If only he had cared for her …
But what was the use of dreaming. She must face facts.
She remained in bed. She was not going out. If she could not see her mother she would see no one.
A whole week went by and Cornelia at length spoke to her. ‘There is a lot of gossip,’ she said, ‘and comments in the papers.’
Oh, those papers! thought Charlotte. Now that Mrs Udney had gone and she was not visiting her mother she never saw them.
‘There are really shocking hints,’ went on Cornelia.
‘About my mother and the Prince, I suppose.’
‘About you!’ retorted Cornelia.
‘What about me?’
‘You have been rather indiscreet with certain gentlemen.’
Charlotte looked startled.
‘Captain Hesse, Captain Fitzclarence and the Duke of Devonshire.’
Charlotte started to laugh.
‘It’s no laughing matter,’ said Cornelia severely. ‘Such rumours can be dangerous.’
‘Are they saying I am like my mother? Are they preparing a Delicate Investigation?’
‘What they are saying is too indelicate for me to repeat. I suggest we go out this very day for a drive in the Park that you may show yourself. That will be the best way to prove these rumours false.’
That morning the Princess Charlotte was seen with Miss Knight, riding in the Park.
Charlotte sat back in her carriage. It was pleasant when she was recognized and the people cheered her. They were satisfied that the rumours about her were false. What had they imagined? wondered Charlotte. That she was about to bear an illegitimate child? She giggled at the thought. Well, she had been a little indiscreet. She thought of the letters she had written to Hesse and which her mother had passed on to him. It had been exciting at the time but now that she was growing up she was beginning to wonder.
She was now passing along Piccadilly on the way to Hyde Park when she was aware of a carriage coming along Constitution Hill at a rattling speed, heading, Charlotte realized, straight in her direction. Before the carriage reached her she recognized it as her mother’s; so had many others, and as the carriage of the Princess of Wales drew level with that of the Princess Charlotte, a crowd had gathered.
The Princess Caroline put her head out of the window of her carriage with some difficulty, adorned as it was by a large hat trailing highly-coloured feathers.
Charlotte put her head out of her window and her mother’s arms were round her. Charlotte’s usually pale face was faintly pink and the colour gave beauty to her fresh young face.
Caroline was shrieking with pleasure. ‘My darling. My own little girl!’
They embraced, kissing again and again with passionate fervour, while the crowd roared its approval. God bless them both. Why should they be kept apart? It was wicked to separate a mother from her child.
Caroline was laughing exultantly and mischievously. ‘My darling, how can I bear this separation!’
‘Shame!’ echoed the crowd like a chorus in a play. ‘To keep a mother from her child.’
‘Shame indeed, good folks,’ cried Caroline, tears of emotion threatening havoc to rouge and white lead.
‘I shall come and see you as soon as I’m able,’ said Charlotte.
‘Of course my angel will. I shall live for that day.’
The crowd had grown larger. ‘God bless you both,’ the people cried. ‘And love your mother, Charlotte.’ Charlotte, always conscious of the applause of the people, played her part with a verve worthy of her father.
‘I will, I will,’ she cried. ‘Nothing will prevent me.’
Then she embraced her mother again to the accompaniment of cheers. Caroline clung to her daughter’s hand and gradually released it.
‘Au revoir, Mamma,’ said Charlotte. ‘This separation shall not last.’
‘We shall soon be together again,’ declared Caroline.
Caroline’s carriage moved forward and Charlotte fell in behind. They rode along to the cheering of the crowds.
Mercer called at Warwick House and was received by Charlotte with her usual enthusiasm. Cornelia was not so pleased. What would the Regent say if he knew that Miss Elphinstone, of whose friendship with his daughter he was somewhat suspicious, had been allowed by his daughter’s guardians to enter her household? He had said nothing to Cornelia nor to the Duchess of Leeds about that scene in Hyde Park, although he was doubtless asking himself what her guardians were doing to allow it to happen. He was therefore neither pleased with Cornelia nor the Duchess, and Madam Elphinstone had to threaten more trouble by coming to the house against his wishes. If she were discovered, his displeasure would mean little to Mercer; it would be the unfortunate governesses on whose heads his wrath would expend itself.
Charlotte was aware of the antagonism between Cornelia and Mercer and deplored it. She adored Mercer, of course, but she was also growing very accustomed to and fond of Cornelia. How she wished that they would be friends; and she could not understand why they were not for there was a similarity in their characters which she had thought would make them appreciative of each other.
But she was too pleased to see Mercer now to worry about Cornelia’s reactions.
‘I am so happy to see you, dear Mercer,’ she declared with deep feeling.
‘One day I hope that I shall be able to stay with you,’ said Mercer, ‘so that I don’t have to pay these rather embarrassing secret visits.’
‘What a wonderful arrangement that would be! But now you are here don’t let’s waste a minute. Oh, my dear, you look so handsome!’
Mercer accepted the compliment graciously and assured the Princess that she looked charming herself and in good health.
‘Quite belying the rumours,’ she added.
‘So you have heard rumours.’
‘There will always be these stories of royalty but, my dearest Charlotte, you must do nothing to provoke them.’
‘That seems impossible. One only has to look at a man and one is accused of having a fondness for him.’
‘You were a little indiscreet at Windsor, I believe.’
‘What pleasures do I get in life … when I don’t see my dearest Mercer? These were just little flirtations. And now they are talking about Devonshire.’
‘Oh … Devonshire!’ Mercer laughed just a little self-consciously. Had Devonshire been paying attention to Mercer? She was very attractive. Lord Byron had been in love with her; but Lord Byron was in love with so many women; and Charlotte could understand anyone’s being in love with Mercer who was so beautiful and talented. All the same she would have liked to think that Devonshire was faithful to her.
‘Do you find him attractive?’ she asked.
‘In a way. He is unusual. Do you know, I have heard – but don’t whisper a word of this – that he is not the Duchess’s son after all.’
‘How could that be?’
‘I heard that the Duchess wanted to cover up her husband’s infidelity and for him to have his heir. Devonshire is the son of the Duke’s mistress, they say.’
‘In that case he’s a bastard and not the true duke.’
‘Hush. These things should not be spoken of.’
Mercer had spoken of it, of course, but then Mercer was outside criticism. What an exciting person she was ! She discovered the most intriguing news and not being royal she had such freedom. She went to balls, met interesting people and was not fettered by governesses.
But poor Devonshire! What a position! To be called the Duke and to know he was not. And how strange that true scandals often remained a secret and it was the imaginary ones which were openly discussed!