In the past she and the Queen had been very close. They agreed about so many matters. They had had many interesting theological discussions; but since the coronation and the closer friendship between the Queen and Walpole, Charlotte felt shut out.

Moreover, she had always guessed that Walpole did not like her. There would come a day when he would poison the Queen’s mind against her and the Queen would become so besotted by the man that she would be ready to believe all he told her.

That must not happen. But how prevent it? Was she, Charlotte Clayton, going to stand out against the chief minister?

Something would have to be done.

It was definitely wrong for the Queen to be closely attended by the King’s mistress—and for all the woman’s soft ways and meekness Charlotte would never like Henrietta Howard—and a lecher like Walpole. One good godfearing companion had to be close at hand.

She was growing really alarmed. Only a few days ago she had heard Walpole speak of her disparagingly. He had called her ‘that old viper’. He never guarded his tongue but there was something in the tone of his voice which made her realize his dislike of her.

She was not going to be pushed aside at ‘Walpole’s decree. The Queen needed her ... and she needed the Queen.


* * *

The Queen was lying on her bed. Charlotte stood at the foot looking at her, her eyes were round with horror, her face pale.

‘Your Majesty ...’

‘It is nothing ... nothing....’ said the Queen.

‘But madam, I saw ...’

‘Nothing at all ... nothing....’

‘Madam ... I should call your physician.’

‘Please say nothing about it.’

‘But ...’

The Queen was almost pleading. ‘You know, Charlotte, what is wrong.’

‘I can only guess, Your Majesty.’

‘It is something which many women suffer from.’ ‘But the physician ...’

‘Do not speak to me of physicians. Listen Charlotte. I have had this ... affliction since the birth of Louisa.’

‘But Your Majesty should have treatment.’

‘No. No one must know. Do you understand that? It will pass, I tell you. It will pass. Charlotte I ask you ... I command you....’

‘Your Majesty!’ Charlotte bowed her head.

‘No one must know. I should feel so ... ashamed. It is such an unfortunate affliction. The King...’

‘Oh, Madam!’

‘Listen to me, Charlotte, I command you.’

‘Your Majesty, I would never disobey your command. This shall be our secret.’

Our secret. Sorry as she was for the Queen, Charlotte felt a thrill of triumph. She shared a secret with the Queen; always Caroline would remember it.

A secret, thought Charlotte, which she would share with no one ... not even Robert Walpole.

‘You May Strut, Dapper George’


TO Windsor went their Majesties; they walked in the Park; they dined in public; they hunted in the forest—the King, young William, Anne, and Amelia on horseback, and the Queen in her chaise and Caroline in another. The Queen did not care for the hunt and she made Lord Hervey ride beside her and entertain her with his witty talk, for that young man was becoming a greater favourite with her every day.