“The princess. Princess Charlotte is dead!”
There was a moment of stillness as Kitty and Lady Cateril took in his words. Princess Charlotte, second in line to the throne, who’d been due to deliver her first child, the hope of the future, wasdead?
“No!”
For once, Kitty and her mother-in-law were completely in harmony.
“The child?” Lady Cateril asked desperately.
“A son. Also dead.” Lord Cateril sank into a chair by his wife’s side and took her hand. “All hope is gone.”
It was overly portentous, but Kitty knew what he meant. The king and queen had presented the nation with seventeen children, but now, nearly sixty years after George III had come to the throne, there had been only one legitimate grandchild, the Regent’s daughter, Charlotte. With her dead, what would become of the nation?The king was old and mad and expected to die at any moment. The Regent was nearing sixty, grossly fat, and led a dissipated life. No one would be surprised if he died soon as well.
His sisters were all middle-aged, and those who had married hadn’t produced offspring. Few of his brothers had married, and none of those unions had produced a living child. With the perversity of fate, some had bastards, which were of no use at all.
Kitty’s heart ached for the people involved. “Poor woman,” she said. “And her poor family. Royal, but not beyond the hand of fate.”
“Amen,” Lord Cateril said. “The shops and theaters have closed in respect. The court has gone into mourning, of course. But I’m told people of all degrees are putting on black, or at least dark bands.”
“We must do the same,” Lady Cateril said. “The family must wear full black.” In spite of her genuine shock and sorrow, she shot Kitty a triumphant look.
Kitty almost protested, but Lord Cateril agreed.“You’re right, my dear. And black bands, aprons, and gloves for the servants. Please gather the household together in the hall. I must read out the news.”
Kitty helped to pass the word, and soon the family and servants stood together in the oak-paneled hall as Lord Cateril read out the letter he’d received. All were affected and many wept. Afterward Kitty went to her room to put on one of her black gowns. If only she’d given them away... but it was provident to keep mourning by. No one knew when death would strike, as had just been proved.
As a red-eyed housemaid fastened the back, Kitty resolved two things. She’d return to half mourning after the funeral, along with everyone else except the court. And she would not live this half life any longer.
Somehow she’d find a way to escape. Here was evidencethat life was fleeting. She wouldn’t waste what time she had left in the everlasting shadows of Lady Cateril’s grief.
***
The princess’s coffin, along with that of her stillborn child, was lowered into the royal vault at Windsor on November 15. Lord Cateril read a letter giving an account of the funeral to the assembled household, and they all prayed again for the princess and the bereaved family.
Kitty went upstairs to take off her black, tempted to move into brightly colored gowns now, but she truly was sorrowful over Princess Charlotte’s fate, so half mourning felt correct. She chose gray and wore silver ornaments instead of jet. When she entered the parlor, Lady Cateril’s look was flat, which seemed even worse than anger. Strenuous thinking over the past week had brought Kitty no closer to escape. The only prospect was to find employment. She’d discussed the situation with her sister-in-law and raised the possibility that Sarah give her a reference.
“Employment?” Sarah had asked, eyes wide. “Mama would never permit that.”
“She can’t stop me.”
“But she can make my life miserable if I assist you.” Sarah was plump, practical, and kind, but not courageous. She never tried to cross Lady Cateril over anything.
Kitty tried another approach. “Don’t you think we should try to ease her out of her mourning? She has two fine children still, and six grandchildren—yours and Anabel’s.”
Anabel was Lady Cateril’s youngest child, who’d married a man who lived three counties away, probably by design. Anabel had as much spine as her mother, so they easily clashed.
“She won’t,” Sarah said. “In some ways she likes the effect of it, but it reflects true grief. She always loved Marcus best.”
“Doesn’t John mind?”
“He’s his father’s favorite and he is the heir. Surely you’re comfortable here overall, Kathryn. Why would you want to become someone’s servant?”
On the surface it was idiotic. She was treated as one of the family, with everything provided for her. She hardly ever had to touch the small sum left her by Marcus, for any bills were paid by Lord Cateril without complaint.
Kitty had told Sarah the truth. “I want to wear rainbow colors and be joyful.”
“I don’t think governesses or companions are encouraged to dress gaudily, or romp around laughing.”
Kitty had had to admit the truth of that, but it didn’t change her mind. She was only twenty-seven years old and felt entombed.
