minney Seymour was a far more comfortable person, thought George Keppel.

  The fact was that Charlotte was older than either of them; three years older than he was and about two older than Minney; and Charlotte was not only ten years old but the daughter of the Prince of Wales.

  ‘Never forget,’ said his grandmother, Lady de Clifford, the snuffy one to whom Charlotte had referred, ‘that Her Royal Highness could one day be your queen.’

  It was difficult to imagine Charlotte a queen, though she could be rather an arrogant little girl. She was not dainty like Minney; she leaped about rather awkwardly; she had pale blue eyes, hardly any eyebrows and lashes, and a very white skin. If she had had some colour in her face she would have been pretty, for she was very animated. But she had a way of leaning to one side which was not very graceful. She certainly was not his idea of a queen.

  George and Charlotte had called with Lady de Clifford at Tilney Street, for Lady de Clifford was a friend and near neighbour of Mrs Fitzherbert and it was only a short distance from Lady de Clifford’s house in South Audley Street to Mrs Fitzherbert’s in Tilney Street and how pleasant for Minney to have children of her own age – or near enough – to play with while the two ladies enjoyed a tête-à-tête in Mrs Fitzherbert’s drawing room.

  The three children were at the
window looking out on the street when Charlotte had made her remark; it was obvious the other two knew that this was a preliminary to some revelation. Charlotte had a deep sense of the dramatic.

  She turned from the window and gave each of them a little push. This was a sign that window gazing was over and Charlotte was ready to talk.

  ‘Something is going to happen … soon,’ she said dramatically, and as Minney looked alarmed, went on impatiently: ‘It has nothing to do with you. I have heard nothing about your affair.’

  ‘I’m going to stay with dear Mamma?’ asked Minney fearfully.

  ‘She is not your Mamma, however much you wish she were,’ declared Charlotte. ‘So let us have truth, Minney, please.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Minney meekly, ‘but I do want to go on living here with Mamma … I mean Mrs Fitzherbert. But I know I shall. Prinney says I shall and he won’t let anything stop it.’

  There was silence. Minney knew she should not have mentioned Prinney, who was Charlotte’s father but behaved more as though he were Minney’s. The complicated ways of adults were very difficult to understand and often caused misgivings to the young. Charlotte, who was always a little sad when Prinney was mentioned, was thinking of her father, that great and glittering personage of whom everyone whispered and for whose approval she longed. She remembered how when she was younger she had been received by him while he was at breakfast. There she had stood watching him, never failing to marvel at the wonder of his person: the colours of his cravat which lay in such elegant folds high about his neck so that she had the impression that his chin was trying to escape from it and that it would not let it; the pinkness of his face verging on red; and his pale blue eyes smiling at her kindly although they would rest only fleetingly on her. Her aim was to claim their attention and have them smile at her with love. He had a slightly turned-up nose which made her want to laugh and gave her pleasure because in some way it detracted from his great dignity and made him human; his tight buckskin breeches were so smooth and white and his legs in their fine stockings enormous, but most wonderful of all were the masses of curling hair from which came a faint but exquisite perfume; a few diamonds glittered on the whitest and most elegant of hands; this was the Prince of Wales, Charlotte’s Papa and Minney’s Prinney.

  ‘It is the law which will decide,’ said Charlotte quickly. ‘And that is right and how it should be.’

  Minney looked hurt and George Keppel said reassuringly: ‘It’s going to be all right, Minney. No one’s going to take you from your Mamma.’

  Charlotte shrugged her shoulders impatiently.

  ‘I was going to tell you something,’ she reminded them. ‘I have not been allowed to see my Mamma. Oh, it is all very well for them to say she is indisposed, but I know that not to be so. Why must I not go to Blackheath? Why must she not visit me? There must be a reason.’

  Minney and George waited for Charlotte to give it.

  ‘It is because something is going on. Do you know what, Minney?’

  Minney declared her innocence and one thing about Minney was that she was so innocent that one had to believe her.

  ‘You should keep your ears open,’ said Charlotte. ‘It must be discussed with Mrs F … Fitzherbert.’

  She hesitated to say Mrs Fitzherbert’s name because she knew that that lady was deeply concerned in the troubles of her family. She believed that she ought to dislike her. But how could one dislike Mrs Fitzherbert – that affectionate, comfortably shaped woman who was one of the few people in Charlotte’s world who knew how to mingle affection and authority in a manner acceptable to young people. There were times, thought Charlotte, when she envied Minney Seymour, that was if she were allowed to stay with Mamma Fitzherbert which, Charlotte was fully aware, was not certain; and if Minney had to leave that loving guardianship she would be the most unhappy little girl in the world. Poor Minney! Charlotte was immediately touched by the sorrows of others. She could not pass a poor man, woman or child on the road without wanting to give them something. ‘My dear Princess, restrain yourself,’ was Lady de Clifford’s constant warning.

  She must restrain herself; there was so much she must learn; she was going to be Queen of England one day because it was certain that Papa and Mamma would have no more children. How could they, when they hated each other and never saw each other? She, young Charlotte, aged ten years, knew that the most important factor in her life was the relationship between her parents.

  That was why she was so disturbed by what she had overheard.

  It was true that she kept her eyes and ears open. Lady de Clifford would have a shock if she knew what her charge had discovered. She had found a means of reading the newspapers – and one could learn a great deal from them. When she visited Mamma at Blackheath she had a most unusual time; but then Mamma was a most unusual woman. There she was allowed to read the papers and see the cartoons, the lampoons, the prints which could be bought in the shops and the subject of these was very often the affairs of the Prince and Princess of Wales. Dignified Mrs Fitzherbert was not exempt. Charlotte considered that it was not everyone whose father had two wives.

  She had adjusted herself to her life: Carlton House where she was the Princess destined for a throne, where she had to be plagued by a bevy of tutors and never forget her great destiny; and Blackheath where life was conducted in the most eccentric manner, where she met strange people and for a brief hour or so every week tasted freedom. There she had enjoyed the passionate devotion of her wild mother (‘Charlotte, my angel, my love, my little baby. Why should they take you away from me?’), and they would weep together, but they mostly laughed and Mamma taught her to be most disrespectful to Grandmamma, whom she hated in any case (and she was one who was more snuffy than Lady de Clifford) and to the spinster aunts who alternately cooed over ‘darling Charlotte’ and criticized her manners, her stammer and the way she leaned to one side.

  She looked forward to visits to Blackheath; and at the same time she longed for the approval of that glittering personality who was undoubtedly her father, for people were constantly remarking how alike they were and her own looking glass told her this was true.

  Now she wanted to talk to her companions about the change in her life which she was fully aware was due to some development in the relationship between her mother and father; she wanted to learn whether George Keppel had discovered anything, or more likely Minney. For Minney lived here in Tilney Street where the Prince of Wales was the most constant visitor and it was certain that if something were happening he would discuss it with Mrs Fitzherbert.

  ‘There are a lot of wicked people in the world,’ said Charlotte, ‘and they are trying to make a mischief.’

  Minney’s pretty face was solemn, George’s intent.

  ‘Yes, and they are trying to punish my Mamma.’

  ‘Why?’ asked George.

  ‘Why? Because she is the Princess of Wales, that’s why. And they don’t like her because she is a German and different … and she laughs a lot. Oh, you should come to Montague House. There is no place like Montague House, but because my Mamma is not like other people they hate her and want to harm her.’

  ‘How will they harm her?’ asked George.

  ‘That’s what I want to know, silly. I have to find out and save her from them.’

  Minney’s face puckered; she hated trouble.

  Charlotte turned on her suddenly. Minney was everything that Charlotte was not – pretty, small, dainty and protected by the affection of her dear Mamma who was not her Mamma at all, but Mrs Fitzherbert who had adopted her and might not be able to go on doing so.

  ‘You might have discovered if you had not been so deaf. They must talk about it.’

  ‘Charlotte, I haven’t heard a word.’

  ‘No, you silly little thing. You don’t see anything. All you do is listen to your dear Mamma telling you not to worry because she won’t let you go.’

  Charlotte glowered and her long light brown hair fell about her face; she was really worr
ied,

  ‘Minney is not silly, Charlotte,’ said George indignantly.

  There! Even George, whom she always made do her bidding, was taking Minney’s side. She felt a sudden anger against the pretty little girl and, seizing her ear, pinched it hard, at which Minney cried out and Charlotte was immediately contrite. ‘It didn’t hurt! Or d … did it? Poor little Minney, that was wicked of me. I’m talking about wicked people and I’m as b … bad.’ She kissed Minney. ‘Oh, I’m a beast, dear dear Minney. Let me look at your ear. Oh, it’s red. I’ll give you my … my … what shall I give you, Minney? What would you like best? Dear Minney, I did not mean to pinch your ear, but you should try to discover what’s going on around you. It’s important.’

  ‘It’s nothing, Charlotte,’ said Minney, for the repentant Charlotte was always irresistible, and a moment’s discomfort was worth while to bring the young Princess to this mood. ‘It doesn’t hurt now and I will try to listen … I will really.’

  George was looking on in some indignation. He loves Minney, thought Charlotte, faintly jealous. Everybody loves Minney. I suppose because she is good and so pretty.

  ‘I want to know what is happening, why I am not allowed to go to Montague House now, and what the Prince of Wales says about it.’

  ‘He wouldn’t tell Minney.’

  ‘No, stupid. But Minney is there and they will talk. All she has to do is listen and pretend she is not.’

  ‘That’s deceitful.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a prig, Saint George Keppel.’

  The door had opened and two ladies came into the room: Lady de Clifford and Mrs Fitzherbert.

  Lady de Clifford’s hazel eyes went at once to her charge and she frowned slightly. I must be looking untidy again, thought Charlotte. Poor Lady de Clifford was a dragon, but a frightened dragon. So must it be when people wait on the future Queen, thought the Princess. She must teach me discipline and at the same time not offend me mortally, or I might remember it against her or her family when I come to power.

  Poor Lady de Clifford. Her turban was slightly awry. Why did she wear the ugly old thing? There was too much rouge on her ageing cheeks; it showed up the wrinkles; and she was carrying the all-important snuffbox in her hand. Snuffy old thing! She was almost as fond of her snuff as that old ogre Charlotte’s grandmamma and namesake, the old Begum, as Mamma called her. Only Mamma, whose English was not of the best, said ‘de old Begum’. ‘Old Begum,’ Charlotte would mutter to herself when she was face to face with that old woman whom she supposed she hated more than any other human being.