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checkoutmybookshelf · 8 months

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Lady Whistledown Returns: Chapter 6

Penelope makes a midnight run for England to speak to Anthony. Will she be able to pull off her plan?

Need to catch up? Find previous chapters and works on AO3.

This chapter does not have content warnings.

A very sunburned Penelope had been delayed in following Worth and Colin back to England by hours because she was loathe to tell Byron or the Shelleys what was going on. Worth’s letter had also recommended that she return to England quickly, as though she lacked the sense to do exactly that. She had sat, teeth gritted, through supper—excusing Colin’s absence by his persistent headache—and waited for everyone to retire to bed. Then she packed Colin’s saddlebags, left a note for Mary—inventing the excuse of a family emergency that required her and Colin’s immediate departure and requesting that their things be shipped back to England to Bridgerton House—and took her pony to ride into the nearest town and hire herself a hack to take her to a point where she could cross the channel.

She had managed to distract herself through dinner by focusing on behaving utterly above suspicion and while riding with remaining in the saddle—Colin had taught her how to ride astride at speed, but that had been meant to get her out of any potential danger they might meet on the road, and she still lacked confidence at a full gallop. These distractions had been sufficient to keep her on her feet, thinking, and moving. However, trapped in a hired hack with hours of travel ahead of her, Penelope could not escape the great, yawing hole in her chest that had torn her world asunder when she had opened the bedroom door to find Colin’s unsheathed sword on the floor and a letter addressed to her on the bed.

She wasn’t sure how long she had leaned against the closed door, trying to get up her courage to pick up that sword. It had to be sheathed; anyone coming in and finding it would lead to questions she could not answer. That there was no obvious pool of blood on the floor was all that kept Penelope on her feet; she didn’t know how she would manage if she picked up the blade and found blood on it. Eventually, she talked herself into it, and as soon as she took the first step, a curtain seemed to descend between her and the world. Her fear was still present, but felt detached, and she found that she could breathe and think. If everything felt a bit unreal and floaty, well, she could manage that better than sheer panic.

There had been no blood on the sword. She had wiped it down carefully with a handkerchief to be sure and to prevent the blade that had saved both her life and Colin’s on the road from rusting in its sheath. She had hesitated over taking it with her before she left Villa Diodati, but in addition to having exactly no idea how to use a sword, this was Colin’s sword, and he had nearly a foot of height over her and significantly more strength. The simple fact was that even had she fencing training, his sword was too big for her. And if its presence with her provoked anyone into challenging her, it would be more of an impediment than a help. She had left it hanging in the armoire. What she had taken was Colin’s overcoat, because it was warmer than her Spencer jackets and less bulky than her cloaks, while still managing to cover a similar amount of her. And it smelled like Colin.

The pre-dawn sky racing past the hackney’s windows had sufficiently lightened to allow her to read, so Penelope pulled out Worth’s letter to review.

Dame Penelope,

I write to you both on behalf of Her Royal Majesty Charlotte, Queen Consort of Great Britain and Ireland and Electress and Queen Consort of Hanover, and on my own humble behalf.

I first assure you that Mr. Bridgerton is safe and in good health; my fellow agents and I took great care as to his well-being when we collected him on behalf of the queen. Unfortunately, I am not permitted to inform you of our destination; the queen has decreed that Mr. Bridgerton’s residence shall be shrouded in utmost secrecy, on pain of grievous bodily harm to Mr. Bridgerton.

What I am permitted to tell is as follows. Mr. Bridgerton will remain a secret guest of Her Majesty to ensure that you refrain from publishing as Lady Whistledown again. Should you disregard this letter and publish, Mr. Bridgerton will pay the price. Additionally—and in case the previous paragraph was not entirely clear—you are prohibited from telling anyone about this situation. This includes through publication, correspondence, or in person. Not even the Bridgerton family is to know of this. The consequences of disobeying this edict will, again, be paid by Mr. Bridgerton.

I am sorry to say that I cannot give you any information about how and when Mr. Bridgerton may be released. You may apply privately to Her Majesty, if you wish, with no penalty to Mr. Bridgerton.

If I may take this juncture to offer some personal opinions on the matter: I do not know when Her Majesty intends to release Mr. Bridgerton, and I would recommend returning to England as quickly as possible and maintaining a low social profile to avoid any awkward questions. Remaining cloistered in your home may be best. I also reiterate my recommendation from Lord Byron’s fete: You must not publish. Until and unless you do so, Her Majesty does not dare harm Mr. Bridgerton. Should you publish again, I cannot guarantee your husband’s safety, or even his life.

I understand that both the separation and the limitation on your activities may be difficult to bear, but capitulation and submission are the most effective strategies with Her Majesty. Should you demonstrate your willingness to obey, I do not doubt that eventually the queen will see reason and return Mr. Bridgerton to you. At the risk of taking liberties, I urge you to be steadfast, Penelope. Surrender Whistledown and you will see Colin again.

Yours dutifully,

Worth

On first read, all Penelope had been able to focus on was that Colin was all right—as much as anyone who had been unceremoniously kidnapped could be—and that she had to get home without telling anyone anything. Now, however, having been given time to become accustomed to the news and with many hours before her to plan, the burn of anger made itself known in her chest as voices howled in her mind.

“Be steadfast, Penelope.”

“You must not publish, Penelope.”

“Be silent, Penelope.”

“Obey, Penelope.”

Her sisters, her Mama, Cressida Cowper, Viscount Bridgerton, the queen, all of society had said those words to her, over and over. And she had tried, from the time she was handed off to a bevy of governesses to her presentation, to burying Lady Whistledown. Silence and obedience were simply not who she was. For Worth to insist that she sit silently in the parlor of her home and wait for the queen to feel magnanimous enough to release her husband was entirely too much to ask.

And yet there was the queen’s explicit threat to Colin should she do anything. The thorny bit of the problem, according to the part of Penelope’s mind that was Whistledown, was that the queen was in the wrong and she clearly knew that—she had contrived a pyrrhic situation in which she, Penelope, and Colin would all burn if Penelope chose not to play by the rules she had set. And yet there was simply no endgame otherwise. This was Colin, he could not be left as a hostage again Penelope’s good behavior. He was too social, too entwined in his family to manage isolation well, and were Penelope to be honest, she missed him dearly already. She would not—could not—play this game and win.

So distracted in her thoughts was Penelope that she nearly broke her nose on the opposite wall of the coach as it abruptly halted. Jolted back to reality, she could hear waves and smell saltwater. Making sure that her hair was tucked securely away beneath a scarf and that her hat was pulled low to conceal her hair and as much of her face as feasible, Penelope exited the carriage and made for the shipping office to book herself passage across the Channel.

Standing in the prow of the ship, face to the wind and the rising sun, Penelope could feel the ghost of Colin’s hands about her waist. Breathing deeply, Pen closed her eyes, remembering. Colin’s grin when he was feeling wicked, the press of his lips on hers, the safe warmth of being held in his arms, and the strength she found standing next to him, hand-in-hand, as they faced the world together. She tried to think through the conversation she wanted to have with him. The decision she was loathe to make alone, but she had little choice. She did not know if he would agree with her choice. That uncertainty cut her nearly as deeply as her certainty that it was the only choice she could possibly make.

The remaining hours of her crossing, still standing in the prow of the ship, were not enough for Penelope to talk herself out of her newly formed plan. She did try, but as she descended the gangway and hired herself another hack—and as she changed hacks several times, to avoid prying eyes—she found herself resolute. The resolution stayed with her as she bulled past Varley into the hall of her mother’s house, as she crept out the back kitchen door, as she crossed the square to Bridgerton House, and as she used a key she wasn’t sure Eloise knew she still had to slip in a side door. Her resolve began to waver as she padded quietly through the halls and stopped before Anthony’s study door.

The hand Penelope lifted to knock hung suspended in the air for long moments. She was reluctant to break the spell of silence in the hallway, and she was disinclined to potentially draw attention to herself. She also did not want anyone else who might be in the study to know that she was in the house. She did not intend to stay, and the fewer people who knew she had been here, the better.

And standing before the door like a ninny with your hand in the air is certainly not going to help, she scolded herself. Dropping her hand, Penelope listened. She heard no voices in the room, just the sound of liquid splashing into a crystal glass. Another ten or fifteen seconds of listening to papers shuffle, and Penelope rolled her shoulders back before slipping into the room and pulling the door softly shut behind her.

Anthony jerked to his feet behind his desk as the door opened, eyes snapping in fury. When Penelope pulled off her hat and scarf, his jaw physically dropped. The cool, analytical part of Penelope’s brain whispered, I don’t believe I have ever seen that happen outside an Austen novel. She remained quiet and still as Anthony’s eyes took in Colin’s coat wrapped around her, her general rumpled air, and whatever her countenance was doing—she truly was uncertain.

“What in God’s name has happened?” asked Anthony.

It took an almost shamefully short time for Penelope to explain the situation. Anthony began standing bolt upright behind his desk, but quickly shifted to settle his fists on the desk surface and lean forward before nearly falling back into his chair. The parts of Penelope’s mind not focused on keeping her upright and speaking slowly and clearly noted that not once did Anthony reach for the crystal decanter or still-full glass on his desk. That was bad; Anthony tended to reach for his drink the way a small child reached for a blanket or soft toy. The impulse was to comfort oneself, to ensure that one could handle what was to come. Penelope had seen him simply pour a glass and hold it during particularly intense family meetings. Benedict would invariably throw a glass back, but if Anthony needed to be Viscount Bridgerton, he rarely took more than an initial polite sip. That he had failed to even reach for it as she spoke meant that they were in uncharted, treacherous waters.

When Anthony held out a hand, Penelope put Worth’s letter into it and then turned to face the small fire in the study as he read. This would be her last moment to make a different choice, to change the path she was about to put herself, Colin, and the Bridgerton family on. Did she want to? Was she still sure that Colin would stand behind her choice?

Nausea rose in Penelope’s throat, and she leaned forward, head resting against her forearm, which was in turn resting awkwardly below the lip of the mantelpiece—which was designed for people several inches taller than she. The lower edge dug uncomfortably into her scalp as she breathed deeply, trying to calm her roiling stomach and slow her racing heart. She felt cold, despite the perspiration she could feel on her forehead from the heat of the flames.

Anthony’s hands were gentle on her shoulders as he pulled her away from the fire, turned her around, and gently pushed her down into one of a pair of comfortable armchairs. She looked up and met his eyes, mostly to distract herself from wishing that the hands on her shoulders were Colin’s. They were not, and if she did not act, they may never be again.

“It will be all right, Penelope,” said Anthony, in a tone that Pen was sure was meant to be reassuring but somehow came out vaguely accusatory. “You did the right thing by coming to me. I shall take care of everything. You must—”

“No,” interrupted Penelope. “No, Anthony. I am not here to ask your help or your blessing. I must put out a special edition of Whistledown telling the world what the queen has done.”

Anthony turned purple. His jaw worked for long moments before he turned on his heel and walked away from her. Face dropped into her hands, Penelope listened. Anthony’s footsteps were erratic, faster then slower, then faster again. Decanter and glass clinked together, then both were slammed onto the desktop. The window opened, and a breeze ruffled Penelope’s hair for a long moment until the crash of sash hitting sill echoed. Books thumped on shelves. There was the distinctive snap of a breaking quill.

For her part, Penelope suddenly felt lighter. Her nausea evaporated, and she felt really, truly calm for the first time since walking into her room at Villa Diodati. The pain and deep sadness of knowing the consequences for Colin of her decision sharpened into a stake through her heart, but it wasn’t the sort of stake that said she was making the wrong decision. Sitting in limbo forever, never knowing if or when she would see Colin again, dying slowly by inches, and agonizing over every possible decision and action to prevent a capricious, petty, and terrified autocrat from harming her husband would have been unlivable. Eventually, Penelope would have had to break the stalemate, and losing time in the stalemate meant a longer captivity for Colin. Better to simply force the queen’s hand now.

The heat of the fire on the backs of her hands cut off suddenly. “We haven’t any other choice, Anthony. The queen’s position of power rests entirely on her actions remaining secret. The House of Lords will never stand for her actions; she will have no choice but to release Colin. The ton may riot when they hear of this.” Lowering her hands, Penelope started. Anthony’s still immensely purple, furious face was bare inches from her own. His hands were on the arms of the chair, and she heard it creak as he leaned more of his weight on his hands and arms.

“Were you anything other than a gently bred lady,” Anthony hissed through clenched teeth, “I would challenge you to a duel here and now.” He shoved himself back from the chair so violently that it tipped back on its rear legs for a long moment, sending Penelope’s heart into her mouth. As the chair rocked forward, she stood, watching Anthony pace the room. Waiting.

“Do you love Colin at all, or is it simply that he is so besotted with you that he is easy to manipulate, and you married him so you could continue to publish as Whistledown?” Anthony managed not to yell—he had no more wish to attract the attention of the household than Penelope did—but his tone was vicious, and his words cut deep.

“Of course I love him,” she exclaimed.

“Ah, you love him so much you are content to doom him to torture. How silly of me to mistake your affection!”

“You cannot imagine she wouldn’t find any excuse to do it anyway if we do nothing!”

“You cannot know that! All we do know is that if you give the queen a reason to hurt Colin, she has said explicitly that she will. It is our duty to keep that from occurring.”

“Anthony…” Penelope’s voice trailed away. She walked to his desk and poured herself a small glass of scotch from his decanter. Catching sight of a copy of An Englishman in Italy on the desk with a bookmark about a third of the way through caused a lump to spring up in Penelope’s throat. Swallowing hard and taking both glasses in her hands, Penelope handed a poleaxed Anthony his glass, clinked hers against his, and took a sip. Anthony followed suit automatically.

“We cannot stop the queen hurting Colin,” she said, striving for a matter-of-fact tone. “Either she will find an excuse to carry out her threat or holding him captive will slowly eat away his spirit. Can you imagine Colin if he cannot go traveling?” The spike in her heart wormed its way a few inches deeper as Anthony’s face twisted at the thought of Colin so restrained. The pained twist of Anthony’s face turned to anger again quickly, however.

“At least in those cases we are not actively taking part in the harm,” Anthony said. “I would wait for Kate forever if it kept her safe and unharmed.”

“The queen can always choose not to go through with her threat, and doing nothing is simply a choice to expose him to a different kind of harm. There is no good choice here, Anthony. I have no tools at my disposal without blood on them. The absolute best I can do is not draw this out indefinitely. I shall go home now, and write.” She set her glass down on the desk again, and tucked her hair up into her hat; the scarf went in the pocket of Colin’s coat.

“If you walk out that door now, Penelope, you will never be welcome under this roof again.” Anthony hadn’t moved, but Penelope had never heard him sound so deadly serious. “I cannot stop you from publishing if you insist upon it; I’m sure you knew what kind of power the queen’s conditions gave you before you ever walked through this door. But know this: If so much as a single hair on Colin’s head is harmed, I shall hold you personally responsible. You will be banned from Bridgerton House and Aubrey Hall. I shall see to it that you never see your nephews. You shall have no correspondence with Eloise, Francesca, or Hyacinth, and if I could prevent you corresponding with Daphne, I would do so. Neither you personally nor any member of the Featherington family shall have my support in any form. What say you?”

“I’m not the one hurting Colin, Anthony.” Without waiting for a response, Penelope pivoted on her heel and walked out the door. She waited for a long moment, listening. The sound of a crystal glass shattering against the wall and full-chested sobs haunted her steps as she made her way back to her and Colin’s Mayfair house. The sun was rising again as she slipped inside the back door.

Her steps echoed. The furniture was covered in sheets to prevent the dust, and the house was truly empty because they had given their household a vacation while they were abroad. The housekeeper would check the house over every few days to ensure nothing untoward happened, but the rest of the staff had been released to their families. She hadn’t sent word ahead that she would be returning. And yet, when she saw the uncovered front hall table with its polished salver uncovered and holding a letter addressed “Dame Penelope” in Worth’s now-familiar hand, she was entirely unsurprised. She was simply exhausted beyond words.

She opened the letter, and was perversely grateful to see that it was only a few short lines telling her that he had personally been following her since she crossed the Channel, but that he was not reporting that she was back because his belief was that she was following his advice. He reiterated that Colin was well as of the writing of his letter and reminded her not to publish. She used the letter to light the stove to make herself a cup of tea to avoid having to go upstairs to an empty bedroom. Ultimately, she fell asleep on the settee in Colin’s study, his coat still wrapped around her.

In lieu of trying to comb out her hopelessly tangled curls when she woke up, Penelope opened her travel writing desk and wrote her special issue of Whistledown. It didn’t take long; this was less a scandal report than it was an excoriation and cry for rule of law. She then dressed in the plainest gown she had, threw an apron and short cloak over the whole thing—listening to her stomach growl all the while—and at the last moment remembered to pin her lace cap over her hair. Striding out into the afternoon sunlight, Penelope made for her original printer’s shop.

Rounding the corner, the crowd abruptly thinned, revealing something of a wasteland where she was accustomed to seeing bustling crowds. The print shop itself was ominously dark, and there may have been boards inside the window. Penelope tried the door and found it very firmly locked. A surreptitious jiggle of the door and careful peering through the windows confirmed that the door and window had been boarded over from the inside. She could also see an explosion of paper, moveable type blocks all over the floor, and the handle of the press itself sat at a hideously incorrect angle.

There was no notice on the door, no obvious explanation for what had happened. Penelope’s breath came hard; she had to be able to print and distribute this issue of Whistledown. She truly had no recourse if she could not get this done. Catching herself leaning against the door nearly in tears, Penelope forced herself to take a slow, deep breath. She had run her operation alone for years. She could problem solve this, and she knew all the printers in this part of London; it would be simple enough to try another. Just a street over was a printer who had done excellent work for her in the past.

I will be calm, and I will do this, she told herself. If she ran more than walked the distance, she simply looked like a maid on a mission for a persnickety mistress. Or so she told herself.

The next printer’s shop was blessedly open. The door itself was propped open to catch errant breezes, and the print master was overseeing a print run—his journeymen were setting type and the apprentices were doing the heavy lifting of pressing and hanging pressed pages to dry. The broadly built print master had done enough business with Penelope in this guise to recognize her.

“Your mistress is writing again, eh lass?” he asked, long years in England nearly but not quite hiding the brogue of his childhood in Scotland.

“You might say so, sure enough,” she said, imitating her cousins in Ireland out of sheer habit. Pulling the closely written sheets of paper from her pocket, Penelope said, “My mistress needs this for noon tomorrow, and she’s willing to take a smaller cut than usual for your prompt work.”

“That’s mighty generous of her,” he said. “I’ll just be needing to see the writ of crown approval and then we can get underway.”

“Writ of crown approval?”

“Surely your mistress has heard that the crown is enforcing an old law now. Old Abernathy was ruined when he published a pamphlet on dog breeding without a writ of approval last week.”

Penelope’s heart jittered. That explained what had happened to her first printer. She would have to see what she and Colin could do for the poor man once Colin was free. But first she had to get this printed. “My mistress and I have been on the continent, we only just returned,” she began, but petered off as the print master frowned and shook his head.

“Then you shall have to convey my apologies to your mistress. I shan’t risk a thousand-pound fine and worse for publishing without a writ of approval.”

“I’m sure my mistress would be willing to cover the fee.”

“The fee perhaps, but we should never be considered for crown publishing projects again, lass. And your mistress surely cannot pay for that loss of income. You have my apologies, and my promise that your mistress shall be at the front of the queue as soon as you have a writ of approval. That’s the best I can do, lass. Now be along, we have work to do.”

Penelope retreated. The print master was correct, she could not cover the loss of crown commissions, and that was clearly a more powerful consideration than the quick payday that a Whistledown issue would bring. And while she absolutely would pay the fine, if a printer were willing to print anyway, it would not be an insignificant sum from their coffers. Heart pounding, mouth dry, and feeling increasingly frantic, Penelope elbowed her way through the crowded streets from print shop to print shop with increasing aggression.

At each and every shop, she received the same answer. Nobody, not even the least reputable printers she could find in parts of London that terrified her to walk through alone, would print without a writ of crown approval. Whatever spectacle the queen’s men had put on at Abernathy’s shop had apparently terrified the rest of the printers into compliance. She endured leers, grabbing hands, rudeness, anger, dismissal, and ridicule, and still she failed. When the last print shop she had been directed to slammed its doors in her face, Penelope nearly dissolved then and there. She could not give up, but she had no sense of what to do next. The sounds of a raucous, certainly drunk group of men startled her, and she picked up her skirts and ran.

#polin #bridgerton #the polin fic #polin fic #polin fanfic #polin fanfiction #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton and penelope feathertington #penelope bridgerton #penelope featherington

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acrossthewavesoftime · 2 years

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Happy Birthday to...

Sophie von der Pfalz, Electress of Hannover, and James VII and II, born on 14 October 1630 and 1633 respectively.

James and Sophie remained in lifelong contact, and the exiled James considered her one of his few allies.

...Little did he know that Sophie was close with both William and Mary, growing particularly fond of the latter in an almost maternal capacity.

Sophie- the woman who would almost have been Queen of England twice

Originally a candidate for marrying James' brother, the recently restored Charles II, the latter settled for Catherine of Braganza instead.

Rather than as consort, Sophie later would almost have become Queen in her own right when the Act of Settlement, implemented by William III, named her as heir presumptive to the crown.

When Sophie visited The Hague with her little niece Liselotte in the winter of 1659/1660, little did she know that one day, the nine-year-old William of Nassau who romped through the Binnenhof palace with her niece would become King of England, and declare her the heir presumptive to the throne. At the time, Sophie was heavily pregnant with her son Georg Ludwig, the future George I who became King of Great Britain when Queen Anne died in 1714. Sophie, alas, had predeceased the much younger Anne by a mere handful of weeks.

Sophie on her own birthday:

In 1680, the year she turned fifty, Sophie decided to write her own memoirs, including a description of her birth and early years. Here is what she had to say on the circumstances of her birth:

Sophie, Electress of Hannover and Köcher, Adolf [Ed]: Memoiren der Herzogin Sophie nachmals Kurfürstin von Hannover, Leipzig 1879, p. 33.

They told me that I was born in the year 1630 on the 14th of October, and since I was the 12th fruit of the marriage of the King my father and the Queen my mother, I think that my birth did not cause them any other joy than that of my no longer occupying the place I previously did. They were even at a loss which name and which godparents one should give me, as all the kings and princes to be considered had already taken this trouble for the children who had preceded me. It had pleased them to put various names on slips of paper and to draw from them the name I was to receive, and chance gave me that of Sophie; and to choose godmothers for me who had that name, the King picked the Princess Palatine of Birkenfeld, Countess of Hohenlohe, the Countess of Cuylenburg and Madame de Brederode, Countess of Nassau, and as godfathers the states of Frisia.

Happy birthday, Sophie von Hannover! She may have been the 12th child of her parents, but she left us first-rate sources in the shape of her memoirs and parts of her correspondence, providing a window into 17th century life and politics.

#sophie von hannover #james ii #17th century #history #on this day #otd #the stuarts #house of stuart #stuartposting

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alternatehistoryworlds · 16 days

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A happier life for Henry VIII's children: Part 3.

Edward was the son of King Henry VIII of England and his third wife Jane Seymour. The birth of a healthy boy was a great miracle and joy not only for his father, but for the whole of England. Edward's childhood was happy, because he had his own mother with him, who with her gentle voice could calm and support him. But it did not last long, in 1547 the boy had to grow up sharply and take on his children's shoulders the responsibility for the whole country, because his father Henry VIII died. His older sister Mary, Queen of France, became regent until the little king came of age. Mary ruled in her brother's place for 8 years. In addition, Mary and Jane did not allow the latter's brothers to influence the young king. Edward and Thomas Seymour were angry about this and they even tried to remove Mary from power, but they failed. The Queen of France uncovered the plot and sent them both to the Tower for life. In 1557 Mary's regency ended and she returned to France, and Edward became the rightful ruler of his state. Two years earlier the king had become interested in Protestantism, and secretly from his mother and sister he began to study it. At a council, he told his lords that he wished all England to convert to this religion, and most of his advisors supported his idea. The Queen Dowager of England tried several times to dissuade her son, but he became angry and made it clear that he would not allow her to interfere in his affairs of state. Queen Mary of France also did not lag behind and tried to return her brother to Catholicism and her attempts were not successful. But there were also those who disagreed, and because of this there were riots and rebellions in the country, the rioters demanded that the king left his venture and returned to the true faith. However, the king was not deterred by their demands, Edward managed to quell the rebellions and to appease his subjects, he declared in public that he would be tolerant and let them believe what they wanted. And to reconcile Catholics and Protestants, Edward promised to marry a Catholic princess, but their children would be Protestants, and to marry his other older sister Elizabeth to a Protestant. In 1558, the princess married the eldest son of the King of Sweden and left England for good. The king himself married Mary Stuart a year later. The marriage between the King of England and the Scottish Queen was a very successful and cohesive one. Mary appointed her consort as her companion and they lived on two countries.

Jane of England(1560 - 1618). Duchess of Angoulême. In 1578 she married her cousin Charles. Their married life was not a happy one. After the birth of their last child, the couple finally drifted apart and stopped living together. Four children were born in the marriage.

Henry IX of England(1561 - 1611). King of England, Ireland and Scotland. In 1589 he became King of England, and in 1600 of Scotland. In 1605 he proclaimed himself king of Great Britain. He was married, but did not love his wife, during their marriage he never touched her. Also the king had a mistress who bore him 5 children out of wedlock: Mary, Edward, Elizabeth, Grace and James. Died at the age of 51 of bubonic plague.

James I of England(1563 - 1627). King of Great Britain. Inherited from his older brother, as the latter had no legitimate children. Also, unlike Henry, he loved his wife and never cheated on her. Husband of Elizabeth of Denmark, father of 11 children: Edward VII, Sophia, Charles, George, Isabella, Joan, Frederick, Barbara, Henrietta, Arabella and Robert.

Mary of England(1564 - 1590). Mary was given in marriage to her cousin at the age of 18. The marriage produced 4 children. In 1590, Mary contracted pneumonia and died on the anniversary of her father's death.

Elizabeth of England(1567 - 1570). In 1570, the princess caught cold, contracted pneumonia and died at the age of 3.

Margaret of England(1569 - 1624). She was married twice, but both her husbands died shortly after the marriage. After the death of her second husband, Margaret declared that she would never marry again. She founded a charitable foundation and helped anyone in need, she especially focused on helping women and children.

Edward of England(1572 - 1586). Duke of Somerset and Albany. From birth had poor health. Died at the age of 14 from smallpox.

Richard of England(1575 - 1655). Duke of Somerset and Albany. After the death of his brother in 1586 all his titles passed to him. The Prince was noted for his good health and poetic ability. During his lifetime he became a famous poet. In 1600 he married Elizabeth Howard, after the wedding Richard and Elizabeth removed from the court and began to live a happy and quiet family life. The marriage produced 7 children: Mary, William, Edward, Philip, Anne, Catherine, and Nicholas.

Jane Seymour loved her daughter-in-law as her own daughter, the dowager queen liked to spend time in the circle of her grandchildren. On her son, she had almost no influence, but the king loved his mother and because of respect sometimes listened to her advice. Jane died in 1565, and Edward was greatly grieved by her death. Mary, more than anyone else, understood how her brother felt and despite their differences on matters of religion, came to England to give him moral support. In the end, they finally reconciled. Edward VI was a king beloved by the nobility and the people. For most of his reign, he tried to try on Catholics and Protestants and prevent religious warfare within the country. On top of that, the king gave shelter and protection to Protestants who had fled religious persecution. Edward VI died of tuberculosis in 1589. He was buried in Westminster Abbey next to his parents and other family members. Eleven years later, his wife Mary Stuart was buried next to him.

#english history #history #royal family #royalty #history au #au #royal #henryviii #the tudors #16th century #british royal family #edwardvi #marytudor #mary stuart #anne boleyn #catherine of aragon #elizabethi #elizabeth tudor #jane seymour

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zvaigzdelasas · 2 years

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The Koh-i-noor, Persian for Mountain of Light, is [not] the biggest diamond in the world[...], but it is arguably the most infamous. For many in India it has always represented the humiliation of colonisation.[...]

The ruling BJP party of Narendra Modi has let it be known that any plans for the Queen Consort to wear the Koh-i-noor at her coronation would bring back “painful memories of the colonial past”. For a country that is involved in top level trade negotiations with Britain at this very moment, this is a powerful statement, and one which the palace will now have to deal with. Does it refashion a new Queen Consort’s crown for Camilla, which would be costly at a time of financial hardship in the country? Can it swap out the diamond for another gem in the collection? [...]

The diamond’s past is something of a blood streak through history. Over the centuries, it has passed through Moghul, Persian and Afghan hands, with gore in every chapter of the story.[...]

In this rather blood-drenched relay race, Britain picks up the baton in 1849. At that time the Koh-i-noor belonged to Maharajah Duleep Singh, a 10-year-old boy-king who reigned over the north of India from his capital in Lahore. The East India Company forcibly separated him from his mother, imprisoned her, and then made him sign a treaty he was ill-equipped to understand, supposedly for his own protection. Duleep’s childish signature on vellum lost him the Koh-I-noor and his kingdom. He would eventually die, broken and broke, on the floor of a Parisian hotel at the age of 55. His story, for many, is an allegory of colonisation. In England, the diamond was somewhat disastrously recut, losing almost half its heft, and though Queen Victoria wore it, no other reigning monarch has[...]

In 1947 the government of a newly independent India asked for the diamond’s return. In 1976, as Britain sweltered in a heatwave, Benazir Bhutto’s father, the then prime minister of Pakistan, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, asked for the diamond’s return, reasoning that it was part of Lahore’s heritage. In a blistering letter he said its return would “be symbolic of a new international equity strikingly different from the grasping, usurping temper of a former age”. Such requests, and others like it, have been assiduously sidestepped, with the reply that its history is so complicated, Britain would not know to which country it belonged.

14 Oct 22

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byneddiedingo · 3 months

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Maggie Smith and Michael Palin in A Private Function (Malcolm Mowbray, 1984)

Cast: Michael Palin, Maggie Smith, Denholm Elliott, Richard Griffiths, Tony Haygarth, John Northington, Bill Paterson, Liz Smith, Alison Steadman, Jim Carter, Pete Postlethwaite. Screenplay: Alan Bennett, Malcolm Mowbray. Cinematography: Tony Pierce-Roberts. Production design: Stuart Walker. Film editing: Barrie Vince. Music: John Du Prez.

A Private Function begins with Joyce Chilvers (Maggie Smith) and her mother (Liz Smith) entering a darkened movie theater where a newsreel is playing. We watch the newsreel, about meat rationing in postwar Britain, as the two women make their way to their seats, with Joyce scolding her mum for not finding a seat of her own. Then the lights come up and the theater organ rises from the pit. Joyce is playing the organ with her mother awkwardly sharing the bench with her. It's a nifty way to introduce not only two of the movie's key characters but also the era in which the film is set and the core of the plot. The newsreel also includes footage of the preparations for the wedding of Princess Elizabeth and Sir Philip Mountbatten, so we know that we're in November of 1947. The setting is a town in Northern England where the local dignitaries, led by the irascible, snobbish Dr. Swaby (Denholm Elliott, are preparing for a private function, a banquet, to celebrate the marriage of the future queen and prince consort. But how do you put on a banquet when everything, especially meat, is strictly rationed, and a diligent civil servant named Wormold (Bill Paterson) is enforcing the consumption laws with an iron hand? The banquet planners have found a way: They're raising an illegal pig. Eventually, Joyce and her meek chiropodist husband, Gilbert (Michael Palin), will get involved, especially after the would-be social climbing Joyce is not only frustrated by her inability to get around the rationing laws, but is also piqued by not being invited to the banquet. The only solution, it seems, is for Gilbert to commit pignapping and to hide the purloined swine in their home. The rest is farce in the manner of the British comedies made in the late 1940s and early 1950s, e.g., Kind Hearts and Coronets (Robert Hamer, 1949), The Lavender Hill Mob (Charles Crichton, 1951), and The Ladykillers (Alexander Mackendrick, 1955). It's raunchier and a good deal more scatalogical than those classic films, and it's sometimes edited a little choppily -- there are jump cuts where none are needed -- but it earns the comparison on the strength of fine comic performances by Maggie Smith, Palin, Elliott, and especially Liz Smith as the endearingly dotty Mother. ("She's 74," Joyce often interjects to excuse, explain, and even praise her parent's behavior.)

#A Private Function #Malcolm Mowbray #Maggie Smith #Michael Palin

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grandmaster-anne · 1 year

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Court Circular | 7th March 2023

Buckingham Palace

The King and The Queen Consort today visited Colchester to mark its recently awarded city status and were received this morning at Colchester Castle Museum, Castle Park, by His Majesty’s Lord-Lieutenant of Essex (Mrs Jennifer Tolhurst), the Museums Manager, Colchester City Council (Mrs Philippa Pickles) and the Mayor of Colchester (Councillor Tim Young). His Majesty, escorted by the Lord-Lieutenant, and Her Majesty, escorted by the Mayor, toured the Museum, viewing artefacts and displays, and meeting members of staff, volunteers and representatives from Colchester Garrison, community groups, local businesses, conservation projects and arts organisations. The King and The Queen Consort this afternoon visited Colchester Library, Trinity Square, Colchester, and were received by Rear Admiral Roy Clare (Vice Lord-Lieutenant of Essex). Their Majesties met beneficiaries, volunteers and members of staff from Age UK and the Silver Line at an Afternoon Tea, and subsequently were briefed about the Library’s impact in the community through the Essex Year of Reading. The Prince of Wales, on behalf of The King, held an Investiture at Windsor Castle this morning.

Kensington Palace

The Princess of Wales, Joint Patron, the Royal Foundation of The Prince and Princess of Wales, this morning held an Early Years Meeting.

St James’s Palace

The Earl of Wessex this morning visited the City of London Academy Shoreditch Park, 40 Hyde Road, London N1. His Royal Highness, Patron, the National Youth Theatre of Great Britain, this evening attended the “Make A Splash” Gala Dinner at the Londoner, 38 Leicester Square, London WC2. The Countess of Wessex, Patron, Dystrophic Epidermolysis Bullosa Research Association, this afternoon attended a Lunch at the Landmark Hotel, 222 Marylebone Road, London NW1. Her Royal Highness, Patron, Vision Foundation, later held a Meeting.

St James’s Palace

The Princess Royal, accompanied by Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, this afternoon attended the Grand Military Meeting at Sandown Racecourse, Portsmouth Road, Esher, and was received by His Majesty’s Lord-Lieutenant of Surrey (Mr Michael MoreMolyneux).

St James’s Palace

The Duke of Kent, Grand Master, United Grand Lodge of England, this evening attended the Board of Grand Stewards Dinner at Brooks’s, St James’s Street, London SW1.

#court circular #princess anne #princess royal #tim laurence #king charles iii #queen camilla #prince of wales #earl of wessex #countess of wessex #duke of kent #british royal family

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pastedpast · 1 year

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As I'm currently indexing this blog or, rather, meta-tagging posts in my new version of it on the Blogger website (I will post proper link as soon as it's finished), I decided to compile a list of all the women who feature (or receive a mention however fleetingly) within it. I have tried to trawl the blog ''with a fine toothcomb'', but I'm bound to have missed a few names - oh well! Here is the list as complete as I can muster. The women appear in (broadly) alphabetical order by first name. *** NB it is still a work in progress ***

VOCALISTS & MUSICIANS

Alice Waterhouse (flute) * Amy Winehouse * Angel Olsen * Annie June Callaghan * Ari Up & The Slits * Be Good Tanyas, The * Billie Holiday * Bjork * Black Belles, The * Cait O’ Riordan (Pogues) * Calista Williams (Bluebird) * Cindy Wilson & Kate Pierson (The B52s) * Cistem Failure * Clementine Douglas * Cosey Fanni Tutti * DakhaBrakha (well, 3/4 of them!) * Debbie Harry * Edith Piaf * Elizabeth Morris (Allo Darlin') * Holly Golightly * HoneyLuv * Katy-Jane Garside * Kelis * Kim Deal (Pixies & Breeders) * Maxine Peake * Maxine Venton & Mimi O'Malley (Captain Hotknives) * Meg White * Melanie Safka * Nico * Nina Simone * Patti Rothberg * Penny Ford (Snap!) * PJ Harvey * Rhoda Dakar (Special AKA) * Seamonsters, The * Siouxsie Sioux * Suzanne Vega * Tray Tronic * Trish Keenan (Broadcast)

VISUAL ARTS

Annegret Soltau * Anne Ophelia Dowden * Artemisia Gentileschi * Barbara Regina Dietzsch * Beverly Joubert * Camille Claudel * Clara Peeters * Dale DeArmond * Doreen Fletcher * Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale * Élisabeth Sonrel * Elisabetta Siriani * Elizabeth Mary Watt * Ella Hawkins * Evelyn De Morgan * Frida Kahlo * Gertrude Abercrombie * Helen Martins * Kate Gough * Laura Knight (Dame) * Leonora Carrington * Lily Delissa Joseph * Liza Ferneyhough * Magdolna Ban * Mandy Payne* Mary Delany * Miina Akkijrkka * Ndidi Ekubia * Pamela Colman-Smith * Paula Rego * Rachel Gale * 'Romany Soup' * Sarah Vivien * Shirley Baker * Siirkka-Liisa Konttinen * Sofonisba Anguissola * Sonia Delaunay * Tish Murtha * Vali Myers * Vanessa Bell

COMEDY, DANCE & DRAMA

Alicia Eyo & Carol Morley ('Stalin My Neighbour') * Claire Foy * Daisy May Cooper * Gabrielle Creevy & Jo Hartley ('In My Skin') * Isadora Duncan * Jessica Williams ('Love Life') * Lesley Sharp, Michelle Holmes & Siobhan Finneran ('Rita, Sue & Bob Too') * Michaela Coel ('I May Destroy You') * Morgana Robinson * Samantha Morton * Yasmin Paige (Jordana Bevan in ‘Submarine)

WRITERS, JOURNALISTS, SCHOLARS & POETS

Agatha Christie (MBE) * Andrea Dunbar * Anaïs Nin * Angela Thirkell * Anna Funder * Anna Wickham * Edith Holden * Elizabeth O'Neill * Enid Blyton * Harriet Beecher Stowe * Helen Castor (Dr.) * Hilary Mantel * Janina Ramirez (Dr.) * Jeannette Kupfermann * Jenny March (Dr.) * Jenny Wormald (Dr.) * Lia Leendertz * Mary Oliver * Orna Guralnik (Dr.) * Rachel Beer * Susie Boniface * Virginia Woolf

HISTORICAL FIGURES

Anne, Queen of Great Britain * Anne Boleyn, Queen of England * Anne of Cleves, Queen of England * Boudicca, Queen of the Iceni * Cartimandua, Queen of the Brigantes * Catherine de’ Medici, Queen Consort/Regent of France * Catherine Parr, Queen of England * Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England * Catherine of Valois, Queen of England * Christine de Pizan * Cixi, Empress of China (aka Empress Tz'u-hsi ) * Eleanora of Austria, Queen of France * Eleanor of Aquitaine, Queen of France; Queen of England; Duchess of Aquitaine * Eleanor of Castile * Eleanor Talbot ("The Secret Queen") * Elizabeth I Queen of England * Elizabeth Woodville, Queen Consort of England * Elizabeth of York, Queen Consort of England * Elizabeth Stuart, Queen of Bohemia * Hatshepsut, Pharaoh of Egypt *Hildegard of Bingen * Isabeau of Bavaria, Queen of France * Isabella I, Queen of Castile * Isabella of Aragon, Princess of Asturias * Isabella of Portugal, Empress Consort of Holy Roman Empire and Queen Consort of Spain, Germany & Italy * Isabella of France, Queen of England * Jacquetta of Luxemburg * Jane Grey (Lady), Queen of England for Nine Days * Jane Seymour, Queen of England * Juana (aka Joanna), Queen of Castile * Katherine Howard, Queen of England * Louise of Savoy, Regent of France * Margaret of Anjou, Queen Consort of England * Margaret of Austria [check which one] * Margaret Beaufort, Lady * Marie Antoinette, Queen of France * Mary I, Queen of England * Mary II, Queen of England, Scotland & Ireland * Mary, Queen of Scots * Mary of Austria [check which one] * Mary of Burgundy, Duchess * Matilda, Holy Roman Empress * Melisende, Queen of Jerusalem * Sophia of Hanover, Electress * Tatya Betul, Empress of Ethiopia * Theodora, Empress of Byzantium * Victoria, Queen of England & Empress of India

SAINTS & BIBLICAL/CHRISTIAN REFERENCES

Anna (wife of Tobit) * Apollonia (Saint) * Barbara (Saint) * Catherine of Alexandria (Saint) * Ecclesia * Eve (the first woman) * Felicitas of Rome (Saint) * Genevieve (Saint) * Godeberta * Jael * Jezebel * Judith * Lucy (Saint) * Margaret of Scotland (Saint) * Mary Magdalene * Rahab * Rose of Lima (Saint) * Synagoga * The Queen of Sheba * Thérèse of Lisieux (Saint) * Virgin Mary, The* "Whore of Babylon", The * Ursula (Saint)

MYTHOLOGICAL

Anat * Asherah * Astarte * Atalanta * Aurora * Baba Yaga * Circe * Chhinnamasta * Clio/Kleio * Demeter (Rmn: Ceres) * Dido, Queen of Carthage * Durga * Elaine of Astolat * Europa * Eurydice * Hathor * Hesperides * Io * Isolde/Iseult * Isis * Juno (Gk: Hera) * Kali * Kriemhild/Gudrun * Kudshu * Lakshmi * Persephone (Rmn: Proserpine) * Radha * Sabine Women, The * Sati * Sedna * Sirens, The (half-female, half-bird) * Three Graces, The * Valkyries, The * Venus (Aphrodite)

WIVES, MUSES, CONSORTS & SIGNIFICANT OTHERS

Anastasia Romanovna (wife of Ivan the Terrible) * Anne Hyde (1st wife of James, Duke of York; she did not live long enough to see him become James II) * Anne Lovell (wife of Sir Francis Lovell) * Anne of Denmark (wife of James VI of Scotland/James I of England & Ireland) * Bella Chagall (wife of Marc Chagall) * Catherine of Braganza (wife of Charles II) * Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz (Queen of England as wife of George III) * Clementine Churchill (wife of Winston Churchill) * Diane de Poitiers (royal mistress to the French king, Henry II) * Emma Hamilton, Lady (mistress of Lord Horatio Nelson) * Evelyn Pyke-Nott (wife of John Byam Shaw) * Françoise Gilot (partner of Pablo Picasso) * Frances Grey, Duchess of Suffolk (mother of Lady Jane Grey) * Henrietta-Maria (wife of Charles I) * Lady Martha Temple (wife of Sir William Temple) * MacDonald sisters, The (Alice, Georgiana, Agnes and Louisa) * Marguerite of Navarre/Angoulême (sister of French king, Francis I) * Mary of Modena (2nd wife of James VI and I, King of Scotland, England, and Ireland) * Mary Shelley (mentioned as wife of Percy Bysshe Shelley, though a renowned author in her own right) * Mary Soames (daughter of Winston Churchill & wife of Christopher Soames) * Mary Stuart (daughter of Charles I and mother of the future William III) * Mary Watts (wife of George Frederic Watts, and designer and artist in her own right) * Olga Khokhlova (1st wife of Pablo Picasso) * Portia (wife of Brutus) *

2OTH CENTURY & MODERN DAY

Christabel Pankhurst * Emily Wilding Davison * Emmeline Pankhurst * 'Gulabi Gang' * Hannah Hauxwell * Helen Keller * Hilary Clinton * Liz Truss * Margaret Campbell, Duchess of Argyll * Mata Hari * Melina Mercouri * Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe * Rahima Mahmut * Sylvia Pankhurst *

#flip

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foreverinthepagesofhistory · 1 year

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🧁

Let’s get right into this

Albert Prince Consort of Great Britain (prince of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha): died young, was married to queen Victoria (does that count as a reason?), was basically almost king of a country which basically killed him

2. Queen Anne of Great Britain: had ALOT of miscarriages, was pregnant at least 17 times and ALL of them went horribly, had one son but he died young, was considered horribly ugly by like everyone

3. Princesses Elisabeth and Marie of Hesse and By Rhine: died very young (ages 8 and 4), died of diphtheria and typhoid (very awful illnesses)

4. Catherine of Aragon (Queen of England): her first husband (who was much nicer than her second) died early, was married to Henry VIII, had alot of miscarriages and stillbirths, her only son died young, Henry divorced her and was cheating on her with Anne Boleyn, Henry sent her to a nunnery, wasn’t allowed to see her daughter for years

5. Anne Boleyn (Queen of England): was married to Henry VIII, was beheaded, had a lot of miscarriages and stillbirths, Henry cheated on her with Jane Seymour, had to watch her brother die, was falsely accused of treason

thank you for asking me questions!

#royal ask game #european monarchies #sad royals #answered ask

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ysbnews · 2 years

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Queen Elizabeth II: The Monarch Who Ruled Over Britain for 70 Years Has Died — Epoch Times

By Chris Summers | 9/8/2022 — Queen Elizabeth II, the longest-serving monarch in British history with a reign of 70 years and 214 days, died at age 96 on Sept. 8.

The Prince of Wales is now King, having acceded to the throne immediately upon the death of his mother. In a statement, the Palace said: “The Queen died peacefully at Balmoral this afternoon. The King and The Queen Consort will remain at Balmoral this evening and will return to London tomorrow.”

She was born Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor on Apr. 21, 1926. Her father was then known as Albert, Duke of York. At the age of 10, her grandfather, King George V, died and was succeeded by his eldest son, Edward VIII, whose relationship with American divorcee Wallis Simpson led to the abdication crisis of November 1936.

Edward VIII’s abdication meant that her father was crowned King George VI. A shy and mild-mannered figure, he led the UK through World War II. Princess Elizabeth was 13 when the war broke out, and she was evacuated from London to Windsor Castle from where, the following year, she made a radio broadcast on the BBC’s “Children’s Hour.”

2nd photo: Then-Princess Elizabeth on her 13th birthday in Windsor Great Park in England on April 21, 1939. - © AP Photo

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thepastisalreadywritten · 2 years

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By: Caroline Davies

Thursday, 8 September 2022, 18.30 BST

Queen Elizabeth II, the longest-reigning monarch in British history, has died at the age of 96.

Prince Charles, 73, heir to the throne since the age of three, is now king, and the Duchess of Cornwall is now Queen Consort.

In a statement, Buckingham Palace said:

“The Queen died peacefully at Balmoral this afternoon. The King and the Queen Consort will remain at Balmoral this evening and will return to London tomorrow.”

The royal family’s official website carried the message: “Queen Elizabeth II 1926-2022” along with the official statement issued by Buckingham Palace.

Coming to the throne at the age of 25, she successfully steered the monarchy through decades of turbulent change, with her personal popularity providing ballast during the institution’s more difficult times.

At her side for most of it, the Duke of Edinburgh remained her “strength and stay” during a marriage that withstood many strains imposed by her unique position.

Despite a family life lived under the often challenging glare of publicity, Elizabeth II remained a calm and steadfast figure, weathering the divorces of three of her children, and the crisis precipitated by the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, in a car crash in Paris in 1997.

Flags on landmark buildings in Britain were being lowered to half mast as a period of official mourning was announced. Royal residences that are open to the public will be closed.

There were undoubted low points, but the mass outpourings of affection on her silver, golden and diamond jubilees testified to the special place she held for millions. When there was criticism of the institution, it rarely translated into a personal attack on her.

Fifteen prime ministers served her, attesting to her deep knowledge, experience of world affairs and mastery of political neutrality.

They stretched back to Sir Winston Churchill, who was still prime minister when she assumed the throne, with resolve and far earlier than she had expected, on the premature death of her father, George VI, in 1952.

It is expected the bells of Westminster Abbey and St Paul’s Cathedral will toll their bells at midday on Friday, and ceremonial gun salutes will be fired in Hyde Park and at Tower Hill in London.

That resolve continued to sustain her. In her silver jubilee message in 1977, she said:

“When I was 21, I pledged my life to the service of our people and asked for God’s help to make that vow. Although that vow was made in my salad days, when I was green in judgment, I do not regret nor retract one word of it.”

Often portrayed as old-fashioned, during her reign many steps were taken to keep the monarchy up to date with rapid societal change.

Out went debutante “coming out” presentations, in came garden parties, receptions, luncheons, almost weekly “away days” to provincial towns and regular walkabouts, allowing personal access on a vaster scale than ever before.

Out, too, went tax-free status on her private income, and that of the Prince of Wales, though she fought hard until she was convinced public opinion was firmly set against her.

The laws on succession were changed, with the abolition of primogeniture, allowing first-born daughters to accede over sons, and those in the line of succession being allowed to marry a Catholic, although not to be one.

Rarely did she publicly reveal private anguish. Her plea for a fair understanding towards the end of 1992 – her annus horribilis, a year rocked by royal scandal and a row over finances – was unprecedented.

A devout, churchgoing Christian, the Queen’s annual Christmas broadcast, which she scripted herself, revealed a woman of unshakable faith.

She took her position as head of the Church of England seriously, even when it required her to sidestep Charles’s civil marriage to Camilla Parker Bowles by absenting herself from the register office part of the ceremony. Nevertheless, it was a marriage, between two divorcees, that was unthinkable when she came to the throne, but one she ultimately embraced.

She was left bereft at the loss of her lifelong companion, Prince Philip, who died in his sleep at the age of 99 in April 2021 during the Covid pandemic.

She sat alone and bereaved in St George’s chapel, Windsor Castle, during the poignant funeral, hugely scaled down because of coronavirus restrictions.

The royal couple, married for 73 years, had spent the last months of his life together in lockdown, shielding at Windsor Castle because of their vulnerability to the virus due to their advanced years.

To cap this turbulent time for the monarchy, the Queen then contracted Covid, suffering mild cold-like symptoms, shortly before she marked her platinum jubilee.

As Queen of the UK and 14 other realms, and head of the 54-nation Commonwealth, Elizabeth II was easily the world’s most recognisable head of state during an extraordinarily long reign.

As age gradually caught up with her, and she had mobility issues, she was seen less often at public events.

In April 2022, she did not attend the state opening of parliament, instead issuing letters patent, authorising the Prince of Wales and Duke of Cambridge, as counsellors of state, to deputise for her.

It was only the third time in her reign that she had missed a state opening, the other two being when she was pregnant in 1959 and 1963.

The mobility issues meant the Queen remained in Balmoral in September 2022 rather than return to Buckingham Palace for an audience with the new prime minister. The outgoing prime minister, Boris Johnson, and his successor, Liz Truss, travelled to Scotland instead.

Princess Elizabeth Alexandra Mary was born on 21 April 1926 at her maternal grandparents’ home at 17 Bruton Street, in London’s Mayfair district, and was not expected to accede to the throne.

But at the age of 10, the abdication of her uncle, Edward VIII, over his love for the American divorcee Wallis Simpson, and her father’s rushed coronation as substitute king, changed the path her aristocratic life could have been expected to take.

The world witnessed her transformation from shy princess to young Queen, attracting the same global fascination as Diana, Princess of Wales, would 30 years later. Even in middle and later years, she retained photogenic regal glamour.

But she seemed most content in a thick jacket and headscarf, walking her corgis or tramping Balmoral’s highland moors.

“You can go for miles and never see anybody; you can walk or ride, it has endless possibilities,” she once said.

Watching her thoroughbreds pass the post was another great pleasure, and her love of horse racing once subconsciously manifested itself during the 2003 state opening of parliament when she announced details of a national hunt service bill rather than “health service.”

The image of a queen who kept cereal in plastic boxes and fed toast to her corgis while a gruff Philip breakfasted next to her listening to a battered old transistor radio, did much to endear. So, too, did the two-bar electric fire she used in 2013 and beyond to heat her palace audience room, and “revelations” that her favourite TV programmes included Last of the Summer Wine and The Bill.

When required to subject herself to popular culture, such as a pop concert, she would oblige, with earplugs in place. Her parachuting stunt – when a body-double landed in the middle of the London Olympics opening ceremony – illustrated well that she did often get it.

Illnesses were rare as she enjoyed robust health. At 85, she was still carrying out 325 engagements a year. Long-haul travel was only curtailed when she reached 87, and Philip 92.

She was the most widely travelled of any world head of state. Coming to the throne as the empire collapsed and with Britain’s status as a world power diminishing, she believed the flourishing of the Commonwealth to be among her greatest achievements.

She visited every Commonwealth country bar Cameroon, which joined in 1995, and Rwanda (2009). She visited Canada more than 20 times, Australia 16, New Zealand 10 and Jamaica six.

In 2011, Elizabeth became the first British monarch in a century to visit the Republic of Ireland.

The following year, she shook hands in Belfast with the Sinn Féin politician Martin McGuinness, putting aside the personal tragedy of the IRA assassination of “Uncle Dickie”, Lord Mountbatten, her distant cousin and Philip’s uncle.

In 2002, her golden jubilee, her sister, Margaret, and mother, Queen Elizabeth, died within eight weeks of each other.

Her relationship to both had been close, as they were among the few individuals in whom she could confide the pressures and frustrations of her position.

As many nations today mourn a queen, one family is mourning a mother of four, a grandmother of eight, and a great-grandmother of 12.

NOTE: Edited

#Queen Elizabeth II #Her Majesty The Queen #British Royal Family #21 April 1926 – 8 September 2022

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drosera-nepenthes · 2 years

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The Late Ex-Queen of the French

Her Majesty Queen Marie Amelie, widow of Louis Philippe d'Orleans, King of the French, was the second daughter of Ferdinand I, King of the Two Sicilies, by his consort, Caroline, daughter of Francis, Emperor of Germany and of his consort, the Empress Maria Theresa, being the niece of Marie Antoinette, the murdered Queen of France; and great-aunt of the present Emperor of Austria., of the Queen of Spain, and of Francis II, ex-King of the Two Sicilies. Queen Marie Amelie was born April 26, 1782, and her marriage occurred thus: – Louis Philippe, Duke of Orleans, after various adventures and wanderings in different parts of the world came to reside, in 1800, at Twickenham in Middlesex. In 1808 the Duke accompanied to Malta, his invalid brother, the Count de Beaujolais, who died there; and after his death the Duke crossed to Messina, and was hospitably received by King Ferdinand at Palermo, his only capital – King Joachim Murat then ruling at Naples. The Duke of Orleans, during his visit gained the affection of the Princess Marie Amelie and married her, Nov 20, 1809. After the nuptials, they continued to reside at Palermo in quiet domesticity. They, at the Restoration of 1814 went to Paris, where the Duke's honors and estates were restored to him. His second son, Louis, Duke de Nemours, being born at Paris, Oct 25, 1814, was honoured by having as his sponsors Louis XVIII and the Duchesse d'Angouleme. On Napoleon's removal to Elba the Duke of Orleans was made a Lieutenant of France for the north by King Louis XVIII. He did not, however, hold the post long, and on reigning it came again to live at Twickenham. After Waterloo, and on the second Restoration he went to take his seat in the Chamber of Peers; but, his course of policy not being agreeable to the then Government, he once more retreated to Twickenham, and remained there till 1817, when he settled in France, not to live it till his high and adverse destinies were accomplished. Of his accession to the throne in 1830, of his abdication in 1848, and of his death, an exile at Claremont, Aug 25, 1850, it is needless to here give details: they are the events of a history universally known. Suffice it to say, that his devoted and admirable consort, Queen Marie Amelie, shared with grace his elevation, and never ceased to cling to him and to comfort him in his misfortunes and his exile. Reverenced in France, she acquired for herself and her family reverence in England. The protection and attention constantly shown to the Royal lady by the present Sovereign of Great Britain may remind us of the kindness of Louis the Great to the exiled James II and his Queen, though there there were political reasons, while here all was from the noblest and purest motives.

The London Illustrated News, 1866

#Queen Marie Amelie #french royal family #bourbon #magazine article

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acrossthewavesoftime · 2 years

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Oh my, that was absolutely worth the wait. What a great chapter! And finally George made a move – he deserves Caroline and Caroline deserves him. The two of them are just too cute when they finally admit that they have feelings for each other, society be dammed. And do not get me wrong, I am happy that George got his promotion, he really deserved it after his little stunt at Trafalgar … but does he really have to go back to sea right now? He and Caroline just found each other and I have this bad feeling that Ernest still thinks he has a chance with Caroline. He was totally disgraced by Amelia’s letter and outed as the little devil he is … but I fear that that will not stop him. And what is the deal with this lovely elderly gent from Plön?

Anyway, I will wait in patience for what comes next. :-)

You really, really made it hard for me! Anyways, apologies it took so long, but was lange währt wird endlich gut, nicht wahr?

Anyway, it took me some time to figure out how this whole thing is even possible, and accidentally ended up mapping out the entire plot of a novel I’ll never write. I hope you’ll enjoy it and a fair warning, long read ahead. Warning: contains Stuart and Hanoverian family politics, naval officers and scheming siblings:

The Plot:

The Act of Settlement exists, but it is not acted upon; designed to consolidate a brittle Protestant succession suffering from a distinct lack of heirs, it is, surprisingly enough, not presently required as against all odds, Queen Anne’s sickly only surviving child William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, lives and succeeds his mother to the throne.

This of course does not go down well with the new Elector of Hannover, Georg Ludwig, who inherited the rights to the crown from his mum, Sophia. Georg Ludwig kind of wanted to be king, actually. He hates England, he hates going abroad, but he sure likes a sparkling crown, fancy new robes, and being a Very Important Person.

The cherry on top of the Hanoverian frustration is when the sickly king even fathers an heir, making it nigh improbable that an Elector of Hannover will ever sit on the throne of Great Britain. However, only time will tell if William, Prince of Wales, will succeed William IV. Riding accidents, accidental food poisoning or a beastly case of the smallpox can happen, you know?

Alas, it doesn’t.

So, all that is left for the House of Hannover to do is sit and bide their time (and secretly pray for the demise of William V).

Born into a dull life in provincial Germany and a bickering family, young Georg August Friedrich, Kurprinz von Hannover, simply feels like he doesn’t belong, and longingly looks across the sea to Britain, where everything is more worldly, fashionable and exciting. His undereducated, boring and terribly frumpy family simply annoy him, and since he has been banned from the courts of Berlin and Vienna on account of several unspecified incidents (one of which however is said to have involved a drunk pet ostrich in a full set of plate armour, though this is subject to much conjecture by historians), there is not much to do for him really, but to occasionally travel to Italy to get drunk on better wines and sleep with prettier women than are available in Hannover. One regrettable time, having always favoured women a tad older than him, he woke up next to a certain Charlotte Stuart. Tipsy on expensive champagne and merrily lamenting their fate, they had half a mind to elope together and conquer that blasted throne, the only problem being that they could not agree on who would be whose consort, a heated argument they took to the bedroom. But shh, this is all top secret, and most biographies of King George I (spoiler! J) omit this anecdote.

To his eternal chagrin, his father the Elector, called “Bauer Georg” by his people for his delightful pastoral folksiness and interest in other people’s pigsties, taking heed from his forbears after Elector Ernst August and Electress Sophie lost four sons to the wars of the tumultuous 17th century, insists Georg will stay at home and learn how to govern what little there is to govern in Hannover, while his brothers Friedrich, Wilhelm, Eduard, Ernst August, August Friedrich and Adolph Friedrich get, by the grace of their royal relations abroad, to join the Prussian or British military services and have terrific, gentlemanly adventures. He’d much rather be royal canon fodder, too, than ever have to read and be examined on another book about crop farming ever again.

And what a life is this for a prince who has found his first grey hair and is pestered about not having produced an heir yet? No, Georg cannot do this anymore. He has to leave this life behind! Screw Hannover!

Tired of watching life pass him by, measuring Age Progressing by the increase in his waistline and the cousin his parents have invited to stay at their court (and whom Georg is 100% sure his mum pays a little pocket money to cosy up to him in order to report back on him to her), Georg decides he will do what a (reasonably) young man has to do, and follow his heart: He shall to Britain! And to the sea! The vast, empty horizons will soothe his tortured soul, yet encaged at Herrenhausen palace— and those uniforms are simply too fetching to resist!

When his brother Ernst comes to visit home on shore leave from the Navy, one night, Georg steals away in Ernst’s (admittedly rather tight-fitting) uniform and is discovered by cousin Caroline, whom he has long since suspected to be his mother’s obedient creature. To his surprise however, Caroline, rather than rousing the entire house, agrees to help Georg with the cover-up and, waking Ernst, explains to him what’s going on, telling him that finally, the way is clear for him! Has he not always lived in the shadow of his older brothers, particularly the heir to the electorate? Now is the time to step into the sun! Caroline advises Ernst to pose as Georg, just like Georg is posing as Ernst. The Elector, who is stark raving mad, at least in intervals (this is what they called porphyria back in the day), won’t notice! And Electress Charlotte will know better than to make a big stink, since that would set all Europe abuzz, and potentially endanger the family.

For a time, all goes well. Georg has a rather adventurous journey to England after his belongings were stolen along the way (dancing-masters and Latin tutors don’t teach street-smarts, after all), and ends up lost and stranded in northern Germany, where a kindly man with a thick French accent picks him up in his carriage and drives him to a red brick country house in Wittmoldt near the small town of Plön, where he feeds him and provides him with a change of clean clothes. Realising that he will either be taken hostage by someone opportunistic or alternatively taken for a lunatic if he claims to be the eldest son of the Elector of Hannover, Georg decides to claim to be but the son of an impoverished family of the lesser nobility, who by the good grace of an important connexion in England have managed to buy him a commission in the Navy. The man and his family, a rather gallant son, two charming daughters and a warm-hearted wife, implore him to stay a few days and recuperate. Georg thinks the Frenchman and his family are aiding him as much as they do on account of his profession to avenge their loss of their home once he joins the Navy, but in truth, the Marquis de La Fayette and his wife, ex-courtiers, know a royal when they see one, and sensing that Georg and his fighting-spirit might provide a welcome addition in the fight against Bonaparte, help him by buying a passage from Hamburg to England for him.

Our aspiring hero thanks his noble patrons profusely before at last safely reaching the shores of his dreams, where, once aboard ship, he alas finds himself in a Hornblower-esque Hell in the beginning, yet quickly adapts to naval life. From his ship, the new lieutenant writes to Caroline every week, thanking her for her help. In a return letter, she reveals to him that she could not deny him the freedom she yearns for herself but shall never obtain, being a woman and worse, a princess, and kindly keeps him updated on the family the runaway prince suddenly realises he loves dearly after all.

Meanwhile, Ernst has gotten a taste for power. He secretly hopes Georg will never come back, because this is fun! This is what he is truly good at! He enjoys the administrative stuff, the paperwork— and the idea that one day, he will be the Elector, and maybe even King of England, if that damned asthmatic Stuart will have the good grace to kick the bucket before fathering an heir.

He is finally appreciated, people jubilantly call out to him when they see him— it is only a pity that this is happening under the name of the older brother he begins to care less and less for the more he falls in love with his new role as crown prince.

A few years pass by, and Georg, now Captain, participates in the Battle of Trafalgar, where his extreme personal bravery is noted when his ship, HMS Cerberus, intercepted the French Redoutable before she could get within firing range of HMS Victory, probably saving the flagship, and the life of Britain’s greatest naval hero, Horatio Nelson. Ernst, or rather, Georg, is a celebrated hero to the British who loudly cry for Captain Prince Ernst of Hanover to be named the prospective successor to the crown rather than his dull older brother, Prince Georg, who sits on his fat German arse and does nothing all day while his younger brother is so valiantly defending the freedom of Europe from the Corsican tyrant.

In a letter to Caroline, Georg confesses that he thinks the jig is up and the charade must end; alas, Ernst is not of the same opinion. He is fine being Prince Regent of Hannover now that the Elector has descended into such a deep state of madness that he can no longer govern his territories, and although the British toast to his name, he is not sure if a secret trading back places is even possible.

To Georg’s great misfortune, Ernst, who, since her counsel has proven so valuable to him, has taken a liking to Caroline as his chief advisor, tries to keep him from returning home. In the meantime, he proposes to Caroline, whom he thinks is his most loyal friend, but Caroline, despite knowing the mocking jibes directed at spinsters, refuses him.

A frustrated Ernst, who however thinks himself secure on his preliminary throne, takes a few weeks off to let off some steam in Venice— time Georg, informed by Caroline, uses to return home. Of course, the return of Britain’s favourite naval hero to his native land does not go unnoticed, and Ernst hurries back home only to barge into a semi-secret meeting of George and Caroline in which George who has matured in the face of battle and bloodshed, upon seeing Caroline for the first time in many years, falls to his knees and confesses his love for her, more specifically how he fell in love with her through her letters.

Ernst, hurt and betrayed, is raging— Georg is going to take everything from him! The country, the woman he loves and who has so cruelly cheated him by not discouraging George’s confession— he wants his brother dead.

Luckily for Georg and Caroline, their sister Amelia, the youngest of the Hanoverian bunch and So Over It All and sympathising with Caroline, decides to step in and publishes an anonymous letter in the local newspaper claiming to be “a person of import and close connexion to the Electoral family”. In it, she claims that “Georg” is jealous of “Ernst”, the heroic naval officer and has proposed a duel, to be had in the park at Herrenhausen at daybreak on a fixed date a week from the publication date.

Naturally, the inhabitants of Hannover, and the British delegation at court, are up in arms, and on “Ernst”’s, i.e. Georg’s side. Cracking under the public pressure, Ernst unfortunately admits in an epic shouting match with the British ambassador that he wants to be rid of his brother.

Georg meanwhile, having cultivated a sense of responsibility and duty during his years in the Navy, decides to make a public appearance and end the charade, offering a document in which he cedes his right to the succession of the Electorate, provided his remaining brothers will accept Ernst as his successor and he be allowed safe passage to England, where he intends to live with Caroline upon a meagre pension and his pay as a naval officer. Naturally, his brothers refuse to sign the document and although he is well-loved in Britain, there still is the issue that Georg is not an officer, but has impersonated one, so matters come to a standstill for a time before a cheering British public makes it politick for William V to confer upon George (this is what he calls himself now) the rank of captain in his own name.

Facing an uncertain future, with the disgraced Ernst seething at home in Hannover and George longing for some peace and quiet to meditate about his life on a starry night upon a peaceful ocean, he bids adieu to Caroline to set sail once again and follow his true calling, with a storm brewing on the horizon of European politics, and that at home: for the seething Ernst is not done yet, and attempts to hurt him by seducing Caroline in his absence, who remains absolutely impervious to his platitudes and flattery.

Escaping Ernst’s wrath becomes a lot trickier once Caroline discovers she is pregnant, and in George’s absence gives birth to a daughter, Charlotte. Fearing Ernst, she keeps the pregnancy a secret even from George, as their letters might be intercepted and read; Charlotte, raised for the first year of her life by a nurse in a village a few miles from Hannover, is to become the apple of her father’s eye.

In the end, George returns from the war, marries Caroline, becomes King of Great Britain (his nickname being the “Sailor King”) when William V, last of the Stuarts, dies and helps Ernst obtain the title of King of Hannover as a gesture of goodwill and reconciliation.

His old benefactor La Fayette receives the Order of the Garter, and Amelia a country house in England, where, before her tragic early death from tuberculosis, she is frequently visited by a certain Charles FitzRoy.

Baby Charlotte is legitimised and doted on by both her parents, who shower her with love and affection and provide her with the most stable home life of any British royal to date. The Princess succeeds her father in his titles upon his death.

This is where fiction reverts back to actual history, and we enter the Charlottian Age, named after the long-living Queen whose reign was marked by significant leaps and bounds in technology and science, as well as the largest expansion of the British Empire. But that you know already.

And here, the snippet from the story:

Georg returns home for the first time and surprises Caroline in the garden:

“Caroline?” the gentleman breathed. His face was tanned by the sun, rather unfashionably so, and his coat of blue bleached by the same; perhaps it was not the sun in the sky which had so affected his appearance, but the brightness which seemed to inhabit his heart, for he beamed at her as if before him stood Lady Jersey or another of those fashionable ladies one read of in English magazines. “Georg?”, she replied in disbelief, as much at his leaner, more muscular appearance as at the fact that his radiant smile was clearly bestowed upon her— unwed, of little stature, plump, and aging, as her aunt’s courtiers never tired of reminding her.

All ceremony was lost when Georg, tired of her surprised silence, took her unceremoniously around the waist and lifted her up until her slippers no longer touched the ground. “Fie!” she laughed, and put an admonishing finger to his chest. “You perfect beast! Are those the manners of an English gentleman? You are creasing my muslin, and you will know what your mother’s ladies shall suppose if I were to return from my walk with my gown disordered.”

“They might suppose you were swept off your feet by a sailor,” he jested, which brought a great confusion on in her mind, for she could not say if his teasing was yet as brotherly as she had always supposed his sentiments for her were, judged by his dear letters which had been her chief delight; or if he meant something else by the way in which he took her hand and kissed it before offering her his arm. “Will you not shew me the way? I scarcely remember the garden, it must have been much altered in my absence,” noted he. She gratefully continued the conversation at his suggestion, for struck by surprise as she still was, her tongue was utterly tied, and her wit quite addled by the recent confusion. “Gladly. But might I be permitted to say that you are much altered, also?” He stopped: they were stood near the little bower in which she had bid him adieu, dressed in his brother’s clothes; it seemed to her like it was only yesterday when the aging fop had disappeared to seek for a foolhardy adventure at sea. Never should she have believed that he indeed would go, and not return within the hour when his feet would hurt from carrying his excess of blubber; she had let him go for she had had some measure of compassion for him, not because she had believed in the success of his designs— and yet, there he was, freshly returned from the war. His features, though somewhat weathered, had aged rather favourably, and when he smiled, he was almost to be considered handsome.

“I am not altered,” laughed he, “and you must get me inside unseen speedily, I remind you. For you cannot think that I shall have the family see me in that—” he tugged at his coat and made a face. “Look at the lace— all rusted in the salt air— no, it shall not do. And you must change also, my dear: a feather headdress, and the pearls— you had pearls when last we met, I hope you did not lose them at cards?”

She shook her head. “Excellent. You must promise me to wear them.”

“But why?”, she replied and made him stop in his brisk step. “Am I not—”

He shook his head abruptly, understanding her meaning perfectly. “Goodness, no, never— I just remember how fine you looked— how vastly well they complimented your complexion.” His cheeks blushed crimson, as if having fallen victim to too much rouge, and he averted her eyes as in silence, they returned to the palace. I hope you liked it! :D

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