The Princess of Celle: (Georgian Series) (21 page)

‘Get working on them right away.’

‘That they may help in preventing this marriage, yes.’

‘Is there someone who might be a good match for George Lewis?’

‘Well, there is a cousin. The Duke of Celle’s daughter. I imagine it would be an attractive match for both the fathers. You see, it would join up Hanover and Celle and you know how these little German princelings like to sew their lands together. It’s an old German custom.’

‘That seems a good idea.’

‘Get our agents out to Hanover and Celle at once and tell them that they are to work without delay for a marriage between Hanover and Celle. Then … we must see our people in London. We have to make sure that no pretty little romance is allowed to flourish between my fat sister-in-law and this handsome young princeling.’

Bentinck laughed. ‘It shall be done,’ he said.

George Lewis was sorry to leave the hospitable Dutch; but he guessed that his English relations would be as pleased to see him.

It was a dismal day when the boat which carried him lay off Greenwich and he was surprised that his mother’s cousin, the King of England, had sent no one to welcome him. It was very different from the arrival in Holland. His mother had warned him that the first thing he must do when he reached England was get in touch with his uncle, Prince Rupert, who would, if it were necessary, introduce him to the English Court; and since it seemed he would need some introduction George Lewis sent one of his men ashore with a letter for his uncle.

Rupert returned with the messenger. So this, thought George Lewis, was the Prince with the fabulous reputation: Rupert of the Rhine, who had fought for his uncle Charles I and his cousin Charles II and was known as one of the greatest soldiers of his day! As one soldier to another, George Lewis was impressed.

Prince Rupert, being just past sixty, was also past the days of his glory. There were the remains though of handsome looks and his garments were so elegant that George Lewis could only stare with open mouth and marvel that great soldiers should choose to deck themselves out in such a fashion. His coat was of scarlet velvet richly trimmed with silver lace – the same lace trimmed his satin breeches; but his face was gnarled with time and weather and went ill with such finery.

But he was still one of the greatest soldiers of his day and was now one of the King’s privy councillors. A man of influence and just the person needed to introduce a rather shy young man to a foreign court.

‘So …’ he said, his eyes cool and appraising. ‘You are George Lewis. Your mother has written to me much of you.’

But she hadn’t told him what a country lout he was or Rupert would have suggested teaching him a few gracious manners before sending him to England.

‘She talks of you continually … and England.’

‘It is to be expected,’ replied Rupert. ‘Well, your reputation has travelled before you. You like war and women, so we hear.’

‘Who does not?’ murmured George Lewis with a sheepish grin.

‘Most of the King’s courtiers are very partial to the second though they have little taste for the first.’

‘Why,’ said George Lewis, ‘they know not what they are missing.’

Rupert waved a hand impatiently. ‘You are fortunate to come at this time. The people of England will review your suit favourably.’

‘Oh … why?’

‘Because, my dear nephew, James, Duke of York, is making it very plain that he has embraced the Catholic religion – and
one thing the people of this country will not tolerate is a Catholic King. Therefore the fact that you are a Protestant will count in your favour.’

‘Well, I have yet to see the Princess.’

What a boor! thought Prince Rupert. Clumsy manners. Clumsy speech.

‘I don’t know that I shall like her,’ went on George Lewis.

‘Not like her! Don’t be a fool, nephew. She’s the best match that could come your way.’

‘Well, we have something to offer, you know.’

A brash boy! thought Rupert. Hanover! Was that to be compared with the possibilities of the crown of England!

‘It is rumoured that Mary may never have a child. And in that case …’

‘Anne will be Queen and I the consort. But I don’t know whether it is not more gratifying to be a Duke in my own right in Hanover than a Queen’s consort in England.’

‘They might make you King, since you are in the line of succession and William and Mary have no children and your son and Anne’s might be the heir to the throne. What do you think of that?’

‘I’d like to see something of the country before giving my opinion.’

‘You are very sure of yourself, nephew.’

‘If I’m not sure of myself no one else will be.’

Arrogant! Vain! Quite unaware how uncouth he was. Charles would poke sly fun at him. The whole court would laugh at him behind his back. And he would be too stupid to know it. What chance had he of marrying Anne?

‘I think,’ said Rupert, ‘that I had better prepare the King for your arrival. Then I will take you to court. In the meantime you had better make my house in Spring Gardens your lodging.’

Thus George Lewis landed in England.

George Lewis’s plan was to look for a house in England but no sooner had the King heard of his arrival than he sent a messenger to the house in Spring Gardens to say that on no account must George Lewis look for a lodging. One was already
waiting for him at Whitehall and here Charles would receive him as soon as he arrived and it was His Majesty’s wish that during his stay in England he should live at Whitehall
‘en cousin’
as he expressed it.

George Lewis was pleased to hear this, but Rupert looked on with a rather sardonic smile, for the more he saw of George Lewis, the more he wondered how he would fare at Whitehall.

So, in company with Prince Rupert, George Lewis went to Whitehall, and as soon as he arrived he was conducted to the King’s presence chamber. There surrounding the King were some of his ministers and courtiers – all bejewelled and beribboned, bewigged and befeathered. The makers of ribbons, feathers and lace must be reaping fortunes in England, thought George Lewis; also the makers of rouge patches and such aids to beauty if the appearance of the women – and some of the men – whom he had passed on his way to Court were any indication. The people of England had determined to deck themselves in fine feathers after the homespun years of puritan rule, and even after some twenty years they still seemed to delight in show.

George Lewis was aware of Rupert’s stern eyes upon him as he approached the King and looked up into the merriest pair of black eyes he had ever seen; they were set in a brown face, marked with signs of high living and laughter. The mouth was cynical yet whimsical, worldly yet kind. It was the most distinctive face George Lewis had ever seen.

‘Welcome to England,’ said Charles. ‘Now you must give me news of my cousin, the Duchess Sophia. How fares she in far off Hanover. It is most generous of her to spare you for our pleasure.’

George Lewis mumbled in French – the language in which Charles had spoken – that his mother was well and that she had given him a letter which he was to hand to the King and no other.

Charles held out a white ringed hand.

‘I shall take it to my private apartments where I may read it in solitude.’

George Lewis was staring goggle-eyed at the women. He had
heard of these women. Louise de Kéroualle the French spy; the Mancini woman who was said to be the most beautiful in the world; and Nell Gwyn the saucy play-actress. All different, yet all arrestingly attractive, they made a background for this King, notorious for his love of wit and women.

The black eyes were summing up George Lewis; the King was thinking: Poor Anne. It will be sad for the child if she takes this one. He’ll be as bad in his way as William is in his. Rough as a stable boy. Crude in manners, lusty as … a King of England without his finesse, without his adoration of the opposite sex. No, I cannot allow my dear little Anne to go to this one.

‘Now you will give us news of your parents and of Hanover. We are all eager to hear.’

George Lewis began to talk of Hanover, giving a factual account of such details which could only bring yawns to the lips of his listeners until Charles said: ‘I see you are such an entertainer that you will enchant my friends all through the night if I do not stop your narrative.’ He added in English: ‘And I see too that you have deluded some of them into the belief that it is already night. Buckingham, pray suppress your snores; they are scarcely elegant.’

‘Your gracious Majesty, I have discovered a cure for sleeplessness.’

‘His Grace is complimenting you on your discourse,’ said Charles to George Lewis.

‘I do not understand the tongue you speak,’ muttered George Lewis.

Buckingham went on: ‘His Highness should talk of Hanover. ’Twould be of greater service to the sleepless world than opium.’

‘I will conduct you to the Queen,’ Charles told George Lewis. ‘She will wish to greet you.’

So in company with Charles, George Lewis strolled through the apartments of Whitehall until they came to the Queen’s; and there was the black-eyed Portuguese lady – Queen of England. Barren, thought George Lewis, which was her most interesting characteristic in his eyes because it was the reason why
he found this visit so important. She was gentle and kindly and when he attempted to kiss her robe, she made a show of struggling gracefully with him as though to prevent him and gave him her hand to kiss instead. It all seemed rather foolish to George Lewis who in any case considered it undignified for a man to kiss the hem of a woman’s gown; but it seemed it was the practice here and the black-eyed King, whom he was beginning to distrust because he could not understand him, seemed to expect it.

Charles slipped his arm through that of George Lewis after the latter had attempted a little conversation with the Queen and her ladies and said that he guessed he was eager to meet the Princess Anne. But perhaps he had met enough of the family for the time being, so if he would present himself in the royal apartments the following day, his niece would be very happy to greet her kinsman.

London was attractive, thought George Lewis. He liked the glitter and excitement of the streets. He liked the women with their exposed bosoms, their faces painted and patched and their eyes welcoming. They displayed themselves at windows, while fat comfortable looking women below urged him to enter their houses as he passed by. He did not understand their language but in this sort of barter speech was unnecessary. His uncle Rupert had warned him not to get into trouble over women, because that was exactly what had happened to William of Orange when he had come over to this court. There had been quite a scandal when William – made drunk by some of the King’s mischievous friends – had broken the windows of the maids of honour’s apartments and tried to get at them. And that was William of Orange – a man not greatly enamoured of woman. What was likely to happen to the lusty stable boy from Hanover!

‘These people,’ warned Prince Rupert from his bed, for he spent much time in bed of late, he told George Lewis, since he was troubled with his legs, ‘like to play their jokes; and never so readily as on naïve young foreigners. So beware.’

George Lewis would take care. That was why the streets
attracted him more than the court, particularly the fashionable Mall where the King appeared in the mornings, either showing his skill at the game of pell-mell, or walking among the people who addressed him without ceremony while the hawkers called their wares. The flower-girls, milk-maids and orange-girls strolled through the crowds; and all seemed concerned with some game of flirtation and assignation.

It was a fascinating city, George Lewis decided. The stalls with the goods for sale, which naturally included a surplus of ribbons and laces and patches for the face; the ballad sellers who sang their songs as the printed sheets fluttered in the breeze; the playhouses and the excitement always surrounding them; the coaches which trundled through the crowds with their patched and painted occupants often pulling down a window to shout to a friend or drop a handkerchief to someone in the crowd with whom an acquaintance was desired.

It was colourful, foreign, exciting – and there was nothing like it in Hanover.

All the same George Lewis was wary. He had no wish to be made a fool of as his kinsman William of Orange had been.

He was eager to see the Princess Anne for he had begun to wonder what it would be like to live in this city and fancied it would be a little to his taste.

Charles greeted him with affection.

‘Ah,’ he said, ‘now to the Princess Anne. I shall show my fondness for you by giving you leave to kiss her.’

‘To kiss her cheek?’ asked George Lewis.

The dark face was illumined by a brilliant smile. ‘Her lips. It’s an English custom. You’ll find we have some very pleasant English customs. But then doubtless you have equally pleasant ones in Hanover.’

George Lewis felt awkward, being unsure whether the King was laughing at them.

And there was the Princess Anne – plump and rosy-cheeked, with short-sighed eyes, quite pretty and yet inclined to view him with suspicion. She was remembering how they had hustled her sister into marriage and was wondering whether they intended
to do the same with her. She had heard unfavourable reports of this young man who was the son of her father’s cousin Sophia. Definitely she did not care for him; she compared him with the Earl of Mulgrave for whom she had experienced very romantic feelings and who had recently been sent to Tangiers because of this.

‘Now,’ cried Charles. ‘Salute the lady.’

George Lewis saw the criticism in Anne’s eyes as he surveyed her coolly. If she did not like him, nor did he like her. She ought to know that their meeting had been arranged for political reasons.

Coldly he touched her lips with his, deeply conscious of the King’s amused glance.

‘Well met!’ said Charles. ‘Now perhaps you would care to take the Princess to the alcove there and talk to her of the virtues of Hanover.’

George looked sullenly at the Princess, who gave him a cold stare.

They sat down where indicated and he talked in French.