‘I— too young— when I have been at balls since before Charlotte’s marriage.
Am I growing younger then, Madam, that I have suddenly become too young?’
The Baroness said that there was no point in discussing the matter further for the orders had come to her and she had obeyed them.
‘So my mother has decided this, has she?’
‘It has been decided,’ replied the Baroness.
‘Stop talking like a silly old oracle. I tell you I will go to the ball— I will— I will!’
When Caroline talked like that she was really alarming; her eyes seemed to grow black and her face flushed scarlet.
There was nothing the Baroness could do but leave her.
Caroline lay on her bed biting her fists in fury. ‘I must go to the ball,’ she murmured. ‘Perhaps tonight will be the most important night in my life. Perhaps tonight I shall meet my lover. I will go to the ball. I will. Why should they stop me? There is Charlotte— married at sixteen. And I am nearly sixteen and not allowed to go to the ball. I won’t have it. I won’t.’
But what could she do? The realization of the futility of this increased her anger. I have no ball dress? Nonsense. I’d wear an old one. I’d go in as Aphrodite. I’d go as anybody— The laughter started to bubble up, uncontrollable laughter. Imagine her entering the ballroom as Aphrodite. She would demand they announce her. ‘My lords and ladies, the Princess Caroline is unable to attend tyranny and in her place Aphrodite has risen from the sea— to attend the ball.’
And there she would be— stark naked. Imagine her mother’s face!
Oh, my dear, how shocked they will be at the English Court if they hear of this!’ And why? she would like to know. Cousin George, Prince of Wales, was rather a shocking young man himself. He, too, chafed against restriction. How frustrating parents were! How they spoilt their children’s lives!
No, even she could not do such a thing. Her invention would not desert her.
She would think of a way of punishing them for not allowing her to the ball.
From her window Caroline saw the had lined the streets to see the guests arrive in their gowns and glittering jewels. One of the most elaborate balls ever given at the Ducal Palace and the Princess Caroline not there to enjoy it!
She pictured her father and mother at the head of the great staircase receiving their guests. Deep curtsies; sweeping bows; and in command— Madame de Hertzfeldt, whom everyone would know was the real hostess; and if they wanted any favours it was to the mistress they must go, not to the wife.
And she, Caroline, should have been there, standing beside her parents, receiving the bows and curtsies— homage due to the daughter of the house.
None of the children would be there. She and Frederick William were the only ones who could be, and Frederick William certainly was a little young.
‘But I am sixteen,’ she cried. ‘It is cruel and wicked to stop me from going to the ball. And I’ll make them sorry for this.’
She started to laugh, contemplating the plan which had been in her mind all day. She had felt it was far more workable than the Aphrodite one and would cause them even more distress. And serve them right!
Her father would now be opening the ball. Now was the moment. She undressed, flinging her clothes about the room; then she took a pot of paste from her cupboard and smeared it over her face. The effect made her chuckle. It was horrible, It made her look like a ghost. She raised her eyes in an expression of agony. Wonderful! She looked like a girl about to breathe her last.
She got into bed and began to scream.
Two of her serving maids came running in.
‘I— I think I am going to die,’ she said. ‘Pray— go— quickly. Bring the Duke and the Duchess.’
Her maids stared at her as she fell back on her pillows, making queer rattling noises in her throat. Terrified they ran off.
Caroline pictured the scene in the ballroom: the frightened maids appearing suddenly, forgetting all etiquette in view of the startling news they had to convey, ‘Oh, my God,’ said the Duchess, and looked as if she would faint.
But the Duke was beside her. ‘We will go to her at once.’ He glanced at Madame de Hertzfeldt who could always be relied on in a crisis.
As they hastily left the ballroom he heard her explaining to the guests that the Princess Caroline was indisposed and that this was the reason for the temporary absence of the Ducal pair.
The whole ballroom was abuzz with the news. The Princess Caroline taken suddenly ill. What an unfortunate family. Those three boys— Meanwhile in Caroline’s bedroom her parents were gazing in dismay at her livid features distorted into an expression of agony.
‘My child!’ cried the Duchess. ‘Where is the pain? Pray tell us— if you can.’
Caroline could scarcely keep back her mirth.
‘I— I cannot hide it any longer,’ she said. ‘I— I am in labor. Pray send at once for an accoucheur.’
‘Oh my God!’ cried the Duchess again.
The Duke had turned pale. ‘It is not possible—’
‘Yes, yes,’ cried Caroline. ‘I fear so. I am about to give birth to my child— and if you do not send for an accoucheur immediately, I shall die— and the child with me.’
The Duke turned to the Duchess. ‘Get one—’ he said. ‘For God’s sake, call the accoucheur.’
Caroline groaned and cried: ‘My pains— they are coming fast. Make haste —’
The Duchess turned, but she did not have to speak. The maids who had been hovering in the doorway immediately, ran to fetch an accoucheur. It was impossible to keep such a fact secret. All the guests were aware that the accoucheur had been sent for that he might attend the Princess Caroline, who was in labour.
What a shocking affair! How unlucky the Duke was in his family! Those idiot boys— the blind one— and now the Princess Caroline was about to present the Duke and Duchess with an illegitimate grandchild. If she could have done so secretly— well, this kind of misadventure was not so uncommon— but during a ball, so that all the guests should know! What a spicy piece of gossip! No wonder they could talk of nothing else. Indeed they would remember this ball all their lives.
Madame de Hertzfeldt heard the talk but what could she do? She had not a chance. If she could have prevented the news seeping out she would have done so, but it was too late.
It was not possible to continue with the ball while the Princess was in her apartments giving birth, and the whole Court knew it.
With dignity Madame de Hertzfeldt addressed the company. The ball could not go on, she explained, owing to the indisposition of the Princess Caroline.
So the guests departed and Madame de Hertzfeldt went at once to the Princess’s bedroom.
There an extraordinary scene greeted her.
The accoucheur had arrived and when he prepared to examine the Princess she had leaped out of bed, wiped the paste from her face which then appeared to be its natural colour and began dancing round the bedchamber.
Then she came and bowed low before her mother.
‘That, Madam,’ she announced, ‘will teach you to keep me from another ball.’
What could one do with the Princess Caroline? Could she be punished? In what way?
The Duke and Madame de Hertzfeldt discussed the matter at great length.
‘A whipping?’ suggested the Duke.
But Madame de Hertzfeldt was unsure. With unbalanced characters sometimes corporal punishment could be dangerous.
She must soothe the Duke though. ‘She is too high spirited,’ she said. ‘I think we must try to understand—’
‘You mean,’ replied the Duke sombrely, ‘that we must remember her brothers.’