Виктория Холт - Queen in waiting

"You vill them see," he told her. "He does not say you vill not see them. From time to time, he says. But it vill not be for long. Ve vill think of something, my tearest."

And she looked at him and knew that she must choose to be with him. She was necessary to him. What would become of him without her? What would become of them both? He was as one of her children and she dared not desert him now.

She wrote to the King: "Where my husband goes there must I go too."

The maids of honour were packing hastily.

"This is disastrous," said Margaret Meadows. "It is the beginning of real trouble between the King and the Prince."

"We'll have a better time in the Prince's Court than in the King's," commented Sophie Howe. "Of all the dreary places in the world ... St. James's is the most dreary! "

"I wish it were like that summer at Hampton," said Molly Lepel. "That was a glorious time."

Mary Bellenden joined them; she was in high spirits, for where she went John Campbell as gentleman of the Prince's bedchamber would go.

"Are you ready?" she cried. "Then come—over the hills and far away!"

The coach jolted along to Albemarle Street. Already there were little knots of people in the streets to watch the party. The Prince of Wales turned out of the Palace! Who ever heard of such a thing! These Germans had no family feeling. They didn't want Germans here. King Charles had always been jovial and kind to members of his family. It had been a pleasure to see him with his little nieces. And his brother James had doted on Anne and Mary; Anne's love for her only child who lived past his infancy was quite touching. But German George had been really cruel to the poor Princess. Not only had he taken her daughters from her but he had separated her from her newly born baby.

Family bickering was one thing, but to drive a woman from her children, soon after she's risen from childbed was real cruelty.

"Damn George," said the people. "Damn the German. And God bless the Prince and Princess of Wales."

In Grantham House the Princess was in a state of collapse. Her women got her quickly to bed and feared that she would not recover.

The Prince sat beside her bed covering his face with his hands and crying quietly.

Rumours that the Prince and Princess were ill circulated in the streets and little knots of people stood outside Grantham's house waiting for news of them while in St. James's the King gave orders that any foreign ambassadors who visited the Prince would not be received at his Court.

And now, he said, that the troublesome Prince is no longer with us let us enjoy some peace.

A new drama soon arose. The newly born child, deprived of its mother, became ill. The nurses whom the King had commanded to care for the little boy at first assured themselves that this was nothing but a normal childish ailment, but as the child grew more wan and fretful they could no longer deceive themselves and sent for the physicians, who, when they saw the child, decided that the King should be informed, without delay, of its condition.

"Well," said George gruffly, "what do you recommend?"

"That Your Majesty should send at once for the child's mother."

"That's impossible," snapped the King.

"We fear, sir, that if you do not the child will die."

"Nonsense. What can she do that you can't? Are you doctors or not?"

"In our opinion, Your Majesty, the child is pining for his mother."

George looked at them suspiciously. He was inclined to suspect them of working for the Prince.

"She is forbidden to come to the palace, so she must stay away."

And with that he dismissed the doctors.

But the people were too interested in the family quarrel not to have discovered what was happening in the Palace, and when it became known that the newly born child was ill and not allowed to see its mother, the crowds grew angry.

"Keep a babe from its mother I" they cried. "What sort of a monster is this we've got as a King."

Stanhope came to see George.

"If the child dies. Your Majesty, and his mother is not allowed to see him, there might be riots. These people are sentimental about children."

George was thoughtful.

"The Princess may come, but not the Prince."

"I will send a message to her immediately," replied Stanhope.

When Caroline received the message she immediately prepared to leave Albermarle Street for St. James's. The people crowded the streets to see her pass and shout their good wishes.

She smiled wanly; and when they saw how ill she looked and how sad they shouted: "God bless you. And down with the unnatural German monster."

Caroline felt comforted and wondered whether she would be allowed to stay at St. James's and nurse her baby; and whether she would have a chance of seeing her daughters.

On reaching the Palace she was hurriedly taken to an apartment which had been prepared for her and when she saw her child she was overcome with grief for she realized how ill he was. He was suffering from fever and his cough was so incessant that she was afraid she had come too late.

She took him from his nurses and said she would have charge of him now, and all through the night she sat with him and although he continued to cough and his fever was as high as ever, she fancied he knew her and was comforted.

The child was sleeping in his cradle. He looked very ill, but at least he slept. Caroline kept her place at his cradle, rocking it gently to and fro and turning over in her mind whether she might not plead with the King at least to allow her to have care of this child.

Henrietta, whom she had brought with her, came silently into the room and said that the little girls were outside and longing to see their mother.

"Oh Henrietta, bring them in to me! "

The door was flung open and the girls ran in to throw themselves into their mother's arms.

"Anne ... my dear ... and Amelia ... and where's my baby Caroline?"

"Here, Mamma! Here!"

"Oh, my darlings! "

She was weeping; and they had never seen her weep before. They would not have thought their stately, wise Mamma capable of tears. And because she was crying for them that made them sad and happy at the same time; and very soon they were all crying with her.

"But ve are /ou," said Caroline. "Here ve are together ... and ve veep ven ve should be laughing. Oh, it makes me happy to see you. Are you goot girls? Do you miss Mamma ... and Papa?"

"We miss you. Mamma," said Amelia, the truthful one.

Caroline pretended not to notice the omission. She thought:

What do they hear of their father? There must be whisperings about him in the King's court.

"We are like charity children," said Anne.

"Charity children?" cried Caroline.

"Yes ... although we have a good mother and we have a father ... we are not with them and that makes us like charity children."

"Ve shall be together soon ... you children and Papa and myself."

"When Mamma, when?" demanded little Caroline.

"Ven it... is permitted."

"I do not like grandfather much," said Amelia.

"He is the King," put in Anne in a shocked voice looking over her shoulder.

Were they being furtive? wondered Caroline. Did they talk together about the King, about the family quarrel? Did their servants whisper gossip to them? 'You must not mention this ... or that...'

It is so bad for them, she thought. Oh, why cannot I bring up my own children in the way I want. It is so cruel. He knows what hurts me most.

"That doesn't make me like him," said Amelia.

"I like Mamma," said young Caroline.

Caroline held her more tightly. "Tell me please ... what do you do all day?"

"Lady Portland is our governess," said Amelia.

"She is kind to you?"

They nodded.

"We walk and we read and we say prayers. And Mr. Handel is going to teach us music."

"You must be goot ... goot ... and learn. And soon ve shall be together."

"Why can't we be now?" Caroline wanted to know.

"Because of Grandpapa and Papa," said Amelia. "They have had a quarrel and it is to punish Mamma."

Oh, what do they hear? wondered Caroline again.

"Mamma is punished because she loves us," said Caroline.

And the Princess was weeping again, straining them to her breast. It was wrong, but for once she could not control her emotions. These were her beloved children and how did she know when she should see them again?

"The Princess has been with my granddaughters! " cried the King. "This is forbidden. Of what use for me to give orders if they are not obeyed? Who took my granddaughters to their mother's apartment?"

Bernstorff pointed out that it was deplorable that His Majesty's wishes had been disregarded but if the people knew that he prevented their mother seeing the children there might be demonstrations against him in the streets. The people were a little placated because the Princess had been allowed to see her sick son; but if they knew someone had been reprimanded for taking her daughters to her there could be trouble.

"There will be trouble while that woman is under this roof. She shall not stay here."

"But the young Prince is still dangerously ill."

"I have said I will not have her here and I mean it."

"Sir..."

"Let the child be removed to Kensington and his mother can go there to be with him."

"I will ask the doctors if he is well enough to be moved. Your Majesty."

"He is to be moved. They say the air at Kensington is good. Let him go there and his mother with him."

"It shall be so, sir."

The doctors came to see the King.

"Your Majesty, the child is too sick to be moved."

"I do not want his mother here."

"He has improved a little since her coming, sir."

"She makes trouble under this roof. I will not have her."

"We do not advise moving the child."

"Nonsense! They tell me the air at Kensington is better than here at St. James's."

"But at this time of year ... the weather being so inclement ... and the child so sick."

"Send him to Kensington or send his mother away." The next day Caroline and her baby left St. James's for Kensington Palace.

The child was dying. Caroline knew and so did the Prince who had joined her at Kensington.

They sat on either side of the small cradle and wept; and while they watched that small frail body seized by convulsions they were filled with a great hatred for the man whom they believed was responsible.

Henrietta who had accompanied them to Kensington came and stood at some little distance from the cradle. She knew before they did that the child was dead.

Eventually Caroline rose and went quietly from the apartment.

I shall hate him as long as we both live, she thought.

And when she rode back to Albemarle Street and the crowds were silent in their sympathy she felt a little comfort because she knew that they too hated the man who was their King.

Her child dead, her children taken from her care, Caroline felt there was only one thing left to her. She would take her revenge on the man who had treated her so cruelly and by so doing lay the foundations of the power she was determined should be hers when she was Queen of England.

"Ve can't stay at Grantham's house," she told the Prince. "Ve must find a place of our own."

George Augustus, whose grief was superficial, agreed.

"Ve vill find a suitable residence," said Caroline, "and ven ve have found it vill ve build such a court as to make the King's look like a provincial country gentleman's house."

The Prince was delighted. His hatred of his father was far from superficial.

"Veil," said Caroline, "ve begin to look vithout delay."

It was not long before they discovered Leicester House, and as soon as Caroline saw it she knew that she wanted it.

It was on the north side of Leicester Fields and a courtyard stood between it and the public square. It had a pleasant Dutch garden at the back; and Caroline pointed out to the Prince that if they bought the house which adjoined it they could have complete privacy. Although it had only two storeys, the reception rooms were very fine and there was a grand staircase. The neighbourhood was not all that might be desired; on either side of the house were rows of shops; but the main drawback was that Leicester Fields had a bad reputation, having been the resort of all kinds of undesirable characters in the past. Footpads had lurked in the Fields by night and confidence tricksters by day; many a duel had been fought in front of Leicester House, many a nose split by the terrifying Mohocks.