holding a letter in his hand and she knew that it contained news of a startling nature.
‘News from England,’ he told her.
‘Yes, Ernest?’
‘Charlotte …’
‘A son or a daughter?’
Ernest shook his head. ‘A boy born dead. But, Frederica, that’s not all. Charlotte herself …’
‘Dead?’
He nodded.
‘My God, think what this will mean?’
‘I am thinking.’
‘If our daughter had lived she could very likely have been a Queen of England.’
Ernest said: ‘You know what this will mean.’
‘It means that my dear mother-in-law and aunt, Queen Charlotte, is very busy making plans.’
He nodded. ‘There’ll be marriages now, you see. Clarence and Kent will have to get busy.’
‘Busy breeding!’ said Frederica with a laugh. ‘But the gentlemen have left it a little late. And you come next, Ernest. Our sons and daughters …’
‘Yes,’ he said, his eyes gleaming so that he looked like a satyr.
‘You look adorably wicked at this moment,’ she told him. ‘I believe you’re ambitious.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to see your son King of England?’
‘I would, and the thought that perhaps I shall, fills me with exultation. If it were only to have my revenge on Aunt Charlotte … but it’s more than that. Yes, I should love to see our son a King of England, Ernest. That would be good for England … if he were like you. Tell me about those who stand between.’
‘George will never live with Caroline again.’
‘What if he should divorce her?’
‘He’ll try but he forgets how old he is.’
‘What is he … fifty-five? It’s not so old.’
‘When a man has lived as George has, it’s not young. He has indulged himself too much for his health’s sake. And he is married to Caroline, who is at the moment making an exhibition of herself all over Europe. Of course she may well give him grounds for divorce but even so these matters take time. And George grows older. A divorce … a marriage …! Oh, I don’t think there’s anything to fear from George.’
‘And the Duke of York?’
‘Married to a barren wife. No, nor him either.’
‘And Clarence?’
‘Well, of course he’s the danger. They’ll marry him off without delay and he’s proved with Dorothy Jordan that he’s capable of be-getting children.’
‘Unless of course he gets a barren wife.’
‘That’s a chance he’ll have to take.’
‘And after Clarence?’
‘Kent. He’ll have to say goodbye to Madame de St Laurent and he won’t like it. But he’ll be forced to it.’
‘And then Ernest, Duke of Cumberland, and his devoted fertile wife, Frederica.’
He leaned over and kissed her.
‘And how is my love this morning?’
‘Full of health … and hope … considering the news. We must have a child, Ernest. I am going to snap my fingers at my wicked old Aunt who refuses to receive me at her court. She will be obliged to receive the mother of the heir, will she not?’
‘I doubt she would. And while Clarence and Kent lived she would always hope that they would forestall us.’
Frederica threw off the bedclothes.
‘It is wise for you to get up?’ he asked anxiously.
‘My dearest Ernest, I am recovered. I am well. I am ready now. We go into battle.’ She was thoughtful suddenly. Louise often seemed to come back to her to reproach her. Louise had been different from her – the gentler one, sentimental, kindly. Now it was as though Louise reminded her that her elation was due to a tragedy. A young woman had died in childbed and her child with her. And this was the cause of her excitement.
But she dismissed Louise. Life was a battle. It was something Louise had never realized. Perhaps if she had she would be alive today. But Louise had submitted; she had, knowing her health was failing, gone on bearing children.
No, her way was best. There was only one person who truly mattered to her: Ernest. And if she bore him a child that child would be her delight. Life was good, she decided, as she had
‘News from England,’ he told her.
‘Yes, Ernest?’
‘Charlotte …’
‘A son or a daughter?’
Ernest shook his head. ‘A boy born dead. But, Frederica, that’s not all. Charlotte herself …’
‘Dead?’
He nodded.
‘My God, think what this will mean?’
‘I am thinking.’
‘If our daughter had lived she could very likely have been a Queen of England.’
Ernest said: ‘You know what this will mean.’
‘It means that my dear mother-in-law and aunt, Queen Charlotte, is very busy making plans.’
He nodded. ‘There’ll be marriages now, you see. Clarence and Kent will have to get busy.’
‘Busy breeding!’ said Frederica with a laugh. ‘But the gentlemen have left it a little late. And you come next, Ernest. Our sons and daughters …’
‘Yes,’ he said, his eyes gleaming so that he looked like a satyr.
‘You look adorably wicked at this moment,’ she told him. ‘I believe you’re ambitious.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to see your son King of England?’
‘I would, and the thought that perhaps I shall, fills me with exultation. If it were only to have my revenge on Aunt Charlotte … but it’s more than that. Yes, I should love to see our son a King of England, Ernest. That would be good for England … if he were like you. Tell me about those who stand between.’
‘George will never live with Caroline again.’
‘What if he should divorce her?’
‘He’ll try but he forgets how old he is.’
‘What is he … fifty-five? It’s not so old.’
‘When a man has lived as George has, it’s not young. He has indulged himself too much for his health’s sake. And he is married to Caroline, who is at the moment making an exhibition of herself all over Europe. Of course she may well give him grounds for divorce but even so these matters take time. And George grows older. A divorce … a marriage …! Oh, I don’t think there’s anything to fear from George.’
‘And the Duke of York?’
‘Married to a barren wife. No, nor him either.’
‘And Clarence?’
‘Well, of course he’s the danger. They’ll marry him off without delay and he’s proved with Dorothy Jordan that he’s capable of be-getting children.’
‘Unless of course he gets a barren wife.’
‘That’s a chance he’ll have to take.’
‘And after Clarence?’
‘Kent. He’ll have to say goodbye to Madame de St Laurent and he won’t like it. But he’ll be forced to it.’
‘And then Ernest, Duke of Cumberland, and his devoted fertile wife, Frederica.’
He leaned over and kissed her.
‘And how is my love this morning?’
‘Full of health … and hope … considering the news. We must have a child, Ernest. I am going to snap my fingers at my wicked old Aunt who refuses to receive me at her court. She will be obliged to receive the mother of the heir, will she not?’
‘I doubt she would. And while Clarence and Kent lived she would always hope that they would forestall us.’
Frederica threw off the bedclothes.
‘It is wise for you to get up?’ he asked anxiously.
‘My dearest Ernest, I am recovered. I am well. I am ready now. We go into battle.’ She was thoughtful suddenly. Louise often seemed to come back to her to reproach her. Louise had been different from her – the gentler one, sentimental, kindly. Now it was as though Louise reminded her that her elation was due to a tragedy. A young woman had died in childbed and her child with her. And this was the cause of her excitement.
But she dismissed Louise. Life was a battle. It was something Louise had never realized. Perhaps if she had she would be alive today. But Louise had submitted; she had, knowing her health was failing, gone on bearing children.
No, her way was best. There was only one person who truly mattered to her: Ernest. And if she bore him a child that child would be her delight. Life was good, she decided, as she had
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