Queen in Waiting: (Georgian Series) (34 page)

He stopped; Stanhope was giving him a warning look but he knew very well what he wanted to imply.

‘Attempt what?’ asked the King.

‘Attempt to make a circle… a little court… apart from Your Majesty’s. It is not the first time it has been done.’

Angry lights shot up in the King’s eyes. ‘She would not dare.’

‘Not openly perhaps, Your Majesty. But it would not be good to have a rival court. The friendship with Argyll, for instance…’

‘Dismiss Argyll.’

There was silence. The King could scarcely order the Prince to part with a member of his own household. After all, the Prince was adult, and heir to the throne; he had some say in the management of his own affairs.

‘Dismiss Argyll,’ repeated the King. ‘I will send an order to the Prince at once. Well, why are you silent?’

Walpole said: ‘Your Majesty, I doubt the Prince will agree.’

‘He will agree or face my displeasure.’

A quarrel in the royal family – an open one, this time. What effect would that have? The King’s ministers considered the effect on themselves. Townsend was telling himself that the King would not live for ever; and when the new king came to the throne he would be more inclined to favour those who had been with him before he took the crown rather than those who hurried to stand in line when he did. If this was going to be a quarrel between King and Prince, perhaps the far-seeing man would take his stand beside the Prince.

Stanhope and Townsend were silent and Walpole said: ‘Your Majesty will know how to deal with the Prince, and when Your Majesty is in Hanover…’

‘I’ll not make him Regent. The care of the realm will be left in the hands of my ministers.’

Not an unsatisfactory arrangement, thought Walpole. It was in the hands of his ministers now, for George’s heart was in Hanover and he did not seem to care how much this country was
governed – as long as the Prince had no hand in it.

Family quarrels were bad for a royal family, but very often offered advantages to ministers.

When Caroline heard that the King was going to Hanover she forgot her usual discretion. He would see little Fritzchen; and surely he would be made to understand how a mother felt about her only son.

She asked for an audience with the King which was grudgingly granted. George thought she should have kept away, particularly in view of all the bother about Argyll.

When she came to him he dismissed his attendants and looked at her suspiciously. Oh yes, he thought, George Augustus may be a fool but this one isn’t.

He waited in sullen silence for her to speak.

‘Your Majesty is going to Hanover and will see your grandson. Will you please tell him how I miss him here, how I long to see him and hope that you will soon allow him to join his father, mother and the girls.’

‘Unsettling,’ said the King shaking his head.

‘But he will come to England… in time.’

‘In time. Not yet.’

‘But he will be the heir to the throne…’

George scowled. He did not like any reference to his death; one of the reasons for his great dislike of his son was because he was continually referred to as the next king, a title he could only take on his father’s death.

‘He has his duties in Hanover.’

The mother took possession of the diplomatist, and Caroline cried out: ‘What duties can a little boy of nine have? It is cruel to keep him from his mother.’

‘You’re hysterical.’

‘I am not.’ It was something of which she had never been accused; and it was undeserved. She was a natural mother crying out against an unnatural separation. ‘Like any mother I want my son.’

‘You are a Princess and know that Frederick has his duties.’

‘And how do you think he is growing up there… without his family?’

‘He has his guardians… and his duties.’

‘You are hard.’

George looked bored.

‘You must listen to me.’

He stared over her head. ‘There’s nothing more to be said.’

The colour in her cheeks hid the slight imperfections made by the smallpox; her auburn hair was simply dressed with a curl hanging on her shoulder. She was an attractive woman, with her magnificent bust accentuated by her small waist and her ample hips. She had a figure which George admired. In fact, had she not been his daughter-in-law… But she was and there was no sense in involving himself. Not that she would allow herself to be involved.

All women are the same in the dark, thought George with a yawn.

‘There is a great deal to be said,’ she replied. ‘I want my son to join his family. After all, he is my son.’

‘He’s my grandson. He has his duties.’

‘I beg of you…’

‘You waste your time.’

‘Have you no heart… no feelings?’

‘No.’

‘Can’t you understand how a parent feels towards a child…’

He yawned again, this time significantly. He understood very well how he felt towards his son. He despised the fellow; in fact there were times when if he were a more violent man he might have hated him.

‘Frederick remains in Hanover,’ he said.

‘I see it is no use appealing to you,’ she retorted; and for once her calm deserted her. She could not help it. She thought of the birth of Fritzchen and how happy she had been; what plans she had made for his future; and how, even when this monster had given the order that he was to remain in Hanover, she had not really believed he would stay there for more than a few months.

‘He must learn to rule,’ said George.

‘As you do?’ she cried. ‘You do not rule! Your German friends rule… Bernstorff, Bothmer and Robethon, helped by Townsend, Walpole and Stanhope. These are the men who rule England… and you are content to let them do so. Yet Fritzchen
with such an example before him must stay in Hanover to learn to rule. What do you think he is doing in Hanover… learning to rule like his grandfather does?’

The King was astonished; so was Caroline.

In moments of stress, all one’s restraint fell away.

‘You get too excited,’ said the King.

‘Your Majesty’s pardon.’

The King nodded his head and Caroline was dismissed.

She went slowly to her own apartments. What a fool I was! she thought. He’ll hate me now. I’ve shown my true feelings.

There was no point in pretending to be a docile wife and daughter-in-law now she had shown her true feelings. She would come out in the open and if she could not have her son, at least she would have her separate court; she and George Augustus would have their own friends, men of influence; so there would be the court of the Prince of Wales as well as the King’s. And the Prince of Wales’s court would be that to which all men of intellect would want to belong.

She would send for Leibniz. But the King would not allow him to come. Still, she would attempt to get him over. Perhaps if the King refused to let her have Fritzchen he would give her her old friend as a consolation. As if George would care about consolation!

Still, it was open warfare from now on.

George was thinking of her, which would have surprised her: ‘Damn fine woman. A pity she’s that fool’s wife. He can’t appreciate her. If she wasn’t… Oh, well, all women are alike in the dark. She’s a she-devil too. We’ll have to watch her. George Augustus is nothing but a fool – but not that one.’

The whole court was interested in the battle for Argyll.

‘He shall be dismissed from the Prince’s household,’ said the King.

‘I only shall decide whom I keep in my household,’ said the Prince.

Caroline was beside her husband in this. ‘We will stand firm,’ she told him. ‘He must be shown that we demand some consideration.’

Her petition that Leibniz be allowed to come to England was
met by a blank refusal from the King.

‘We don’t want these intellectual men here. There are enough of them in England already. Besides he has work to do there.’

Caroline was now firmly ranged against the King and this brought her closer to her husband. To quarrel with his father had always been a favourite pleasure of the Prince’s and in the past it had been Caroline who restrained him. It was different now. She could not forgive George for separating her from Fritzchen in the first place and refusing Leibniz permission to come to England in the second.

‘He cannot force you to dismiss Argyll,’ said Caroline. ‘All you have to do is stand firm. You have friends.’

‘Do you think they’ll stand with us against the King?’

Caroline nodded.

‘Who?’

‘Mr Prime Minister.’

‘Townsend!’

‘He is playing for safety. He thinks of the time George II is on the throne.’

Contemplating such a time always gave George Augustus the greatest pleasure.

‘Ah, he is von clever man, this Townsend.’

‘And ve vill be clever too.’

‘I think I am, my tear.’

She smiled at him. It would always be so. She must learn to accept the fact that she was the one who made the decisions and he was the one who thought they were his.

‘Yes, of course you are. I think the King is very foolish. He does not govern. He dreams of Hanover ven he has this great country. He is
fou
.’

‘Let him be, Caroline. Let him be. All the better for me the more
fou
he is, eh?’

‘All the better,’ she agreed. ‘So we’ll keep Argyll, just to show him that if he keeps our son from us at least we can choose our own servants.’

‘I vill this show him,’ cried the Prince.

George felt more at ease discussing this family disagreement with
his German ministers than his English ones. He would never be sure of the English; and he fancied his Prime Minister – while not exactly supporting the Prince – was trying hard not to offend him. There were three whom he could trust: Bernstorff, Bothmer and Robethon. His own countrymen on whose loyalty he could rely.

Bernstorff had worked for his father when he was in the employ of the Duke of Celle, and it was largely due to him that George’s marriage with Sophia Dorothea had come about. True, that marriage had been disastrous and George now wished it had never taken place, but at the time it had been the wish of George’s father that it should, and it had been a most advantageous match… financially. That Sophia Dorothea was a harlot whom he had been forced to put away was no fault of Bernstorff’s. And when the Duke of Celle had died, after keeping an eye on his affairs for the benefit of Hanover, of course, it had seemed natural that Bernstorff should openly serve the House of Hanover which had been his real master for so many years. Bernstorff’s fortunes were bound up in those of George I; therefore he could be trusted.

Then there was Count Hans Caspar von Bothmer; he had been very useful as George’s ambassador at St James’s before his accession and it was due to his efficiency and diplomacy that George’s arrival in England had come about so peacefully. Now he was able to advise his master on foreign affairs.

Jean de Robethon was a quiet man. A Huguenot who had found refuge in the German court, he was ready to serve efficiently behind the scenes. He never sought the limelight, but he was aware of what an important part he played – and so was George.

To these three the King now turned in this quarrel with his son, for as he said he did not trust the English. They were out for gain. By God, he thought, I never knew such men for looking after their own pockets. He didn’t trust them; while they bowed to him and swore allegiance they were weighing up how much longer he was likely to live and wondering how they could curry favour with the man who would be George II.

So now the King called his three German friends and advisers
to his private chamber, and there they were closeted to discuss the imminent journey to Hanover and the recalcitrance of the Prince of Wales.

‘If he thinks he is going to play King while I’m away he’s mistaken,’ said George.

‘Depend upon it,’ replied Bernstorff, ‘he will make full use of his opportunities.’

‘He is a fool,’ said the King.

‘The Princess is no fool,’ added Robethon.

‘That’s true enough. But they shall have no power.’

‘It will be necessary to take this before the Parliament,’ Bothmer suggested.

‘Oh, these English and their parliaments!’ cried George.

‘Of which Your Majesty is head,’ Bernstorff reminded him.

‘We must act carefully,’ cautioned Robethon. ‘And one of us should remain behind to watch what is happening in Your Majesty’s absence.’

The King looked at his three friends; he saw the apprehension in their eyes, for they were as homesick as he was and the longing to see Hanover again was great.

‘It’s true,’ he said.

Bernstorff he must have with him; Robethon was too useful a man to leave behind. As for Bothmer, he had been the ambassador at St James’s and was the diplomat who understood the ways of the English far better than the others. There could be no doubt who should be the one to remain and act as spy on the Prince of Wales.

They all knew it.

Bothmer said: ‘I should be the one to remain.’

George nodded. That was all; but it was a recognition of a good servant. He was not a man to forget a friend any more than he would forgive an enemy – he could be as loyal as he was vindictive.

It was agreed then that Bothmer would remain.

‘Your Majesty must insist on the dismissal of Argyll,’ said Bernstorff, for his ministers always respected the King’s custom of not wasting time on a matter which had already been settled.

‘It seems it is not so easy,’ replied George.

‘There is a way,’ put in Robethon.

They were all looking at the clever one who worked in the shadows.

‘Make a condition,’ said Robethon. ‘If the Prince does not please you in this matter of Argyll you recall your brother, the Duke of Osnabrück, to act as Regent.’

George, taken aback, stared at his secretary and the other two caught their breath. They turned to the King to see his reception of the news.

‘You think these English would allow that?’

‘They will not have to. The Prince will give way to your wishes over Argyll.’

‘But to bring my brother here!’ George was thinking of his youth when he, the eldest of a family of brothers, was hated by them all because they were jealous of his inheritance. Bring Ernest Augustus to England! Let him act as Regent! He saw trouble there.