Изменить стиль страницы

She could not take her eyes from him—her beloved son. He was already a little man at six years old—very sure of what he wanted; and clever, too, if she could believe his most excellent tutor Jenkin Thomas Philipps who had published for William’s use his Essay Towards a Universal and Rational Grammarand Rules in English to Learn Latin.

‘Now,’ said the Queen, ‘I vant to hear from you all. How are you elder girls spending your time, eh? And you little ones must tell me how you are progressing with your lessons. ... Come Louisa, my dear.’ She lifted the three-year-old on to her lap. ‘And you too, Mary.’ Mary, a year older than Louisa, was overawed by the presence of her elder sisters who were almost strangers to her, and came shyly to her mother. But William was of course pushing for the first place.

The elder girls remained rather aloof—Anne haughtily, Amelia indifferently, and Caroline diffidently.

Oh dear, thought the Queen, how difficult this welding together of her family was proving! Every day her grudge against the late King seemed to deepen when she considered what his cruelty had done to her family.

If I had always had them under my care ... she thought.

She was determined to be a good mother, and good mothers were supposed to love all their children equally. At least they always swore they did. She could not help it if her gaze rested a little more lovingly on young William. After all he was her son.... There was Frederick, but she couldn’t count him.

She had tried calling him Fritzchen in her mind in the hope that it would help her return to the love she had once had for him; but it was no use. She did not know what he looked like, for a young man of twenty must look very different from a boy of seven. And to think he had been only seven when she had left him. Another thing to blame that wicked old monster for. He had parted a mother from her son and during thirteen years the longing for her child had been suppressed until, with the coming of other children, it had been stifled altogether.

What is the use of pretending? Caroline asked herself. I don’t care if I never see Frederick again.

But his name was on everyone’s lips. Even here in the nursery her children were talking about him.

When is Frederick coming home?

The question came between her and her peace of mind. She did not want Frederick and the reason was that she deeply regretted he was her firstborn; she wanted all the honours that would be his for her adorable, bright, and utterly spoilt six-year-old William.

‘At least,’ said Anne, ‘we shall be properly dressed for the coronation. Papa will not be allowed to be so mean as to stop that.’

‘Oh, Anne!’ cautioned the Princess Caroline.

‘It’s the truth,’ replied Amelia. ‘Papa hates parting with money. That is why we are all kept so poor. It’s not fair.’

‘He asked to see my accounts,’ complained Anne, ‘and when Mrs Powis brought them he said that the braid on my top coat was too wide and could have been half the width—thus saving money. Who would think we were princesses. We might be charity girls!’

‘Sometimes I think,’ said Amelia, ‘that it would have been better not to be so highly born. I am sure maids of honour enjoy a freer life than their mistresses. There is our mother, Queen of England, but not daring to speak her mind for fear she offends Papa.’

‘But he does all she tells him nevertheless.’

‘Without knowing it,’ said Amelia. ‘I think our father is not half as clever as he thinks himself.’

The elder girls began to laugh and Caroline looked a little shocked. ‘He is after all our father and the King.’

‘Dear Caroline! You always believe the best of everyone. For me I prefer rather to tell the truth than deceive myself.’ That was Amelia. She was kneeling on the window seat in a pose which her mother would have deplored, for it was not femininely graceful. She glanced down to the courtyard below and her manner changed; a smile touched her lips and she waved a greeting.

Anne was quickly beside her.

‘So ... you are flirting with Grafton.’

Amelia was still looking at the man on horseback whose dark handsome looks and physique made him outstanding.

‘I am acknowledging the greeting of Charles, Duke of Grafton,’ retorted Amelia tartly.

‘You know that is most unwise.’

‘I cannot see that it is unwise to give or return a greeting.’

‘Greeting! You know it is more than that. You know you have a fancy for him.’

You are inclined to thinkyouknow too much, sister.’

Caroline moved away to another window and stood there gazing out. She was always seeking to escape from her more forceful sisters who were constantly quarrelling. Quarrels were commonplace in this family. There had been the Great Quarrel between Grandfather and Papa—and now that was over minor ones were continually springing up between members of the family.

‘Who is Grafton?’ demanded Anne. ‘I think you forget that you are royal.’

‘It is as well that all of us don’t keep reminding everyone on every occasion of the fact,’ retorted Amelia. ‘And the Duke of Grafton is as royal as you are.’

‘His grandfather was a king, I know, since his father was the bastard of Barbara Villiers and Charles II. A very pleasant recommendation.’

‘They say he inherited his father’s brilliance and charm and his mother’s beauty,’ said Amelia.

‘And doubtless the immorality of both. For shame, Amelia! You know you are all but betrothed to the Crown Prince of Prussia.’

Amelia shivered. ‘I hope that I never have to make that marriage.’

Caroline drew farther into her corner, shivering slightly. She had heard stories of the terrible King of Prussia who beat his children, locked them up and starved them and then worked out how much he had saved by keeping them without food. He quarrelled constantly with his wife, their aunt Sophia Dorothea, tried to beat her too, and because that wasn’t possible contented himself by spitting into her food when it was a dish she especially fancied.

What a household for poor Amelia to enter l No wonder she thought longingly of staying in England and marrying a man who was as handsome and charming and daring as the Duke of Grafton.

Caroline was terrified of the day when she might have to go away. It wouldn’t bear thinking of. But they were growing old now and they were no longer merely the granddaughters of a king; they were the daughters of one; and that made a difference. Matches would be made for them and princesses always had to do what was expected of them.

How sad it was for a princess to grow up It was better to be young even though their childhood had been overshadowed by the Great Quarrel when Grandfather would not allow them to see their parents. Caroline had suffered then because of dear Mamma who loved them so and whom they loved. Not being allowed to see Papa had been no great hardship, for they could not help being a little ashamed of the way in which he strutted and was so conceited, and anxious to prove he was the master of them all—which he wasn’t although he was King, for kings were ruled by their parliaments; and it was becoming well known that the Queen had a bigger influence, and the only one who wasn’t aware of this was the King. All this made him a ridiculous figure in spite of his brilliant uniforms and all the pomp with which he liked to surround himself, for although he was mean enough with his daughters, he was not with himself.

Caroline listened to her sisters quarrelling over the Duke of Grafton and let her own thoughts stray pleasantly.

She wouldn’t think of the time when she too must go away. Perhaps it would never happen. After all, the King had so many daughters, he couldn’t find royal marriages for all of them. Some might be allowed to marry in England.

There was one figure which kept intruding into her mind—that of elegant Lord Hervey of whom her mother was so fond.