But the change was significant. The King, who had once never let an opportunity pass without declaring his love for England, now never let one pass without expressing his dislike.

‘This is the worst climate in the world,’ he would say whenever the wind blew or the rain fell. ‘How different it is in Hanover!’

Or: ‘These English do not know how to cook. The food in Hanover was delicious. We shall have to bring cooks over to teach them how to cook.’

The gardens of Hampton and Kensington could not compare with those of Herrenhausen; the people in the streets of London were unruly; those in Hanover were well disciplined; in Hanover he had been supreme ruler; here there was always that miserable Parliament.

‘Soon,’ he said, ‘I shall have to pay another visit to Hanover.’

The Queen said that although that would sadden everyone in England she was sure it would please everyone in Hanover.

‘You seem pleased that I should go?’

How careful one had to be I Had her voice carried a lilt because she was thinking of being Regent once more? ‘Your Majesty must surely be joking.’

He grunted, for he could not imagine that she was not delighted to have him back.

He was a good husband. He had spent every night with her since his return. She was a beautiful woman, his Caroline; there were times when he almost wished that a man need not have mistresses to prove his virility. In fact, Caroline pleased him as well as any woman. She always had; she always would, he assured himself. He liked a woman to be plump and Caroline was that. Her bosom was the best in the world—so soft, so ample. Oh, yes, he would be well content to retire to bed with her at precisely the same time every night if he had not felt that his courtiers expected something else of him.

He called on Henrietta Howard as usual—every evening on the stroke of the hour; but he did not go to bed with her. That was a habit he had changed since returning from Hanover. She was getting old and she was deaf, which he found irritating; in fact if she were not such a habit he would cast her off.

But Caroline was so much more to his taste.

As for Caroline, she dreaded the King’s regular habits, for that secret illness of which she believed none knew except Mrs Clayton was becoming more and more painful, and each night she feared that the King might discover it. That would drive him away from her, she knew. He could never tolerate illness—and such an illness would be an end to all desire on his part.

Strangely enough, for all his infidelities, he still desired her; and she believed that in this was her strength. All the mistresses he had had—and they had been numerous—had never given him the pleasure she had. He had told her this, for there was nothing he enjoyed so much as discussing with her his love passages with other women. She knew a great deal about the sexual habits of many women of the Court—solely because the King had taken her into his confidence. That he did this was meant as a compliment. They were his mistresses; she was his wife. He would have her know that he never forgot the difference.

Subconsciously Caroline knew that while she held this supremacy she could rule the King, and while she ruled the King, Walpole must take her into his confidence. But if she lost her physical hold on George, which she would do if he were embarrassed by her affliction, then she would also lose her power to lead him.

It was of the utmost importance that she keep her secret.

She wished that it were entirely her own secret and that Mrs Clayton had not discovered it. Sometimes, by an expression, Mrs Clayton betrayed the fact that she was thinking of it; since she had revealed her knowledge there had been an air of closer intimacy in her manner. She ruled the household under the Queen and even though Caroline did not always approve of her manners, she felt herself unable to protest. It was slight, it was subtle, but it was there. Another woman held the secret which Caroline must at all costs keep from the world.

Henrietta Howard was very much aware of the change in the King since he had come back from Hanover. It was time she left, she knew. She would not be sorry to go and when she looked back over the years since she had become the King’s mistress she realized that they had been singularly unprofitable. The fact was, George was a mean man where others were concerned. He liked to spend money, but on himself. Theirs had been unlike the usual relationship between a King and his mistress. She had no grand titles to show for her years of service, no rich lands which brought in good revenues. All she had had was a place at Court as a bedchamber woman—not even a Lady of the Bedchamber, but a bedchamber woman.

She had served the Queen well too, and in fact it was Caroline who wished her to stay at Court and hold her place in the King’s life. Why? Because she was reliable, because she was insignificant, because if she went the King would think it necessary to replace her by a woman who might lack her quality of amiable placidity.

A sad end to a life of service, thought Henrietta.

She would like to retire and live in peace. She never wanted to go back to her husband; and that of course he would not want either, for he had no interest in her apart from the £1,200 paid to him by the King for his permission to allow her to stay in the Queen’s household.

If she returned to him he would lose that and he much preferred it to her.

Well, he must do what he would about that; Henrietta was tired of servitude. Moreover, she believed that very soon the King would break the habit of visiting her and then her sole duty would be to act as bedchamber woman to the Queen.

She would miss Court life in a way. The little parties she gave in her apartments were always well attended by those people who mistakenly believed that the way to the King’s favour was through his mistress. Lord Townshend had been one of these, and still clung to the belief; Henrietta knew that this was one of the reasons why the Queen disliked him so.

She was in a melancholy mood. The King had been particularly unpleasant; he had snapped at her and called her a fool, and then been annoyed because she had not quite caught what he said, and had asked him to repeat it. It was true he had stayed the appointed time, but he had kept looking at his watch as though he found it hard to believe that time could pass so slowly.

Oh yes, it was certainly time she left Court and found solace elsewhere.

In such a mood she went to assist at the Queen’s dressing. The Queen had, since she came to the throne, been very eager to follow the old traditions of royal behaviour which her father-in-law had abandoned. For him it had been enough to have his two Turkish servants, Mahomet and Mustapha, to dress and undress him; this had caused a great deal of resentment throughout the Court, for it dispensed with so many remunerative posts in the bedchamber. Caroline, however, had reverted to the old customs and her rising and retiring were conducted with traditional ceremony.

As bedchamber woman it was Henrietta’s duty to bring the basin and ewer, kneeling to present them to the Queen. This Henrietta felt too much of an indignity for a woman who had for so many years been the King’s mistress. Who ever heard of a King’s mistress remaining a bedchamber woman all her life!

She brought the basin and ewer for the Queen but did not kneel, and the Queen immediately noticed the omission.

‘My dear Howard,’ said Caroline, ‘what does this mean? You know you should kneel when you present the basin and ewer.’

‘Madam,’ answered Henrietta, the colour leaping to her cheeks, ‘it is something I cannot do.’

Oh dear, thought Caroline, she is suddenly going to give herself airs because of her relationship with the King ... after all these years!

‘Have you pains in your knees?’ asked the Queen. ‘No, Madam. That is not the reason.’

‘So it is not pain but ... dignity.’

‘I will not do it, Madam.’

Caroline sighed. ‘But my dear Howard, I am sure you will. Fie for shame. But go now. Go away and we will talk of this another time.’

The Queen summoned another of the bedchamber women to perform the duty which Henrietta had refused, but she was thinking, the matter must not rest here. Henrietta must either be made to do her duty to the Queen irrespective of her relationship with the King or go. And if she went and another younger, more attractive woman replaced her ...

The Queen shuddered; and Henrietta, in her own apartment wondering what she had done, was less disturbed than the Queen.


* * *

Sir Robert Walpole came to the Queen’s closet and Caroline immediately informed him of the incident.

He looked grave, for like Caroline he realized the importance of keeping Henrietta in her position. ‘The King must not form a new and more attractive habit,’ he said.

‘It’s true,’ replied the Queen, ‘but I vill not have insolence from the King’s guenips.’

Walpole laughed. ‘I will speak to Mrs Howard,’ he said. ‘I will tell her that she should enquire of Lady Masham who served Queen Anne for so long and held a position with that Queen far more intimate and affectionate than Mrs Howard holds with the King, yet remained bedchamber woman and I believe observed every rule of etiquette. I am sure Lady Masham will tell Mrs Howard that the kneeling position is a necessary one. Then she will be satisfied and so will you.’

‘That is von goot idea,’ said the Queen.

‘There is another of your ladies who deserves a little attention,’ went on Walpole. ‘I am referring to Mrs Clayton. I think that good lady has too high an opinion of herself.’