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Authors: Jean Plaidy
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Claremont.
“How delighted I am to have my dear little niece in my home,” said Uncle Leopold. “You have brought me the greatest comfort I have known since the loss of my dearest Charlotte.”
So we were sad for a few moments—but rather agreeably so—while Uncle Leopold remembered Charlotte, which I fancied he rather enjoyed doing. This lovely house, surrounded by the beautiful Vale of Esher and which took its name from the Earl of Claremont who had built it, was really a shrine to Charlotte. I knew that I would hear her name constantly mentioned while I was here.
Louisa Lewis took me to my room.
“It's a great joy to have you here,” she told me. “We will have some of our little gossips, shall we not?”
I agreed gleefully. Louisa was one of those gossipy people with whom it is such fun to talk. They are so pleasantly indiscreet.
In every room she kept mementos of Charlotte. Whoever said that Charlotte was dead, was wrong. Charlotte lived on at Claremont. She seemed to be there in every room. Uncle Leopold and Louisa Lewis had kept her alive.
Louisa talked of her constantly. I did not mind. I liked to hear about her. She had been one of those people who had the miraculous ability of turning her faults into virtues. “Such a hoyden,” said Louisa, as though that was a wonderful thing to be. “The dear Prince did what he could to cure her, but he gave up in despair… such loving despair.”
It was fascinating. I learned about the King's objection to Leopold and how he had wanted Charlotte to marry the Prince of Orange. “But she would have Leopold.” Charlotte must have been cleverer than poor Feodore, I thought, and wondered how she had managed it. By being a hoyden? Of course she
was
the heiress to the throne. Perhaps that had had something to do with it.
“You should have seen her in her wedding dress… silver tissue… and the King had given her those jewels which pass to all the Queens of England. But her favorite was one diamond bracelet. Guess why? Because that was a gift from Prince Leopold…so it was most precious to her.”
I listened with tears in my eyes.
“She loved Claremont. To her it meant more than all the royal palaces. She insisted on living like an ordinary housewife. Oh, she would have her own way, Charlotte would. She even did some cooking…and she was so good to the poor of the neighborhood. They loved her. She looked after Leopold, and he was very amused although he was always trying to remind her of her royal dignity. Useless, of course. Charlotte did not care much for dignity. I remember how she used to comb his hair. Oh, they were so happy. It was such a joy to serve her and then…for her to go like that. She was so well, so delighted because she was to have a child… her baby. She didn't think so much of being a future king or queen. It was just to be her little baby. And then…it happened…so suddenly…I just went stone cold. Something died in me. I could not imagine going on without Charlotte to look after.”
Claremont was a house of mourning still and I wondered why I was so happy in it. But it was not a sad sort of mourning. I had the impression that they would be unhappy if it stopped—particularly Uncle Leopold.
We talked a great deal about Charlotte, how he had guided her, how he had changed her after their marriage. Before that she had been so uncontrollable. She had not had a good relationship with either of her parents. It had been difficult to imagine a child with more unfortunate parents. “Oh, how grateful you should be, dearest, to have your Uncle Leopold always so concerned for your well being… and your Mama also. We shall care for you, dear child, as poor Charlotte was never cared for… until she became my wife, of course.”
“She must have been very happy then.”
Uncle Leopold smiled into the past. “She worshipped me. My dear, dear Charlotte. My child, I hope you never know sorrow such as I did when she went.”
When I come to
“How delighted I am to have my dear little niece in my home,” said Uncle Leopold. “You have brought me the greatest comfort I have known since the loss of my dearest Charlotte.”
So we were sad for a few moments—but rather agreeably so—while Uncle Leopold remembered Charlotte, which I fancied he rather enjoyed doing. This lovely house, surrounded by the beautiful Vale of Esher and which took its name from the Earl of Claremont who had built it, was really a shrine to Charlotte. I knew that I would hear her name constantly mentioned while I was here.
Louisa Lewis took me to my room.
“It's a great joy to have you here,” she told me. “We will have some of our little gossips, shall we not?”
I agreed gleefully. Louisa was one of those gossipy people with whom it is such fun to talk. They are so pleasantly indiscreet.
In every room she kept mementos of Charlotte. Whoever said that Charlotte was dead, was wrong. Charlotte lived on at Claremont. She seemed to be there in every room. Uncle Leopold and Louisa Lewis had kept her alive.
Louisa talked of her constantly. I did not mind. I liked to hear about her. She had been one of those people who had the miraculous ability of turning her faults into virtues. “Such a hoyden,” said Louisa, as though that was a wonderful thing to be. “The dear Prince did what he could to cure her, but he gave up in despair… such loving despair.”
It was fascinating. I learned about the King's objection to Leopold and how he had wanted Charlotte to marry the Prince of Orange. “But she would have Leopold.” Charlotte must have been cleverer than poor Feodore, I thought, and wondered how she had managed it. By being a hoyden? Of course she
was
the heiress to the throne. Perhaps that had had something to do with it.
“You should have seen her in her wedding dress… silver tissue… and the King had given her those jewels which pass to all the Queens of England. But her favorite was one diamond bracelet. Guess why? Because that was a gift from Prince Leopold…so it was most precious to her.”
I listened with tears in my eyes.
“She loved Claremont. To her it meant more than all the royal palaces. She insisted on living like an ordinary housewife. Oh, she would have her own way, Charlotte would. She even did some cooking…and she was so good to the poor of the neighborhood. They loved her. She looked after Leopold, and he was very amused although he was always trying to remind her of her royal dignity. Useless, of course. Charlotte did not care much for dignity. I remember how she used to comb his hair. Oh, they were so happy. It was such a joy to serve her and then…for her to go like that. She was so well, so delighted because she was to have a child… her baby. She didn't think so much of being a future king or queen. It was just to be her little baby. And then…it happened…so suddenly…I just went stone cold. Something died in me. I could not imagine going on without Charlotte to look after.”
Claremont was a house of mourning still and I wondered why I was so happy in it. But it was not a sad sort of mourning. I had the impression that they would be unhappy if it stopped—particularly Uncle Leopold.
We talked a great deal about Charlotte, how he had guided her, how he had changed her after their marriage. Before that she had been so uncontrollable. She had not had a good relationship with either of her parents. It had been difficult to imagine a child with more unfortunate parents. “Oh, how grateful you should be, dearest, to have your Uncle Leopold always so concerned for your well being… and your Mama also. We shall care for you, dear child, as poor Charlotte was never cared for… until she became my wife, of course.”
“She must have been very happy then.”
Uncle Leopold smiled into the past. “She worshipped me. My dear, dear Charlotte. My child, I hope you never know sorrow such as I did when she went.”
When I come to
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