Free The Third George: (Georgian Series) by Jean Plaidy Page A

for her.
    ‘I hear from Lord Harcourt that he is impatient for the wedding.’
    ‘It is true. He has fixed the date of the coronation and I have heard that he wants his queen to share it with him.’
    Charlotte nodded, beginning to feel almost happy. She was curious about this beautiful woman and wanted to know why she was the Marchioness of Lorne when she had married the Duke of Hamilton.
    ‘The Duke died six years after our marriage.’
    ‘And you have married again?’
    ‘Yes, Your Majesty, to the Marquis of Lorne.’
    ‘So you became a marchioness instead of a duchess.’
    ‘My husband, Your Majesty, is the heir of the Duke of Argyll.’
    Charlotte smiled. ‘So it is only a temporary loss of rank. Have you any children?’
    ‘Yes, by my first husband I have a daughter and two sons; I have a little boy by my second marriage.’
    ‘You are a very fortunate woman. Was your sister as lucky?’
    ‘My sister died a year ago of consumption. They said it was due to the white lead she used for her complexion.’
    ‘Oh … how terrible.’
    ‘I myself was very ill less than a year ago and I thought I was dying of the same disease; but my husband took me abroad and I have completely recovered.’
    Charlotte nodded. ‘White lead!’ she murmured.
    ‘Yes, Your Majesty, it produces a perfect whiteness which I have heard is most appealing.’
    Charlotte laughed more merrily than she had since the wedding ceremony. ‘Perhaps it is as well not to have such beauty that has to be preserved by such lethal means.’
    The Marchioness smiled and whispered that if Her Majesty would grant her permission she would retire to her cabin, for she was beginning to feel a little queasy.
    Charlotte stood at the rail after the Marchioness had gone. She liked the feel of the wind on her face. She did not feel in the least ill.
    She believed that she had really begun to look forward to the new life.
    *
    The ship was battling against the elements and all Charlotte’s attendants lay groaning in their cabins or on their bunks praying for the journey to be over … or for death.
    But Charlotte was not in the least affected. A harpsichord had been placed on board for her entertainment and she spent a great deal of time playing this, though her ladies did not hear her, since every one of them, even the redoubtable Schwellenburg, was prostrated.
    Lord Harcourt told her that they were days from the coast of England and that he had just learned that the storms had driven them almost on to that of Norway.
    ‘It is a pity for my ladies that we did not wait for more propitious weather,’ commented Charlotte.
    ‘Your Majesty, the King’s orders were that we embark without delay.’
    ‘Why, Lord Harcourt, is he so very eager for our arrival?’
    Lord Harcourt, smiling, bowed. ‘That, I am sure, His Majesty will make clear to you on your arrival.’
    The suggestion was that the King was so eager for her arrival. But how could he be so eager for someone he had never seen? Why had it been decided that he must marry without delay?
    There was some mystery, Charlotte was sure.
    Well, perhaps she would soon discover.
    ‘Your Majesty has no one in attendance,’ said Lord Harcourt.
    ‘Poor ladies, they are prostrate, all of them. The sea does not take to them as kindly as it does to me.’
    ‘Your Majesty is fortunate … in more ways than one.’
    Am I? wondered Charlotte. What will life be like with my new husband in England.
    ‘I shall play the harpsichord to them,’ she announced. ‘Perhaps it will comfort them. If I leave the door of my saloon open they will be able to hear it as they lie on their bunks.’
    Charlotte played and found pleasure in playing; but the poor ladies were unaware of anything but their own misery.
    *
    The wind dropped suddenly and the storm was over; sun dappled the grey waters turning them to green and opalesque.
    One by one the ladies rose from their bunks. The change in them was miraculous. Schwellenburg became her old