Виктория Холт - The Third George

Charlotte, standing by her mother's coffin, looking down into that autocratic face now so white and still and oddly enough younger than Charlotte had ever known her, was suddenly overcome by a fear of the future. Life was ironic, mocking almost. Here you are fussing about weddings, so I will give you a funeral. How can we know from one moment to another, thought Charlotte, what will become of any of us? One must be strong; one must be prepared.

Throughout the schloss they were saying: "This will delay the wedding. The Princess Charlotte cannot think of marriage so soon after her mother's death.”

New hope was springing up in Christina's eyes. Delay meant hope. Often that which was postponed never took place at all.

The King of England was perplexed. It was less than a year ago when his grandfather, George II, had arisen as usual, taken his dish of chocolate, asked, as he did every morning, which way the wind was blowing, announced his intention of taking a walk in Kensington Gardens, gone into his closet in his dressing room and fallen dead. The old king had been in his seventy-seventh year so his death was not unexpected; all the same George, his grandson, had found the mantle of kingship oppressive.

The shock had not been so great as that he had suffered nine years before at the death of his father. That had been unexpected. Frederick Prince of Wales had seemed a normal healthy man until a blow from a tennis ball had triggered off a series of illnesses and at the age of forty-five he had died leaving his widow, the Princess Augusta, pregnant and already the mother of a large family to support her claims to importance in the country and to make her a formidable figure in the eyes of her father-in-law, King George II. She was the mother of this George who had become Prince of Wales on his father's death; her dear George, her meek and malleable George through whom she intended to govern England, although at this time none was aware of the fact.

Then there were Edward Duke of York, William Duke of Gloucester, Henry Duke of Cumberland and young Frederick William. She also had daughters: Augusta who was the eldest of the family and a year George's senior, and Elizabeth, poor deformed clever Elizabeth, who had died when George was Prince of Wales; and lastly there was Caroline Matilda, Frederick's posthumous child who was born four months after his death. But it was her eldest, George, who commanded her attention, for he was the King and on him rested her power.

But all the intricacies of state affairs had been overshadowed in George's mind by thoughts of marriage; for he was betrothed to the Princess Charlotte Sophia of Mecklenburg-Strelitz and he was in love with the Lady Sarah Lennox. As he confided to Lord Bute, that man whom he regarded as his closest friend and who was more than a friend to his mother, George 'boiled for Sarah Lennox'. All day he thought of Sarah; and Sarah was angry with him, which he would be the first to admit was reasonable. Had he not openly shown his feelings for her; he had even proposed obliquely it was true, through innuendoes, to her cousin and friend the Lady Susan Fox- Strangeways. And everyone had believed that he intended to put up a fight at least. There might not have been great opposition. He would have had Henry Fox, Sarah's brother-in-law, on his side and, apart from William Pitt, Fox was perhaps the greatest politician of the day.

But that would not be for long, George knew. His friend Lord Bute was already making plans to remove all those who stood in his way including Mr. Pitt for the reason that Mr. Pitt was no friend to Lord Bute and had made it quite clear that he would not give him a high place in the Government.

George had decided that he must do his duty which his mother and Lord Bute had made clear to him. Kings, of the House of Hanover always married German princesses; he could not marry this young English girl, although she had royal blood in her veins (the wrong side of the blanket, the Dowager Princess of Wales pointed out, for the girl's great-grandmother was Louise de Keroualle, Duchess of Portsmouth, and her great grandfather Charles II). As Sarah was the sister-in-law of Henry Fox this would mean that that very ambitious politician would have far too much influence with the King; moreover, the girl was frivolous and both Lord Bute and the Princess Dowager agreed that if they were going to maintain their hold on the King he must marry a docile German princess preferably one who spoke no English. This would leave them entirely in control of George as they had been since his father's death.

So together they had managed to persuade George of his duty, which had been made easier by that earlier disastrous affair of Hannah Lightfoot, the beautiful young Quakeress with whom George had fancied himself in love over several years and was so besotted that he had set her up in a house in Islington, had had children by her and even committed the greatest indiscretion of all by going through a form of marriage with her.

It was the memory of Hannah which had made George realize the folly he was capable of when he acted without the advice of his friend Lord Bute and his mother.

And so, while he yearned for Sarah Lennox, he agreed to this marriage which they had arranged for him. And now he was desperately trying to put all thought of Sarah from his mind and fall in love with the Princess Charlotte, for he was determined to be a faithful husband and a good king.

He was eager that the Court under his direction should be a moral Court. His grandfather and his great-grandfather had openly flaunted their mistresses. That was shocking, George declared, and had determined that a new standard of morals was going to be set in the reign of George III; if he had to make sacrifices, he was ready to do so.

Never in his life, he assured himself, would he be asked to make a bigger one than this. Therefore he set about making plans for his wedding, throwing himself into the arrangements heart and soul, in this way hoping to drive Sarah from his thoughts.

"There shall be no vulgar ceremony in the bedchamber," he announced. "I have long thought it time we dispensed with that ceremony which after all comes to us from the French.”

His mother and Lord Bute listened delightedly.

"Let him do what he will as long as he agrees to the marriage," said Lord Bute.

"I shall not wish her to bring more than one or two attendants with her," went on George. "These people are apt to meddle.”

His mother and Lord Bute agreed sympathetically that this was true.

"Your Majesty does well to take a firm stand," Bute told him.

The Princess Augusta shot a warning look at Lord Bute. Perhaps they should not remind George that he was the King and could do as he pleased. What if he decided to use the royal prerogative and insist on marriage with Sarah Lennox?

But Lord Bute knew what he was doing. The Princess smiled fondly at the man who was her secret lover though perhaps not so secret, for the whole Court was aware of their liaison and these titbits of gossip never remained inside the Court but always filtered through to the people.

Lord Bute gave her their intimate smile which seemed to say: "You can trust me." And she believed she could.

"How long, I wonder," said George, 'before the Princess arrives?”

"We shall press forward with all arrangements as soon as possible," Bute assured him. "Harcourt will see that there is no delay. Your Majesty is impatient for your bride.”

George hesitated. Perhaps, he thought, when she comes it will be easier. Once I am married to her I shall think only of her. It would be wonderful to put an end to this continual ache for Sarah.

"I am very impatient for that moment to come which will join me to her, I hope for my life.”

The Princess and Bute exchanged glances. George was so reliable except of course when he tried to act without their guidance. They both still shivered now when they contemplated the Lightfoot affair. The Sarah Lennox matter had been far more manageable. But once George was married all would be well. The marriage must take place at the earliest possible moment. Therefore it was comforting to hear from George's own lips that he was impatient for it. When they were alone Lord Bute and the Dowager Princess of Wales began discussing events more candidly than they were able to in the King's presence.

"I cannot wait for Charlotte's arrival," declared the Princess. "I shall not feel safe until they are married.”

"This will surely be one of the most hasty royal marriages that ever took place," smiled Bute. "I keep feeling that something will go wrong.”

Bute took her hand and kissed it tenderly; his eyes regarded her affectionately. He had good reason to feel affection for her. His fortunes had been going up ever since that day fourteen years ago when at Egham races a shower of rain had driven the late Prince of Wales into a tent and he, Bute, had been invited to join the royal party for a game of whist. He had immediately become a favourite of the Prince and an even greater one of the Princess. In those days Frederick had welcomed Bute's devotion to his wife; it had left Frederick to dally with his mistress of the moment while Bute took care of the Princess.

They had been a happy foursome and nothing could have been more amicable. But since Frederick's death, Bute's fortunes had risen fast. Not only had he made himself indispensable to the Princess but to her son; and George looked upon him as a father, for he had always played the part to perfection; and now that George was king, Bute's eyes were on the greatest power available. He wanted the position which was now held by William Pitt the man who was known throughout the country as the Great Commoner, who had dreamed of an Empire for England and had set about obtaining one for her. How he had succeeded was only too apparent.

Horace Walpole, that old gossip, had remarked that each morning he must ask what fresh English victory there had been for fear of missing one. Pitt had declared that he could save England and he was the only one who could. He had taken over the ministry in all but name when England was engaged in a war that seemed disastrous, for her only ally was Frederick the Great, and he and England stood together against the combined forces of France, Austria, Russia and Spain. Pitt was fighting out the conflict in America and India and doing what he had said he would do: turn a kingdom into an Empire.

Recognizing the man's genius, Bute would have been contented to work with Pitt. It was Pitt who had shown so clearly that he would not work with Bute. Pitt had stood firm against the folly of nepotism. The right man for the job, was his cry. And he was proving how right he was. Yet if ever a man hoped to climb through favouritism that man was Bute. He had relied for years on the love of the Princess Dowager; now he relied on that of the King. Bute wanted to rule England; and Pitt had already declared that if the unfortunate day arrived when Bute moved in, he, Pitt, would move out.

Ever since that day Bute had made up his mind that Pitt should go and he was waiting for the time to come when he would have an opportunity of disposing of his enemy.

As he smiled at the Princess he was thinking how safe he was with her. She adored him and he was very fond of her. They worked together, saw eye to eye; Augusta was not a promiscuous woman; she had been the perfect wife when Frederick had been alive; she had stood firmly beside him, accepting his policies, hating those whom he hated, favouring those whom he favoured; and she had not been unfaithful, although Bute knew that often she wished to be ... with him. And as soon as Frederick died there was nothing to prevent their union; neither of them asked for the impossible, which marriage would have been. They were wise enough to do without that mixed blessing. They were as one in mind and body; and they asked nothing more.

Lady Bute came to Court. Thank God-, he had been wise enough to choose a sensible wife. She knew of the relationship between her husband and the Princess. He had given her a large family: "Fourteen children," the Princess Augusta had remarked admiringly, 'in as little time as it takes to get them." She had special privileges as the wife of one of the most prominent men at Court, and so did her children; Bute himself had become a member of the Privy Council, Groom of the Stole and First Gentleman of the Bedchamber; the King consulted him at every turn and he was fast becoming, to all intents and purposes, the Prime Minister. Lady Bute had been created Baroness Mount Stuart of Wortley; and this, her husband had assured her, on one of the rare occasions when he could absent himself from the side of his mistress to spend a little time with her, was a beginning. Yes, Lady Bute was a sensible woman, determined to put no obstacle in the way of her husband's advancement. So with his women he was singularly blessed.