He was indifferent to such suggestions; he only lived for pleasure. He caroused half the night and rose late in the mornings; sometimes he did not come home at all and she would lie in her bed wondering where and with whom he was sleeping that night.

And now he had become friendly with Mr Fox, and she was afraid of where this friendship would lead. Fox was brilliant; Fox was influential; she had no doubt of that. He was also a gambler and a lecher. And … she had to admit it … so was Richard.

The friendship had begun suddenly and since then had ripened; and it was going to change Richard’s career, she knew.

If he had a seat in Parliament he would become the close ally of Fox. She had tried to reason with him when he had come home so excited on that day to tell her that Fox had been to see him. ‘You would be drawn into a circle, Richard, where living is high. We could not afford it. We are in debt now.’

‘You look at life through your Bath eyes, my darling. You see life provincially. This will be the making of our fortunes if I am clever. And do you doubt that I am?’

‘No, no, Richard, but there are your plays … the theatre …’

And he had laughed at her and said: ‘St Cecilia, go back to your angels.’

And if he were successful … if he won this seat. She could see it so clearly. He would be reaching for power, he would move among men who had no need to consider money – or if they had, did not – men like Fox who had been bankrupt several times. But Fox was the son of a noble house. His father had been rich Lord Holland; he was connected with the Duke of Richmond. Sheridan could not afford to move in such circles. But he would do so all the same. The mound of bills would become a mountain. The nights away from home would be more numerous; and her anxieties would increase a hundred-fold. But there was nothing she could do.

Sheridan himself came in to interrupt her brooding.

‘Elizabeth, where are you?’

She ran to him; he swung her up in his arms.

‘Now, my girl,’ he said, ‘show proper respect to the Member of Parliament for Stafford.’


* * *

Prince Frederick was dismayed, and he went at once to his brother to tell him the reason for his concern.

‘They are sending me away, George.’

The Prince stared at him in horror. Sending Fred away! Why, they had been together all their lives, shared a thousand adventures; George constantly confided in Fred; they were inseparable.

‘What are you talking about, Fred?’

‘I have just had an audience with the King. He says that before the year’s out I am to go to Germany.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘To start learning how to be a soldier. Colonel Greville is going with me.’

‘You could learn that here in England.’

‘I know. But they’re sending me to Germany.’

‘By God,’ cried the Prince. ‘Can’t he forget his ancestors were Germans!’

‘I suppose not. There’s too much German in the family for that.’

The Prince looked at his brother in amazement, trying to imagine what it would be like without him. He sensed that it would be the end of their close relationship. They would remain friends, but their lives would be so different.

‘I believe he does it just to irritate me,’ cried the Prince pettishly.

‘No, because he thinks it’s good for discipline.’

‘You could have a commission in the army here. We could both have one.’

The Prince saw himself in a dazzling uniform of his own design. He pictured himself parading before Perdita’s admiring eyes in Cork Street.

‘That would suit me very well,’ he went on. ‘And why not?’

Frederick shook his head. He was as desolate as George at the prospect of parting.


* * *

The Prince stood before the King.

‘I have come to ask you, sir, for a commission in the army.’

‘Eh? What?’

‘A commission, sir. In the army.’

The King was not altogether displeased by what he considered a show of seriousness.

‘Not possible,’ he said. ‘Government … and people … would never allow the Prince of Wales to go out of the country.’

‘A commission here, sir. Germany hasn’t the only army in the world.’

How the young dog could anger him merely by a word and a look. The manner in which he said Germany – as though it were some inferior state!

‘That’s so,’ said the King. ‘But you will not have a commission in any army. Have you understood that, eh, what?’

‘And why not, pray?’

‘Are you addressing me?’

The Prince looked round the small chamber with an air of surprise. ‘I was not aware that anyone else was present, and as I am not in the habit of talking to myself …’

‘You insolent young dog!’

The Prince realized that he had spoken to his father in person as he often addressed him in his own private thoughts.

He murmured an apology.

‘I should think so, eh, what? And let me tell you this, sir. You have to learn to be a king, not a soldier. You will need all your time and talents to achieve that. And you’ll find there isn’t time to go chasing young maids of honour round gardens, eh?’

Oh, God, thought the Prince, is he still thinking of Harriot … What was her name?

He said placatingly: ‘I had thought, sir, as Frederick is going into the army and we have always been together, we might have both had commissions and as I may not leave the country we might both do our training over here.’

‘You think too much, sir,’ said the King, ‘of matters that are not your concern. You have enough to concern yourself with, eh, what? Now go and do it, and understand once and for all. Frederick goes to Germany; and you stay here and there is no commission for you, understand, eh, what?’

The Prince retired; as he came out into the King’s drawing room he kicked a stool across the floor to relieve his feeling.

Bumbling old idiot! he thought. How much longer shall I have to listen humbly to his drivelling nonsense?


* * *

Such changes, sighed the Queen, lying in her bed awaiting the birth of her child. Frederick to leave the family circle – and young William too! Frederick for the army and William for the navy. William was very young, but the King had said a little experience of the sea would do him no harm.

And George – dearest and best beloved – to have his own establishment.

How I wish he would come and see me without being asked to. He never did, of course. Perhaps he felt it would not be in accordance with the dignity due to the Queen. Oh, but I am his mother!

It would not be long now before the child was born. She was so accustomed to giving birth that it held few alarms for her. How different that first occasion – that hot August day eighteen years ago when she had prepared herself for her first confinement and prayed for a boy.

And her prayers had been answered – and what a boy she had produced … what a marvel of a boy, although a little wayward! But so handsome! She wished she could show them at home what a wonderful Prince she had given to the nation. They would hear of his exploits of course. The whole world talked of the Prince of Wales. She would never forget the welcome sentence: ‘It’s a boy!’ Nor would she forget how Lord Cantelupe had been so eager to tell the King that the child was safely delivered that he had not waited to ascertain its sex and had told him that it was a girl. Cake and caudle for all visitors to the Palace. And what that had cost – because the visitors had been numerous! No cake and caudle for this one. That was a blessing. After all, this was not the Prince of Wales.

Eighteen years ago; and now he was to have his own establishment. She believed he was very happy about that. Oh dear, she did hope he would not be too wild and quarrel with his father. She was terrified of those occasions when the King was displeased with his children. As she listened to his talk growing faster and faster and sometimes a little incoherent because he did not finish his sentences, that terrible fear came to her. Then she would say: It is because there is still much I have to learn about the English language that I cannot catch what he says.

She could hear Schwellenburg’s guttural accents not far off.

‘Nein, nein. Give to me. Selfs will do it.’

The pains were coming frequently. It would be soon now.

‘I think,’ she said, calmly, ‘the time has come.’

Very shortly afterwards she was delivered of a son.


* * *

The baby was christened Alfred by the Archbishop of Canterbury and his sponsors were the Prince of Wales, Prince Frederick and their sister Charlotte, the Princess Royal.

This caused some comment in ecclesiastical circles and the Bishop of Salisbury came to see the King on account of it.

‘Your Majesty,’ he said, ‘the ceremony of the baptism of Prince Alfred has given grave cause for alarm throughout the Church.’

‘What’s that?’ asked the King.

‘Sir, the sponsors of an infant take on a solemn responsibility.’

‘I am well aware of that, my lord Bishop.’

‘And this has been undertaken by people who are scarcely of an age to recognize this. The Prince of Wales himself is but eighteen years of age. His brother and sister younger. I would like Your Majesty to consider authorizing another baptism. Your Majesty could then select persons of a more responsible age.’

The King prided himself on his reasonableness.

‘I understand, my lord Bishop, your point of view. But by the time Prince Alfred is of an age to need the guidance of his sponsors, they themselves will have reached an age to give it.’