The Third George: (Georgian Series) (8 page)

As the party rode into Stade the wind was blowing fiercely but the bells were ringing and the cannons were firing in her honour.

Charlotte looked up at the lowering sky and said to Schwellenburg, ‘We shall never embark in weather like this.’

‘It would be most unpleasant, Your Majesty, and unsafe.’

‘So we have a little longer in Germany.’

Charlotte sighed, uncertain whether to be pleased or sorry. At one moment she longed to get on, to come face to face with her bridegroom; but the next she was hoping to be able to postpone the encounter.

They had come to rest at a small
schloss
where they would spend the night; and as Lord Harcourt came to help her from her carriage he told her that the party from England had arrived and were waiting to greet her.

As she stepped inside the
schloss
she saw them waiting for her and how magnificent they seemed in their brocades and velvets, as they came forward to kneel and pay homage to their queen! Their queen! She could scarcely believe that the odd and rather ridiculous ceremony made her so.

‘And Your Majesty, your new ladies in waiting, the Marchioness of Lorne and the Duchess of Ancaster.’

She stared at them. She had never seen such women before. They were like goddesses. It was their rich garments. No, it was not. That smooth skin which they both possessed; those magnificent eyes; the abundant hair coiled about shapely heads; the grace; the charm. She had always known that she was plain; now she believed that she was ugly.

‘At Your Majesty’s service.’

She heard herself say incredulously in French, because so far most of these English seemed to prefer it to German, ‘Are all English women as beautiful as you?’

The ladies laughed and said: ‘Your Majesty is gracious.’

It did not answer the question and as others were presented to her she scarcely noticed them for she was thinking of what the King would do when he saw her. If he were accustomed to women who looked like these two – and she had to face the fact that she had never seen any so lovely and there were two of them – what would he think of his new bride?

She was frightened now.

‘Your Majesty is tired.’ It was kind Lord Harcourt at her elbow.

She admitted that she was and he suggested that she announce her intention to retire to the apartments which had been prepared for her.

*

There she studied herself in the mirror. How ugly her mouth was … so wide and thin! She thought of the beautifully moulded lips of the English women – pink tinted; she kept hearing the laughter in their voices when she had asked if all their countrywomen were as beautiful. And they had not answered.

Schwellenburg came in and because Charlotte was caught looking in the mirror she said: ‘The English women are so beautiful. I fear the King will be disappointed when he sees me.’

‘He chose Your Majesty,’ was the answer.

‘Without seeing me.’

‘Both those women seem very flighty to me.’

‘I suppose when one is as beautiful as they are one can be forgiven all else.’

‘Nonsense, begging Your Majesty’s pardon.’

‘Oh, Schwellenburg, I’m apprehensive.’

‘What, Your Majesty! And you a Queen!’

‘Of very short duration. What if he should decide that I’m too ugly to marry and sends me back.’

‘He could hardly do that. Your Majesty forgets that he’s married to you already by proxy.’

Charlotte sighed. It was not the answer she wished; she wanted reassurance; she longed to be told that she was not so ugly as she feared. But Schwellenburg would not flatter; she answered with the logical truth. Charlotte was plain; it was likely that if the King were expecting a beauty he would be disappointed; but all the same the proxy ceremony
had
taken place and whatever he thought he would have to take her now.

‘It’s all so hurried,’ she complained. ‘Schwellenburg, does it not seem to you a trifle mysterious?’

But to Schwellenburg it did not seem in the least mysterious. The marriage had been made as many royal marriages were. If Charlotte could provide her husband with children, in Schwellenburg’s opinion no one could complain.

Lord Harcourt was asking for an audience.

She greeted him with pleasure, but he was looking grave.

‘I have messages from His Majesty the King,’ he told her. ‘He commands that we proceed to Cuxhaven without delay and there embark for England.’

‘At once?’ she asked.

‘We shall have a night’s stay here and leave in the morning. I was planning to wait until the weather changed.’

‘Perhaps it may by the morning.’

‘I shall hope that it does, Your Majesty, but whatever it is like my orders are that we should sail.’

She nodded; she had no great fear of the sea.

A peal of bells was heard followed by the salute of guns.

‘The people of Stade are determined to give Your Majesty a good welcome,’ said Harcourt.

She frowned a little. ‘Am I worthy of all these honours?’ she asked.

Lord Harcourt bowed and murmured: ‘Your Majesty is the Queen of England.’

*

At Cuxhaven, when the royal party arrived, the wind was
howling and the rain was pelting down. Lord Harcourt was anxious; so, Charlotte noticed, were the beautiful women who now rode beside her and were threatening to put Schwellenburg’s nose out of joint.

They were a little mischievous, Charlotte felt, despising Schwellenburg and Haggerdorn for two frumps; Charlotte would be the first to admit that they were dowdy and no beauties; but at least she felt more at home with them in spite of Schwellenburg’s domineering ways.

There was no help for it, they must go aboard. The ship was rocking uncomfortably and everyone except Charlotte was unhappily aware of this. Charlotte had never been to sea; therefore she had no notion what seasickness was. She had come to a decision; if the King did not like her then he must needs make the best of her. She had not asked for this marriage – although her brother had been more than eager for it. She would do her duty and if the King was not prepared to do his, she would try to shrug her shoulders and not care. After all, these two Englishwomen might be beautiful, but they were not Princesses, so what she lacked in beauty she made up for in rank … even though in that she was not of such a high standard.

Lady Lorne came to stand beside her at the rail as she stood watching, that she might see the last of her native land.

‘Your Majesty seems unaffected by the rocking of the ship.’

‘Should I be affected by it?’

‘Most of us are.’

‘And you?’

‘Not yet. But with Your Majesty’s permission if it becomes more uncomfortable I shall retire to my cabin.’

‘Pray do so. But you did not answer my question about the women of England. Are they all as beautiful as you and the Duchess of Ancaster?’

‘I trust Your Majesty will not consider me unduly conceited when I tell you that we are both known as two of the outstanding beauties of the Court.’

Charlotte’s relief was obvious.

‘I had imagined a Court of goddesses,’ she said.

‘Your Majesty is too gracious.’

‘I don’t mean to be … only truthful. You are without doubt very handsome, both of you. Tell me about your life at Court.’

The Marchioness replied that she had first come to Court as Elizabeth Gunning some ten years before from Ireland – she and her sister and her mother.

‘We came to seek our fortunes.’

‘And you found them?’

The Marchioness was silent for a few moments. ‘I suppose some would say we had. A year after we arrived I was married to the Duke of Hamilton.’

‘And you were happy?’

She smiled sadly. ‘It was a runaway marriage of a sort, Your Majesty. We were married in a Mayfair chapel at half past twelve at night; and as the Duke had not thought to provide a wedding ring we used a curtain ring.’

‘It sounds … romantic,’ said Charlotte wistfully. ‘He must have been very much in love with you.’

‘That was true, Your Majesty. Then I was presented to the King and that was a great occasion.’

‘That would be … my husband’s grandfather.’

‘Yes, Madam. He was most kind to me … but he was not considered as kind generally as his present Majesty.’

‘So you find the King … kind?’

‘The King would never, I believe, be unkind to any. He is very different from his grandfather, who was inclined to be irascible, constantly flying into rages. Forgive me, Your Majesty, my tongue runs away with me.’

‘I have asked you to be frank. And so the King is different from his grandfather, then?’

‘Very different. The King is tall and handsome and there is a charm about him … a gentleness …’

Charlotte was beginning to feel better. It was pleasant to chat with a woman like this and so get an idea of what was waiting for her.

‘I hear from Lord Harcourt that he is impatient for the wedding.’

‘It is true. He has fixed the date of the coronation and I have heard that he wants his queen to share it with him.’

Charlotte nodded, beginning to feel almost happy. She was curious about this beautiful woman and wanted to know why she was the Marchioness of Lorne when she had married the Duke of Hamilton.

‘The Duke died six years after our marriage.’

‘And you have married again?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty, to the Marquis of Lorne.’

‘So you became a marchioness instead of a duchess.’

‘My husband, Your Majesty, is the heir of the Duke of Argyll.’

Charlotte smiled. ‘So it is only a temporary loss of rank. Have you any children?’

‘Yes, by my first husband I have a daughter and two sons; I have a little boy by my second marriage.’

‘You are a very fortunate woman. Was your sister as lucky?’

‘My sister died a year ago of consumption. They said it was due to the white lead she used for her complexion.’

‘Oh … how terrible.’

‘I myself was very ill less than a year ago and I thought I was dying of the same disease; but my husband took me abroad and I have completely recovered.’

Charlotte nodded. ‘White lead!’ she murmured.

‘Yes, Your Majesty, it produces a perfect whiteness which I have heard is most appealing.’

Charlotte laughed more merrily than she had since the wedding ceremony. ‘Perhaps it is as well not to have such beauty that has to be preserved by such lethal means.’

The Marchioness smiled and whispered that if Her Majesty would grant her permission she would retire to her cabin, for she was beginning to feel a little queasy.

Charlotte stood at the rail after the Marchioness had gone. She liked the feel of the wind on her face. She did not feel in the least ill.

She believed that she had really begun to look forward to the new life.

*

The ship was battling against the elements and all Charlotte’s attendants lay groaning in their cabins or on their bunks praying for the journey to be over … or for death.

But Charlotte was not in the least affected. A harpsichord had been placed on board for her entertainment and she spent a great deal of time playing this, though her ladies did not hear her, since every one of them, even the redoubtable Schwellenburg, was prostrated.

Lord Harcourt told her that they were days from the coast of England and that he had just learned that the storms had driven them almost on to that of Norway.

‘It is a pity for my ladies that we did not wait for more propitious weather,’ commented Charlotte.

‘Your Majesty, the King’s orders were that we embark without delay.’

‘Why, Lord Harcourt, is he so very eager for our arrival?’

Lord Harcourt, smiling, bowed. ‘That, I am sure, His Majesty will make clear to you on your arrival.’

The suggestion was that the King was so eager for
her
arrival. But how could he be so eager for someone he had never seen? Why had it been decided that he must marry without delay?

There was some mystery, Charlotte was sure.

Well, perhaps she would soon discover.

‘Your Majesty has no one in attendance,’ said Lord Harcourt.

‘Poor ladies, they are prostrate, all of them. The sea does not take to them as kindly as it does to me.’

‘Your Majesty is fortunate … in more ways than one.’

Am I? wondered Charlotte. What will life be like with my new husband in England.

‘I shall play the harpsichord to them,’ she announced. ‘Perhaps it will comfort them. If I leave the door of my saloon open they will be able to hear it as they lie on their bunks.’

Charlotte played and found pleasure in playing; but the poor ladies were unaware of anything but their own misery.

*

The wind dropped suddenly and the storm was over; sun dappled the grey waters turning them to green and opalesque.

One by one the ladies rose from their bunks. The change in them was miraculous. Schwellenburg became her old domineering self, Haggerdorn her faithful second; and the two English ladies put on their poised elegance as though it were a gown and were soon as beautiful as ever.

As these two dressed themselves and the horror of the last days faded and as the Duchess of Ancaster said she felt like a human being again, they discussed together the advisability of warning the Queen of the King’s attachment to Sarah Lennox.

The Duchess of Ancaster thought it unwise; the Marchioness of Lorne was not so sure.

‘She is so plain … That mouth of hers makes her look like a crocodile.’

‘Poor creature. George is going to be so disappointed. I’ll swear they’ve told him she’s a beauty.’

‘Queens are always credited with more beauty than they actually possess. George should know that and discount half of what he has heard.’

‘George is so unworldly. It would never occur to him to doubt.’

‘And what of the little Lennox?’

‘What of her?’

‘You know the King bitterly regrets not marrying her.’

‘Oh, that is over and George is such a
good
young man. They say he won’t give Sarah a thought once he is married to Charlotte.’

‘Do you believe that?’ asked the Duchess scornfully.

‘No,’ answered the Marchioness. ‘But I believe that it is better for Charlotte to discover this for herself. Though we could at least try to make her a little more attractive.’