It was a strange feeling to be back in Brunswick. It had changed. After all there had been the occupation. Her brother greeted her with affection and she was delighted to see him back in possession of his lands. She walked through the old palace and recalled memories of her childhood; she lingered in the courtyard where she had often talked with Major von Töbingen. And there was her bedroom where she had staged that disastrous scene when she had pretended she was pregnant.

What anxieties she had caused to her dear good father! She was sorry for it now.

But the more they cage me, she thought, the more outrageous I become. It is not that I am wildly eccentric so much as that I wish people to believe I am. They suspect me and I want to make them go on suspecting. What causes it? Who will ever know? Perhaps wise Madame de Hertzfeldt would. No one else. She had no desire to stay longer in Brunswick at this time but told her brother she would come back in the spring. Her intention was to spend the winter in Naples.

Before reaching Naples she decided to stay a while in Milan, and it soon became clear to her that she needed an Italian courier to arrange her travelling and he must necessarily be an Italian to overcome the language difficulties.

When she met General Pino at a banquet given in her honour she consulted him on this matter and he in turn consulted the governor of Milan, General Beliegard, The Governor called at the villa she had taken and told her that he knew of a man whom he could thoroughly recommend. This was a certain Baron Bartolomeo Pergami— a man whose fortunes were in reverse through no fault of his own. The Baron Pergami had distinguished himself in the recent campaigns and was something of a hero, but it was true that he had fallen on hard times and although it might be beneath his dignity to take a post of courier in the ordinary way, as this would be in the service of the Princess of Wales he might consider it.

Caroline’s attention had already been attracted by one of the loveliest children she had ever seen. This was Vittorina Pergami— a sparkling, vivacious, black- eyed little girl with a mass of dark curling hair. Dear Willie, whom she loved devotedly, was scarcely handsome with his pale eyes, sandy hair and rather petulant mouth. Caroline wanted to know more of this enchanting child and as soon as she heard the name Pergami she wondered if there was any connection.

She soon discovered that there was and that the Baron Pergami who was coming to see her was her father.

And as soon as Bartolomeo Pergami stood before her, she was attracted by him. He seemed to her to be the complete adventurer. He looked the part with his fierce moustache and his head of thick curling black hair; his eyes flashed; his bearing was that of a soldier; he looked lithe and strong and was six feet in height.

What a man! thought Caroline. If the Prince Regent could know that he was in my service there would be some fluttering excitement among his spies. For that reason alone she would engage this man. But for purely personal reasons he was such a joy to look at.

He told her of his life, of lost splendours due to the wars, of his own service in the recent fighting. He was gallant and respectful— though not too respectful; he laughed frequently, seeing a joke as readily as she would— her sort of joke— and when he did so he showed beautiful white and even teeth. Caroline was more excited than she had been since she left Worthing.

‘I have fallen in love with your daughter Vittorina,’ she told him. ‘And I wondered how I could keep her with me. Perhaps by detaining her father?’

‘That would be a necessity, Your Highness,’ he told her. Clever man. He knew who she was although she had now dispensed with the title of Duchess of Wolfenbüttel and had become the Countess of Cornwall.

‘While I am in Italy I shall need someone to arrange my travels. It is not a post worthy of you, I know; but if you would consider it for a start.’

‘For a start—’ The bold black eyes were alert with speculation. ‘Madam,’ he said with a bow, ‘it would be a privilege to serve you in any capacity, however humble.’

That settled it. Baron Bartolomeo Pergami was attached to the entourage of the Princess of Wales.

Lady Elizabeth Forbes had left. She had assured Her Highness that she found travelling too taxing and that she had family matters to which to attend in England.

Lady Charlotte Campbell however was returning.

‘They are all seeking a chance to desert me, Willikin,’ she said.

‘Why?’ asked Willikin.

‘Because they don’t love me as you do, my angel.’

Her angel settled closer to her and helped himself to the sweetmeats she always provided for him.

Let them go, she thought. She didn’t want them if they didn’t wish to stay.

Pergami was worth a hundred of any one of them. Very soon he had ceased to be a humble courier and was her chamberlain. He showed exceptional abilities; he was capable of managing the entire household; this brought him into daily contact with the Princess— which was a great pleasure to her. His delightful daughter Vittorina was her constant companion— so it was natural that the dear child’s father should not be far off.

Dear Pergami— so efficient, so sunny tempered, so amusing and so handsome! She looked forward to the times when he came to report to her on her household and she would keep him talking of the past— the glorious past when he had been a great baron and had not been forced into service even of so great a lady.

‘Poor, poor Pergami,’ she would sigh. ‘How I feel for you.’

‘But, Your Highness,’ he told her with an ardent look, ‘to serve you gives me greater happiness than I have ever known before.’

‘These Italians,’ cried the Princess later to Lady Charlotte Lindsay, ‘they certainly know how to treat a woman.’

‘I daresay His Royal Highness the Prince Regent has already heard that the Baron Pergami has joined your household.’

‘I hope he has. I see no reason to make a secret of it.’ Lady Charlotte sighed.

She never saw reasons— or if she did, she did not care.

And after that conversation she was even more friendly to the handsome Baron.

On her journey from Milan to Naples Caroline startled the people as she passed along. She had ordered a carriage in the shape of a shell and in this she lay over-dressed, over-painted, with enormous feathers rising from her hat and falling about her shoulders; her gowns were always low-cut and she liked to sit, most inelegantly, with her short fat legs exposed to the knees. Willikin often sprawled beside her, his eyes round with wonder at the sights he saw; and she had grooms dressed in pink tights decorated with spangles. Everywhere she went she left behind a trail of gossip.

Once, staying at a humble inn, she heard that there was to be a village dance and insisted on going and dancing with the most handsome of the young men. The people laughed and applauded but afterwards they thought this was strange behaviour for a Princess of Wales.

On one occasion the seats of the carriage in which she was travelling were too high to enable her short legs to reach the floor; so she put them on to the lap of a lady-in-waiting who happened to be sitting opposite and rode along thus to the amazement of all who beheld her and the complete embarrassrnent of the lady.

The Princess had always been wild, but since she had left England a madness seemed to have possessed her.

In due course they came to Naples.

The King of Naples gave her an enthusiastic welcome. He received her ceremoniously and told her he hoped she would stay in Naples as long as she cared to. Very soon she had set up house and prepared to enjoy the hospitality which was extended to her on all sides.

It was in Naples that she received the first tangible warning. General Matthews, a member of her suite, when strolling through the streets of Naples in the company of an Italian Count, met an Englishman whom he knew. He naturally wondered what this gentleman was doing in Naples and greeted him.

‘I know you,’ he said. ‘Your name is Quentin, is it not?’

‘That is so.’

‘And you have a brother who is a Colonel in the Hussars and I believe your serve the Prince Regent in some capacity.’

‘I have a post in His Royal Highness’s household.’

‘And are you here on his business in Naples?’

‘Er— yes. I have been sent by His Highness to look at some horses which he proposes buying.’

When they passed on the Count said: ‘I’ll swear he has not come to Naples to look at horses. It’s scarcely the place to do that.’

‘It seems very strange, I admit,’ said the General. ‘But why should he lie?’

‘Because his business is such that he does not wish to speak of it. And it is the affair of your Prince Regent.’

‘H’m,’ said the General. ‘A spy.’

‘You can be sure of that. I will tell you what I will do. I will tell the King what has happened and he will get to the root of the matter. In a few days time he will know whether this Quentin has in fact been looking at horses or not. And if not, I think the Princess of Wales should be warned. Do you not agree?’

The General replied that he agreed wholeheartedly.

A few days later the Count came to see the General.

‘Mr. Quentin has not been looking at horses. In fact what he has been doing is asking a great many questions about the Princess of Wales— and talking to members of her household.’

‘I shall go to Her Highness immediately and report on this.’

‘There is no need. The King has taken a great liking to her. And he is annoyed that the Prince Regent should send spies into Naples without his knowledge. He will deal with this.’