‘I am afraid to look at the papers,’ Sophia admitted. ‘And yet if I do not I imagine the worst.’

‘It is dreadful … dreadful.’

‘How could such a rumour have been spread?’

‘I believe it was whispered long ago. George’s wife started it, I’ve heard.’

‘What could Caroline have known about it?’

‘It wasn’t what she knew. It was what she made up.’

‘But she’s been dead nearly ten years.’

‘Rumours sometimes don’t die entirely and this is directed more against Cumberland than against you. He did himself a great deal of harm when he set loose stories of Victoria’s infirmity. Her mother soon proved them false and people began to ask why he should have done such a thing. To plot against an innocent child was a wicked thing to do. That’s why people think he is capable of anything.’

‘Even … incest,’ said Sophia.

‘Even incest.’

‘It’s so … stupid. General Garth is the boy’s father. You know it, Augusta.’

‘I know it. But many want to believe that Cumberland is his father.’

‘My own brother … the father of my child.’

‘That’s the story.’

‘It must be denied.’

‘How? Are you going to come forward and say that you, a royal Princess, thirty years ago gave birth to a child while you were living under the roof of your father, the King, and were unmarried? Are you going to tell the world how you became the mistress of General Garth and how we smuggled you out of the Palace to give birth to a child … a son … ?’

Sophia covered her face with her hands. ‘It’s all so long ago. Why need it be remembered now?’

‘Such things are never forgotten. To have a child …’ Augusta spoke almost wistfully … ‘I mean, there is the living evidence of one’s act.’

‘He is such a dear boy, Augusta. I live to see him.’

‘I know. I understand. And it is wanton wickedness to accuse you of incest. Even Cumberland is not guilty of that.’

‘What can I do?’

‘Nothing. They will get tired … in time.’

‘Oh, Augusta, sometimes I wish I’d died like Amelia. Darling Amelia, what a happy life she had.’

‘Happy. She was constantly in pain!’

‘But she had no worries. Papa adored her. It was her death which finally sent him mad, I believe. Oh, Augusta, think of us … living so quietly as we did at Kew … sitting there with Mamma, one of us reading while the others sewed, or looked after the dogs or saw that Mamma’s snuff-box was always full and at her elbow! It was all so incredibly dull … nothing happened we used to say. And this happened … and now here we are two old women and people are telling these lies about me.’

‘But our lives were not as they seemed, were they, Sophia? No one’s life ever is. There we were, as you say, sitting with Mamma, and all the time we were planning how to smuggle you away so that you might have your baby and no one know …’

‘I shall never forget that time,’ said Sophia, shivering with recollection. ‘It was so frightening … and so exciting. And now … even now … I wouldn’t have it different. Augusta play to me. Sing to me one of your songs.’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘It would comfort me. It takes me back. Do you remember how Papa used to listen to your songs?’

‘Yes, as though I were a child who had done a good piece of work.’

‘He never believed anyone could write music but Handel. Oh, Augusta, how different everything might have been if Papa and Mamma had been different. The Princesses of the Royal Court. It sounds so wonderful, does it not? And how dull it was … how unbelievably dull. And yet …’

Augusta went to the harpsichord and began to play. Sophia picked up the purse she was netting.

Augusta was right. It would pass. It was just one of the scandals which were hurled now and then at the royal family.

But Cumberland! How revolting! As if it could have been anyone else but dear Colonel Garth – as he had been in those days. So tender, so loving, so devoted. She would remember the romance of her youth, forget the disgusting construction people were putting on it in their newspapers.

She would live in her quiet corner of Kensington Palace and perhaps it would be wise for the boy not to come for a while. And after that it would pass … perhaps. At least people would cease to talk of it.


* * *

‘It is time,’ said the Duchess of Kent to Sir John Conroy, ‘that we were given apartments away from Kensington Palace. Why should I be expected to live here with the Princess Sophia – and indeed these rumours shock me deeply – on one side and the Duke of Sussex on the other and we know how irregularly he is living with that Buggin woman. How he can possibly live with a woman with such a name, I cannot imagine. And under the same roof, I am expected to live with the heiress to the throne.’

‘My dear Duchess,’ said Sir John soothingly, ‘it is iniquitous, I grant you, but I doubt you would be wise to approach His Majesty at this juncture.’

‘His Majesty! A fine example he sets. He has insulted me twice. Once at Victoria’s christening and again at Feodora’s wedding.’

‘Let us do nothing to provoke a third occasion.’ Sir John’s mouth twisted into that expression which was half a smile, half a sneer and which so many women, including the Duchess, found devastatingly attractive.

‘At the earliest possible moment I shall demand recognition for Victoria.’

‘At the earliest possible moment,’ agreed Sir John.

‘Are you sure that I am right in not doing so now? This disgusting scandal …’

‘Serves us well,’ murmured Sir John. ‘Cumberland is in such ill repute that the nation would rise up in wrath if it were suggested that Victoria was sent to Windsor while he was there.’

The Duchess began to smile. ‘That’s true,’ she said.

‘So let us not rail against this new scandal which is to our advantage since it means protection for our Princess. I am always afraid that His Majesty might send a command that she be removed to Windsor.’

‘I should never have permitted it.’

‘I know. But it would have been difficult if the King had made it a command and the Parliament had agreed to it.’

‘I would have taken her out of the country.’

‘But Your Grace would realise how unwise that would be. It is imperative that our Princess remains in England. Heaven alone knows what plot Cumberland might hatch if she were not here.’

The Duchess laid a hand on his arm. ‘Oh dear, what should I do without you.’

He smiled tenderly. Indeed, she thought, I am relying on him even more than I do on Leopold. Leopold has changed lately. It is that Bauer woman. Who would have thought it of Leopold! And he is tiresome sometimes with all his imaginary ailments.

That was sacrilege of course. One did not criticise Leopold in the Saxe-Coburg family. All the same she did find herself relying more and more on Sir John.

‘You can rely on me … for ever,’ he told her. He briskly changed the subject. ‘Our Princess misses her sister sadly. I was wondering if my own little Victoire might help to comfort her.’

‘I am sure she does,’ said the Duchess. His daughter was her godchild – Victoire named after herself and called Victoire so that she should not be confused in the household with Victoria.

‘But even more so,’ persisted Sir John. ‘Perhaps my daughter could share her dancing lessons.’

‘She must of course,’ said the Duchess.

Sir John was well pleased. The two old Baronesses would not be.

Two bundles of German rubbish, he thought. It was time they were neatly packed up and sent off to their native land.


* * *

No sooner had the scandal concerning Sophia’s child begun to die down than a fresh one arose. This too concerned Cumberland. It was well known that he was having a love affair with the wife of Lord Graves who was one of the King’s Lords of the Bedchamber.

As the sins of Cumberland had been so much in the public eye this was given more prominence than it would normally have had and Lord Graves declared that he did not believe his wife was being unfaithful to him.

A few days after he had made this announcement he was found in his bed with his throat cut.

He had died, was the report of the newspapers, because of the Duke of Cumberland. And how strange was the manner of his dying. Did their readers remember – it must be nearly twenty years ago – how the Duke’s valet had been found in his bed with his throat cut? It was a similar case.

The Duke’s valet had had a young and pretty wife; and if Lady Graves could scarcely be so described – she was well into her fifties – the Duke had been reputed to be her lover and he was no longer young.

It was very strange. What was the secret of Lord Graves’s death? What was the secret of the Duke’s valet? The Duke had been interested in their wives; they had both been discovered dead in their beds with their throats cut.

It was very, very strange.

This was a hint at murder. It was remembered that the Duke’s wife had had two husbands who had died mysteriously. Royal Dukes might have special names for certain crimes, but people would draw their own conclusions.

The Duchess of Kent was delighted by the news. She took Sir John’s view now and realised that the more that man’s character was blackened the safer they were from his interference.

‘Why,’ said Sir John, ‘if he attempted to force us to hand over Victoria now the people would tear him apart. We should have them on our side.’

He was right, of course. Späth and Lehzen might try to poison her mind against him but they would never succeed. They were a pair of jealous old women. They were devoted, of course, and she liked to have them with her; she trusted them; but they were wrong if they thought they were going to break up her friendship with Sir John.