Cornelia and Mercer, now allies, discovered that Orange was to be at a ball given by Lord Liverpool and his wife which Charlotte was to attend, and there she was to be given an opportunity of seeing him. This threw her into such a panic that the pain in her side became worse and Cornelia sent for the doctor, Sir Henry Halford, who was a great favourite with the Regent and the leading physician of the Court. Sir Henry, who had long been popular with all the family and whom George III had made a baronet, was more than a physician; he was a courtier, and he was well aware of the Regent’s desire for a betrothal between Orange and his daughter.
Charlotte certainly looked very pale and far from well. She needed a stay at the sea, Sir Henry decided, but the Regent would scarcely agree to that at this time. He listened to her description of the pain and said that a blister should be applied.
‘Very well,’ said Charlotte. ‘I shall be unable to attend the Liverpools’ ball. But as I don’t feel well enough to go I should miss it in any case.’
‘Rest!’ prescribed Sir Henry. ‘That’s what Your Highness needs.’
He began to tell her about a matter which excited him greatly. Charles I’s coffin was about to be opened and as a leading doctor he was going to be present at the ceremony.
‘How … gruesome!’ cried Charlotte.
‘Sometimes gruesome things have to be witnessed in the name of my profession.’
Charlotte smiled benignly. She let him run on about the ceremony which excited him so, for she was grateful to him for having given her the excuse of the blister not to have to see Orange.
Halford reported to the Regent that the Princess Charlotte was by no means well and he thought a change would do her good – and rest. She needed rest.
The Regent was a little concerned. He was by no means abandoning the thought of the Orange match, but he could see that she would have to be prepared for it gradually, so Orange returned to his regiment without having seen Charlotte and Charlotte’s spirits rose considerably. Dear Mercer was in communication with Captain Hesse who she was sure would never be so ungallant as to refuse to return her letters. Her two dear watchdogs were friends and that made her very happy.
Orange had gone and the Regent was behaving towards her with more affection than he had ever shown before.
One hot July day when Louisa went in to wake Mrs Gagarin she found her dead. That was a great sadness. The Princess and Louisa wept together and kept reminding each other of the past when they had all been together.
Charlotte missed her old dresser more than she had realized possible and it was only the fact that Mercer and Cornelia were getting on so well together and that her father was showing her some affection that could comfort her.
The Prince, hearing of the death of Mrs Gagarin from Charlotte expressed suitable grief and even shed a tear for her.
‘She was a good creature,’ he said. ‘I know she served you well.’
And when Charlotte broke down and wept he put an arm about her and said that if it was any comfort to her he shared her sorrow. And although he did not feel one hundredth part of it she was charmed that he should say so.
The next day he sent her a sapphire which he said she could have made into any ornament she pleased. She was delighted – not with the stone which was very valuable but because he had sent it.
‘And because I know how fond you are of your pets,’ he said, ‘I am sending you a white greyhound. I think you will find it a graceful and beautiful creature.’
She was delighted with the greyhound and loved it from the moment she saw it. She would allow no one to feed it but herself. The dog must know he was entirely hers and occupied a very special place in her affections – because he was so beautiful. But it was more than that, she told herself; it was because her father had given the dog to her.
She felt well again. The summer was gloriously warm and now that Mrs Gagarin was dead she found it a relief not to have to notice every day how wan she was becoming.
In June the whole country had rejoiced over the victory at Vittoria. Napoleon’s end was in sight and everyone but himself seemed to see it. The combined forces under the command of Wellington had put the French – under Joseph Bonaparte – to flight and they had been driven across the river Bidassoa into France.
The Regent was delighted and behaved as though it was he instead of Wellington who was the victor. He wanted to know every detail of the battle and would talk of it, sketching maps as he did so. ‘We were here.’ ‘We advanced there …’ his eyes alight with excitement, much to the amusement of some of his cynical courtiers.
There was to be a public festival in Vauxhall Gardens to celebrate the victory but the Regent decided that he himself would give an open-air fête at which Princess Charlotte should preside. This would be held at Carlton House and was to celebrate the victory.
Charlotte arrived in great spirits in a gown sparkling with jewels. The people who had gathered to see her step from her carriage cheered her wildly and as she lifted her skirts to get down from her carriage, displaying an expanse of frilly drawers, there was a laugh and a cheer and she smiled and waved and thought of poor Lady de Clifford who would have deplored such conduct which nevertheless pleased the dear people.
The Prince was waiting to embrace her – looking magnificent as ever. One always felt awkward in face of his elegance she thought, but she was pleased; and the people did not seem to hate him so much when he showed affection for her.
And glory! There was the Duke of Devonshire looking more fascinating than ever and clearly deeply moved at the sight of her.
She was going to dance with him. After all, she was the principal guest so why should she not dance with whom she pleased?
What a happy occasion – herself looking beautiful, for she knew she did in that glorious gown (and now she was grownup she would have many such gowns) and she was flushed – and that always helped because it was her pallor which spoilt her looks – and she danced with Devonshire, charming Devonshire who looked at her so tenderly and hopelessly. But how exciting a hopeless love could be! If only Orange could love her hopelessly she would view him so much more favourably. But why think of Orange on such an occasion?
Her father was glowering at Devonshire. Oh dear, she hoped he was not going to make the dear Duke aware of his displeasure. That might mean the sweet creature would be banned from appearing where the Regent was – and that could be disastrous, for Charlotte knew that she would in the future be very often in her father’s company.
‘Come, Papa,’ she said, ‘let us have a Highland Fling on the lawn and as it is my fête I command you to dance with me.’
The Prince hesitated, remembering that other occasion when he had hurt his ankle and been laid up for a time at Oatlands, which had given rise to the usual distressing rumours.
Then he decided to dance with Charlotte and she found herself laughing with him, and everyone who looked on declared that the relationship between the Prince and his daughter was taking a more satisfactory turn.
Driving back to Warwick House with Cornelia and the Duchess, Charlotte chattered about all that happened. It had been a ball of balls. Had not her father looked elegant when he was dancing with her? And did they notice how attentive the Duke of Devonshire was? Did they not think he was a most attractive man?
The Duchess listened fearfully; she was constantly apprehensive of trouble. Cornelia was uneasy, too, remembering the Hesse affair.
The letters had not arrived from Hesse and Mercer was beginning to be uneasy. She had heard from the Captain that he had letters and presents from the Princess and that he kept them in a strong box. He had given instructions that if he should die these were to be returned to the Princess Charlotte or if that were not possible dropped into the sea. He did not believe he could entrust such a precious box in the hands of a messenger.