‘That baboon! ‘ he said. ‘A soldier.’ He glanced in a mirror. Did he see himself as he really was? wondered Caroline. Or did some tall and handsome hero look back at him from the glass? ‘And here am I fiddle faddling at this Court when I should be there.’ Then another thought struck him. ‘I suppose Orange will pay for her journey.’

The Queen soothed him as she so well knew how to do. ‘I am sure Anne will be so pleased that you are not at the wars,’ she said. ‘Otherwise she would miss the pleasure of seeing you.’

He grunted, believing the Queen was right in that.

But he continued to grumble about the ‘gros homme’his name for Walpole who had been so high-handed over this matter and was having his way, too, in keeping England out of the war.

‘A King’s not a King in this place,’ said George, kicking at a stool. ‘Now at Hanover ...’

‘Ah, yes! ‘ sighed the Queen.

She too was thinking of the ‘gros homme’. He had opposed her over this and she was beginning to wonder whether he did not guide her as she guided the King. But it was the first real difference of opinion they had had; and she must remember that she was after all a German and that it was natural to feel this pull towards one’s own roots. It was the same with Walpole. He was English and to him Hanover was a remote Electorate and he was determined to see that it was never allowed to be an incumbrance to England.

The King left her and she was glad that he had gone before Walpole called for his usual session with her.

As she received him in her closet, she thought he looked less robust than usual; and when a man with his port-wine complexion looked a little pale he somehow contrived to look more ill than a man whose pallor was constant.

This disagreement has upset him, thought the Queen.

Walpole thought the Queen looked extremely fatigued and he was overcome with a sudden fear. Was she concealing an illness? It suddenly struck him that a knowledge of some disability might be the reason for Charlotte Clayton’s hold on her.

He bowed and looked at her almost tenderly. But he could not resist saying what he had come to say.

‘I have just heard, Madam,’ he said, ‘that fifty thousand were slain this year in Europe. And not one of them an Englishman ‘

‘It is sad that fifty thousand have been slain,’ said the Queen.

‘But a matter of rejoicing for this country that not one of them is an Englishman. It brings satisfaction to know they owe their safety to those under whose care and protection they are, and to be able to say that while the rest of Europe has suffered England remains in its full and unimpaired vigour.’

‘You think only of England, Sir Robert.’

‘Ah, Madam, whatever motives of partiality sway me, ought they not naturally with double weight to bias you who have so much more at stake?’

She smiled at him affectionately.

‘I see, Madam,’ he said, ‘that you are inclined to agree with me, and that gives me great pleasure.’

Walpole commented to Lord Hervey afterwards that although the Queen’s good sense told her he was right, she was inclined to cling to her own opinions.

Walpole shrugged his shoulders. ‘And if she cannot convince herself of what in her heart she knows to be right, what chance have I of doing so?’

But as Hervey pointed out it was the government that decided the policy of the country, not the monarch. Absolute monarchy had gone out with the Stuarts.


* * *

Anne arrived surprisingly ebullient.

She imparted the news to her mother with the greatest satisfaction. ‘I am to have a child, Mother.’

‘My dearest daughter!’ Caroline embraced her, and checked her own misgivings. What if Anne should give birth to a monster resembling its father!

‘I hope for a son, naturally,’ said Anne.

‘Your husband must be delighted.’

‘It is no more than Pepin expects.’

Pepin! she spoke his name affectionately. How could she be so satisfied with her fate!

But there was no doubt that she was delighted to be back in England and she expressed no anxiety because Pepin was at the wars.

It seemed, thought Caroline, that all Anne cared about was her position; she had no reason to be very proud of it, but at least she had a husband who was a Prince and she was pregnant and might well give birth to a Prince. What an ambitious mother she would make!

Her new status clearly delighted her as much as it infuriated Frederick. Lord Hervey discovered how angry he was through Anne Vane who said that he had become really bitter since his sister Anne had returned. Frederick would not be contented to remain unmarried and deprived of his rightful allowance much longer. There was going to be trouble with Frederick.

Amelia told Anne to her face that she could not understand how she could possibly become pregnant by such a creature as the Prince of Orange.

‘In the usual way,’ retorted Anne tartly. ‘I often think of you, my poor sister, and what will become of you if. ever Frederick comes to the throne.’

Caroline tried to make peace between the sisters, but Anne snubbed her and said she was even more sorry for her than she was for Amelia.

In spite of differences with her sisters Anne was enjoying her visit. She spent a great deal of time with her mother and they talked of the problems of being married to a ruler of a state; and Caroline, in any case, was delighted to have her daughter with her.

The King was pleased too. He made Anne walk with him, and he grew very sentimental about her and told her about the days when she had been a baby in Hanover.

‘Before we came to this place,’ he said darkly.

‘In the days when you were less important than you are now, Papa.’ Anne had a sharp tongue and had no intention of sparing anyone except Pepin.

‘Less important! Why I tell you this : In Hanover a ruler is a ruler. Here a King does what a fat man tells him to.’

‘The world takes more account of a King than an Elector, though,’ Anne replied.

And he would have grown peevish if he had not schooled himself to believe he was a sentimental parent.

When they had parted Anne met Lord Hervey on his way to her mother’s apartment.

‘You are in more constant attendance on my mother than the King,’ she commented.

‘It is Her Majesty’s wish that I divert her.’

‘As I am sure you do. Poor Mamma! I am glad that she has a little diversion. The company of some people must be very oppressive. I am glad that Lady Suffolk has been dismissed.’

‘Some of us, who are devoted to the Queen, fear that another might take her place who might be more troublesome and more powerful.’

‘Oh, I wish with all my heart that he would find someone else, then Mamma would be a little relieved of seeing him constantly in her rooms.’

Lord Hervey made no comment, but he thought that the Princess Anne was as outspoken as he was, the difference being, of course, that he was only frank where he knew how his frankness would be received.


* * *

The King was taking a new interest in his young daughters, Mary and Louisa. Mary was now ten and Louisa nine.

‘An interesting age,’ said the King; and he had begun to make a practice of visiting their nursery. The strange thing was that he contrived to do this when the children were not there, and thus he was ensured a private tête-à-tête with their governess.

Lady Deloraine was a very pretty and very frivolous widow, whose husband Henry Scott, Earl of Deloraine, had died a few years before. She was coquettish, indiscreet, and rather silly; but her extremely feminine charms had attracted the King when, having lost Lady Suffolk, he thought it was necessary to his prestige as a man to look round and find a new mistress.

Lady Deloraine had opened her eyes very wide as he entered the nurseries, had swept a deep curtsey and been very respectful, although at the same time implying by the fluttering of her eyelashes and the little giggle with which she punctuated her speech every now and then that she was aware of the King’s motive.

George lapsed into English when he addressed her, which was a language he used rarely now. If people did not understand French or German, he often said, they must not expect to understand him. It was all part of the growing dislike of the country of which he was king.

Tell,’ he said, ‘you are von pretty voman.’

‘Your Majesty is gracious.’

He took her ear and pinched it very gently, at which she sprang back as though in dismay.

‘And were are your charges?’

‘They are walking, Your Majesty, in the gardens. If you would wish me to have them sent for ...’

‘No ... no.... You shall tell me about them. You are the governess. Ve vill sit down and you vill tell.’

So they sat side by side and the King put his arm about her. She had a good body, he thought; not too thin. He did not like them thin. He liked a good ample figure like his dear wife’s.

‘I fear I am not very learned, Your Majesty.’

‘Oh, for shame and you a governess!’

She pretended to look downcast and he patted her hand. ‘I have no respect for all this learning. Boets! Vat are they? Scribble scribble. It is all very yell for people like little Mr Pope. He has no other things to do. But I alvays felt learning was something below me. Nor for a man ... like going to var or ... making love.’

Lady Deloraine squealed with horror.

The King laughed and looked at his watch.

‘Come,’ he said, ‘ye have the time.’

So he rose and gave her his hand; and squealing with pretended horror and assuring His Majesty that she was a very virtuous woman, she allowed herself to be led into one of the bedchambers.