Queen in Waiting - Plaidy Jean (электронную книгу бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

He was right, of course, thought Caroline; but in fact her thoughts were more occupied with George Augustus's interest in Mary Bellenden than Bishop Burnet's criticism of her maids.

How far would Mary Bellenden seek to impose her will, she wondered. She was very very pretty and could no doubt have a great influence on George Augustus if she wished. She reminded herself that she had been lucky so far.

The King gave a louder snore than usual which woke him up; he looked about him startled for a moment and then saw that the service was almost over, so yawning inelegantly he prepared to leave. The maids of honour—Sophia Howe still

giggling—trooped out of their pews, and the royal party left the church for the palace.

# * •

Bishop Burnet bowed to Caroline.

"I am grieved, Your Highness," he said, "to make this complaint to you, but it is no use taking it to His Majesty whose snoring through my sermons—and those of others—shows clearly that he has little respect for the conduct of his servants in church."

"For me too there is the grief," replied Caroline. "I too have these naughty girls seen."

"Your Highness will agree, I am sure that such behaviour cannot continue."

"I agree," replied Caroline.

"The Church is becoming nothing but a meeting place for the purpose of flirtation. It is full now of young men who come simply to gaze at the maids of honour and attempt to make their acquaintance. Your Highness will agree that that is not the purpose of the service."

"You are right. Bishop."

"It cannot go on."

"Do you vish that they stay away?"

"Stay away and imperil their souls. Your Highness? Those girls are half-way to perdition already. No, their pew should be boarded in and the board should be high enough to prevent their being seen by the young men."

"You mean ... put them in a petit ... box?"

"Your Highness might call it that. They must listen to the service but not be seen."

"Oh, it is ... traurig. They are so pretty."

"Your Highness we must not concern ourselves with their physical perfections but the welfare of their souls."

"Ah, yes, yes. There shall be this ... box, if you so say."

Dr. Burnet left the Princess satisfied with his interview. She was a good woman, a sensible woman; and he would not be displeased when the time came for her to mount the throne as Queen.

S$o Queen in Waiting

The Prince had waylaid Mary Bellenden.

"Vou are von pretty mddchen," he told her.

She made a pert curtsey.

**I you like very much."

She took a few paces backwards and head on one side regarded him, slightly insolently, but she was so pretty that even so she was delightful.

"And you like me? That is veil, eh?"

"It is the duty of a good subject to honour the Prince of Wales," replied Mary demurely.

"So, you vill this duty do?"

"It depends how far this duty extends."

"Vat is dis?"

"Your Highness I am a virtuous young lady."

"Ah ... yes ... you are very pretty."

"So I am told. Your Highness. But I am constantly having to tell others how virtuous I am. They won't believe me. But I have to convince them. And it will be the same with your Highness, I fear."

"Vat is dis?"

But she had already made a sweeping curtsey and moved to the door; she smiled at him provocatively for one second before she disappeared.

"Got damn it," said the Prince.

There were wails of protests from the gay gallants of the court when they saw the boarded-up pew but this was something they could not blame on the Hanoverians. This was their own Bishop Burnet who had decided to hide the pretty creatures from sight. The whole object of going to church was spoilt; for it was small consolation to hear the giggles of Sophia Howe, always louder than the rest, behind the high wooden wall.

They didn't go to church to be bored by Bishop Burnet or any preacher; and the amusement the King had at first caused with his snores and loud conversation during sermon time had worn thin.

Soon the lampooners were busy.

''Bishop Burnet perceived that the beautiful dames Who flocked to the chapel of hilly St. James On their lovers alone their kind looks did bestow. And smiled not on him while he bellowed below."

There followed more verses to explain what had happened and these ended with:

''The Princess by rude importunity pressed,

Though she laughed at his reasons, allowed his request;

And now Britain's nymphs in a Protestant reign

Are boxed up at prayers like virgins of Spain/'

The King read copies of the lampoon and saw for the first time that these English could mock their own kind, if they thought they deserved it, as readily as any stranger. He saw too that they were no respecters of persons.

He felt a little warmer towards them and was more than usually disturbed when reports of new Jacobite riots were brought to him.

His unpopularity increased with the passing of the months. His two German mistresses were loathed by the people and jeered at whenever their coaches were seen in the streets. Schulemburg, who remained his first favourite, had proved herself to be of a very avaricious disposition and was continually seeking to enlarge her fortunes. George knew this and made no effort to stop her. The English, he said, were the most grasping people he had ever met. He was constantly being pestered by those about him for posts for this and that relation or friend. Therefore he was sardonically amused that Ermen-garda should get what she wanted from them.

She came to him one day in a state of some agitation. She had been riding through the streets of London when the crowd had stopped her carriage and shouted insults at her.

"They call me Maypole," she said.

"There's nothing new in that," replied George. "It's the name they gave you when they first saw you."

For once Ermengarda could not be placated; her face under her red wig was sweating with indignation.

**l look from the window and I spoke to them in English," she explained. "I said this: 'Good pipple, why you abuse us? We come for all your goots.' And what do you think they shouted at me? *Yes, damn you,' they cried, 'And for all our chattels too.'"

When George understood the meaning of this he laughed sardonically. They were a garrulous lot, his new subjects. They seemed in love with words; no wonder the lampooners were so effective.

He told Ermengarda that she must not take the matter to heart.

"For," he said gloomily, "we are here, and here we must try to stay."

"And you think they will not send us back to Hanover?" she asked, little lights of fear shooting up in her eyes. If they returned to Hanover what would happen to her plans for amassing future wealth. England was a great milch cow and her dear George Lewis, whom she had truly loved for so long that she was as a wife to him, would help her to the milking.

"I think some may try," said George, "but they won't succeed."

"No, we must stop them. It could never be that they should turn you out. Silly people. Do they not know you come for their good."

"And their chattels?" added George with a rare touch of humour.

The King was thoughtful while being dressed by the only two servants whom he allowed into his bedchamber. This in itself was a complete disregard of royal etiquette for the ceremony of dressing the King had been one of the most important in the household and those courtiers who took part in it consequently of high standing. And that these two servants should be Turks was yet another insult to English custom.