‘They must not find me, Jane. They must not.’

‘Of course they mustn’t. And they never shall.’

Jane sat contentedly sipping her tea.

‘My, how I’ve come up in the world,’ she murmured. ‘Tea with a cause célèbre and my own mistress and all because of you, Hannah.’

Hannah could not share Jane’s pleasure. She was very uneasy.


* * *

Although the search went on and in the St James’s Market area there was constant speculation about the disappearance of Hannah Axford, Lightfoot that was, Hannah continued to live without disturbance in her tall quiet house, visited frequently by her lover who became more and more devoted as the months passed.

George was happy: he constantly reminded himself that he considered himself married to Hannah, which was the only way in which he could enjoy such a connection. He had intended to marry Hannah; he would be faithful to Hannah; and she to him.

There were very few people in the secret, but these he could trust. Elizabeth Chudleigh was one; she had been of great help to him and had shown him how to make this liaison possible. It had changed him from a careless boy to a man of responsibilities and if he still had to sit in a schoolroom and learn history and mathematics, in one phase of his life he was a man and this gave him confidence. There were two others with whom he shared that confidence and who in the family circle were closer to him than any other; this was his brother Edward and his sister Elizabeth. Edward had declared that in George’s place he would have done exactly the same; in fact, Edward had applauded his brother and swore he would always support him.

So while George sat in the schoolroom and wrote his account of English history he was thinking of Hannah.

‘Charles I did not regard the laws of the land,’ he wrote, ‘but violated them when they thwarted his interest or inclination.’ It was no way to rule; and Charles I had discovered that too late. It was something to remember.

George understood that he must prepare himself for kingship. The old King was growing more feeble every day, more irascible. It was said that one of these days the old man would go off when he was in one of his violent outbursts of temper; and when he does, thought George, I shall be King.

His mother was anxious about him. He loved her dearly; he admired Lord Bute as much as any man he knew; and both of them were constantly telling him: ‘You must learn to be a King.’

It was comforting to ride out to Hannah, to tell her of the ways of the Court, of the trouble in his household, of his mother and Lord Bute pulling against the tutors the King had chosen for him.

‘I have two ambitions,’ he told Hannah, ‘to be a good King and to be a good husband to you.’


* * *

George was delighted to find that his dear friend Lord Bute did not blame him for his affair with Hannah.

‘It is natural that Your Highness should have a mistress,’ he explained. ‘You should feel no sense of guilt.’

‘But Hannah is not a mistress. I do want to make that clear.’

‘Of course not,’ soothed Lord Bute. ‘Do you not realize that I understand your feelings… perfectly.’

‘I knew you would if I had an opportunity to explain.’

‘Your Highness can always explain everything to me. Have I not always assured you that any skill I may have is at your disposal.’

‘You have… no one more.’

‘Then when you are in any difficulties I can expect you to come to me. Now that you are no longer a boy I can talk to you freely. There are two people whom you can trust: one is your mother; the other is myself.’

George nodded. ‘And fortunate I am to have you.’

‘I think of this nation and I can see no one who can care for you as your mother does. You have this delightful lady, your beautiful Quaker. She loves you as a wife but she knows nothing of the malice and intrigues which always surround a Court, Your mother does; and she is here to protect you. She wishes you well for your own sake. Others have interested views; they wish for riches or honours; they are ambitious not for your good or that of the country but for themselves. The advice they give you will be contaminated by these considerations. So her advice alone is the advice you should follow, for you will know it is given with your own good in mind solely, and for no other reason.’

‘I do know it; and I thank God for her care.’

‘I too care only for your good. You will find many to speak against me. They will try to represent me to you as a villain.’

‘I would not believe them.’

‘You say that now; but some are skilful. I am certain that in the future, when you are King of this realm, attempts will be made to vilify me. They will use all their arts to win you over. If they do you will be ruined.’

‘I know this. I know it well. I am young. I am without experience and I want advice now and shall in the future. I trust you as I trust no other man.’

‘If you failed to trust me I should contemplate leaving the country.’

‘I beg of you do not speak so. I need your friendship. I am so young and I know so little.’

‘If you married you would not feel the need of my friendship so strongly.’

‘I am married… and I still feel it.’

‘There will come a time when you will have to make a state marriage…’ began Bute tentatively.

‘How can that be when I am married already?’

‘When you are King it will be necessary for you to marry a Princess, to give the country heirs…’

George shook his head and looked stubborn. Trouble here, thought Bute; but he is only sixteen. Give him a chance to grow weary of the Quaker adventure.

He spread his hands. ‘It will be for you to decide,’ he said comfortingly. ‘And you know that I shall always be ready to advise in any problem. I trust that you will always come first to me, Sir, or to your mother.’

‘I shall. I shall insist that everyone accepts you as the Friend of the Family. My dear friend will always mean more to me than the crown itself. I need you now, but I shall need you more when the crown is mine. You must never think of leaving me.’

Bute took the Prince’s hand and kissing it, swore he would not.

Shortly afterwards he was repeating this conversation to the Princess.

‘I feel we have lost nothing through this affair of the Quaker,’ said Bute.

‘But I shall never forget that he acted without consulting me,’ replied the Princess.

‘It was natural that he should not consult his mother about his mistress. Rest happy. He is more devoted to us than ever before; and as long as we do not try to separate him from his mistress he is ours to command. Trust me, my dearest, this little affair of his is no bad thing.’

The Princess nodded. She could always rely on dear Lord Bute to comfort her.


* * *

George, the King, was in a testy mood. Nothing was going well in the country – discord at home and defeats abroad. He was beginning to suspect that Newcastle was not the best man for his post and that Pitt would be an improvement. Pitt was a man of war, but perhaps what the country needed at this time was a man of war. Pitt… an outsider and a master of oratory! His brilliance in that direction had caused Robert Walpole some misgivings. Oh, the days of Sir Robert, when Caroline was alive and the three of them had conferred together! Everything was so much easier then. Sir Robert was a man of genius and he, the King, had known how to bring out the best in that genius; and Caroline was always there to support him. No woman worthy to unlatch her shoe, thought the King sentimentally, forgetting to remember that he loved her so much more since she was dead than he had when she was alive. He had always been so devoted to her when he was away from home; he had regularly written to her letters twenty or thirty pages long, quite often about his affairs with other women, asking her advice, explaining their particular accomplishments in the bedchamber. She had never shown any resentment. A remarkable woman. No one worthy to buckle her shoes.

But now she was dead, and there was Newcastle making his insufficiencies apparent every day and Pitt clamouring to take office and Henry Fox standing by, cunning as his name implied. Pitt and Fox… good men both. Pitt had integrity; he knew that; and men of integrity were as rare as they were valuable; and Fox, well since he had married Richmond’s daughter he was wealthy and he did not have to rely on his position in politics. Security could make a man honest. Perhaps Pitt and Fox provided the answer.

And there was one other the very mention of whose name made the veins stand out at the King’s temples: Bute. But one could not ignore him because of the power he wielded at Leicester House. Was it true that he was the Princess’s lover? Of course it was true. One only had to see the pair together to know that they were cooing like a pair of turtle doves. The Princess doted on Bute as she never had on Fred. He didn’t blame her there. Married to Fred, poor woman; anyone who married Fred would have his sympathy. And Fred was gone and she was free, so let her have a little fun, poor woman. But she was not going to put Bute into his government while he lived. And when he had gone… Ah, then Bute would be there; she would see to that. He was installed there in her household as though he were young George’s father – and he behaved as such, by all accounts. And young George accepted him!

And what was all this talk about a Quaker? The young puppy must have a mistress, one supposed. But why couldn’t he choose one from his own or his mother’s household or even the King’s household come to that? Why must the young fool go sniffing round Markets.