Henrietta ran about her apartments in a frenzy of excitement, checking that everything was in order. The dogs yipped and got under her feet. She slipped a circle of lace under a vase, arranged the flowers and then straightened a plate on her display of porcelain. After fluffing the cushions on the sofa, she adjusted the lemonade jug and a tray of sweetmeats on the table. She hadn’t been this nervous since her arrival at Herrenhausen. It was the first time she had seen her brother John since the early years of her marriage.
The door handle turned. As Henrietta held her breath, her servant Daniel ushered in a young couple with two children. Her eyes filled with proud tears. John had the same chestnut hair as her father. A red sash over his chest and a gleaming star at his throat proudly proclaimed him a Knight Companion. He held his wife’s arm in one hand, while the other clutched a white wand of office. If only her parents were there to see this moment!
‘Oh, John! It’s so good to see you.’ She flew to him.
He gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek and pushed her back to see her face. ‘Hetty! How can I ever thank you? You are a good sister to me.’
‘Do not thank me! It was not all my doing. I’m sure you earned it on your own merit.’
He laughed. ‘Flatterer! The King only chose thirty-five men for this honour. He wouldn’t have thought of me, without you.’
John’s wife cleared her throat. She was a fine-boned woman with dark eyes that glimmered out of a pallid face.
Henrietta offered her hand. ‘You must be Judith. How wonderful to finally meet you. What a pretty wife my brother has!’
Judith returned a thin smile, merely brushing Henrietta’s fingers with her cold hand. ‘You are very kind, madam. John has spoken of you many times.’
Henrietta dipped her head, understanding Judith’s reserve very well. What had she expected? To other women, she was a whore. Judith knew exactly what Henrietta had done to get John this privilege.
‘Dog! Doggy!’ A high voice fractured the tension.
It was a little boy, petting Fop with heavy hands. Her breath caught. He could only be two years old, with his toddling legs and big smiles. His sister was much older, perhaps about seven.
‘Oh! These are your little ones.’
John beamed. ‘Yes, you get to see them at last. Come on, you two – meet your Aunty Hetty.’
Suddenly bashful, the girl curtsied and twisted her fingers together while John announced her as Dorothy. Dark curls framed the perfect oval of her face.
‘Oh, but John,’ Henrietta said, ‘she’s the image of Mama.’
‘Yes. And this little chap is Jack.’ The boy stared at her as John put a hand on his back and coaxed him into a bow. It was a lovely age – she remembered Henry at this sweet period.
Jack straightened up, pointed at Fop and proudly announced, ‘Dog.’
‘Yes, I have two dogs. You may play with them all you wish. And do go over to the table. There is lemonade, and some sweetmeats – unless there is something else you prefer? Judith, perhaps I can fetch you some wine or ale?’
‘Wine, please. Thank you.’
Dorothy and Jack scrambled over to the table and plunged their fingers into the treats. After filling her mouth and wiping a sticky hand on her skirt, Dorothy took the jug and poured her brother a drink with great care.
Henrietta fetched wine for the adults, unable to believe the sight of a happy family in her apartments. ‘They really are beautiful children.’ She nodded to Judith, keen to thaw the ice. ‘A credit to you, my lady.’
Judith smiled, but it flickered on her face. Henrietta knew what she was thinking: loose morals might be contagious. She didn’t want to expose her daughter to the prince’s mistress. There was no way Henrietta could explain the chain of events that had led her to this shameful position – especially to a stranger.
‘What of your own boy?’ John asked in a low voice. ‘I wish I could see my nephew.’
Henrietta’s throat closed up. ‘They tell me he studies at Magdalene College, in Cambridge. He will travel to an academy in Paris next year.’
‘Where do you suppose your worthless husband got the money for that?’
She dropped down onto the sofa, suddenly weary. ‘He must have won at the gaming table.’
Judith darted a look at her children, as if this reference to vice would taint them. ‘Will you not visit your son, while he is at College?’ she asked. ‘It seems a perfect opportunity to see him without Mr Howard being present.’ With a little more kindness, she added, ‘From what John tells me, he’s a beastly fellow. He’s certainly put us to a great deal of inconvenience and expense.’
Henrietta sighed. Judith was the perfect model of a wife, dressed prettily in green velvet with a modest fichu covering her cleavage. Her large cap of spotted lace gave her an eminently respectable, maternal air. Perhaps if Henrietta had married the right man, she would be like that herself. ‘I cannot travel to Cambridge – I dare not. Charles has a warrant to seize me. So far he hasn’t made any attempts, but if he heard of my journey he would be sure to follow me, or wait at one of the stages on the way back.’
‘Oh. I see.’ Judith grew a shade paler.
Henrietta held her gaze, willing her to feel her pain. ‘Beside which, I don’t think Henry wants to see me. He listens to those who speak ill of me. I suppose I am an embarrassment to him.’
Judith tensed. ‘It is a very difficult situation.’
‘Why would anyone speak ill of you, Aunty Hetty?’ Dorothy sat at the table with her dark head tilted to the side. The depth of her brown gaze told Henrietta she had been listening for some time.
‘Do not be so impertinent, Dorothy,’ Judith cried.
‘Oh, no, it’s quite all right.’ Henrietta adjusted her position on the sofa. What could she say? She didn’t know how to address this tiny apparition of her mother, or explain her sordid circumstances without distressing the child. She took a breath. ‘Some people do not like me, Dorothy, because I am the prince’s friend.’
Dorothy sipped her lemonade as she considered this. ‘That doesn’t make sense. Being friends is a good thing. Why would it be wrong to be someone’s friend?’
‘Well, my dear, some people are jealous,’ she said carefully. ‘They wish the prince liked them as much as he likes me. As for the others . . . they do not approve. They do not think he is the type of person I should be friends with.’
‘Mama told me I should not be friends with the butcher’s boy. She said he wasn’t appropriate.’
Henrietta smiled indulgently. ‘So you understand.’
Dorothy pulled off a morsel of sweetmeat and fed it to Marquise. Her brother was already under the table, rolling about with Fop. ‘Don’t worry, Aunty Hetty. I will be your friend. And so will Jack.’
He looked up at his name, smiling. ‘Jack,’ he repeated.
Henrietta dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief as John and Judith laughed. ‘God bless you for that, sweetheart.’
Caroline hovered, torn between the company that pleaded for amusement and the husband who so needed her. For once, his bad mood was not a burden she could foist off on to Mrs Howard. This responsibility was hers, and hers alone.
George leant on the window frame with his forehead pressed against the glass. His breath made mist and obscured the view of the courtyard below. Lights shifted beneath the haze; lamps moving in the darkness as sedan chairs were set down for the King and Melusine.
How was Caroline supposed to buoy his spirits when her own were at nil? The small nub that had appeared on her stomach after Louisa’s birth was now a hard mass that caused her persistent pain. She felt its presence constantly as it chafed against her stomacher, a flesh bubble of agony.
George heaved a broken sigh. She walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Together, they peered through the misted glass and watched the King’s sedan lumber off into the night.
‘How often does my father go to the theatre? He hides in here like some damned rabbit in a warren and then, on the one day he should court solitude . . .’ Tears made his eyes sparkle like blue crystal.
‘He is doing this on purpose to distress you. Do not let him succeed. We will keep your mother’s memory in our own way.’
His face crumpled. ‘Why did she have to die, Caroline? Why now?’
She placed her arm around his shoulders. Her stomach twanged with the movement. She had no answers for him; only the comfort of her touch. How woefully inadequate it was.
‘If my mother had lived until I was king . . . ’ He closed his eyes and exhaled. ‘I meant to set her free. You know I did. She could have come to England in honour, I would have made her Regent of Hanover.’
‘It was not meant to be.’
‘But why?’
‘I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘Dear heart, I have been through this pain. I understand the wild thoughts that fly through your head. But asking questions that can never be answered will do you no good. Don’t try to make sense of it. It is a cruel blow. Allow yourself to suffer under it, then you can start to heal.’
‘You do not know this pain,’ he muttered, his jaw clenched. ‘You were allowed to mourn, you were allowed to say goodbye. My loss is not even acknowledged. I am forbidden to dress in black.’ He shook his head. ‘The whole court goes on, without even a day of mourning. How can he treat her so? Even in death, she receives no pity.’
Caroline swallowed, choked by his emotion. He had not seen this woman in thirty-four years, yet still she broke his heart. Did Fred lean out of his window like this, longing for her?
It did not make the least bit of difference if he did; her son would soon have another woman to replace her. The King was determined to marry Fred to his Prussian cousin the next time he visited Hanover. Never mind that the Prussian King was a violent brute whom George had hated since birth. Like everything else in Fred’s life, his parents had no part in his marriage.
‘I cannot even remember what she looked like. I keep trying to see her, but I can’t. The King insisted on putting the portraits away so many years ago . . . But I recall her smell.’ His voice cracked. ‘Jasmine and bergamot. What troubles me most is that she didn’t know I loved her. She must have sat in that castle and thought I was my father’s child through and through, raised to hate her. I wanted to tell her I never changed. But now I will not get the chance.’
‘She knew,’ Caroline said with conviction. Images of Fred filled her mind; his chubby baby face, his first wobbly steps, the first time he had said her name. Surely he must still feel something for her?
‘She couldn’t have known. My father saw to that.’
Caroline pinched his chin between her fingers and tilted his head to look at the inky sky. Through the November frost, dozens of tiny stars burnt fierce and bright. ‘If she didn’t know it living, George, she knows it now. She sees you.’
He blinked, studying the twinkling dots. ‘And yet I still cannot see her.’ He thought for a moment. His mouth twisted. ‘People say she prophesied the King would die within a year of her. Do you think she sees him too? That she glares down on him, ill-wishing him?’
Caroline thought of Fred’s face when she had left him. ‘Let us hope so.’