Indiscretions of the Queen

Caroline in Love

THE Princess Caroline was past twenty and still unmarried. The Prince of Orange had been a possible choice and so had the Prince of Prussia, But Caroline, who had been so eager for marriage, decided against them for she had made up her mind that when she married it would be for love.

There had been strange and mystifying news of her sister Charlotte. No one at Brunswick was quite sure what had happened to Charlotte but Caroline’s dramatic imagination supplied her with violent pictures.

Where was Charlotte? She was at the Court of Russia where her husband had left her, and he had taken her three children from her. To be deprived of her children! thought Caroline. What a bitter tragedy! And why had Charlotte allowed that to happen ? Because she was powerless to stop it, was the answer.

Charlotte had been an unfaithful wife, it was said. That was possible. Her husband had put her under the care of the Empress Catherine of Russia, that woman whose amours were notorious throughout Europe. And Charlotte had simply disappeared.

How she would like to go to Russia, to discover what had happened to her sister, to travel and be adventurous! But all the same the affair of Charlotte made one wary of undertaking a marriage which would send one among strangers far from home.

She told her father so when they walked together in the grounds about the Palace, for as she grew older so did the affection between them strengthen and he was the only member of the household with whom she could discuss her innermost thoughts. Her mother was a silly woman, she decided, and although she accepted the virtues of Madame de Hertzfeldt, the fact of her supremacy in the household did make an uneasy position, in spite of the fact that none of them knew what they would do without her. If Madame de Hertzfeldt had been the Duchess and her mother, then she could have confided in both her parents.

Moreover, with such a mother might she not have been more serene, more what they called balanced? Who could say? But there was her father, and when he was not away from home fighting his battles under the command of his friend and patron, Frederick the Great, or was not engaged on state matters at home, he had time for his daughter. The only son who could possibly rule after him was learning his business as a soldier, and Caroline was like an only daughter now that Charlotte had gone.

He often brooded on the boys living out their lives in darkness; on Charlotte who, he was certain, had been murdered in Russia; and asked himself why he and his fertile wife had produced such a brood. Then he turned to gay, lovely and pretty Caroline— for in his eyes she possessed all these qualities— and told himself that at least he had this daughter. And since that affair of the accoucheur she had become less wild He had been the one who had explained to her the folly of such actions and how they grieved him, and he was a little comforted to see that it was the latter which had made most impression on her.

She had put her hand shyly in his— for in spite of all her bravado she was a little afraid of him— and had said ‘Papa, I would not wish to make you sad.’

When he had reported this scene later to Madame de Hertzfeldt she had been pleased and said that the way to mould Caroline was through affection and it was her father who could guide her because there was no doubt that she loved and admired him; and what was perhaps most important of all, respected him.

So when her father sent for her and told her that the Prince of Orange was asking for her hand in marriage she went quietly away and considered all she had heard of the Prince of Orange and decided against the match. Then she returned to explain her feelings to her father.

‘I wish to be married,’ she explained, ‘but I do not wish to be unhappy as my sister must have been. There is much unhappiness in marriage and I would approach it very cautiously.’

‘That’s a wise attitude, I have to admit,’ replied her father.

‘Dear Papa,’ she went on, ‘he would have to be a very attractive bridegroom to make me want to leave you.’

Yes, he had succeeded with her through affection. He had a nightmare picture of her being forced into marriage. What disaster would that bring forth? He dared not speculate for he believed that his unwelcome marriage was the reason why he had three afflicted children. They had found the way to treat Caroline: affection, restraint only when necessary and applied with the gentlest hands, and just a dash of fear— or perhaps respect would be a more apt description.

In any case, the Duke had inspired her with enough admiration and affection to be able to guide her.

‘My dearest daughter,’ he told her, ‘I want you to know that I shall never force you into marriage. You shall only go away from home if you wish it.’

He was rewarded by her response.

‘Dearest Papa, you put me in a quandary. I wish to marry. Above all I wish to have children. Yet I know I shall never wish to leave you.’

‘You will one day. It is natural for you to marry. The day will come. But I want you to know that you will never be forced to accept a marriage which is distasteful to you.’

Oh, yes, it was certainly right. There was a rare softness in her eyes subduing the habitual wildness. This was the way to treat Caroline. And they must employ this method or they would have another tragedy like Charlotte’s.

So she declined the Princes of Orange and Prussia.

The Duchess was excited and came to her daughter’s apartments to tell her why. Caroline’s servants were there but the Duchess never worried about servants; she looked upon them as though they were pieces of furniture and it never occurred to her that they possessed ears and tongues and might be as fond of gossip as she was herself.

‘What do you think, Caroline? My nephew is coming to Brunswick.’

‘Not— the Prince of Wales!’

‘Oh, how I wish that were so! Not quite— my dear. But the next best thing.

His brother, the Duke of York. I am most excited.’

‘Oh, Mamma, you think everything English is better than anything else.’

‘So it is! So it is! If I could only make you see the Court— Not so much as my brother made his but my grandfather’s Court. Everything would have been so different if my father had not died before he could come to the throne. just, think of it, Caroline, now I am the daughter of a Prince of Wales whereas I might have been the daughter of a King.’

‘Well, Mamma, you were of the same family.’

‘Not quite the same, Caroline. Not quite the same. And oh— the intrigue that went on. My mother and er— her friend on one side— the King on the other.’

‘Tell me about your mother’s— friend, Mamma.’

‘I certainly shall not.’

‘There is no need really so I’m happy to relieve you of the necessity. I know already. Lord Bute became the lover of the— Princess of Wales after the Prince died.’

‘Where do you hear such wicked scandals?’ demanded the Duchess.

Caroline smiled demurely. ‘From you, Mamma.’

The Duchess made an impatient sound with her lips. ‘Oh, everything here is so drab. So different from England. One must enliven the days if only with memories. I was a person of some account in England, Caroline.’

Caroline regarded her mother quizzically. Was she? Could she ever have been? Caroline had a picture of her mother, the Princess Royal of England, vainly attempting to meddle in Court politics— ineffectually of course.

Caroline softened towards her mother then and hoped that she would never be like her. Of course she would not. She would be like her father— a Brunswicker with a lion in her heart.

‘Mamma,’ she said gently, ‘you were telling me about the Duke of York—’

‘Oh, yes, he is coming here to see us. He is a great soldier, you know, and has been distinguishing himself on the Continent. He is a year younger than the Prince of Wales and I have had letters from my brother about him.’

‘That, Mamma, must have made you very happy— to have letters from the King of England.’

‘Very gratifying. It may well be, Caroline, that His Majesty is sending his son here for a purpose.’

Caroline nodded. She was on her feet, parading about the room, and turning to her mother she curtsied. Then she strolled about looking over her shoulder at the Duchess. ‘Will I suit, Sir Duke? Am I worthy to be the consort of a Duke?’ Then with an English accent: ‘We will see. We will see. I am an English Duke, do not forget. My brother is the Prince of Wales.’ She pretended to take a quizzing glass from her pocket and held it up continuing to make comments in that voice with the ridiculous English accent.

Caroline was almost choking with laughter but the Duchess was not amused.

‘Stop it, Caroline. You are most— most— improper.’

But Caroline would not stop. She was carrying on with this ridiculous charade in a manner which clearly showed her mounting hysteria.

Oh dear, thought the Duchess. I cannot manage her. If the Hertzfeldt woman were here now what would she do? ‘Caroline,’ she said sharply, ‘stop it. If you go on like this, you will never get a man to marry you.’

It was evidently the right thing to have said for Caroline stopped and looked at her mother, and seizing her opportunity the Duchess went on: ‘You are not so very young now that you can afford to play these childish games. I think you should be a little interested in your cousin’s visit.’

Caroline had suddenly seen herself growing old at the Court of Brunswick.

The eccentric Princess Caroline! And she was wise enough to know that those antics which in the young could be viewed with tolerance and considered amusing, in the middle-aged would be boring, eccentric and perhaps mad.

She did not want to stay at Brunswick all her life. She wanted to see the world; and she would never do that if she remained unmarried living always in her father’s Court.

Her mother was right. She should be interested in the arrival of the Duke of York.

‘What do you know of him?’ she asked.

‘That he is very handsome and attractive, has distinguished himself on the field of battle, is amusing, clever und witty.’

‘He sounds like a god rather than a cousin.’

‘I am sure you will think him so,’ said the Duchess triumphantly.

So it was what they wanted, thought Caroline. They were hoping for a match.

Marriage with the Duke of York. One would go to England, her mother’s country of which she talked as though it were some El Dorado— and yet her mother had not been nearly so happy living there as she had believed herself to be when she left it. That’s natural enough, thought Caroline, for that’s how life always seems.

Yes, she would like to see England. She would like to see Uncle George, who had always seemed to be led by the nose by his mother and that lover of hers— and Aunt Charlotte who was the villainess because her sister-in-law, now Duchess of Brunswick, had so disliked her.

‘Tell me about them, Mamma,’ she said. ‘Tell me about the King and the Queen.’

‘It is long since I saw them,’ said the Duchess comfortably, because there was nothing she enjoyed like a gossip and a gossip of the old days was the best kind.

‘George was really quite handsome— in his way. Fair hair, blue eyes— rather heavy jaw and kind— very kind. He always wanted to please everyone. He was very startled when he found himself King of England Grandpapa, of course, was very old and Papa was dead so George was the next in the line of succession, of course, but we all thought Grandpapa would go on and on. Then one day he went into his closet and died instantly. And so George was king and he was exactly twenty-two— not much older than you.’

‘Was he pleased do you think?’

‘Pleased! He was terrified! He wouldn’t move a step without Mamma and Lord Bute. Of course there was a real scandal about that affair. They used to call him the Scotch Stallion. The people hated him. They jeered at him when he went out in his carriage. In fact there was a time when they actually tried to do him a mischief. But Mamma was faithful to him for years—’

Caroline looked slyly at her, mother. Trust the Duchess to explain everything which a moment before she had suggested it was improper to discuss. One could wheedle anything out of Mamma, thought Caroline, provided one employed the right tactics.

‘The Scotch Stallion,’ cried Caroline, suddenly unable to restrain her mirth. ‘I like that. I like that very much.’

‘My dear Caroline, I beg of you! You should not speak of such things. What next I wonder.’

‘And what of Queen Charlotte, Mamma? Tell me about her.’

‘A horrid creature. I disliked her on sight. Little and thin— very thin. Such a flat nose— such a big mouth. Really, she looked like a crocodile. She should have been humble— very humble. To come from a little court like Mecklenburg-Strelitz to marry the King of England.’

‘ ‘It was rather like Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, I expect, was it not, Mamma?’

The Duchess looked cautiously at her daughter. ‘Yes, but smaller,’ she said.

‘Of less consequence. And we soon made her realize this. I reported her actions to my mother, and we soon put her in her place. I remember an occasion when she did not want to wear her jewels to church and we made her. It was symbolic, you see. If she had had her way about that, she would have tried to exert her power over the King in more important ways. Sometimes I wondered whether it wouldn’t have been better to have let him have Sarah Lennox after all. Oh dear, he was mad for Sarah Lennox. You would call her a pretty creature. But flighty.

And that has been proved. She left Bunbury, you know. For she married Bunbury when she knew she could not have George. And there was a child— not her husband’s. Most scandalous. And that was Sarah Lennox for you. And meanwhile everyone said Charlotte might be a dull, plain little German hausfrau, but she was fertile— oh, very fertile. Fifteen children. Just imagine! No sooner is one delivered than she is pregnant again. Serve her right. It was all she was fit for.’

‘I should like to have fifteen children. I wonder if I ever shall―’

‘You will have to get married soon to have so many.’ The Duchess laughed suddenly. ‘There has to be a small breathing space between, you know. Not that Charlotte asked for much. Or perhaps George wouldn’t let her.’

They laughed together— the Duchess maliciously, Caroline wildly.

‘Thirteen of them left, because they lost Octavius and Alfred. Thirteen out of fifteen is not a bad score though, is it? Thirteen. Very nice. Seven of them sons.

Oh, yes, Charlotte provided the right proportion. Nine boys there were and two boys dead makes seven, does it not? Seven husbands for seven Princesses.’

‘So Queen Charlotte was a benefactor to mankind after all,’ commented Caroline. ‘To royal mankind anyway. Just imagine all the princesses who would have had to go without husbands if she had not so zealously done her duty.’

Caroline began to laugh; and the Duchess was always disconcerted— as everyone else was— by that too wild laughter.

‘It is something for you to remember,’ said the Duchess severely, ‘And now the second son is coming to see us— Frederick, Duke of York! I confess it is a long time since I was so excited.’

‘How much more excited you would have been, Mamma, if it had been the first son, the Prince of Wales?’

‘Well, my daughter, we cannot hope for miracles. The Prince of Wales would never be allowed to leave England. If ever it should come to pass—’

‘You mean if a miracle should come to pass, Mamma?’

The Duchess looked sternly at her daughter. ‘When the Prince of Wales decides to marry, it will be the King’s envoy who conveys the news to his chosen bride’s family.’

Again that demure look crossed Caroline’s features. ‘Well, Mamma, I will endeavour to be duly excited by the proposed visit— but not too excited because it is only Uncle George’s second son, and he is coming himself. Now if it were Uncle George’s envoy instead of his son, I should be capering with glee, should I not?’

‘Caroline, sometimes your talk is most improper!’

‘I own it.’ said Caroline. She wanted to add: It is a trait I have inherited from my dear Mamma. But that would be unwise. To let the Duchess know how indiscreet she was might put a curb on conversations such as this which could mean that Caroline might become far less knowledgeable about the scandals of Europe.

The Duchess looked pleased. ‘Remember it,’ she said sternly. ‘And as soon as the Duke of York arrives you should greet him with charm and— propriety.’

Caroline was thoughtful when she left the Duchess. A possible suitor? This was clearly what her parents and Madame de Hertzfeldt had in mind. Well, she would inspect the young man and if she did not like him she would not have him.

Had not her father said that she would never be forced into marriage?

Crossing the courtyard she paused to watch the soldiers on duty. How smart they looked in their uniforms. She was sure Cousin Frederick of York would not be half as handsome as the soldier who was now coming towards her.

He saluted.

‘Good day,’ said Caroline in the familiar manner in which she spoke to everyone.

‘Good day, Your Highness.’

‘It is a good day.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Are you often on duty here, er— ” ‘I am Major von Töbingen at Your Highness’s Service.’

‘At my service, that is nice; and a little reckless Major von Töbingen, for what if I should ask a service of you?’

‘It would be the greatest pleasure of my life to render it.’

What charm! thought Caroline. And he looked so earnest, as though he really meant it.

‘I shall remember that,’ she told him; and she walked on, but when she had gone a few paces she paused to look over her shoulder. He was looking after her.

She laughed and ran into the palace.

‘Major von Töbingen,’ she said aloud. ‘A delightful man. I’ll swear he’s far more handsome than the Duke of York.’

When the Duke arrived Caroline continued to think so. By that time she had had many conversations with Major von Töbingen. In fact she was beginning to make plans which included him. She thought what delightful children he would have that was if they grew up to look and behave as he did.

The Duke of York was a tolerably good looking young man, a little arrogant.

Were all the English arrogant? she wondered. He was light-hearted, gay and ready for a flirtation with his cousin Caroline, but she suspected that he might not wish it to go beyond that.

She liked him moderately. Perhaps if she did not constantly compare him with Major von Töbingen she might have considered him as a husband, for after all if she were going to get her big family, as her mother said, she must not delay too long.

When he found that she was not prepared to treat him as a potential lover, the Duke was philosophically resigned, one might say relieved. His cousin Caroline was not ill-looking; she was bright enough; but she did not appeal to him as a wife or mistress. He was longing to get back to England; he had been away a long time but when he thought of Englishwomen they seemed so much more desirable than any he had met on his travels.

He had clear memory of Mrs. Robinson, the very handsome young actress with whom his brother, George, had been in love. What a goddess she had seemed! And he had left England before that affair had come to its conclusion.

He often laughed to think of George in love, for when George fell in love, he did so wholeheartedly. He remembered how he had accompanied his brother out into the gardens at Kew to that spot where Essex— who was then Malden— had brought the beautiful actress, George’s Perdita. And there George and she had embraced under the trees while he kept watch on one side and Malden and Perdita’s lady’s maid on the other.

What a creature Mrs. Robinson was! He had not seen anyone to touch her for beauty since he had left England. And the lady’s maid was a beauty too.

He was longing to be back; and he hoped before very long he would be. Why should he be exiled from home just because the King thought that a Guelph should take his training in a German army? But one must be fair to the old man.

There was fighting on the Continent and that gave him a chance to take part in a real battle. But oh, how he longed to go home and talk to his brother George and find out what he was doing now. For of one thing he could be sure, the Prince of Wales would be doing something exciting How much truth was there in this rumour that he had married a Mrs.

Fitzherbert? If he had— by God, there would be trouble. But there always would be trouble around George. That was the one thing he could be sure of. Oh, indeed, what joy to be home, to share his brother’s adventures, to be on those old terms of intimacy. For George was his friend as no one else ever could be.

Arid now here he was at the Court of Brunswick. Aunt Augusta was not in the least like her brother. In fact, Frederick was sure his father would heartily disapprove of his sister. He always had; but at the same time the King felt that his niece, the Princess Caroline, should be the wife of one of his sons.

Not this one, thought Frederick. I should soon tire of Madame Caroline. And she would never make a docile wife. Still, it amused him to ride with her, talk with her, dance with her— in fact behave towards her as a very good cousin.

She wanted to hear about England; and as they rode out with a party he would bring her horse close to his and talk to her.

Did they ride much in England? she wanted to know.

‘All the time. I reckon we have some of the finest horses in the world.’

Trust them, thought Caroline. They had the finest everything.

‘And your brothers and sisters, they enjoy riding.’

‘My brother, the Prince of Wales, is devoted to the exercise. Not only does he ride, but he drives his own phaeton and carriages. He is said to be one of the best horsemen in the country.’

‘People will pay royalty such compliments.’

‘What do you mean, cousin?’

‘That princes and princesses are always the best this and that. They only have to have one good feature and they are beautiful. Take me, for instance. I have been called the beautiful Princess of Brunswick. What do you think of that?’

‘That it is not untrue.’

‘Courtier!’ she laughed. ‘You don’t mean it! You think I am just tolerable as a cousin. Oh, do not think, Master York, that I am inviting flirtation. I am not. If I wished to flirt, there are many ready to oblige.’

‘I am sure of that.’

‘And I should not wish to bother my lord Duke, and even if he felt so disposed I might discourage him.’

‘How unkind!’

She laughed aloud. ‘Very glib. And I have no more desire to marry you than you have to marry me. So set yourself at ease on that score.’

‘Marriage?’ gasped the Duke.

‘Let us be honest. Whenever the son of a king visits a princess the intention is always there. Your visit, sir, is in the nature of an inspection. I am not asking you to deny this. I am only putting your mind at rest.’

She whipped up her horse and rode on; the Duke stared after her. What a strange creature! What did she mean? Was she coquettish? Was she chiding him for not making advances or warning him off lest he did? He attempted to follow her; then he saw her making for a tall soldier on horseback.

She joined him; she threw a glance over her shoulder at the Duke. Nothing could have told him more clearly that she had no wish for him to join them.

The Duke fell back and rode with the rest of the party.

Life was conducted in a very strange manner at the Court of Brunswick, he thought, and the strangest part of it was the behaviour of the Princess Caroline.

A messenger arrived from England with letters and a package for the Duke of York and to his astonishment, when he opened the packet, he found a necklace and earrings set with splendid diamonds.

The Duke read the letter which accompanied them and which was signed by his father.

The King thought that the Duke of York might wish to make a present to his cousin Caroline and for this purpose he had sent him the diamonds.

The Duke looked at them speculatively for some minutes.

He took out the necklace and examined the stones. To give them to Caroline would be tantamount to making her an offer of marriage. So that was clearly what the old man had in mind. It was quite out of the question. He had no desire to marry her. Moreover, he might well be refused and that would not please the King. Would she be allowed to refuse an offer from England? She had hinted in one or two of the conversations that her father had told her she should never be forced into marriage.

He shook his head, put the necklace back into its case and carefully rewrapped the package.

He sat down and thought of returning home and the kind of woman to whom he would present the necklace. He fancied she would be rather like Mrs.

Robinson; and she would be English.

The Duke of York had left the Court of Brunswick. Many shook their heads.

Was Caroline going to reject all her hopes of marriage? What a strange girl she was! It seemed very likely that she would never marry at all.

Caroline knew they whispered of her. ‘Let him go,’ she said to the Baroness de Bode. ‘He’s a pleasant enough young man but not for me.’

The Baroness said: ‘He is the son of the King of England.’

Caroline pouted. ‘The second son.’

‘Good Heavens, is Your Highness hoping for the Prince of Wales?’

Caroline turned away with a laugh. Let them think so. Let them imagine her to be ambitious. She was ambitious— for a home with the man she loved and a large family of happy children.

And she was in love.

Under cover of dusk she slipped out to meet her Major. He was a little alarmed— for her, of course. He had declared frequently that he did not care what happened to him.

‘Silly man,’ she cried fondly. ‘My father understands me. He knows he could never force me into marriage. He will let me marry where I will.’

Then if this was so why not disclose their plans to the Duke? That was what Caroline thought; but Major von Töbingen begged her to keep their secret a little longer.

She gave way. But, she warned him, not for long. He was there waiting in the shadows— tall, mysterious in his long cloak.

She threw herself into his arms and hugged him in the unrestrained manner which while it delighted him alarmed him too.

‘I have a present for you, my dearest,’ she said. ‘It’s a token.’

She gave him the large amethyst pin which she had had made for him from one of her rings.

‘I shall expect you to wear it— always,’ she told him.

She began to talk rapidly of the future. She would speak to her father and they would be married.

‘It will never be,’ he told her in despair. ‘They will never allow a princess to marry a mere soldier!’

‘A mere soldier! You— a mere soldier! There is nothing mere about you. I love you, do you hear. I love you. That means that my father will give his consent.’

He whispered that they must speak quietly or they would be overheard.

‘Let them hear!’ Her voice rang out. ‘What does it matter? I want the whole Court to know. Why should they not? I have made up my mind.’

She was exuberant and impatient. Marriage with her Major would be perfect bliss, she told him.

‘Children— do you want children? But of course you do. Dear little children.

All our own. Every time, I go to the village to see my adopted ones I say to myself: They are lovely. I adore them. But soon I shall have little ones of my own. I cannot wait. Why should I? I am no longer a child. I must speak to my father— I must— I must— I will! ‘

But he begged her to wait a little longer and because she loved him she agreed.

Major von Töbingen was seen to wear a big amethyst pin. Sometimes his fingers would stray to it and linger there lovingly. The Princess Caroline constantly contrived to be where he was; and her eyes were seen to rest on the pin. It was her gift to him, was the general comment.

It was impossible not to be aware of the Princess’s emotions. She had never been one to hide them at any time; and Caroline in love was at her most emotional row like the Princess to reject the Princes of Orange and Prussia and to show the Duke of York quite clearly that she had no wish to marry him— and then to fall besottedly in love with a major in the Army.

The rumours grew fast. She was already with child, it was whispered. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. That other occasion was recalled when during a ball an accoucheur had to be called to the palace.

A fresh scandal was about to break.

Madame de Hertzfeldt consulted with the Duke and as a result one day not very long after she had presented him with the amethyst pin, Caroline went to their usual trysting place where she waited in vain for her Major.

He had gone, and when she had demanded of his fellow officers where he was they could not tell her. He had been there one morning and by afternoon had disappeared. There was simply no trace of him.

She had stamped her foot; she had raged. ‘Where? Where? Where?’ she had cried But they could not help her.

One of them suggested that her father the Duke might be able to explain.

She went to her father’s apartments, Madame de Hertzfeldt was with him, and they were expecting her.

‘My dear child—’ began her father and would have put his arms about her but she cried out― ‘Where is Major von Töbingen?’

‘Major von Töbingen’s duties have taken him away,’ said the Duke gently, ‘What duties? Where?’

The Duke looked surprised. Even his dear daughter could not speak to him in that manner.

‘Suffice it that he is no longer with us.’

‘No longer with us! I tell you I shall not be satisfied with that. I want to know where he is. I want him brought back. I am going to marry him. Nothing— nothing— nothing— is going to stop me.’

The Duke looked at Madame de Hertzfeldt who said gently: ‘Caroline, you must realize that a princess cannot marry without the approval of her family.’

‘I know nothing of other princesses. I only know what I myself will do. I will marry Major von Töbingen.’

The Duke said: ‘No, my dear, you will not.’

She turned on him. ‘You said that I should not be forced to marry against my will.’

‘I did; and you shall not be. But I did not give you permission to marry without my consent.’

‘So you have sent him away.’

‘Caroline,’ said Madame de Hertzfeldt, ‘it was the only thing we could do.’

‘The only thing you could do. And who are you, Madam, to govern me? Be silent! If I have to listen to my father, I will not to you. I shall not stay here.’ She began to pace the room.

She was like a tigress, thought Madame de Hertzfeldt. How peaceful we should be if she would marry and go away from the Court! The Duke was about to protest when Madame de Hertzfeldt signed to him not to do so on her account. She was sure that they must try to reason with Caroline gently. She was always afraid on occasions like this that Caroline’s delicately- poised mind would over-balance and she knew what great grief this would bring to the Duke.

The Duke said: ‘You must have realized the unsuitability of such a match.’

‘It is suitable because we love each other. What more suitable? Would you have me make a marriage such as yours? Would you give me a mate whom I must despise as you do yours?’

The Duke clenched his hands. She was shouting and he knew that her words would be overheard.

‘Don’t try to silence me. You have taken my lover from me. He is good and kind and handsome but that would not do. You would marry me to some ill- formed monstrosity just because he is a royal. That would be suitable— suitable — suitable―’

Madame de Hertzfeldt had slipped out of the room. The Duke guessed that it was to take some action. In the meantime he tried to quiet his daughter.

‘Caroline, I will not have you shout in this manner. I will have you remember your place here. If I cared, I could arrange a marriage for you entirely of my choosing. Do not imagine that because I have so far been lenient with you, I shall continue to be so. So much depends on your own conduct.’

That quieted her. It was true she was a little afraid of him. She did realize that she owed her free way of life to him‚ that she was not treated as so many princesses in her position would have been.

‘Papa,’ she said, ‘I love him!’

‘I know, my dear, but it could not be. You must realize that.’

‘Why not? It seems so senseless! Why should we have to be made unhappy when we could be happy, when we could have healthy children and bring them up in a happy home.’

‘It is the penalty of royalty.’

‘But we ourselves make those penalties! Why? Why? Why cannot we be free?

Why do we pen ourselves in with our misery merely to preserve our silly royalty?’

‘Pray do not speak in that way, daughter.’

‘So I may not even speak as I will!’ Her eyes flashed with sudden rage. ‘I will not endure this treatment, I tell you. I will make my own life I will go and find him— I will renounce your precious royalty for the sake of love.’

Madame de Hertzfeldt had returned; she was carrying a cup. ‘Caroline,’ she said, ‘you know you have my sympathy. Pray, do as I say.’

‘What is that?’

‘Drink this. It will help you to sleep for a while. You are distraught; and when you have recovered a little from this shock you may talk with your father.’

For a moment it seemed as though Caroline would dash the cup out of Madame de Hertzfeldt’s hand; then that tactful woman said, ‘You will feel calmer. You may be able to convert him to your ideas— or even accept his.’

The hopelessness of her situation was brought home to Caroline. The walls of the apartment seemed to close in upon her. Shut in, she thought, imprisoned in royalty.

The Princess Caroline was ill. She would eat nothing; she could not sleep. She lay hollow-eyed in her bed.

She had received a letter from Major von Töbingen in which he said goodbye to her. He begged her to accept their separation which in his heart he had known was inevitable from the beginning. She must not try to find him, for even if she did— which was not possible— he could not marry her. To do so would be an act of treason, she must realize that. He would never forget her. He would love her until he died if she would occasionally think of him with tenderness that was all he would ask of life.

She wept bitterly over the letter and kept it under her pillow to read again and again The dream of love and marriage with the man of her, choice was over. She was listless‚ and they feared for her life.

It gave her a savage pleasure to see their concern. Her father came to her room each day, he was very tender. If there was anything she wished for— except that one thing which was all she wanted— she might have it.

‘Nothing, nothing,’ she murmured and turned her face the wall.

But she was grieved to see his unhappiness. He had been a good father to her; and she loved him.

For his sake she ate a little and tried to feel resigned. And‚ after a while she was well enough to leave her bed.

The Duke suggested a change of scene and she left Court for a while and when she returned she was a little more like her old exuberant self.

But when Prince George of Darmstadt made an offer for her hand she refused him.

‘Although I am not allowed to choose,’ she said firmly, ‘at least I am permitted to reject.’