Chapter 25
I have struggled to find the words for you, my friend.
So much of late has been abysmal in your life, and I know not how to soothe or comfort, let alone advise.
I feel to bemoan my good fortune, as it seems cruel when you suffer so.
My husband is restored to me, though neither of us are what we once were in appearance or demeanor.
Yet we are well and whole, and no one bays for our blood.
Know that I am always and ever your friend and shall do all in my power to assist you however possible.
Charlotte
“Charlotte, we need to talk.”
The firm, no-nonsense tone of her husband startled Charlotte out of her reading, and when she caught sight of his stern expression and clenched jaw, she set her book aside and stood up. “What is it?”
He looked at her ladies and nodded once. “Please allow us some privacy.”
They left quickly and without a word, exchanging curious looks with each other and with her.
But George was waiting for complete privacy.
When they were alone, he released a slow breath. “We’ve received reports from our ambassador in France.”
Her thoughts immediately moved to her friend Antoinette. Dread seeped into her body, curdling in her stomach and clawing at her heart. “Has something happened?” she asked him in a surprisingly weak tone.
He took her upper arms in his hands, gripping gently. “Are you still writing to Marie Antoinette?”
She nodded quickly, managing a pained swallow. “Not all that often, but yes. Why?”
George hesitated, then said, “The Bastille has fallen into the hands of a raucous crowd. Its governor abused and slaughtered. King Louis has had to withdraw troops from Paris and Versailles and was forced to return to Paris in order to quell the insurrections.”
Charlotte’s knees suddenly buckled, and she had to grip her husband’s forearms to keep herself upright. “Antoinette? The children?” she gasped.
With a slight tsk, George helped her to a chair before kneeling beside her. “They are safe and en route to Paris, as I understand it. Louis is actually well, and Paris received him gladly. Yet, the general opinion is that France is on the brink of revolution.”
It was impossible. France, their historical enemy, ridding themselves of their monarchy? A nation in control of the people? What would happen to the royal family? Was anyone actually thinking of the future of their nation in all of this?
“What is the ambassador saying?” Charlotte asked.
“Not much beyond what I’ve said,” George admitted. “He was horrified by the confusion, commotion, and impending revolution. The view is that the monarchy has not given a voice to the people for far too long.”
“And they are laying the blame squarely on the current monarch for that?” Charlotte shook her head. “The sins of Louis and Antoinette cannot be so great as to be at fault for all of that, and if the people truly believe it, then I should hate to think what our sins would merit.”
George raised a brow at her. “Have you sinned so greatly?”
“No, but I cannot think they have either.” She exhaled slowly and twisted her fingers in her lap. “What can we do?”
“Nothing.”
She jerked in surprise, her hand flying out of his hold. “What?”
He only shrugged, the maddening man. “I, and the government, believe that it is not our place to get involved in the internal politics of another nation.”
“Have you no sympathy for the king and queen?” Charlotte cried.
“Of course I do!” He took her hand forcibly but began to rub it in a soothing manner.
“But we cannot be seen to be involved. This action in France strikes at the center of everything we represent and believe, and the magnitude of it cannot be overlooked, which is why we have to be exceptionally careful. Georgie has still been acting against our interests recently, especially while I was unwell. Do you know what Fox has said about the trouble in France?”
Charlotte shook her head, afraid to even venture a guess.
George grimaced, tightening his hold on her hand. “He declared it the greatest event that has ever happened to the world. As well as the best.”
And this was a man who was a leader of the people? Death and destruction and a coup of such scope was to be applauded? People actually believed that?
Did Georgie feel the same way?
She wet her lips, which had gone numb with the revelation. “I cannot help but think that the want of principle and forgetting all duties toward God and man are to blame for this. Perhaps . . . perhaps these unhappy events have been sent to bring man back to rights?”
Her husband smiled bitterly. “I would like to think so, and I would like to think this is the extent of the trouble that our neighbors should face, but I have no confidence in those wishes.”
Charlotte leaned into him, needing the comfort his presence provided. “This cannot be the eighteenth century. Ancient history could hardly produce anything more barbarous and cruel than what is happening in France. Even the trouble with the colonies in America was not as hellish as this.”
His arm wrapped around her, and he sighed, laying his head against her hair. “I know. I cannot be seen to be doing something, but you do what you must. If it is personal and not political, I will support you in it.”
She nodded, the motion against his skin as soothing as his grasp.
“I will send clothes and essentials to my friend. They lost the Dauphin last month, you know, so her grief is hardly complete. And now this? She must feel as though her world is ending. I pity both her and the king, and I anxiously pray that they may meet with some well-disposed people to extricate them out of this horrible distress.”
“If it gets worse,” George murmured, “I am sure they will get out. There are too many loyal supporters for them to become trapped there. They’ve already sent away the king’s less popular brother and some of the extended royal princes and allies for their own safety.”
“Would they go to Austria?”
Surely Antoinette’s brother, the Holy Roman Emperor, would open his arms for them.
Austria had long been seeking the support of France in various ways, and she knew Antoinette struggled against being viewed as her brother’s mouthpiece or direct connection to the king’s ear.
She knew Antoinette had grown annoyed with her brother’s constant pressing for her to act for Austria, and yet surely being in danger would soothe any sibling irritation.
“They could,” George conceded thoughtfully, though he hesitated.
“But?” Charlotte pressed.
“But, depending on the situation, that might be too obvious a destination and easily guessed.”
Charlotte nodded again. “So they might be captured on the way, if escape is what is needed.”
“Exactly.”
It was maddening, trying to predict what could happen in order to be prepared, but also trying to assist her friend.
England was trapped by their own limitations and history with France, but Charlotte was Antoinette’s friend, even if very few people knew of it.
They were two women who had been brought in to marry kings and who had tried to make the best of their situations.
They had faced trials with those in the royal court they had married into, and only someone else who had been through that experience could truly comprehend its intricacies and complications.
She could not—would not—sit by and do nothing.
Pressing off George’s chest, Charlotte bit her lip.
“I would like to prepare some apartments for them, George. I know there are many complications to the situation, but if circumstances deteriorate and they must get out, I would like to offer them sanctuary. From here, they can go wherever exile is determined, but for safety and respite, I would welcome them first.”
He inhaled sharply, and she waited for the refusal with bated breath.
She knew it would be difficult to convince the government of such a course, but her heart was settled and her mind firm.
The people of France might be in uproar, but Charlotte was not about to leave a family so like theirs to the mercy of a bloodthirsty mob.
“Prepare them,” George told her in a low voice, despite the tension in his frame. “I cannot promise we may take them in, but you may be prepared to do so.”
She nearly sagged beneath the tide of relief that coursed through her. “Thank you, George.”
“I make no promises, Charlotte,” he said again. “None.”
She nodded quickly but fervently. “I know. It will be fraught with issues, but I must do something. I cannot be idle while she suffers.”
He tipped her chin up and met her eyes. “Write to her,” he encouraged. “Tell her what you have prepared and will prepare. They are not imprisoned, so we need not fear the letter will be read by nefarious eyes, and if this opens a way for them, so be it.”
“What about the government?” Charlotte pressed with a wince.
George twisted his mouth slightly. “If it comes to it, I will hide this from the government. Or simply let you act while I claim absolute ignorance.” He shrugged. “Even Charles Fox must surely draw the line at endangering the lives of women and children for the sake of revolution.”
Charlotte was not at all convinced that man would draw the line there, but she would let her husband believe so. She would stand before any minister, authority, or court to defend taking in the French royal family, should they need to, and proudly defend her actions, regardless of the cost.
Let them criticize such a course. She knew the scriptures well enough to call upon their faith and humanity.
She could apply a necessary pressure to their consciences until they were sufficiently pricked.
She was perfectly capable of striking at the heart of the men charged with maintaining law, order, and justice in their land.
Let them come for her, if they dared. She would return blow for blow, and she would rise victorious.