The Secrets of Sophia Musgrove Read online

  I rushed downstairs and out to the carriage, which stood waiting on the cobbled London street. Mrs Willow and Lily were nowhere to be seen so I paced up and down impatiently in front of the elegant stone townhouses under the sympathetic gaze of Ted, our kind young coachman.

  The others soon appeared and at last we set off. I felt quite dizzy with fear. I knew that Mama must be very ill for the Queen's surgeon to send for us. I simply could not bear the thought of losing her.

  As our carriage rattled and swayed at top speed through the streets of London, I prayed that all would be well – and feared that it would not!

  Chapter Two

  It seemed to take an eternity to reach Kew, but when we did I was struck all over again by how plain the White House is. It's so simple in style, like a child's drawing of a house. There was a small welcoming party standing on the steps, which alarmed us all even more. I jumped out of the carriage and ran towards the entrance in a most unladylike fashion. The housekeeper, Mrs Feathers, greeted us. 'Come in, come in, Miss Sophia! She is asking for you every minute, they tell me!' she explained.

  Inside, members of the Royal Household were in a state of controlled panic. I knew from the expressions on their faces, and the fact that the doors between the apartments were locked, that the King was in residence, rather than being at Kew Palace as usual, and that he was having one of his mad episodes. I had seen all the signs during previous visits, and Mama had told me about his antics on many occasions.

  The royal children were employed in playing games and drawing, even though most are past childhood. Some wore heavy boots, ready for their daily walks across the park. They all have a tendency to gain weight, which is countered with various exercise regimes. Two of the older Princesses were posing for a portrait in the galleried hallway as we passed by, en route to my mother's chambers. I recognized the artist as Thomas Lawrence – my family had sat for him just last year.

  As we entered the private wing where the Queen and her ladies-in-waiting sleep, we bumped into the Prince of Wales. We all curtsied, of course, and he asked Mrs Feathers about a dinner party he was hosting that evening.

  I silently fizzed with frustration. Mama lay suffering and we had to stand here conversing with an obese buffoon caked in make-up about the merits of duck pie and quince crumble!

  We soon excused ourselves and made haste through a maze of corridors to my mother's chamber. As we stood outside the door, I could hear the Queen's loud German accent. I prepared myself for our meeting by carefully thinking kind and sweet thoughts about her. I knew that she would interpret this turn of events as her own personal misfortune, and that any sign of frustration on my part would only make things worse. What would she do without my wonderful mother – sensible, mild-mannered Maria Musgrove?

  As Mrs Feathers opened the door to Mama's sleeping chamber, I was dismayed by the sight before me. She lay limply against a pile of white pillows, with a grey pallor and a pasty look to her small, heart-shaped face. She was forty-two years of age, but looked more like sixty. At one side of her bed stood the Queen, looking agitated, and at the other was Mr Lacomb, the royal surgeon. He appeared to be taking blood from a vein in my poor mother's forearm. My mother's devoted maid, Lottie, also looked on in distress.

  'Mama, dearest!' I cried, almost forgetting to curtsy to the Queen as I hastened to her bedside. I corrected myself hurriedly, thus tripping and nearly falling headlong onto the bed myself.

  Mrs Willow and Lily also drew close to my mother, offering words of sympathy and comfort. I could see that she knew we were there as she opened her eyes and tried to smile. She mouthed the words: 'Sophie, darling.'

  'How long has she been like this, Mr Lacomb?' I asked the surgeon, who was now binding her arm tightly with bandages.

  'Several days, but she is getting weaker, Miss Musgrove. We were convinced that she would improve – and she kept going for a while as she was much needed during the recent visit of the Queen's brother and his large family from Germany. As you know, the Queen relies on your mother to organize social events and keep the peace between the royal children and their guests when there are visitors at Court. They left last night, and only then did we realize how weak Lady Maria had become,' he explained.

  Mrs Willow tutted loudly and pursed her lips into an O-shape. I felt furious with the Queen for exploiting Mama's good nature like this, but I bit my tongue, knowing that anger would not make her well again.

  'Oh, mercy me!' cried the Queen. 'I will never cope without my Maria. You must make her well, Lacomb. For all our sakes!'

  'I will do all I can, Your Majesty, but she requires complete rest and quiet,' he replied firmly.

  At this point the King burst in through the door, turning like a spinning top and babbling as though he were a lunatic. He was wearing a long white cotton nightshirt and his bald head was wigless, making him look very old indeed. As usual, an entourage of four restrainers accompanied him in case he should become violent or obscene.

  'My people are trying to kill me, Charlotte! They shot at me, you know, in broad daylight. With a gun! A large gun! Their own king! They hate Addington and the wars, and now I am to blame, apparently,' he raved. 'Of course, it goes back to me losing the Americas, what, what!'

  I looked curiously at Mr Lacomb. 'It's all quite true,' he confirmed. 'His Majesty was out in his coach yesterday when a shot missed him by a fraction of an inch. The people of England are greatly angered by the loss of the Americas and the taxes being levied for the war.'

  That's the odd thing about the King. At times he will speak the truth, but then, within seconds, he will be spouting utter gibberish.

  The Queen smiled benignly, perhaps pleased that he had remembered her name in a little lucid moment, but she said nothing. It was as though the fact that he had been shot at went right over her head.

  'Ah, Amelia!' the King said suddenly, looking at me. 'My dearest, sweetest child! What, what!' I looked at the men in his entourage a little nervously, hoping they might intervene, but it seemed they had no power to influence him and merely hovered around him wherever he went.

  'We just saw the Prince of Wales in the corridor, Your Majesty,' I said, in an effort to distract him. 'He was looking for you.'

  I think we all prayed he would take the bait. 'The Prince! Here, in the White House? I must find that damnable boy and tell him a thing or two! Trying to take the crown from my head. My own flesh and blood! The rogue! The usurper!' And the King spun on his heels and stormed from the room, followed by his team of sheep.

  'I must follow him!' said the Queen. 'They fight like cat and dog, my husband and my son.'

  It was a relief to be free of the royal couple. The surgeon stayed with us, too loyal to express his own feelings at the departure of the King and Queen, but plainly delighted to be released from their presence, if only for a few moments.

  I pulled a chair towards my mother and sat down, talking quietly to her. 'Would you like to come back to Musgrove House, Mama, dear?' I asked her. She nodded, her eyes still shut tight. I looked at Mr Lacomb.

  'Perhaps in the morning,' he suggested. 'A journey at the moment would destabilize her further. If you can make sure she has complete rest for several hours, and plenty of boiled, cooled water, then I will check on her before breakfast. I suggest you have your own doctor in attendance at your residence. She needs a great deal of care.'

  'But what is wrong with her, sir?' I asked.

  'I can't give it a name yet, Miss Musgrove, but the symptoms are becoming clearer: extreme nausea, exhaustion and cramps,' he said.

  A mystery illness! I was terrified, for how could we treat a sickness we did not understand? I had an irrational idea that the King's illness might be contagious, but I dismissed that silly notion from my mind as a messenger arrived with a letter from Papa.

  As I had suspected, his letter was kind but said that he was unable to leave Westminster. I felt a pang of annoyance on my mother's behalf, but Mrs Willow read the letter aloud to her and s
he smiled contentedly at her husband's words.

  Ted drove Lily back to Musgrove House to fetch night clothes for herself, Mrs Willow and me, and the three of us, plus Lottie, slept in my mother's apartment, taking turns to attend to her and willing her to be strong enough to come back home with us in the morning.

  At daybreak I was woken by the strong accent of the Queen. I stood up quickly and curtsied.

  'Ah! She's better. Thank God!' she declared on seeing my mother.

  I looked at Mama, who seemed to me just as frail and grey as before, and exchanged anxious glances with Mrs Willow, Lottie and Lily.

  'I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but she will take longer than this to recover. We must take her home with us to Musgrove House today,' I said softly. Mrs Willow, Lottie and Lily drew closer behind me, offering silent support.

  The Queen let out a little shriek. 'All my dear ladies are deserting me!' she cried. 'Lady Catherine is no longer teaching the children. She says her son is ill . . .'

  I happened to know that young Lord Winchilsea was in fact dying, and his mother was nursing him as best she could, but I knew better than to argue with the Queen, so I kept my head down and was grateful when Mr Lacomb appeared and insisted that Mama must have quiet if she was to recover.

  Mercifully the Queen wandered out of the chamber, muttering, 'Everyone is deserting me. What have I done to deserve it?'

  Mr Lacomb examined Mama carefully. 'If we wrap her up well against the cold, then I believe she can be moved today to a place of rest,' he concluded.

  What a relief it would be for all of us to leave the stifling Royal Court and return to the sanctuary of our own dear home. I almost wished I could take poor Mr Lacomb with us too and give him a break from the madhouse.

  Two footmen carried my mother out to our carriage, and Ted drove us home sedately over the cobbles, mindful of the bumps that might jar her. I felt my heart lift as our house came into sight. Surely once she was safe at home with us to nurse her, Mama would soon recover.

  Chapter Three

  When we entered Musgrove House, my father was waiting to greet us. He is tall and always stands very straight. This, together with his greying hair and moustache, gives him an imposing look. If I didn't know and love him, I think I'd find him rather frightening. He looked unmoved on the surface, but I was pleased that he had made sure he was there for Mama's return, and when I studied him more closely I could see that he was shaken to see her in such ill-health.

  My mother's face lit up when Papa kissed her and helped to carry her to her room.

  Once Mama was comfortably settled in her own bedroom, with my father at her side, we all gathered round her bed. Papa stroked her hand gently, then seemed to realize that they were not alone and blushed.

  'Well, this is not getting on with the business of government, is it, Maria?' he said, looking at his watch.

  Mama simply smiled indulgently. 'Off you go, Hugo. I don't mind. I need to rest,' she told him.

  'I trust we have all the right medical people attending to my dear wife?' he said to our housekeeper, Mrs Merry, who nodded.

  Papa turned to me and embraced me rather awkwardly. 'Well done, Sophie, dear. It was good of you to go and fetch your mother. You are turning into a very fine young lady,' he said stiffly.

  I smiled. This was a huge compliment from my father. I thought I felt him tremble with emotion, but when he let go of me he was as calm as ever.

  Dinky settled down for a nap next to Mama, who adores him, and I retired to my room to attend to the pile of mail that was waiting for me. Firstly, there was a letter from Lucy:

  5th April, 9 o'clock of the morning

  My dear Sophie,

  When it suits you, please do give us news of your dear mother. We are thinking of you all.

  I will visit again on Friday, unless it does not suit.

  Your loving friend, Lucy, all the Penningtons, and Clarissa Lennox xxx

  Another envelope contained the invitation to the Queen's ball. It was very grand.

  Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte,

  requests the pleasure of the company of

  MISS SOPHIA MUSGROVE

  At her Annual Ball

  In the Ballroom at Grosvenor House,

  101 Buckingham Palace Road, London

  Saturday, 8th April

  7 o'clock

  Carriages at midnight

  RSVP

  The Royal Household

  St James's Palace

  London

  The ball has been held annually since 1780, when the King gave a society ball for the Queen's birthday, and I have mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, I resent the whole idea of the social Season and the way that debutantes such as Lucy and I are set before the eligible young men of the country in the hope that matches will be made. It is rather embarrassing to be involved in such a 'marriage parade'. And yet all the balls and parties are so much fun, and as my thoughts wandered to the elusive Mr Hughes I realized that I desperately wanted to go to the ball and see what he was like for myself. But then I remembered my mother's condition and immediately felt guilty for thinking about the ball at all.

  The third piece of mail was from my sister, Estella.

  The Daisy Park

  Whistling Sparrows

  Nr Cheltenham

  4th April 1803

  My dearest Sophie,

  I am having such fun planning the wedding out here in the country, but I do miss you terribly. I'm not sure if I was right to go for a country wedding, but Percy – dear Percy – says it is more convenient for all his family. My future in-laws have arrived from Oxford and are staying with Lord Sandford at Mellorbay Hall, across the park. They are very interested in the wedding arrangements and are helping me enormously. I only wish that Mama were here, with her keen and tasteful eye. Have you been to Court to see her lately?

  My idea for the after-wedding party is to create a 'fairy glade' in the garden by the lake, and light it with lanterns for the evening. Dear old Mr Mackle is helping with the garden. We are quite obsessive about plants and shrubs just now! Don't I sound dull? Thank goodness I have Miss Bowes to keep me company and help with the plans. She is a dear companion.

  Have you chosen your hat yet? I will be making a little posy of garden flowers for you to carry, and as soon as you arrive, we will commence with the dress fittings in the village. As you know, my dress is on order from Paris. I'm so pleased I chose the one you liked best. As for reticules, what do you think? Please let me know.

  I am so lucky to have Percy; even though he gets a little cross at times, he is every girl's dream. Have you any suitors? Are you going to the Queen's ball? That's where I met my Percy!

  Do write soon – and more often!

  Your loving sister,

  Estella xxx

  I sighed. I didn't want to alarm Estella about Mama. She would certainly come to London immediately. And as for our brother, Harry, he was only eight and had just settled at pre-naval school, after a period of homesickness, so I didn't want to trouble him either. But as I read to my mother that afternoon – from The Mysteries of Udolpho by the thrilling novelist, Mrs Radcliffe – I had a brilliant idea.

  Wouldn't Mama heal better in the country air? Perhaps we should repair to the Daisy Park, where the air was purer and the stresses of Court life seemed a million miles away – and where wedding fever was in the air. This plan would also save Estella from coming up to London. I decided to suggest this to Papa at supper.

  I waited until we were eating our apple pie and chantilly-cream puddings to bring up the subject. He was all in favour of the idea – anything so that he could get on with his tedious politics uninterrupted, I thought! So it was decided that Ted and a groom, Matthew, would drive Mrs Willow, Lily, Lottie and me to Cheltenham with Mama three days later. Naturally, Dinky would come too.

  I had sent a message to Lucy explaining my mother's illness as best I could and confirming that she should visit as she had suggested in her letter. It was a breath
of fresh air when she came running into the morning room that Friday shortly after breakfast.

  What a lot had happened since our impromptu tea party on Tuesday when Lucy had dropped in with Lady Lennox.

  'Lucy! It's wonderful to see you. Please cheer me up!' I said by way of greeting.

  'Oh, I see. What am I? The Court jester? Or the village idiot?' complained Lucy with a twinkle in her eye.

  'I did get my invitation to the ball,' I told her, pointing to the over-mantel where it sat. 'But sadly I will miss it, Lucy, for it is tomorrow, and first thing in the morning I am to travel to our Cotswolds house with Mama. We are to spend time with Estella and we hope the change of air will do Mama some good.'

  'How is she, dear lady?' asked Lucy. She truly loves my mother, as everyone does, because Mama is always interested in our thoughts and feelings.

  'She is no better, but no worse,' I said. It was truly an unfathomable situation. She was nauseous, weak and tired, but on odd occasions could almost be her old self.

  'Of course, your mother's well-being must come first,' Lucy said, 'but what a shame about the ball! Your dance with the Honourable Johnny has come to nothing!'

  'How do you know he would want to dance with me?' I asked.

  'Sophia! Look at yourself,' Lucy replied firmly. 'You are the prettiest girl this season!' I think she was trying to cheer me up after my terrible week.