Jean Plaidy - Victoria in the Wings

She was walking through one of the shady paths close to the river when she heard footsteps behind her and turning saw a woman approaching her. Augusta was immediately aware of her beauty and regal carriage; and she was puzzled; she was not, to her knowledge, a member of the royal family and yet she behaved as though she were.

Augusta could not hide her surprise at being so accosted and to her relief the woman addressed her in German.

‘I’m your sister-in-law, Frederica – Cumberland’s wife. I know you are Augusta and the new Duchess of Cambridge.’

Augusta’s face lit up with pleasure.

She’s certainly pretty, thought Frederica. And yet … somewhat insipid, but that may be compared with an adventuress like myself.

‘It’s such a pleasure to hear someone speak German,’ said Augusta.

‘I was thinking exactly the same. May I join you in your walk or do you prefer to be alone?’

‘Please join me. It will be a great pleasure.’

‘Tell me how do you like England?’

‘It is very strange. There are so many people about. I find London … terrifying. And the noise and the bustle.’

‘Very different from Hesse-Cassel,’ said Frederica. ‘As it is from Mecklenburg-Strelitz.’

‘You notice it too?’

Frederica nodded. ‘I shall not be sorry to go home.’

‘Nor I,’ agreed Augusta.

‘Although,’ went on Frederica, ‘I had a very sad time before I left. Ernest thought it would help me to forget if I went away. I lost my baby.’

Augusta’s expression softened to one of great pity. Frederica was alert. Is she? she wondered.

‘That must have been a terrible tragedy.’

‘Only a mother can know how great,’ said Frederica earnestly. ‘You could not imagine …’

‘I think I could,’ said Augusta.

Significant? wondered Frederica.

‘Do you really?’ Her voice was warm, almost begging for confidences. But Augusta was not of a warm nature; she was also cautious.

‘I suppose,’ went on Frederica, ‘now that you are married you are hoping … as we all do.’

‘As we all do,’ said Augusta. ‘But you have other children.’

‘Yes, I have other children.’

‘From previous marriages.’ The voice was a little cold. Oh, they have been gossiping about me, thought Frederica. What has prim little Augusta heard? If wicked old Aunt Charlotte has discussed me with her, I fear the worst. Augusta would at least know that Frederica was not received by the Queen.

‘I have found happiness at last,’ said Frederica in a voice she hoped sounded suitably soft and romantic. ‘And I hope naturally that I shall bear a child.’ And don’t forget, Madam Augusta, that if we both bear a son mine will come before yours!

It was obvious that Augusta would not confide such a secret to her and she could not ask a direct question naturally. So she allowed the conversation to turn to their lives in their native countries which was clearly what Augusta enjoyed talking about. She would hope that unconsciously Augusta might betray what she wanted to know. So they talked pleasantly and Augusta was clearly delighted to be able to chat easily.

But when they parted Frederica had not discovered what she wanted to know; and they had been seen and the fact that they had been together reported to the Queen.

The Queen was furious.

‘Sophia! Augusta!’ she cried. ‘Why are you never here when I need you? Do you know what has happened? That woman … my brother’s daughter … has been waylaying the Duchess of Cambridge in Kew Gardens and forcing herself upon her.’

‘Well, Mamma,’ said Sophia, ‘I daresay they had a great deal to say to each other. And it must have been good to be able to speak in German together.’

How dared they bandy words with her! What had happened to her family? Mary had left her to marry that fool Slice and although she was constantly being called back to dance attendance on her mother one could not order the Duchess of Gloucester to do this and that as one could the Princess Mary. Elizabeth was making herself a fool with that Humbug. And now Augusta and Sophia seemed to think it fitting to Answer Back.

‘It is disgraceful. Fetch my snuff-box. Sophia, I cannot understand why you cannot do a simple thing like remember my snuff-box. It was very different in the old days.’

‘You were different in the old days, Mamma.’

They were forgetting the respect due to her. Everything was changing. She felt tired and there were pains all over her body.

‘I am … incensed,’ she cried. ‘I gave orders that that woman was not to be received at Court and she has been … waylaying … Augusta.’

‘Mamma, are you all right?’ It was Sophia’s voice coming from some distance it seemed. But Sophia was bending over; her eyes seemed enormous … full of secrets. What dreadful things were said about the children. Were they true? And they were turning away from her. They were all a disappointment to her … except …

‘George?’ she said, and the sound of her voice was like thunder in her ears.

‘I think we should get Mamma to bed,’ said Augusta. ‘And call the doctors.’

The Regent sat by her bed. He held her hand tenderly; and in spite of the pain which racked her body she was almost happy.

He had come as soon as he heard she had been taken ill. How like him! Such perfect manners! But perhaps he was a little anxious. If he were half as concerned as he said he was she would be happy.

‘It was good of you to come,’ she murmured.

‘My dear Madre, as soon as I heard you had been taken ill of course I came. Would you not expect that of me?’ Tenderly reproachful, she thought. How well he did it! But never mind, he did it, and it was for her.

‘My dearest son.’ And there was no pretence about that. He was her dearest son, always had been and always would be. ‘I felt so ill I was sure my last moment had come.’

‘I beg of you do not distress me.’

She smiled. ‘I will not. But I was so shocked. It was that woman … Cumberland’s wife. She is my own niece, I know …’

‘Yes,’ said the Regent whose own troubles loomed so large in his life that he was easily reminded of them, ‘as my wife is my father’s niece.’

‘A pair,’ said the Queen almost viciously. ‘I do believe the one is as bad as the other … in their different ways. Immoral, both of them.’

‘I don’t despair of a divorce.’

‘And she had the impertinence to accost Augusta. I don’t blame Augusta. She speaks no English. She did not understand that I … that we … that you … have forbidden her to come to Court.’

The Regent looked uncomfortable. He had not forbidden Cumberland’s wife to come to Court. He had met her once or twice and thought her an exciting woman. It was the Queen who had refused to receive her. But he did not intend to raise controversial issues now.

The Queen said: ‘That she had dared do this so … upset me. It brought on this attack. It was such … defiance.’

The Regent nodded sadly. He had been reminded of Caroline and once he got that woman into his head he could not get her out. He had sent his spies into her household on the Continent; there was an Italian, Bergami … a kind of majordomo. Was that man her lover? If he was there was every hope that he could divorce her; and then … he would marry again. Some fresh young princess, as exciting as Frederica, Duchess of Cumberland, as beautiful as Augusta, Duchess of Cambridge. Why should his brothers be married to women like that while he had the nauseating Caroline … for more than twenty years he had been tied to her. The years of my youth wasted! he thought dramatically.

‘And,’ the Queen was saying, ‘I cannot allow it to pass. I want to show them my disapproval. I am sure you will approve of this. I am sure you will not wish me to be aggravated by the continued presence of that woman in the country.’

‘Dearest Madre,’ he said, ‘anything that soothes you must be done.’

A triumphant smile gave a grotesque look to the Queen’s yellowish face.

‘I will let Ernest know that he is expected to leave England with his wife … immediately. And that is an order.’

‘So,’ said Frederica, ‘we are ordered to leave.’

Ernest grimaced. ‘And you have only yourself to blame for that, my dear. Your curiosity got the better of you.’

‘But not of Augusta. The girl would not give away her secrets.’

‘So your little encounter was a wasted effort.’

‘Such efforts are never really wasted. I shall not be sorry to go back to Germany. Although, of course, this is the field of action and when the brides of Clarence and Kent arrive the battle will really begin.’ She laughed. ‘But one doesn’t have to be in England to produce the future King. That is what your dear Mamma seems to forget. And although I should have enjoyed staying for a while in Claremont, which Leopold so graciously offered to us, I am not really sorry to go home.’

‘In Germany we have to rely on news from England.’

‘Don’t worry, as soon as one of the contestants is pregnant we shall hear. But I intend to forestall them; and once I am to bear the future King of England even my wicked old aunt won’t be able to keep me out.’

‘Speed the day,’ said Ernest.

‘I have a feeling that it will not be long in coming. And Augusta … I think she was … or will soon be. But what chance will hers have against ours? How clever of you, my Ernest, to get born before Cambridge.’

‘Cleverer still if I’d managed to outdo Clarence and Kent.’

‘Never mind. It makes the fight all the more interesting when the odds are against you.’

But for all she said, Frederica was chagrined to be so dismissed from England by her malevolent old aunt.

ADELAIDE WAS APPREHENSIVE. This was a different marriage from Ida’s. Ida had been in love and able to return home easily, whereas she was so far away that they could not visit each other comfortably. There was something final about crossing the sea.

The Duchess Eleanor was uneasy too. It was for this reason that she had refused a proxy wedding and was determined to accompany her daughter to England; she was glad that she had von Effa and von Konitz with her, for she was sure that she would need their services.

Adelaide was on deck when land was sighted. She stood, her eyes shielded, waiting for the moment when her new country would be more than a hazy white cliff in the distance. Her mother came to stand beside her.

‘Very soon now, Adelaide,’ she said, ‘you will be stepping ashore … on to your new land. It is a solemn moment.’

‘A very solemn moment,’ agreed Adelaide.

‘The Duke of Clarence will be waiting to greet you … impatiently.’

Impatiently? wondered Adelaide. She had heard rumours that he had refused to marry because the allowance Parliament offered was not large enough. So could he be said to be impatient?

And he was fifty-two. He had been notorious for his love affairs – like most of his brothers. He had lived for twenty years with a charming actress. And there had been other women. What would he think of a plain young woman whose appearance had not been enhanced by a long sea voyage? She hoped he would not be there to greet them. A little respite would be desirable.

Now she could see the land more clearly. Away to the right were the treacherous Goodwin Sands where many a ship had foundered. She had heard that sailors on watch at night declared they could hear the cries of those long dead who had been swallowed by the Sands. And here were the white cliffs of Dover and St Margaret’s Bay.

Nearer and nearer came the land. They came ashore at a little fishing village called Deal.

When she discovered that no member of the royal family was waiting at Deal, the Duchess Eleanor was annoyed. Was this the way to greet the princess who might be the mother of a king? She had heard that the royal family treated its new members churlishly; and they were having proof of this.

I am glad I insisted on accompanying my daughter, she thought.

Poor Adelaide. She looked pale, tired and in no mood to face a bridegroom who might be critical. As she might well be of him, thought Duchess Eleanor grimly.

How much better, how much more civilized if he had had the grace to come and woo her as the Duke of Kent had the Princess Victoria, who would be arriving in England at the same time. There was to be a double wedding. But she was not coming to a stranger, as poor Adelaide was. It seemed that there had been a courtship, and the Duke of Kent and his Victoria already had an affection for each other.