Chapter 10
“The welfare of the people shall be the supreme law.”
—Cicero
Against propriety, Charity followed the princess to her bedroom. She would not wait for an invitation. Not when the young woman remained in such dire need of consoling.
“Your Highness—Charlotte!” Charity breached the last barrier between the two, calling the young woman by her name.
The princess spun around then, revealing the tears leaving wet tracks on her cheeks, but her face remained expressionless. Without a conscious thought, Charity stepped forward, her arms reaching for the woman, but the princess raised a hand to halt her.
“No, Your Grace,” the princess told her. “I will be all right.”
Charity twisted her fingers together. “You are upset. Let me try to help.”
The princess’s teeth clenched. There was something so tired and hopeless about the young woman’s expression.
“I am not upset. I am… well, I suppose I am. But truly, I am not surprised, Your Grace. After all, we have all seen him act this way before. Again, and again. It is high time to accept my life as a sovereign. Forging this alliance with the Dutch is what is most important in this arrangement for England, is it not?”
Was it? Suddenly, Charity felt unconvinced.
“Perhaps there is a way to encourage William to control his behaviour. I must think,” Charity said to herself, pacing in a tight circle.
The princess let out a brief bark of laughter and shook her head again. “You may go. I needed a moment to—well, to breathe, that is all.”
“Do you want me to stay here with you while you take a moment?” Charity asked.
The princess patted her eyes dry. “It would be better if we did not. We must return to the party. My grandmother expects me to be a gracious host. And William…”
Is a drunkard of the first water, Charity’s mind suggested. Worse than that.
“It is the will of my father and grandmother. It will secure the line of succession. And it will prevent whatever designs Russia may have upon my marriage. You were right. I was too reluctant to accept that this is purely a state affair. William is to be my husband. And my troth is to stay at his side.”
Silent and smiling? Charity gritted her teeth.
The princess’s actions seemed wooden, but she did as a well-brought-up lady ought.
The figure in front of her transformed into the perfect portrait of compliance.
Beautiful, dutiful, quiet, and meek. It was a mask familiar to the Duchess Atholl, because she had worn it more than a time or two herself.
“Come, before our absence is noted.” Charlotte carefully pinched her cheeks to give a healthier flush to her bloodless face. She beckoned to Charity, and together they walked down the stairs. The princess walked like a woman on her way to the gallows, but one who had scraped together her pride.
Princess Charlotte was no longer the vibrant English rose. She was empty.
And suddenly, Charity felt like she had made a terrible mistake.
Prince Leopold noted their return first, and his searching gaze asked the questions he could not raise. Princess Charlotte inclined her head in acknowledgement of him but did not stop to speak.
“Is she—” he asked Charity, the words slipping free before he could catch them.
She paused, unsure how to answer him. It would be inappropriate to discuss such personal details with a foreign prince, even if he and Princess Charlotte were friendly.
Leopold might be a harmless well-wisher, but it would be foolhardy to forget he was also one of the Tsar’s inner circle. His motives could be suspicious.
“The princess needed a moment to refresh herself,” Charity finally murmured, and Leopold withdrew.
With William gone, a sense of normalcy had returned, though it was chilly and subdued. Perhaps some of that was for her station. Charity was overlooked and ignored, which gave the thoughts inside her head far too much time to talk with her instead.
You know this isn’t right.
The rest of the evening, Her Royal Highness kept her hands clasped in front of her. And though her head stayed lifted, her eyes kept roaming downward towards the floor. She refused offers of a drink or of taking a turn around the room.
When her father invited her to speak with another group, Princess Charlotte went to him.
She let the conversation flow about her and tried to maintain a posture of polite interest. Every now and again, a flash of irritation sparked in her gaze at some comment, but every time that ember in Princess Charlotte died out quickly.
The princess is being biddable, those whispers inside of her mocked, growing louder. Is that not what you were tasked to accomplish?
Not like this.
A memory of the rioters at Burlington House forced its way into her thoughts. The public loved their princess, and there was great sympathy for her. They love the princess because she is a symbol of liberty, Lady Holland had told her while they had clung to one another in the crush of bodies.
Princess Charlotte had been a defiant patriot willing to stand up against her father’s excesses and repressive politics. Already Prinny’s actions played in the columns and caricatures as those of a cruel, manipulative father. How much worse would it be for all of them if that symbol vanished?
Her own voice harangued her in a low tone. Immoral. Unfair, unjust, unconscionable. Doomed.
Charity had been afraid of the consequences of the princess failing to marry William.
But did the benefits William offered now outweigh the faults of an undisciplined, drunken cur of a prince?
Were they so focused on the Dutch that they were blinding themselves to the other problems that would arise from the marriage?
The princess had always been willing to shoulder the duty to her people. She had also been ignored when she had said William was the wrong choice. Of course, she was silent now. What else was a person to do when their disastrous course was inevitable?
What would become of Britain and its people with a fool for a king and a retiring queen?
Charity had a long time to mull. At the end of the evening, she circled the room until she arrived at the Queen’s side. “Your Majesty, might I have a word with you?”
“Tomorrow,” the Queen replied, brushing her off without looking.
“Tonight, please. It is urgent.”
The Queen twisted to get a better look at Charity, raising a brow at her insistence. Charity let some of her anguish and determination show on her face.
“Very well. Meet me in my sitting room in half an hour.”
“Looking at you is giving me a headache, Duchess Atholl,” the Queen said with irritation.
“You are wearing an expression that means there is trouble afoot. And since the only one here who could cause that trouble is the princess, I shall speak quite plainly. I shall not entertain the news that the princess has decided to tear up the marriage contract again mere hours after signing. I could see her sulking from across the room.”
Charity took a deep breath, striving for calm—or at least courage. “No, Your Majesty. The princess has not sent me. I have come here on my own to ask you to be the one to tear it up.”
There was a long silence.
“What?” Charlotte’s voice cracked through the room like thunder. “We have been attempting to arrange this alliance between the Dutch and England for months. And you, in your great wisdom, would have us immediately cast it aside. Where, exactly, did you find such a store of audacity?”
Where indeed? And why had the audacity not rendered her knees immune to weakness? “Please, Your Majesty. I would explain my reasoning if you would give me a chance.”
The Queen’s face was alarmingly pale and tight at Charity’s defection. “By all means, Duchess. Let us hear these pontifications of yours before you are the next thing I have thrown out.”
Charity’s jaw wobbled slightly when she parted her lips to answer.
“Ma’am, today I have spent a great deal of time considering the nature of duty.
Mine, yours, and that of Princess Charlotte.
The burden of securing the line for the royal family has fallen to her, yes.
She is ready to do that duty unquestioningly.
And she is willing to do what she can to advance England’s interests abroad.
“But what put the quill in her hand today was not that sense of familial duty or political machination—it was my doing. Because I told her about Lady Fitzroy, and that the woman wanted to prevent this alliance. I told her that her refusal to sign that agreement with William of Orange put the people of Britain at risk.”
Queen Charlotte’s expression was stony, waiting for Charity to continue.
“Your granddaughter needed no further convincing after that. She made the decision to set aside her chances for a happier marriage the moment she believed that it was the better choice for the people.” Charity took a steadying breath, trying to keep from collapsing with nerves at what she was about to do.
“Your Majesty… a marriage to William might secure the throne and line of succession. It might create the bulwark that stands between France and its dynastic ambitions. But William will be a terrible king who can only weaken the country and hurt the people. It is what your granddaughter has been trying to tell us all along. We saw it clearly tonight. I was wrong to push her into this; I believe we were both wrong.”
“You dare—” Queen Charlotte was nearly apoplectic. Her hands on the arms of her chair were like claws.
“Please, Your Majesty,” Charity said quickly, bowing her head so she would not be forced to look upon her angry sovereign.
“I understand you are angry, but I beg you, please. The princess was motivated enough to sicken him. If we force her to comply, she may lose the fire that makes her beloved by the people. Is it only to thwart Lady Fitzroy’s decision to interfere that is making us stay this course? ”
There was a long, hot silence. Charity was afraid to see whether Charlotte was having a conniption or whether she was agreeing. Even if the Queen was weighing her words seriously, Charity knew that this might well be the end of her welcome at court.
“What will the people do if the king is incapable of restraint, or perhaps even cruel, and the queen lacks the will to manage him? Will they be able to prosper?”
Charity finally lifted her gaze and knew that her words had struck home with the woman. Charlotte knew that William would have to be managed. The corners of her mouth were curled downward, as if she could taste the truth, and it was bitter.
“Your Majesty, this marriage to William does not have to be the only way forward. It may be difficult, but surely there are other matches that will serve Britain’s people and its princess?”
Lady Cresswell was never going to recover from the indignity of this, that was for sure. Her own daughter telling her sovereign that she had made a mistake? They might never be able to show their faces in London again.
“You have more than overstepped, Duchess Atholl,” the Queen finally ground out between her teeth.
“You have hurled yourself beyond the pale. But considering your previous service to us, and the fact that you seem to be willing to sacrifice everything to make your feelings about the princess and the country’s needs clear, I will think on your words. And I will speak with the princess.”
With a hard swallow, Charity nodded, finally lifting her gaze. “Of course—thank you—”
“Do not thank me. We are not through. The Archbishop made sure to mention tonight that you had applied to my son for aid in obtaining a special licence, by the by. Let me make it abundantly clear, Duchess. Since you wish to make your opinion known about this wedding between the princess and William, then I will do the same regarding yours. You will not marry without my express permission.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Charity’s voice was barely more than a whisper, her throat aching with misery. Oh, Perry. I have ruined everything.
The Queen got herself to her feet. “It is late, and I expect you will wish to leave early in the morning. You may consider yourself excused from attending the opera tomorrow evening. Now get out.”