imperiously. ‘I know you talk about them when I’m not there. Don’t deny it. I don’t blame you. Everybody talks and why should they not? Conversation is one of the most amusing pastimes I know. And who could help talking about such a family as ours? There is my father with his affairs; there is Uncle Augustus who once made such a fuss about marrying his Goosey and now has left her. There is Uncle William who lives with that actress Dorothy Jordan as though she is his wife and there are all those little Fitzclarences to prove it. George Fitz is rather fond of Minney Seymour. I do declare everyone is fond of Minney Seymour. She is such a good little girl … not like wicked Princess Charlotte.’
‘My dear Princess, you should not say such things. There are many who are fond of you.’
She turned to them and gave them each one of her rough embraces.
‘You two, of course,’ she said. ‘But you are rather f … foolish to think so highly of me. I’m not a very pleasant character sometimes, I fear. Although I am not bad at others. I have my moments. Oh dear, and I have to attend my grandmother’s Drawing Room. I think I shall go for a walk instead and then when it is time I shall not be found and Grandmamma will say what an ill-mannered creature I am – just like my mother, and she will think up some new and exquisite torture for me.’
‘You know Her Majesty would never dream of torturing you.’
‘But sometimes I think she would like to. She watches me with that big mouth of hers shut so tightly …’ Charlotte had transformed herself into the Queen; she seemed to grow small and malevolent.
‘Oh, do give over, dear Princess Charlotte, do,’ said Mrs Gagarin.
‘I shall go for a walk first and then I shall come back and be prepared in good time to present myself to the Begum and the Old Girls.’
She grinned with delight to see the shocked horror thesenames always aroused when she used them. Perhaps that was why she did. It was a sort of revenge.
She snatched up her cloak and ran out. She heard Louisa calling her but she paid no heed. She was not supposed to walk out unaccompanied. What nonsense! Anyone would think she was as fragile as Minney Seymour. ‘And I’m not …’ she said. ‘Nor as precious.’
She was saddened for a while. He was kinder now, so Mrs Fitzherbert had spoken to him. She sensed that he was trying to make an effort, but there was always a barrier between them. It was her mother, of course. And what was happening about her mother? What was the Delicate Investigation going to reveal?
She knew now more than they thought. They were trying to prove her mother immoral; they were trying to show that that frightful infant Willie Austin was her mother’s own baby and that her mother had performed an act of treason, for if Willie were indeed her mother’s child and her mother insisted that the Prince was his father …
Impossible, for then she, Princess Charlotte, would not long be an heiress to the throne. At least she would have to take a step backwards.
Willie Austin – that horrid, vulgar little brat! She had always hated him – in common with everyone else except her mother. Perhaps she had been a little jealous to see her mother petting him, kissing him, making the great fuss of him she always did.
Indeed she had a very strange family.
The castle loomed before her. Why did she hate living at Windsor when it was such a wonderful place? So much had happened here in the past – the home of her ancestors.
When I am queen, she thought, there shall be feasting here. It will be quite different then. I shall give balls and there will be fun and laughter. It will not be the grim old place Grandpapa and the Begum have made it.
The terraces had been built by Queen Elizabeth and the gallery was called Queen Elizabeth’s Gallery. My favourite part of the castle, thought Charlotte. I suppose because she made it.
It was not surprising that she thought so often of Elizabeth. There
‘My dear Princess, you should not say such things. There are many who are fond of you.’
She turned to them and gave them each one of her rough embraces.
‘You two, of course,’ she said. ‘But you are rather f … foolish to think so highly of me. I’m not a very pleasant character sometimes, I fear. Although I am not bad at others. I have my moments. Oh dear, and I have to attend my grandmother’s Drawing Room. I think I shall go for a walk instead and then when it is time I shall not be found and Grandmamma will say what an ill-mannered creature I am – just like my mother, and she will think up some new and exquisite torture for me.’
‘You know Her Majesty would never dream of torturing you.’
‘But sometimes I think she would like to. She watches me with that big mouth of hers shut so tightly …’ Charlotte had transformed herself into the Queen; she seemed to grow small and malevolent.
‘Oh, do give over, dear Princess Charlotte, do,’ said Mrs Gagarin.
‘I shall go for a walk first and then I shall come back and be prepared in good time to present myself to the Begum and the Old Girls.’
She grinned with delight to see the shocked horror thesenames always aroused when she used them. Perhaps that was why she did. It was a sort of revenge.
She snatched up her cloak and ran out. She heard Louisa calling her but she paid no heed. She was not supposed to walk out unaccompanied. What nonsense! Anyone would think she was as fragile as Minney Seymour. ‘And I’m not …’ she said. ‘Nor as precious.’
She was saddened for a while. He was kinder now, so Mrs Fitzherbert had spoken to him. She sensed that he was trying to make an effort, but there was always a barrier between them. It was her mother, of course. And what was happening about her mother? What was the Delicate Investigation going to reveal?
She knew now more than they thought. They were trying to prove her mother immoral; they were trying to show that that frightful infant Willie Austin was her mother’s own baby and that her mother had performed an act of treason, for if Willie were indeed her mother’s child and her mother insisted that the Prince was his father …
Impossible, for then she, Princess Charlotte, would not long be an heiress to the throne. At least she would have to take a step backwards.
Willie Austin – that horrid, vulgar little brat! She had always hated him – in common with everyone else except her mother. Perhaps she had been a little jealous to see her mother petting him, kissing him, making the great fuss of him she always did.
Indeed she had a very strange family.
The castle loomed before her. Why did she hate living at Windsor when it was such a wonderful place? So much had happened here in the past – the home of her ancestors.
When I am queen, she thought, there shall be feasting here. It will be quite different then. I shall give balls and there will be fun and laughter. It will not be the grim old place Grandpapa and the Begum have made it.
The terraces had been built by Queen Elizabeth and the gallery was called Queen Elizabeth’s Gallery. My favourite part of the castle, thought Charlotte. I suppose because she made it.
It was not surprising that she thought so often of Elizabeth. There
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