In spite of having three able-bodied women in the household Henry Wheeler could afford to employ a servant and he took into his household a young woman of Hannah’s age.

They called her Jane, and Jane’s coming made a great deal of difference to Hannah. Jane was not a Quaker; she liked to laugh and enjoy herself; she remarked to Hannah that she could see no harm in that. Neither could she for the life of her see why it should be more sinful to laugh than to look glum. Hannah listened half fearfully. Jane’s attitude to life was everything she had been taught to fear. Yet she did enjoy laughing with Jane when they were making the beds together or taking the children for their airings. Being so much older than her cousins – she was thirteen years older than George the eldest – meant that Hannah had no choice of a friend except Jane. So it was natural that they should be often together.

It was Jane who caught Hannah at the window. She was not in the least shocked; she came to join Hannah and pointed out the elaborate chair which was being carried through the market. Did Hannah know the gentleman who was being carried? Hannah did not know. Oh, but Hannah knew very little of the world because everyone should know the gentleman in the chair. It was Lord Bute himself. And they said that the Princess of Wales was very partial to him. Had Hannah ever heard that? Hannah had not and she thought that must make the gentleman very happy, which set Jane rocking with laughter.

‘It makes them both happy, so they say, Miss Hannah. But whether the Prince is so happy about it… that’s another matter. Not that he would complain, considering…’

Hannah was nonplussed and fascinated. It was interesting to learn from Jane that every household was not run like Henry Wheeler’s, and that there were scandals even in the royal family.

Jane was surprised by the ignorance of Hannah; and enjoyed enlightening her.

So Hannah began to learn something of the world outside a Quaker household and she could not help it if she were fascinated by it, and secretly she longed to be part of it. If Uncle Henry had had a house in the country where they never saw any life other than their own it would have been different; but it was not so. Here they were in the midst of a noisy, bustling, virile world and yet not of it. St James’s Market with its haggling and bargaining was a strange place for a Quaker to live; yet Quakers could be good businessmen and Uncle Henry was undoubtedly that, and if it was unsuitable in some ways it was profitable in others; for as far as trade was concerned it was an ideal spot. In the middle of the Market was the large Market House inside which were the butchers’ shambles and outside were the butchers’ stalls. Market-days were Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays; and on these days the noise of the buyers and sellers filled the house. Then there was The Mitre tavern to which even on those days when there was no market the people flocked in from St Martin-in-the-Fields.

It was not easy to turn one’s eyes away from the busy world when it was on one’s doorstep.

‘It’s no life for a girl, Miss Hannah,’ said Jane mournfully.

Hannah might tell of how Uncle Henry had rescued her and her mother from the dire poverty of Wapping, but Jane still insisted that it was no life for a girl. Better to be a servant-girl than the master’s niece, Jane reckoned. She wouldn’t change places with Miss Hannah. There was a mysterious person to whom she referred as Mr H. who was very interested indeed in Jane. At first Hannah had not believed in his existence; he was a dream figure, something to talk about when they were alone together; but it seemed that he was no phantom. Once when they were out with the children Jane took Hannah down Cockspur Street past Betts the glass-cutters and as they passed a young man slipped out and talked nervously to them.

It turned out that he was Mr H. and he was really ‘far gone’ on Jane.

On the way home Jane said it was a shame that Hannah had not got a beau. Yes, with her looks it was a crying shame.

And when she returned to St James’s Market Hannah surreptitiously looked into the mirror and could not help being pleased with what she saw there. She was a beauty. She only had to look at Jane’s pert and pretty face to know that she had something which the serving-girl lacked; and she felt a little sad to think of passing all her days in her uncle’s house making beds, looking after the children, and growing as old as her mother without ever having been part of the gay and bustling life which went on under her window every day and in particular on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays.

There was great excitement when the King, the Prince and Princess of Wales and other members of the royal family were going to the theatre, the back door of which was in Market Lane; to reach this, the procession would have to cross the Market; and to see them a crowd would undoubtedly gather, for in view of the strained relations between the King and his elder son, it was rarely that they were all seen together.

Uncle Henry was disturbed. One never could be sure what the crowd would do. What if they became wild. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘we will take the linens out of the window. It will be better so.’

‘If the linens are taken out the children might perhaps sit in the window on our chairs to see the procession pass,’ suggested Lydia.

Uncle Henry considered this, but really he could see no harm in it.

As the children were growing excited at the prospect, Uncle Henry added a little homily about the worldliness of outward pomp and the difference between the shadow and the substance. But he believed they should be there because loyalty to the throne was something the children should be taught; and there were always intolerant people who could work up emotions about those whose opinions were different from their own.

Yes, they should all sit in the window and watch the royal procession to the theatre.

Hannah was delighted with an opportunity to enjoy something without secrecy.

Lydia had placed chairs in the window in place of the bales of linen. Little George and Rebecca were dancing up and down with excitement and Hannah put a finger to her lips to warn them lest their father decide that too much pleasure must indeed be a sin. Young Henry was clutching his mother’s skirts and Hannah’s mother was holding in her arms the newest arrival – Hannah after her cousin. Mary Lightfoot placed the chair for the master of the house and discreetly took her place at the back of the window.

The Market was full of noise and bustle on that day, for people from Jermyn Street, Charles Street and Pall Mall were all hurrying in to see the royal family pass by.

And so they came: the King himself, small and testy, looking neither this way nor that, his face deep red tinged with purple, taking no heed of loyal greetings nor abuse. He gave the impression that he was not interested in any of these people who had come to see him; he had come to see the play and if he had to pass among his people to do so, so much the worse.

And now the Prince of Wales. Frederick was like his father, but much more pleasant; he smiled and acknowledged the people’s greetings as he passed in his chair; he had the same colourful complexion, the same prominent eyes, the same heavy jaw; but this was less apparent when its owner smiled as Frederick did frequently. And in her chair the Princess, not beautiful but amiable, and a good wife and mother, everyone said, even though there were murmurs about her friendship with Lord Bute.

And then… Prince George, a pleasant, modest-looking boy; the same prominent blue eyes, clear complexion, not yet grown too ruddy and no tinge of purple apparent; the same heavy jaw, but he was young and his expression held not the slightest trace of arrogance. The people cheered Prince George who, when the old King died – which could not be long – would be the Prince of Wales.

Prince George’s chair passed very close to the linen-draper’s window and as it did so he looked out and his eyes met those of Hannah.

She thought: The Prince is looking straight at me!

That is the most beautiful woman in the world, thought George soberly.

He smiled with pleasure; she found that she was smiling too. Some understanding – neither of them were absolutely sure what – had passed between them.


* * *

Hannah thought a great deal about the Prince. The smile had been for her alone, she was sure of it, although no one else had noticed it. Had she been wrong? Was he bestowing such smiles all along the route? Was it part of the royal duties to smile indiscriminately?

Perhaps Jane was right and she was a simpleton. But she had glowed with pleasure and she was going to allow herself to go on thinking he had smiled especially for her.

A few days later she was confirmed in this belief, when the Prince’s chair passed through the Market close to the linen-draper’s shop, and from her window Hannah looked out at precisely the same moment as the Prince looked from his chair. Once more their eyes met and once more the understanding flashed between them.

Hannah was distrait. Could it really be that she was beginning to be caught up in the world outside her uncle’s Quaker household?


* * *

The interest of a boy who could not have entered his teens could not be expected to change her life; and yet she was at the window whenever possible in the hope of seeing him pass. He did not come often. How could he without attracting attention? He was always surrounded by important-looking people, but whenever he did pass that way he never failed to look up at the window for her and when he saw her his face would lighten and he would smile with pleasure.