Queen in Waiting: (Georgian Series) Read online

  They were travel-stained and weary and seemed to have one thought: to provide themselves with food and a room for the night.

  They followed other travellers into the inn where they were assigned a room and told that supper would be ready within an hour. The woman wrinkled her nose at the smell of sauerkraut, sausages and onions which came from the kitchens, as she and the man were conducted to a room.

  As soon as the door shut on them, she threw back the hood of her cloak and taking the pins from her hair shook it out. It fell like a golden-brown shawl about her shoulder and immediately transformed her into a beauty.

  ‘My head aches,’ she said in a quiet voice.

  The man nodded and took a bottle from his pocket. He drank deeply while she looked at him with contempt.

  ‘Not too much, Henry,’ she said. ‘We cannot afford any drunkenness now.’

  He scowled at her. ‘Nag, nag, nag!’ he said. ‘What a life you lead me.’

  ‘If you’d listened to me,’ she began.

  ‘I know. I know. We shouldn’t be in the state we are today. We should be at the court of Good Queen Anne not trying out our fortunes here in Hanover.’

  ‘Don’t forget we need all our wits.’

  ‘You won’t let me.’

  ‘Henry, we can’t afford to fail. We’ve got to consider very seriously where we go from here. If we’re clever, if we can win the favour of these people, we’ll go back home with them and it’ll be our turn to hold high places at court.’

  ‘Yes, and there are a hundred other people here with the same idea.’

  ‘We’re in good time. If only we can bring ourselves to their notice. If only we can please them. But if you’re going to drink yourself silly… if you’re going to drink away all the money we have…’

  ‘Have we any money?’

  ‘Scarcely any. I’ve got to think… think seriously what we’re going to do. We’ve got to get an introduction to the old Electress. If only I can get that we’ll go forward from there. You only have to be English to please her, they say. And if we haven’t money we have background… both of us.’

  ‘Well, you’re the clever one.’

  ‘I’ll have to think. But I want your help, Henry. You’ve got to give me your help.’

  He sat down on the bed and regarded her gloomily. He was wondering why he had married her; she was wondering why she had married him.

  Furiously she went to the mirror, which was tarnished and mottled and threw ageing shadows on her face which momentarily alarmed her. That was how she would look in reality in a few years’ time if they continued to live this hole and corner life. She put up a hand to stroke her hair. It was magnificent, her greatest beauty and she was more than averagely good-looking even without it. Her features were neat, her eyes very good, her smile most agreeable and her figure slender without being thin.

  She was an attractive woman; and appearances were so useful.

  At home in Norfolk they had expected her to make a good match, and so, they thought, she had; for it had seemed that the eldest daughter of Sir Henry Hobart had done very well in securing a son of the Earl of Suffolk. Of course Henry was only a third son and he had disgraced himself in his family before the marriage, which was why he was allowed to throw himself away on the daughter of a Norfolk baronet – only of course the Hobarts had not known that until after. He was a drunkard; he was immoral; he had an alarming temper which could at times be violent; and he had long before his marriage run through his own patrimony; therefore Henrietta Hobart with her dowry of six thousand pounds seemed an attractive proposition.

  Henrietta soon realized the mistake. Often she wished she were back in her father’s house in Norfolk, sitting under the apple tree or in the rose garden with her sisters talking of the men they would marry. The peace of a country mansion had often during the last few years seemed the most desirable thing in the world.

  But Henrietta was not a foolish girl to sigh for the impossible. In marriage she had found disappointment but it need not be disastrous. Fortunately, besides being blessed with beauty, she had a placid temperament; and although not brilliantly clever she was resourceful.

  It was her suggestion that they had come to Hanover and she was going to get to court somehow. Once there, she would seek to find a niche for herself, if not for Henry, and when she found it, would do her best to remain in it, comfortably secure, ready to leave for England with the new Queen when the time came.

  It could not be long now. Anne was constantly about to die and miraculously recovering. Abigail Hill, Lady Masham, had long since driven the Duchess of Marlborough from favour and she guarded Anne like the dragon she was for all her insipid looks. Henrietta had often thought that if she had had an opportunity of bringing herself to the Queen’s notice she might have had an opportunity of winning her favour.

  But it was an impossible task; moreover, one did not seek to travel on a sinking ship. Wise, forward-looking people were now turning to Hanover and were bringing themselves to the notice of the Electress Sophia.

  And that was what the Howards must do.

  ‘We must find a way,’ she said quietly, and began binding up her hair in readiness for their descent to the dining room. Sausages and sauerkraut. Not very delectable. But they would not for long be taking their meals like common travellers in an inn parlour.

  The next day Henrietta secured a small apartment in Hanover. It was grander than she could afford, but even so it was too humble. But that, she decided, was a necessary expense.

  There were so many English in Hanover that it was not difficult to introduce herself into society. After all, she was well born – herself the daughter of a baronet, her husband the son of an earl. She had been most excellently educated and was every bit a court lady; and in Hanover, where manners were considered coarse compared with those of England, she seemed a very grand lady.

  What she needed was an audience with the Electress, but this was not easy to come by. In spite of the crudities of court life there was a rigid protocol. The number of people employed in the service of the royal household must rival that of Queen Anne’s court. Henrietta learned that there were chamberlains, ushers, pages, physicians, barbers, waiters, lacqueys, a dozen cooks the chief of whom was French, pastry-makers, pie-makers, scullions, officers in charge of the wine, officers in charge of beer; and all these people had their assistants. There were the court musicians: organist, numerous trumpeters and fiddlers, singers and writers of songs and music; for the one field of culture the Elector cared to explore was that of music. To see the Electoral coach leave Hanover for the short trip to Herrenhausen, with its accompanying guardsmen, outriders and glittering escort was enough to warn Henrietta of the difficulties which lay before her.

  Easy enough to remain on the fringe; but of what use was that?

  She must choose carefully. She must select those who could help her obtain an audience with the Electress and somehow wheedle them into making the introduction. These Germans were great eaters and drinkers; and it was under the influence of food and drink that they would be most expansive.

  She must give a dinner party, select her guests carefully, and choose the right moment to get the promise she so urgently required.

  She talked it over with Henry. Not that he was much use, a hindrance rather. He had easy, charming manners – it was those which had first delighted her and made her visualize a very different life from that to which he had brought her – but he was feckless and his chief preoccupation was how to get money to spend on drink. Still, he could be relied upon to play his part for an evening and he was, after all, the son of an earl and a member of the great Howard family. She couldn’t really do without him at this stage and if he did drink too much, it was very probable that their guests would too. Indeed, that was what she wanted, in order to extract that promise.

  ‘It’s a good idea,’ said Henry. ‘But how are you going to pay for the dinner party?’

  She had counted her small store over and o
ver again. It was inadequate. If she spent all she had she could provide the banquet… and what then?

  Yet it was necessary, she knew; and this was the moment. She knew that if she delayed and lost this opportunity it would mean waiting for another; and by the time that came it might be possible that they would become known as the poor Howards, deeply in debt… hangers-on like so many more.

  No, now was the time. Everything depended on the next few days.

  And… how to find the money?

  Henry shrugged and yawned; he could see no way.

  He’s quite useless, she thought, putting on her cloak and going out into the streets.

  It was a crazy idea. As soon as it occurred to her she refused to consider it. Rather anything than that.

  Nevertheless, she paused before the window of a shop in one of the little streets; it was an expensive little shop and on a stand in the window was a solitary wig – a profusion of chestnut-coloured curls.

  She stared at those curls and at the inscription over the shop window. ‘Wig makers to the Electors of Hanover.’

  She turned away and walked a few paces, but she came back again to look at the wig.

  Then determinedly she opened the door and stepped down two steps into the shop.

  A man came forward clasping his hands together, recognizing a lady of quality.

  ‘Madam, I can be of assistance?’

  ‘You are the wig maker?’

  ‘Yes, Madam, at your service. Whatever you need we can provide.’

  She took off her hood and shook out her hair which she had left unpinned.

  He stared at it almost reverently.

  ‘It is good hair,’ she said. ‘Fine, yet abundant. Feel the texture.’

  He put out a hand gingerly.

  ‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘that people come to you and offer to sell their hair. I am not the first one.’

  He was silent. Girls came to him – serving girls, working girls, sometimes a mother who had a baby to provide for… but not ladies of quality.

  ‘I want to know,’ said Henrietta clearly in her English-German, ‘whether you would consider buying my hair and whether it would be worth my while to sell it.’

  ‘I would consider buying it… yes.’

  ‘Ah,’ she sighed. ‘You admit it is good hair and plenty of it.’

  He nodded and named a sum. Her heart leaped. It was considerable, but she needed a considerable sum to entertain those who were going to open up the way for her.

  ‘Not enough,’ she said, and started to pull up her hood. But he was fascinated by that hair; he was terrified that she would go straight to the rival wig maker in the town who would make it into such a wig that everyone would be transferring their custom to him. He had never seen hair of such a rich colour, such a texture which, although fine, was not too fine; he had rarely seen such rippling waves.

  He could afford a little gamble. Moreover she was a lady and it was always well to be on the right side of the quality.

  He put up his price but she seemed to hesitate.

  He said: ‘I would take it from the level of the chin and I don’t think we should argue about a thaler this way or that.’

  Henrietta hesitated once more; it was a great effort not to run from the shop; she felt that her entire future was being decided in this moment.

  ‘Very well,’ she said, and seated herself in the chair he offered.

  In a few moments, her shining hair lay on a table and she herself looked like a handsome boy – her hair clustering thickly about her neck like that of a page boy. It was not unbecoming, she comforted herself as the wig maker was counting out the thalers.

  She hurried back to her lodgings; there to begin preparations for the dinner party which was going to change her life.

  The Electress Sophia was delighted to meet Henry and Henrietta Howard. Certain friends of hers had dined with the couple in their lodgings in the town and had found them charming. They had just arrived from England and knowing how interesting the Electress found such people it was wondered whether she would graciously grant them an interview.

  ‘I am always delighted to meet anyone from England,’ was the expected reply.

  Sophia made Henrietta sit beside her and talk about England. Had Henrietta met the Queen? Yes, said Henrietta, for she had seen Anne from a distance and how could Sophia ever know that they had never exchanged a word?

  ‘Tell me about her.’

  ‘I fear, Your Highness, that she is not long for this world. There are occasions when she has to be carried in her chair throughout the palace. The gout and dropsy will surely kill her soon for Her Majesty is a martyr to them.’

  ‘It grieves me to hear it,’ lied Sophia.

  Henrietta had chosen the right subject when she enlarged on the infirmities of the Queen; as she listened Sophia saw herself arriving in state, being crowned Queen of England.

  I should die happy, she thought, if I could die Queen of England.

  How ironical that this great hope of a lifetime should come to her when she was so old she must surely herself be only a step or two from the grave. But not until I have been crowned Queen of England, she told herself firmly.

  And what entertaining tales Henrietta had to tell of court life in England! Sophia had heard most of it before but she never tired of hearing it again. Sarah Churchill, the virago, had been dismissed. Imagine it. The great Duke’s wife. And he was in disgrace too. Mousy little Abigail Hill queened it over the Queen. She was a wise one; she did not stamp and storm like Sarah. She had won the day with soothing hands that knew how to poultice aching limbs; she had never demanded that this man be given office, that man be put down. But she had had her way all the same. It was said that Robert Harley, Lord Oxford, who was her cousin and the Queen’s chief adviser, owed his position to her, and that she was responsible for the downfall of the Marlboroughs.

  ‘Fascinating! Fascinating!’ murmured Sophia. ‘Now tell me about the people of England.’

  ‘They like to be amused. They like sport and laughter and hate to be serious. Your Highness would be interested in some of the lampoons that are written about events. The coffee houses are full of scribblers like Swift and Steele, and men such as Harley use them to write their lampoons and hold up to ridicule that which they wish to destroy.’

  ‘How I should love to be there!’

  ‘Your Highness will soon be there. The poor Queen suffers so with her gout and dropsy. Her life is despaired of at least once a month.’

  ‘And tell me how much support is there for the King across the water?’

  ‘Only that of the Catholics, Your Highness. Most of the people of England swear they will never have a Catholic on the throne; it was for that reason that James II was sent into exile.’

  ‘Then they are happily looking to us in Hanover?’

  ‘Most happily, Your Highness.’

  Sophia was enjoying the company of this young woman from England who seemed to have such a grasp of affairs.

  ‘You must come and see me again,’ she said. ‘Soon.’

  Henrietta replied promptly that she would present herself next day and every day until the Electress had time to see her.

  She went away well pleased. She had achieved her purpose. It was easier than she had hoped. As for her hair, it would grow again, and the approving eyes of several men and the envying ones of women had assured her that short as it was, it was still admired; and in its unusual fashion attracted as much attention as when it had been coiled heavily about her head.

  The Electress came into the nursery to see her great-grandchildren. Fritzchen, her favourite, scrambled up on her knee and asked if she had brought him any cake or sweetmeat.

  ‘You’re a greedy boy, Fritzchen,’ she told him indulgently. ‘And where are your sisters?’

  There were two of them now, for two years after the birth of Anne, little Amelia had appeared.

  Anne, independent and self-important, had been known to exchange blows with Frit
zchen; Amelia, a sturdy two-year-old, adored him. Fritzchen liked being adored and was very kind to his younger sister, thus winning more adoration.

  I hope, thought Sophia, he is not going to take after his father.

  Hearing that the Electress was in the nursery, Caroline came to see her and talk about the children.

  ‘My dear Caroline,’ said Sophia affectionately. ‘You are looking very well.’

  She studied Caroline’s figure; she certainly looked pregnant and by ordinary standards would soon be giving birth; but Caroline’s pregnancies always seemed to last so long. It had certainly been so with the two elder children. What a satisfactory wife and mother she was, and how bored she must be with George Augustus; yet she never showed it. Clever Caroline. At least, thought Sophia, I had a clever man, even though he preferred his mistresses to me all through our married life. It wasn’t quite so with George Augustus. Somehow he appeared to be in love with his wife even while he was unfaithful to her; and he had never set up a mistress to equal Clara von Platen who had had such influence with Ernest Augustus.

  Yes, Caroline was a clever woman and she was glad George Augustus had had the good fortune to have her for his wife.

  ‘I hope for a boy this time,’ said Caroline.

  ‘Well, you’ve a whole lifetime before you. We’re good breeders. Not like poor Queen Anne… fortunately.’ Sophia could be frank with Caroline who was so sensible and was already sharing Sophia’s ambitions, for after all if Sophia was Queen of England it was certain that Caroline would be also one day.

  Sophia was off on her favourite topic. ‘Imagine all those pregnancies… all those miscarriages! Seventeen, so I’ve heard. Poor soul! And then when she did rear one boy, to lose him just when she thought at last she had given the nation its heir.’

  Sophia could not hide the satisfied smile.

  ‘It means everything in the world to you,’ said Caroline.

  ‘I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. I shall only die content if I die Queen of Great Britain and Ireland.’