Queen in Waiting - Plaidy Jean (электронную книгу бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗
This little scene was interrupted by the entrance of the Prince of Wales who liked to come into his wife's apartments unceremoniously.
"Vy, my dear," he said. "You are ready." Like Caroline he insisted on talking in English since he had come to England and his accent was as German as Caroline's. "You are in good time. I haf not yet put on my robes."
"You should then," smiled Caroline. *'You must not be late."
He sat down on a chair which Henrietta hastily put for him near his wife's dressing table. He was placed so that he could face her and the rest of the apartment as well.
His expansive smile took in the women. The wife with whom he was well content; the mistress who pleased him also. He felt life was good. He was about to see his father crowned King of England and his father was turned fifty. The day would not be far distant when he would be crowned King of England and Caroline his Queen. She was clever, but not too clever. It would never do for a Queen to be cleverer than her husband. He must watch that. His Caroline was inclined to be a bit of a scholar. And Henrietta, his mistress, was discreet, always ready, meekly flattering. It was a very good existence. If there was no such person as George I life would be very good indeed.
All the women were suitably impressed by his presence. The two girls who were closing the doors of the cupboard were glancing his way and about to curtsey before slipping discreetly away. What pretty creatures! thought George Augustus. I like these English.
"You haf not present to me these young ladies, my tear."
Caroline signed to the girls, who came forward, not shyly because they had been well versed in court manners, but with exactly the right amount of deference.
"Mrs. Molly Lepel, daughter of Brigadier General Nicholas Lepel," Caroline explained.
George Augustus nodded. Pretty creature. And a bold one too. He could see that in her eyes.
"And Mrs. Mary Bellenden, daughter of Lord Bellenden."
The girl curtseyed and raised her magnificent eyes to his face. She was a lively creature, that one; and until he had closely scrutinized her he had thought Molly Lepel must be the loveliest girl at court—now he was not so sure. No, the Bellenden girl was his fancy.
"It please me that you haf to the Princess's household kom-men," he said. "I can see you both vill it decorate ... in a pretty vay."
"Your Highness is gracious/' murmured Molly Lepel; and Mary Bellenden merely lowered her eyes and smiled.
"Veil," went on George Augustus, "you must serve the Princess veil. You vill find she is the best mistress in the vorld."
He turned his eyes to his wife; they were misty with emotion. Oh dear, thought Caroline, he is beginning to make plans for one of these girls—or perhaps both of them. Henrietta was alert too. Poor Henrietta, if she lost her position, her fortunes—and those of her complaisant husband—could change drastically.
"I am sure they vill me serve veil," said Caroline. She nodded dismissal to the girls and they retired. George Augustus's eyes were on them until they disappeared and then he continued to gaze at the door in a bemused fashion.
"They are pretty filles/' said Caroline. "Not very serieuse, I am afraid. I must see they are told of the dangers that could come."
George Augustus looked at her a little sharply and she was immediately uneasy. Had she betrayed a criticism of his behaviour? That would be the quickest way to drive him to some indiscretion. Caroline had an uneasy vision of some pert young woman attempting to show insolence to the Princess of Wales because the Prince of Wales had made love to her.
Yes, she had betrayed that she had noticed his interest in the girls. They were both a little wary.
George Augustus looked at his wife, sitting there dressed for his father's coronation, a long curl hanging over her shoulders, at her dazzlingly white neck and the beginning of her magnificent bust.
His eyes rested there.
"You haf the finest bosom in the vorld, my love," he said.
At least, thought Caroline, he wishes to placate me.
She smiled. "I you vatch throughout the ceremony."
He bent forward and kissed the finest bosom in the world.
Those who supported the House of Hanover had decided that the coronation must be the most splendid of its kind. The people must be reminded that this was not only the crowning
of a King, it was the heralding of a new dynasty. On street corners, in coffee and chocolate houses, in riverside taverns, the Jacobites gathered. Who could say what might not happen on Coronation day. They hoped the wind would howl and the rain pour down, because sunshine could have such an effect on the spirits that the people would be ready to believe life was good while it shone. It was October the 20th, so surely unsettled weather was not impossible.
But the sun shone brilliantly; and the crowd was more eager for a day's pleasure than for the uncertain excitement of rioting. When the fountains flowed with wine, when there was an opportunity to dance and cheer at the procession as it passed, to see the fireworks, to get drunk and make love after dark, who wanted to gamble with death? What did it matter what King was on the throne as long as there were feast days and holidays for the people?
As soon as the Jacobites saw the sun steady in the sky, they knew that the coronation of George I was going to be a day of rejoicing.
In the streets the flower and orange girls, the pie men and the ballad sellers were already gathering, while pickpockets and confidence tricksters made their plans for a day which should provide a record harvest. On the pavements seedy men and women sat with their dice boxes inviting passers by to throw the dice with them and indulge in a little gamble. Already there was evidence of drunkenness. In the October Club the Jacobites had gathered to make gloomy comments on the prospects for the future and drink a secret toast to the King over the Water. On the river there were crafts of all description and from many of these came the sound of music.
Ladies and gentlemen of fashion made their appearance in the streets—the ladies in brilliant gowns, their hair piled high under their enormous hats, their skirts flounced, their waists incredibly small, their bosoms liberally exposed. Patches to show off a fine pair of eyes a luscious mouth or a straight little nose were much in evidence. And the men were every bit as colourful as the women, with their splendidly embroidered waistcoats, their three cornered hats and buckled shoes, their quizzing glasses and their snuff boxes.
The sun, the mood of the people, the gaiety of music and the laughter all had a depressing effect on the Jacobites.
Still, they consoled themselves, it won't last. These people who are cheering the German today will be calling for his blood in a few weeks' time.
Driving to Westminster in his state coach the King was wishing the day over. He had no taste for this sort of thing! He looked grimly out at his cheering subjects and found it hard to raise a smile. He could not much like these English and he, who had never believed himself to be a sentimental man, often thought longingly of Hanover.
To Westminster Hall in accordance with English tradition, where under the canopy of state he received the peers and court officials. A dreary ceremony and he was weary of the whole affair already. He accepted the sword and spurs while the regalia with the crown, chalice, paten and Bible were given to the lords and bishops, to be transported by them in the procession to the Abbey.
I'm a plain man, thought George, though I am a King. They want to crown me. Why can't they put the crown on my head and have done with it?
