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

The King came to St. James's to see his grandson. Caroline received him in bed and he was gracious to her.

A fine woman, he thought, looking at her lying back on her pillows, her hair simply dressed, a curl over either shoulder. Too clever for a woman though. Bernstorff had discovered it; so had Bothmer and Robethon. They must watch this one.

"It is good of Your Majesty to come," she said meekly enough but he didn't trust her meekness. She was the guiding hand in this partnership against him. George Augustus was a fool who allowed his wife to lead him by the nose; and a bigger fool because he didn't know it.

"I come to see my grandson," he retorted with characteristic tactlessness.

The Prince came into the apartment. Uneasily Caroline watched the two regard each other. The Prince bowed; the King nodded and quickly turned back to the bed.

"Your Majesty will wish to see the boy," said Caroline, and signed to one of the attendants to have the child brought to the King.

The nurse came and stood before George, holding the child in her arms. The King looked down into the little face and grunted.

"The Prince and I have decided to call him Lewis," said Caroline, and waited for the sign of pleasure in the grim old face.

Instead the lips tightened; and there was no show of pleasure.

Thinking it was because he was trying to hide his pleasure she hurried on: "And as sponsors we have chosen the Queen of Prussia and the Duke of Osnabriick and York."

The King was silent for a moment. Then he said: "His name shall be George William and I shall let you know who his sponsors will be."

With that he gave her a curt nod and without another look at his son strode out of the apartment.

The Prince was furious. There before his attendants, the nurse and some of the bedchamber women he took off his wig and kicked it over the bed.

**He is von old scoundrel. Whose son is this? Is it mine or is it his? I tell you his name is Lewis. I vill not have his sponsors "

With a nod Caroline signed to Henrietta Howard to pick up the wig and present it to the Prince.

This she did; he took it ungraciously and slammed it on his head. It was awry, and his face purple with rage looked almost comic beneath it. Caroline believed that Molly Lepel and Sophie Howe were having great difficulties in suppressing their giggles.

"You may leave us," said Caroline to all present.

And when they were alone she set herself the difficult task of persuading the Prince that they would have to fall in with the King's wishes because he had the power to make them. They must be patient, remembering that it would not always be so.

Caroline was in bed for the christening. She was both angry and apprehensive. The King had shown his animosity not only by forcing them to have the name of his choice but by selecting for one of the sponsors the Duke of Newcastle whom he knew —and the whole court knew—was a particular enemy of the Prince and Princess of Wales.

She was terrified that George Augustus would be unable to control his rage. If he insulted the King in public the consequences could be disastrous. She dared not warn him of this for it might put the idea into his mind; and his very fearlessness could make him reckless.

When Newcastle came into the apartment she saw the Prince turn his back on him. Newcastle was an extremely ugly man and it was obvious from his demeanour that he knew

the Prince deplored his presence, and was amused by this.

The Duchess of St. Albans was co-sponsor with the King and Newcastle. Caroline had no great feeling for or against her, except for the fact that she had not chosen her and she thought that a Prince of the royal house should have had royal sponsors.

How relieved she w^ould be when the ceremony was over! She must try to forget her chagrin, and persuade George Augustus to do the same, for this matter, while extremely irritating and humiliating would not damage their reputation with the people, which was more important than anything. In fact, the people would be indignant on their behalf which might mean it was a good thing after all.

The ceremony was over quickly and the King left immediately. The Prince however was glaring at Newcastle on whose unprepossessing face there was a faint sneer. The Prince had grown scarlet; the veins stood out at his temples and rushing to Newcastle he shook his fist at him shouting in English which was always more imperfect than usual when he was disturbed: "You are von scoundrel. I vill find you."

What the Prince meant to imply was that he would discover what intrigues the Duke was engaged in; but the Duke thought he was trying to say he would fight him; and he gathered that this was a challenge to a duel.

He bowed and hastily left the apartment.

He went at once to his friends Sunderland and Stanhope who listened intently to what he had to say.

They said they would consult the King's minister, Bernstorff, who would know better than anyone else what the King's reaction would be to such blatant indiscretion on the part of the Prince.

The four men talked the matter over.

There would be no duel. The Prince would not be allowed to fight.

Secretly all but Newcastle, when they heard what the Prince had said, realized that it was his imperfect English which had given the wrong impression; but as they were eager to increase

the animosity between the King and the Prince they thought it wise to keep to the original construction.

The Prince was a fool, but a fool with a clever wife. Therefore he was a danger. He was their enemy, so if it were possible to incense the King more deeply against him all the better.

"The Prince is clearly a danger to the King's ministers," said Bernstorff. *1 will put this matter before him."

To the Prince's apartments came the Dukes of Kent, Roxburgh and Kingston.

**Vat you vant?" demanded the Prince.

**We come on His Majesty's instructions."

"Veil, veil, vat is it?"

"We have to question Your Highness on the challenge you have made to the Duke of Newcastle."

"Challenge? Vat is this challenge?"

"You have challenged him to a duel."

"You are mad."

"The Duke of Newcastle complains that Your Highness has challenged him to a duel. He cannot accept your challenge. In the name of the King "

"In the name of the King vill you get out of here."

"We come to question Your Highness on the King's order."

"I answer not questions ... to the King, that old scoundrel, nor to you. I made no challenge. Newcastle is von liar. Get out or I vill you out throw."

The Dukes retired and went to the King who after listening intently gave the order that the Prince should be placed under arrest.

Throughout the Court and all over London the news of the Prince's arrest was being discussed.

He was shut in his apartments with the Princess and neither of them was allowed to venture out. Even those attendants who had not been in the apartments at the time of the arrest were not permitted to go to their master and mistress.

In the coffee houses there was excited speculation. Sympathy

was with the Prince who, when he was Guardian of the Realm, had shown them how much more gay and colourful life would be if he were King. The Princess was popular too, so the people were on their side.

The King was a sour old man; his mistresses were ugly; he rarely smiled; he made no concessions to popularity; he preferred Hanover to England. Let him go back and live on sausages and sauerkraut. He had a wife whom he had kept shut up in a prison for more than twenty years. He was a wicked old ogre. Did he now think to imprison his son as he had his wife!