The Regent's Daughter

Married bliss

IT WAS THE second of May – the great day itself. Crowds had been assembling in the Mall all through the day. Charlotte was at Buckingham House with the Queen; Leopold was at Clarence House; they would meet at Carlton House where the ceremony was to take place.

Charlotte studied her reflection while her women fussed round her.

That radiant image was herself – Princess Charlotte on her wedding day! She looked taller than usual – in fact she scarcely recognized herself; the very faint flush in her usually pale cheeks was very becoming and she was beautiful.

It’s my dress, said Charlotte to herself; and indeed she had never possessed such a dress. The silver lamé shimmered over the silver tissue slip trimmed with the finest Brussels point lace. Her mantua was held at her throat with a large diamond brooch and on her head she wore an arrangement of roses and diamonds.

Louisa stood beside her, starry-eyed. ‘How I wish dear Mrs Gagarin could have lived to see this day!’ Then she wished she had not spoken for she wanted no sad thought to mar the perfection of Charlotte’s happiness.

The Queen was to drive with Charlotte to Carlton House and Louisa whispered that it was almost time for them to leave, and how strange it was to see the old Begum looking almost handsome in her magnificent gown of gold tissue with its flounces of silver net and gold lamé.

Stepping into the carriage Charlotte felt almost fond of her grandmother. The two eldest Old Girls Augusta and Elizabeth rode with them in the carriage – four scintillating figures of silver and gold.

As soon as their carriage came into sight a great shout went up from thousands of spectators.

‘Bless me!’ cried Charlotte and the Queen had to put out a hand to restrain her. ‘What a multitude! The Park is crowded.’

Charlotte bowed and waved to the people who cheered all the more. Every single cheer was for her although the Queen acknowledged them graciously.

At Carlton House the Regent greeted them; and immediately Charlotte felt less grand for although this was her wedding he must be the most striking figure on the stage. He was wearing the Order of the Garter over the uniform of a Field Marshal – scarlet coat embroidered with gold.

Charlotte was moved as she looked at him and thought how wonderful he was because although he did not in his heart wish for this marriage he gave no sign of it. He was the beneficent god; he was going to give his daughter to Leopold, and he would do so she knew with perfect grace.

‘Oh, dearest Papa!’ she murmured; and although the Queen might frown at such a departure from etiquette, he did not. He responded immediately, with tears in his eyes: ‘My precious child, God bless you.’

In the crimson saloon the altar had been set up; the setting was magnificent but Charlotte only saw Leopold, for there he was beside her in the uniform of a British General (her father had recently bestowed this rank on him). His belt glittered with diamonds and on his chest shone the orders which he had won on the field of battle.

The Archbishop of Canterbury performed the ceremony and Charlotte’s high young voice as she made her marriage vows was firm and resonant.

‘I will!’ she cried fervently.

The ceremony was over. She was Leopold’s wife.

The Regent held out his arms and embraced her. Their tears mingled.

The Queen was waiting. Charlotte kissed her hand; then she kissed all the Princesses and went among the company receiving their congratulations.

This, she told herself, is the happiest day of my life.

And when they were on their way to Oatlands for the honeymoon she told Leopold so.

It was just before midnight when the newly married pair reached Oatlands. Charlotte was so excited that she was chattering all the time. She told him about the eccentric Duchess and that he must not be surprised if he found a troupe of monkeys invading the nuptial chamber. At this she laughed heartily and Leopold permitted himself an indulgent smile.

‘Doucement, ma chérie, doucement,’ he murmured.

‘Of course I will be douce if you wish it, dearest Doucement,’ she cried; and she lay against him, silent as they drove up to the house.

It was pleasant to wander through the park at Oatlands, to visit the little graves in the animal cemetery, to romp with the dogs, although Leopold pointed out that romping was scarcely correct now that she was a married woman.

‘Who cares about being correct. I’m happy, dearest Leo.’

‘I’m delighted, my darling,’ replied Leopold, ‘but in your position, alas, you must be correct as well as happy. And, dearest, do you think you should call me Leo in front of the servants?’

‘What should I call you? My dearest one? My darling Doucement?’

‘You are incorrigible.’

‘Who would not be, married to the most handsome man in the world.’

He was delighted with her. Her exuberance was so spontaneous; but it must be curbed of course, for it was so unsuitable.

‘My love,’ he said, ‘in spite of being the most delightful princess in the world, you are also one of the greatest heiresses. Should you not remember this?’

‘I want to remember nothing but that I am my darling Leo’s wife. Leo, Leo, Leo!’ she laughed at him mockingly. ‘But not in front of the servants. What, my dearest, do you wish me to call you in front of the servants?’

‘In their presence and on all public occasions I think you should refer to me as Coburg.’

She laughed hilariously. ‘Coburg indeed. My dearest Coburg! Coburg! The way in which I will say it it will sound even more affectionate than Leo.’

‘But you will say it, my love … to please me.’

‘Dearest Leo Coburg, I would die to please you.’

The Prince Regent rode over to Oatlands to see how the honeymoon was progressing. For the first time in her life Charlotte would have preferred him not to bestow a mark of affection.

He could not come without a certain amount of pomp and he broke up the honeymoon intimacy of Oatlands.

He held out his arms and embraced her.

‘I see that I have intruded into paradise,’ he said with a Jove-like smile.

‘Dearest Papa, it is so good of you to come.’

‘My only child, I have been thinking of you.’

He wrinkled his nose. The smell of animals offended him. One of the Duchess’s dogs came to sniff at those highly polished boots.

Charlotte whistled to the dog and the Regent winced; he noticed that Leopold was not always pleased at Charlotte’s stable-boy manners. The fellow had some dignity, he thought – perhaps too much for an insignificant princeling but now he was basking in the reflected glory of a future Queen of England. He couldn’t like him, however. Whenever he saw him he thought of all the trouble over Orange and how much he would have preferred a Dutch match.

Charlotte slipped her arm through her father’s and his good humour was restored; he liked outward displays of affection; and it was good for people to see them after all the scandal there had been over family quarrels.

‘Being a wife becomes you.’

‘And, er … er … Coburg?’

So it was Coburg! thought the Prince. Quite formal. Good God, has Leopold been schooling her already?

They sat in the drawing room while refreshment was brought and he noticed how little Leopold drank. It was almost a reproach to the Regent, but he was determined to remain in good humour. He said that Leopold had looked well in his General’s uniform and had he been aware of the uniforms of the guard? He then went on to discuss these uniforms in detail which set Charlotte yawning and longing for his departure, while Leopold listened intently and feigned an interest.

‘Camelford House is not really suitable,’ said the Regent. ‘You must go out and look at that place at Esher. I think it would be an ideal spot. You will probably wish to make changes there and if you need any advice I shall be pleased to give it.’

He was off on another of his favourite topics, the additions to Carlton House and the Pavilion. He gave Leopold an account of the Pavilion’s history, how it was a near-derelict old farmhouse when his major-demo Weltje had discovered it.

The visit seemed to last a long time.

When he left, the Regent said playfully to Leopold, ‘Be careful or she will govern you. You should begin as you intend to go on.’

‘Dearest Papa,’ replied Charlotte, ‘there is no question of one governing another. I shall do as Coburg wishes because it is my deepest pleasure to do so.’

‘Spoken like a loving bride,’ declared the Regent; and he added cynically to himself: In the first week of her honeymoon.

But he was sad when he left them, thinking of those days of ecstasy which had followed a certain ceremony in Maria Fitzherbert’s house in Park Street.

He said then as he had said thousands of times before: I should never have left Maria.

‘When you are happy there is nothing to write about,’ said Charlotte to Louisa.

She was thinking of Mercer, who had once meant so much to her. It was an excuse perhaps for not writing, but Mercer was surely not showing her usual good sense for she had written of her intentions to marry the Comte de Flahault, a man of whom Leopold could not approve. Perhaps it was because she had never met anyone of Leopold’s profound good sense that she had been so impressed by Mercer’s. At least Mercer would be so busy with her own affairs and perhaps she would not notice the absence of Charlotte’s letters. In the past the correspondence had been so regular. But how different it was when one was married!

It was only natural in this most perfect of unions that the most desired event should occur almost immediately. Charlotte was pregnant.

‘We will not mention it,’ said cautious Leopold, ‘until we are absolutely certain.’

Darling Doucement, he knew his Charlotte’s weaknesses. She would have announced to the entire household and in no time there would have been cartoons and lampoons circulating throughout the country. It was a matter, in any case, said Leopold, that he would not care to be the subject for crudities.

How she agreed with him! And though bubbling over with excitement she managed to suppress it.

It was not easy, particularly as, at Camelford House, which was on the corner of Oxford Street and Park Lane, they were in London and it was necessary for them to show themselves frequently. When they went to see Mr Kean perform in Bertram the ovation was the biggest she had ever heard. How proud she had been of Leopold Coburg for the occasion – in his General’s uniform and all the decorations which proclaimed his bravery displayed on his chest.

But when she and Leopold were to see Mrs Siddons in the role of Lady Macbeth, for which she was famous, Charlotte had felt suddenly unwell; and it had been necessary to cancel the arrangement.

The first shadow then touched the ideal marriage. Charlotte had a miscarriage. She was not very ill, for the young life had scarcely begun, but her doctors ordered her to rest and the papers discovered the reason. The people were sorry and they loved her more than ever.

Leopold consoled her. It was but a slight misfortune, and they were both so young.

Charlotte hoped she would recover in time to attend the marriage of the Princess Mary to the Duke of Gloucester. She was delighted that this was at last to take place for she had felt many an uneasy qualm at the trick she had played on Mary when she had pretended that she had wanted Silly Billy for herself.

But when the day came her doctors advised her that it would be unwise for her to attend.

She was petulant. ‘But this,’ she said, ‘is the marriage of my dear old aunt. I must go.’

The doctors shook their heads.

‘I shall go!’ she declared.

Leopold, who was present, quietly signed to the doctors to leave.

‘My dearest,’ he said when they were alone, ‘you should obey the doctors.’

‘I feel very well and I must go to Mary’s wedding … if I don’t she will think it is because I still have a fancy for Silly Billy.’ That made her laugh that loud laugh which always made Leopold wince a little.

Then she told him, with much laughter, of how when they had been trying to force her on Orange she had pretended she would have Gloucester instead.

‘So you see, dearest Leo, I must go to this wedding.’

‘I do not see that it is necessary.’

‘Oh, my darling sober old Doucement, you must allow me to know best about my own family.’

‘But, dearest Charlotte, I do not accept that you know the state of your health better than the doctors.’

‘A lot of old women! I am going in any case. Poor Mary, she has waited years and years for this. When she came yesterday she described her wedding dress to me. It’s very fine … as fine as mine and very like it, too. Silver tissues and scalloped lamé and Brussels point lace. Her headdress is diamonds, too. She will look quite lovely, in spite of her age. Poor old girl! And I am sure Silly Billy will be proud of her.’

Leopold coughed lightly – a sign of disapproval. ‘Charlotte, you should not talk of our royal kinsmen in this way.’

‘Oh, but I do, Leo darling, and as you have discovered I do a great deal that I should not. I always have.’

‘There is no reason why you should continue to perform these not very admirable acts.’

‘Leo, darling, I love the way you talk … as though you are addressing the House of Commons instead of your adoring wife.’

‘I am not sure that she does adore me.’

‘Leo, how can you utter such perfidy!’

‘She does not please me.’

‘How can you say that? Ah, I know what it is. You have another woman. Did I see you glancing admiringly at Wellington’s sister-in-law?’

‘You are being foolish now. She is an old woman nearly twenty years older than I.’

‘That’s no reason why you shouldn’t admire her. Papa always likes mature women. Perhaps princes do. Oh, Leopold, am I too young for you?’

‘Sometimes I think this inconsequential behaviour may be due to youth.’

She was angry suddenly. Was it true that he had liked Wellington’s sister-in-law? Oh, she couldn’t bear it! And she must go to Mary’s wedding. How could she possibly not see her poor old aunt, after waiting all these years, married to solemn old Silly Billy! She could imagine herself in Mary’s place for although she had not been serious, some people had thought she was.

‘I am going to Mary’s wedding,’ she said coldly.

Leopold stood up, clicked his heels, bowed and departed.

The first quarrel. She could not endure it. Leopold was displeased with her. He had never before looked at her so coldly.

Yet if I wish to go, I’ll go, she told herself. He must remember that even though he is my husband I shall be the Queen of England and he merely my Consort.

What should she wear for the wedding? A very special dress. Gold lamé – no longer silver because now she was a married woman.

But there was no comfort in thinking of her dress, no comfort in making Leopold realize that she would have her own way. In fact, she did not want her own way. In her heart she knew that she only wished to please Leopold.

Yet, I must remember that one day I shall be Queen and he must remember it too.

What a miserable day! He avoided her; and when she saw him in the presence of others he seemed aloof.

He was right, of course. The doctors had said she should not go. How foolish she was and how disappointed Leopold must be in her.

She called to one of her women: ‘Go and tell … go and ask the Prince of Saxe-Coburg if he will come to me here … as soon as he finds it convenient to do so.’

He was with her almost immediately.

‘Charlotte.’

‘Oh, Leo … dearest Doucement, how stupid I am! How right you were to let me know it. What can I say? I shall not go to Mary’s wedding. It would be such folly. Oh, Leopold, can you forgive me for my stupid ways?’

Leopold could and did.

He was grave and tender. He loved his dearest Charlotte more than ever; he admired her courage in admitting that she was wrong. He was so proud of her.

‘Then it is as it was … before? Oh, Leopold, that makes me so happy. I was thinking this … this difference between us Was going on and on and that nothing would ever be the same again.’

‘We must never allow differences to go on and on.’

‘We must never allow differences, dearest Leopold.’

He smiled his grave judicious smile. ‘They might occur, but let us make a vow now that we will never let the sun set on any misunderstanding … however small.’

‘Oh, do let us do that,’ she said, and they took their solemn vow.

So Charlotte did not attend the Princess Mary’s wedding to the Duke of Gloucester.

Claremont was the perfect setting for her idyllic marriage, Charlotte decided. Here she and Leopold could shut themselves away from the world and live, as she called it, like simple folk.

She wanted to live quietly, in a domestic fashion, she told Leopold. She wanted to know what went on in her household – like any housewife. He smiled indulgently. She was becoming more docile every day.

They had both loved Claremont from the moment they had seen it. The situation in the beautiful vale of Esher was perfect. The Earl of Clare had bought the estate from Sir John Vanbrugh and built this house on it, giving it his name. When Charlotte had first seen it she had run excitedly up the thirteen steps of the entrance. She had fondly touched the Corinthian pillars which held up the pediment, and she had known, she told Leopold in her impulsive way, that she had come home.

There were eight very large rooms on the ground floor and she had run through them delightedly. She felt like an ordinary housewife, she told her husband, choosing the home in which she was to bring up her family.

Leopold had restrained her in his usual tender way. She should be happy in her home of course, but it was not wise for the future Queen of England to think too frequently of herself as an ordinary housewife.

‘Nor an important prince as an ordinary husband,’ she went on. ‘And indeed you are not that. You are the best husband in the world.’

Then she was throwing her arms about him, kissing him there in the drawing room of Claremont where anyone could have seen.

She laughed at him indulgently. How she enjoyed teasing him!

Claremont, she thought, is the most lovely house in the world because no one has ever been as happy as I am going to be in it.

She loved the half-mile drive and the first sight of the house on a slight incline, she loved the island on the lake immediately inside the drive; she loved the old woman who lived in the lodge and who had been so terrified when she knew the Princess was coming to Claremont because she feared that she would be turned out. Charlotte had gone in person to reassure her, and when she discovered that she took pupils to help to keep herself and her blind husband, Charlotte’s heart was touched.

‘You will find me your friend,’ she declared, ‘and you shall remain here as long as you wish. It pleases me to see you so devoted to your afflicted husband.’

They were the happiest days of her life, she declared; even happier than those of the honeymoon. Then she had had to learn so much. Now she promised herself, she had learned.

She and Leopold were happy at Claremont. They lived as simply as possible. Charlotte drove about the countryside, interested herself in the people and was delighted when it was possible to bring some comfort to her poor neighbours. She even went to the kitchens and concerned herself with the buying and cooking of food.

Most of all she enjoyed looking after Leopold. He was amused by her fussing. She insisted on airing his linen. ‘How otherwise do I know it is properly aired?’ she demanded. ‘And do not forget when you first arrived you had that dreadful rheumatism!’ She herself would test the hot water which was brought for his bath, and very often when he went out shooting with the members of his household she would prepare the food he would have on his return. She took a great delight in combing his hair.

One could not of course live the simple life all the time. There were visitors from London including the Regent himself.

‘But,’ said Charlotte, ‘having had our ceremonies it makes me return all the more gleefully to the simple life.’

And soon she was happier still; for she discovered that she was to have a child.

‘This time,’ said Leopold, ‘we must make sure that nothing goes wrong.’

He lifted a warning finger, which she seized and bit – just to shock him a little and to amuse him too. For however he tried to change her, she reminded him, she would remain Charlotte, the impulsive hoyden.

He pretended to sigh and murmured: ‘I suppose it is so.’

She could not resist writing to Mercer now and then, for after all it was a habit of years; and Leopold had not said it would displease him if she wrote.

Poor Mercer, who was married to that dreadful Comte de Flahault, could not enjoy this bliss.

‘This marriage makes my whole happiness,’ she wrote, and happily she signed herself Charlotte Coburg.