Read Online The Third George: (Georgian Series) by Jean Plaidy - Free Book Online Page B

for her and how magnificent they seemed in their brocades and velvets, as they came forward to kneel and pay homage to their queen! Their queen! She could scarcely believe that the odd and rather ridiculous ceremony made her so.
    ‘And Your Majesty, your new ladies in waiting, the Marchioness of Lorne and the Duchess of Ancaster.’
    She stared at them. She had never seen such women before. They were like goddesses. It was their rich garments. No, it was not. That smooth skin which they both possessed; those magnificent eyes; the abundant hair coiled about shapely heads; the grace; the charm. She had always known that she was plain; now she believed that she was ugly.
    ‘At Your Majesty’s service.’
    She heard herself say incredulously in French, because so far most of these English seemed to prefer it to German, ‘Are all English women as beautiful as you?’
    The ladies laughed and said: ‘Your Majesty is gracious.’
    It did not answer the question and as others were presented to her she scarcely noticed them for she was thinking of what the King would do when he saw her. If he were accustomed to women who looked like these two – and she had to face the fact that she had never seen any so lovely and there were two of them – what would he think of his new bride?
    She was frightened now.
    ‘Your Majesty is tired.’ It was kind Lord Harcourt at her elbow.
    She admitted that she was and he suggested that she announce her intention to retire to the apartments which had been prepared for her.
    *
    There she studied herself in the mirror. How ugly her mouth was … so wide and thin! She thought of the beautifully moulded lips of the English women – pink tinted; she kept hearing the laughter in their voices when she had asked if all their countrywomen were as beautiful. And they had not answered.
    Schwellenburg came in and because Charlotte was caught looking in the mirror she said: ‘The English women are so beautiful. I fear the King will be disappointed when he sees me.’
    ‘He chose Your Majesty,’ was the answer.
    ‘Without seeing me.’
    ‘Both those women seem very flighty to me.’
    ‘I suppose when one is as beautiful as they are one can be forgiven all else.’
    ‘Nonsense, begging Your Majesty’s pardon.’
    ‘Oh, Schwellenburg, I’m apprehensive.’
    ‘What, Your Majesty! And you a Queen!’
    ‘Of very short duration. What if he should decide that I’m too ugly to marry and sends me back.’
    ‘He could hardly do that. Your Majesty forgets that he’s married to you already by proxy.’
    Charlotte sighed. It was not the answer she wished; she wanted reassurance; she longed to be told that she was not so ugly as she feared. But Schwellenburg would not flatter; she answered with the logical truth. Charlotte was plain; it was likely that if the King were expecting a beauty he would be disappointed; but all the same the proxy ceremony had taken place and whatever he thought he would have to take her now.
    ‘It’s all so hurried,’ she complained. ‘Schwellenburg, does it not seem to you a trifle mysterious?’
    But to Schwellenburg it did not seem in the least mysterious. The marriage had been made as many royal marriages were. If Charlotte could provide her husband with children, in Schwellenburg’s opinion no one could complain.
    Lord Harcourt was asking for an audience.
    She greeted him with pleasure, but he was looking grave.
    ‘I have messages from His Majesty the King,’ he told her. ‘He commands that we proceed to Cuxhaven without delay and there embark for England.’
    ‘At once?’ she asked.
    ‘We shall have a night’s stay here and leave in the morning. I was planning to wait until the weather changed.’
    ‘Perhaps it may by the morning.’
    ‘I shall hope that it does, Your Majesty, but whatever it is like my orders are that we should sail.’
    She nodded; she had no great fear of the sea.
    A peal of bells was heard followed by the salute of guns.
    ‘The people of