Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story

Dearest gentle reader.

This is the story of Queen Charlotte from Bridgerton.

It is not a history lesson.

It is fiction inspired by fact.

All liberties taken by the author are quite intentional.

Enjoy.

Move it along now!

You give the appearance of a statue.

Statues are works of art.

Art is beautiful.

Art can be beautiful to gaze upon. You are ridiculous to the eye.

Is there a point?

You have not moved an inch in six hours.

I am wearing Lyonnais silk,

encrusted with Indian sapphires,

working with overlay of 200-year-old lace.

Apparently too much movement can cause the sapphires to shred the lace.

If that were not enough,

the gown sits atop a bespoke underpinning made of whalebone.

Whalebone?

Yes. Whalebone, Brother.

The bones of whales. Whales died, so I could look like this.

All the finest corsets are whalebone. You'd know that if you knew anything.

If you ever paid attention you would also know that

the problem with whalebone is that it is rather delicate and also very, very sharp.

And, of course, I'm in the height of fashion, so this corset is quite snug.

So I give the appearance of a statue,

ridiculous to the eye, but that is because I cannot move.

And because I must arrive on display, I am forced into a ludicrous gown

so stylish that if I move too much, I might be sliced and stabbed to death

by my undergarments.

Oh, how joyful it is to be a lady.

You are upset.

'Tis a viable option I have considered.

Moving. Choosing to be killed by my undergarments.

- Charlotte. - We have what? An hour to go?

I believe if I'm diligent with my movements,

I could most certainly bleed to my death before we reach London.

Like I said, you are upset.

Emotional.

- I understand... - Do you understand? Truly?

This I would love to hear because I'm not upset, nor am I emotional.

I am angry, and I cannot breathe.

- And both are thanks to you, Brother. - Charlotte.

You were chosen.

This is a great honor.

Oh, how difficult was it to be chosen?

Someone who can make lots of babies. Someone who can read.

Someone with all the social graces, with a royal bloodline.

That is all they required. It is not an honor.

You could've told them to choose someone else.

Someone stupid enough to want it.

They did not want someone stupid. They wanted you.

Adolphus, think! Why me?

He could have anyone! Anyone!

And yet they came hunting all the way across the continent for me.

- There is a reason for that. - You are special.

Special.

I am a stranger to them.

They are strangers to us. You cannot think me this ignorant.

There is reason they wanted me, a stranger.

And it cannot be a good reason.

I know it cannot be a good reason

because you have not looked me in the eye since you told me.

Just...

This is a good thing.

You shall be happy.

Turn the carriage around. I am not doing this.

I signed the betrothal contract. You are.

- No. - Yes.

Brother, turn the carriage around, or I will bounce.

I will bounce, and I will impale myself on this ridiculous corset and bleed to death.

Charlotte!

I know I should have taken a firmer hand with you when Mama and Papa died.

I allowed you to read too much,

and I indulged your every whim and frivolity,

so I take full responsibility for the fact that you are now exceedingly headstrong

and mistakenly think you can make decisions.

You cannot. I am in charge.

- This is happening. - I don't see why you...

Because... they are the British Empire.

And we are a tiny province in Germany.

We had no choice.

I had no choice.

There is no good reason.

In fact, the reason might be terrible.

I know that no one who looks like you or me

has ever married one of these people ever,

but I cannot question

because I cannot make an enemy of the most powerful nation on Earth.

It is done. So, shut up,

do your duty to our country, and be happy.

Liebchen.

I am sorry,

but there are worse fates than marrying the King of England.

Sit back.

You are endangering my gown.

I need to look perfect when I arrive, do I not?

Well.

Your Majesty.

I am sorry to disturb you at this hour with such news.

- Shut up, Doctor, and talk. Is he dead? - He?

The King.

- Is he dead? - Oh, no.

No, ma'am. Your husband is quite hearty.

Long live the King.

Have you no sense?

It is treasonous to interrupt my beauty sleep.

- You're lucky my face is a rare jewel. - Your Majesty.

If I could still have people beheaded, you would be in the queue.

Your Majesty.

Doctor, if the King is not dead...

Who is?

Dearest gentle reader.

This coldest time of year

has become that much colder

with the sad news of the death of the princess royal.

The granddaughter of our dear King George the Third

and Queen Charlotte died in childbirth, along with her baby.

Sorrows, sorrows. Prayers.

And while our hearts grieve

for the loss of the princess royal...

our heads grieve more

for the future of the monarchy itself.

For the Crown now has a crisis on its hands.

A crisis one can only imagine that Queen Charlotte must find galling

after ruling over the matchmaking efforts of the ton

and the marriage mart with such an iron fist.

This author and all of England

can only hope that Queen Charlotte finally turns her matchmaking energies

onto her own family.

After all, her majesty has 13 children ,

and now, not a royal heir from any of them.

At least, not a legitimate one.

It causes one to wonder.

Is the queen's knowledge of how to make a good marriage

nothing but talk?

Please be your most agreeable.

Teeth.

Teeth.

Mm-hmm.

Hands.

Mm-hmm.

You have good hips.

You will make lots of babies.

That is good.

That is your job.

As many babies as possible for my son.

Yes, Your Highness.

Will I be introduced to His Majesty soon or...

Brimsley.

Take Charlotte to the seamstress, so we can have her gown fitted.

Oh, no need. I brought my wedding gown.

'Tis quite a perfect fit.

But we have provided a gown for you.

My gown was designed just for the wedding, in Paris.

The lace is handmade by nuns.

The modiste called it à la mode.

Our gown is traditional. Simple.

It will be better.

Better?

I have not seen this other wedding dress you speak of,

but a traditional English gown

will not carry all of the fuss and the frills

that the European gown you currently have on does, for instance.

The traditional gown will be more

in our fashion... for our family.

Oh.

Yes, of course.

Hmm.

Well done.

And I shall see you at the ceremony.

No...

- Your Highness. - Walk with me. I have questions.

- That is not how it's done, Your Highness. - What do you mean?

You walk there, and I walk back here, Your Highness.

You cannot walk with me?

I'm always with you, Your Highness, five paces behind.

- Five paces behind? - Five paces behind.

- Always? - Always, Your Highness.

You are always there, behind me, just... all the time?

- Whenever you need me, Your Highness. - What is your name?

Brimsley, Your Highness.

Brimsley. Tell me about the King.

He is the King, Your Highness.

Yes.

- And? - He is ruler of Great Britain and Ireland.

- And the colonies, Your Highness. - Yes.

He has been Monarch since October with the death of his grandfather.

Brimsley, you've told me he is the king, he is the ruler, and he is the monarch.

- Those are all the same things. - They are all facts, Your Highness.

She is very brown.

I did say she had Moor blood, ma'am.

- You did not say she would be that brown. - But I did say she had Moor blood.

Very brown.

Thoughts?

It is a problem. People will talk.

People will talk. It is a problem.

- We have already made the trade deals. - Can they be canceled?

We cannot cancel the royal wedding on the day.