Page 3 of The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess
Their relationship was a contentious one at best. His continuous efforts to marry her off above her station were a cause of great concern to her. So far, she had been fortunate that no prospective suitor had yet been found. But what would happen after he had made that first step up the ladder of advancement?
Amelia could not help but feel that fate was rounding on her like a pack of wolves ready for the kill. Oddly enough, despite her twenty summers, she had not yet been launched into society. She assumed that her father had a reason for that. He always was good at chess. This knighthood was all he needed to strategically plan his next steps of advancement. Now, he could flaunt his wealth to any impoverished lord, viscount, earl or duke and sell off his most prized asset to the highest bidder –namely me,she thought.
“Well, come on, daughter. It won’t do to dawdle. The Prince Regent will not wait for us,” said Amelia’s father happily.
“Yes, Father. I was just looking at the building. ‘Tis rather impressive.”
Her father arched his eyebrows. The gesture made him look slightly comical on his chubby face. He stood tall and was as bulky as a tree trunk. Every time he spoke, his jowls would wobble with his every utterance. In a way, his stout physique was a perfect reflection of his vast fortune – his key to unlock the greed among the nobles.
“Come on, Felicity…Amelia…” With those words, he marched up the steps to Carlton House, skipping as Humpty Dumpty might on a wall.
Amelia took one last look at the exterior of Carlton House before following her mother and father into the building – it was awe-inspiring, to say the least, comparable to a smaller version of the Palace at Versailles in terms of opulence.
The Prince Regent held a quasi-separate glittering alternate court to that of his parents at Buckingham Palace since the 1780s. The residence had recently been redecorated for the second time since the prince became regent in 1811 to encompass even more space. In London, the residence was referred to as a house. On the continent, many a European might suggest that it was more of a palace than anything else.
Amelia and her parents walked through a hexastyle portico of Corinthian columns that led to the main foyer. This room was flanked to either side by anterooms. Carlton House was very unusual in that the visitor entered the house on the main floor. Most unlike many of the mansions of the time, which followed the Palladian architectural concept of a lower ground floor.
Amelia could not take her eyes off the opulence of her surroundings. To her sides, more elegantly dressed men and women passed her by in an eager attempt to get inside. The women were resplendent in different colors of fine silks and damask. The men, as Beau Brummell, the epitome of the Regency dandy suggested, were far less ostentatious in their dark coats, white shirts, colored cravats, and trousers.
Their route took them through the foyer and on toward a two-story lit entrance hall. Passing it, they moved on to the grand staircase where Amelia and her family followed the others down the steps in the direction of the throne room.
“Stop fidgeting, Amelia,” hissed her mother. “It is most unladylike. Someone might think that you have never been here before.”
“But I haven’t, Mother…and neither have you if I might add,” she countered, receiving a hostile look from her mother.
Resuming her perusal of her surroundings, she gulped. Being interested in the classics and art, Amelia could not believe what she saw. It was a paradise for anyone with a more discerning disposition when it came to all things beautiful.
Besides the magnificent and opulent Louis XVI-style French décor and furniture, a superb collection of works of art adorned the walls of Carlton House. The prince regent collected many of the finest paintings for his main residence.
He was renowned for patronizing modern artists: Gainsborough, Stubbs, and Reynolds. With Sir Charles Long and the Third Marquess of Hertford acting as his art advisors, the Prince Regent also bought paintings from the old masters: Rubens,Rembrandt, Van Dyck,Cuyp,andJan Steen.He may be a bon vivant and a spendthrift, but the Prince definitely has taste,thought Amelia.
“This is unbelievable, Mother – look,” Amelia said, demurely indicating with her hand at the walls and marquetry wall tables as she continued following the flock of people to the throne room.
Her mother took no notice of her daughter’s antics – to her all that mattered was her husband’s advancement; she could barely organize the rush of excitement in her mind: who was she going to invite first? Or should it be a garden party? Or maybe something more formal –yes, we shall have a banquet in the prince’s honor. She decided at last.
Amelia was primarily interested in art, humanities, and geopolitics; all her mother cared about was station. This was the greatest day in Felicity’s life. She soon would be Lady Carlyle, 1st Baronet of Windom. She had used her onetime beauty to ensnare a man with potential, and had achieved that with flying colors. She was attractive, but in a bland way that would not entice undue attention.
And there he was as the small family shuffled into the throne room that like the rest of the residence was opulently decorated in Louis XVI-style French décor. The other invitees stood in a semicircle around the Prince Regent, his mother, and two footmen holding vigil slightly behind him.
Amelia gulped as she watched her father being directed away from them to a group of four other men who were also to receive their titles in due course. With eyes the size of saucers, she followed her mother to a free spot next to a lady and gentleman who looked almost as regal as the prince himself. Amelia cringed when her mother attempted to engage them in conversation even though it was openly apparent that they had no interest whatsoever in conversing with her.
She decided to calm down and focus her contemplation on the prince. While she was doing this, her eyes fell on a gentleman who had his gaze glued to her. He was handsome in a strange sort of way. However, his privileged heritage was there for the world to see – thin scowling lips, his head raised high, displaying a sort of aloof bearing when he looked at her. It was as if life itself had become so predictable because he always got what he wanted. Amelia looked away quickly and watched the prince regent who seemed as bored as sin.
A notoriously vain man, the prince Regent wore a whalebone corset under his shirt and a bright-yellow waistcoat and a claret-colored tailcoat, displaying his medals. An especially high cravat helped to disguise his double chins and fleshy jowls. On his head, he wore a chestnut-colored wig.
On his face, makeup had been carefully applied to make him look quite handsome despite his enormous size. It was common knowledge that it took the prince three hours to get laced into his corset and dressed so that in the end, he resembled a great sausage stuffed into a pastry covering.
“I see you found the most eligible bachelor in London, Amelia,” whispered her mother.
“I don’t quite know what you mean?”
“Don’t be coy with me. I saw you looking at him – handsome isn’t he.” It was not a question, but a statement of fact.
“I don’t know; he has something decidedly evil about him.” She turned to her mother. “Anyway, we are here for father and not to launch me into society.” Amelia pleated her brow when she saw a slight smirk flitter across her mother’s lips.What’s she got planned now?she thought, knowing of her mother’s caprices.
Amelia’s mother wore the most superb dress of ruby velvet and white satin; the draperies in every part trimmed with a rich imperial gold border, and a profusion of splendid gold tassels that were rope trimmed with pointed lace. On her head towered a matching ruby turban inlayed with jewels and feathers.
Next to her, Amelia was more modestly dressed in terms of color and the amount of jewels on her person. Her dress was primarily white with pale pastel shades adorning her flanks. Her silky dark hair was elaborately fashioned. Her natural hair color burnished in obsidian splendor and was tied up on the top of her head in a tuft of elaborate chignons to reveal her long slender neck. A white feather completed her ensemble.
