I travelled to Windsor on the Oxford coach, and as the weather was set fair I rode on the rumble to save money. I see from my diary that I found the Royalties in a state of discreet civil war:

May 14th 1796

Wales and his princess have given up all pretence of living together and the battle lines are drawn. The King refuses to take sides and Lady Jersey has retired to the country so the Prince has lost his deadliest weapon, but when the troops are counted he still has the advantage. Princess Caroline is apparently such an incurable flirt and such an irremediable slattern that only Billy Clarence and Sofy speak up in her defence.

The prevailing view was that everyone had done their best with Caroline, that all she had needed to do was follow the example of the Queen but she defiantly would not. The fact that the Prince of Wales hadn’t followed the example of the King was held to be of no account. Sofy’s chief concern was for the baby.

‘What if Caroline takes her away?’ she said. ‘What if she feels so unwelcome here she goes back to Brunswick and takes the little darling with her?’

Minny said, ‘Don’t be a goose. Charlotte isn’t hers to take away. Charlotte belongs to England. And if Caroline doesn’t mend her ways I shouldn’t wonder if the King doesn’t take the baby from her and bring her to us, to be properly raised.’

I said, ‘But surely, a child should be with its mother?’

Amelia said, ‘No, Nellie. That may be the way with your kind of people but for us it’s not at all the case.’

And Minny said, ‘It’s true. The Duke of Württemburg’s children have grown up without their mother and Royal hears that they do very well.’

The Princess Royal’s betrothal to Fritz was all but sealed. The only impediment to an early wedding was the war. The King wouldn’t allow her to travel until she was guaranteed a safe passage. She seemed not to mind the wait. She was fatter than ever and a martyr to her liver but she had landed a husband and so had cleared the way for her sisters to do the same. Miss Burney, who was now Madame D’Arblay, came to tea at Frogmore and we all attended. She was quite unchanged but I think she would not have known me, had it not been for my mark.

‘Cornelia Welche,’ she said, ‘you’re all grown up. I forget how time passes.’

I had bought a copy of Camilla for her to sign.

She said, ‘And you still write? Of course you do. How could you not when there is so much to observe?’

One eyebrow discreetly raised in the direction of the Royalties.

I said, ‘Your husband doesn’t mind the time your writing takes?’

‘He doesn’t. He’s a sensible man and not over careful of his dignity. Camilla has bought us a house. And are you married too?’

‘Soon. Jack’s in business and I have to help him. I do write, but every time the shop bell rings I have to leave off.’

‘Ah yes,’ she said. ‘And then there will be children. I have a son now, you know. And I must say he’s a greatly superior creation to any of my books.’

She signed my book To Cornelia, a fellow scribbler. Then she appended the words, between each clanging of the shop bell. I wanted to ask her more. Did she rework what she wrote, over and over until it was a mess or did she play with it in her mind first so it came from her pen clean and perfect? Did she throw away more than she kept? But I lost my chance. Princess Elizabeth interrupted us, very full of herself because she’d had some of her designs engraved and published, to illustrate a little book of verse. They were pretty enough, but unremarkable. I’m sure it had only been published to flatter her because she was royalty.

Amelia said, ‘Poor Burney. She looked quite strained.’

I said, ‘I thought she looked very well. And she’s certainly very happy.’

Sofy said, ‘Nellie was always very thick with her so we must allow her to judge.’

Amelia said, ‘But Sofy, they say she has to live on practically nothing a year.’

I said, ‘Many people do, Amelia.’

She gave me one of her Royal Highness looks that they were all capable of pulling from their sleeve.

Sofy said, ‘Well I think it’s very romantic. An old maid who must have given up all hope of a husband. D’Arblay’s a soldier, you know, and an exile, and Burney’s father so disapproved he wouldn’t attend the wedding, but she married anyway. Imagine.’

It was the day before I was due to return to London and we were walking in the Great Park, all the Princesses except Royal who was required by the Queen. It was an unsatisfactory outing because Elizabeth liked to stop and examine every twig and leaf and Augusta preferred to stride out briskly. There was still a mist hanging low over the grass and we were all wrapped in our wool cloaks. I imagine we looked like a slow moving herd of sheep.

Amelia stopped suddenly and cried, ‘Lord, look who’s coming! It’s the hobgoblin.’

Tom Garth was riding towards us, the first time I had seen him in four years. I felt composed. The business of Enoch Heppenstall had cured me of a deal of nonsense. ‘Well,’ I thought, ‘this will go easily enough. He has five princesses to attend. He may not even remember my name.’

But he did remember me. He dismounted and walked ahead with Augusta, which I found I minded more than I should. But then he paused while the rest of us caught up, and because Amelia clung to Sofy and made her weave this way and that so as not to have to talk to Garth, he saw I was alone. He fell in beside me and stayed there until we reached Lower Lodge.

He was just back from Corsica.

‘Blockading the French,’ he said. ‘Keep ’em out of Corsica, we keep ’em out of ships’ timber. Extraordinary island. Impossible to subdue. But we had excellent boar hunting. I’m very glad to see you, Nellie. I suppose you are married by now?’

‘No, not married.’

He said, ‘Then I can apply to you without fear of crossing an irate husband. Concerning my parrot. You remember Milady?’

He said it had been very much on his mind that he should make provision for her, that he was a serving soldier with no close family and death might come at any moment. He had been told by those who knew about parrots that she was young and might live another forty years.

‘I have a niece and a nephew,’ he said, ‘but the one has never seen Milady and the other is terrified of her. And as you showed an interest … I realize it is a considerable thing to ask.’

‘But a compliment too.’

‘Then when I revise my will I should like to name you as Milady’s next guardian, if you are willing. You’ll need time to consider.’

I said, ‘No, I don’t need time. I’m willing. But God keep you safe for many years anyway.’

It was as warm as I dared to be.

He said, ‘And you’ll visit Dorset often, I’m sure, with the Royal Highnesses. With time your ward will come to know you well.’

A silent smile sufficed. My horror at the thought of Ilsington House was more than matched by pleasure at the honour he had done me. Sofy quizzed me endlessly to know the reason for my sudden lightness of mood.

‘Then don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘I have already guessed it anyway. Your ardent admirer sent a message with Old Garth.’

16

I did not see Sofy again for a full year. Jack took a lease on the apartments above the Pink Lemon and we were married on January 10th 1797, during the lull in trade that always comes after Twelfth Night. The marrying was at Hammersmith, at the church where my sister lay buried, so Mother remained at home to help Twyvil prepare the wedding breakfast for she could never bring herself to see Eliza’s grave.

Miss Tod trimmed my bonnet with Honiton lace; Sofy sent me six silver spoons; Papi showed me the bond he had invested for me in the three percents, and Mother gave us Morphew, just as she had threatened.

I said, ‘But what shall we do with him? We have Ambrose to drive the cart.’

Mother said, ‘Papi vill giff him liddle pension. Take him, Nellie. I kennot heff him here. He makes big commotions viz Twyvil.’

Morphew had proposed marriage to Twyvil but Twyvil wouldn’t have him. She said he only wanted her for a chamber nurse in his dotage but I’m sure that wasn’t true. I had certainly heard him remark that she had very handsome quarters and it was only a pity her first husband hadn’t trained her to the bit.

Jack said, ‘Don’t fuss. Let him come to us. I won’t see a man put out of his place in the middle of winter. He can paint the cart for a start.’