When he heard that she was about to publish his letters he went at once to Frederica and told her.

‘This will be worse than ever,’ he told her. ‘I have said the most foolish things to that woman in the most foolish manner. The whole country will be laughing at me. I’ll never hold my head up again.’

But Frederica consoled him. ‘Nonsense. It’s not the first time a man of rank has written foolish letters. There is only one way of dealing with it – and it will be dealt with in this way because it is not only what is best for you but what is best for that odious woman. And it is what she is striving for. The letters will be bought.’

Frederica was right. They were bought for £7,000 down and a pension of £400 a year.

Mary Anne paid her debts and decided that it was time she set about preparing her daughters to make good marriages. Frederica returned to her animals; the Duke of Kent discussed his hopes of the future with Julie de St Laurent and hoped to catch the prize which he had helped to take from his brother. Great was his disappointment when it was awarded to Sir David Dundas. His consolation must be, said Julie, that he had done his duty. It was a pleasant way of looking at it and Julie as usual brought him some comfort. As for the Duke of York, he took a new mistress and tried to reconcile himself to having lost his post.

Maria triumphant

CHARLOTTE WAS VERY much aware of the scandals through the cartoons and pamphlets Mrs Udney brought into the household, and her mother was constantly showing them to her. Caroline laughed gleefully at the Mary Anne Clarke affair.

‘I thought I was the one who brought trouble into the family. I’d like to know what de old Begum says about her Frederick.’

‘Frederick doesn’t want to know,’ said Charlotte. ‘I hear he keeps out of her way. We don’t see him in the royal apartments since all this happened.’

That made Caroline laugh louder and Charlotte felt that she and her mother were conspirators against the rest of the family.

It was pleasant to belong and be so fiercely and passionately loved, but she sometimes wondered how much deep feeling there was behind those outward demonstrations. Caroline was so wild, so fervent in all her declarations, that she called her servants ‘my love’ and ‘my angel’ indiscriminately.

And the manner in which she discussed the Prince of Wales was rather embarrassing, for Charlotte disliked hearing her father disparaged.

There were always men at Caroline’s apartments in Kensington Palace. Caroline would push Charlotte at them and say: ‘Is she not a little charmer, this Charlotte of mine? Ah, she is going to be a fascinator. Like her Mamma, did you say, naughty boy? Then you should.’

Odd, thought Charlotte, yet fascinating. And when she reported it to Mercer, her dear friend was disapproving. And because of her attitude Charlotte began to feel the same because all her views were being coloured by Mercer.

Visits to Spring Gardens were of dubious pleasure, although they enlivened the days a little. Grandmamma Brunswick had settled into that dreadful house as though it were a palace and Charlotte often thought that she saw it as such. She was sure poor Grandmamma was unaware of the shabbiness and the lack of furniture and where there was nothing she saw gilded stools; the old chair in which she sat was a throne; her shabby clothes were velvet and ermine; and there in Spring Gardens she was a queen. Poor Grandmamma, she had always longed to be a queen and if she had had no brothers she would have been.

The only member of the family who was really kind to her was the King. He called on her occasionally and was received with ceremony – royalty visiting royalty. He wanted the Queen to be kinder to her, but the wicked old Begum refused and the Old Girls followed their mother in everything.

It was a pity that the King was so vague. He wanted to help and he was determined to and then he would go away and forget; which was not surprising for he called people by the oddest names. He had called Charlotte Sarah once and said she had pretty hair. So of course when he went away from Spring Gardens it was only natural that he should forget all about poor Grandmamma Brunswick.

‘Poor George!’ repeated the Duchess. ‘A kind heart but an addled head.’

She made Charlotte come and stand near her so that she might talk to her; and Charlotte would sit on a stool at her feet and look round that room which had scarcely any furniture in it but had cobwebs in the corner. Couldn’t they have done something better for poor Grandmamma? Charlotte was so sorry that it was not in her power to provide a better lodging that she tried to please the old lady as much as she could by appearing to be interested in her repetitious chatter.

‘An invitation from the Prince of Wales, if you please. “Dearest Aunt,” he says, “pray come to Carlton House. Stay as long as you please. I will have a suite reserved for you.” So charming … so utterly charming. I do believe he is the most charming man in the world. Of course some people do not think so. Some people cannot get along with him at all. I cannot think why. It’s a mystery to me.’

‘If you knew him as well as I do,’ cried Caroline, ‘you wouldn’t be in any doubt.’

‘His elegance … and his manners. I never saw the like. And so charming to his old aunt.’

‘Why did you not go to Carlton House, Grandmamma?’ asked Charlotte. ‘There you could have lived in state.’

The Duchess sighed. She brought her lips down to Charlotte’s ear. ‘It was prevented.’ She threw a sly look at her daughter. ‘My son was against it, too. The relationship being what it is … and so on and so on … and so I must decline the most gracious invitation so graciously given. And I remain here.’ She threw out her arms in a dramatic gesture and Charlotte thought that in comparing this dingy old place with Carlton House, she saw it as it really was.

What a strange family I have! thought Charlotte. She must discuss them with Mercer. It might well be that all families were as strange as this. No, she couldn’t believe that. There was only one menagerie – and that was the royal one.

‘The position is becoming intolerable,’ said Maria Fitzherbert to the faithful Pigot. ‘I will not continue in this way.’

Miss Pigot looked worried. She could not bear conflict between her beloved Maria and the Prince who was almost equally beloved. Why could they not go on as they had in the past? Why could he not be content? He was a foolish boy to think that he could ever find the happiness with that cold ambitious Hertford woman that he had known with dear Maria. And there was Minney. He loved Minney. He always looked for her when he arrived; and sometimes she would spring out on him from some unexpected corner, or wait until he was seated and then put her hands over his eyes and cry ‘Guess who?’ in a voice unmistakably Minney’s; and he would go through all the ladies of society pretending that he was trying to guess. It did you good to see them, thought Miss Pigot. And now it was all spoilt by that lump of dressed-up ice, the Hertford woman.

Maria was getting touchy and that meant that she really was beginning to think seriously of breaking with him.

That’s just something I couldn’t bear, thought Miss Pigot.

‘It’ll pass,’ she kept telling Maria. ‘It’s just another of those little wickednesses of his. My goodness, we know enough about them, or we ought to by now.’

But this was not just a little wickedness. It had been going on too long; and Maria had already written to him very seriously telling him that she would not continue to tolerate it.

And he had ignored the letter, as he ignored so much that he did not want to accept. He wanted to go on paying his pleasant morning calls to the house on the Steyne chatting with Maria, playing with Minney; and then at the evening entertainment at the Pavilion he would be at Lady Hertford’s side all the evening so that Maria would be there merely as the chaperon that very virtuous icicle desired.

It was really asking too much and no man but the Prince of Wales would think of subjecting a woman whom he had once loved so wholeheartedly – and still did in his way, insisted Miss Pigot – to such an indignity.

And now the climax was close.

Maria had returned from a drive with Minney and before the child, of course, she pretended that all was well. Miss Pigot thanked God every day for Minney. Because, reasoned that faithful friend and companion, if ever the break did come there would be Minney to comfort her; and Miss Pigot was beginning to think that Maria’s love for that child was greater than the love she had for the Prince. Well, the foolish man was showing himself unappreciative of Maria’s devotion, whereas little Minney was never really happy unless she was with Maria. She could not have felt closer to her own mother; and perhaps the fact that they had once been in danger of losing each other had made them all the more aware of the value of their devotion.

Minney had gone to her room to change her gown and Maria came into the drawing room to speak to Miss Pigot whom she had seen from the window as they were getting out of the carriage.

‘My word,’ said Miss Pigot, ‘Minney looks the picture of health. Brighton agrees with her.’ She was anxiously regarding Maria’s face. ‘Brighton agrees with so many. His Highness called while you were out.’

Maria’s lip curled coldly. Oh dear, thought Miss Pigot. Trouble!

‘I daresay he was surprised to find us not here.’

‘Surprised and hurt.’

‘He should not be surprised. But what a child he is. He thinks he can behave to me intolerably in public and then he comes through his tunnel like an adventurous schoolboy and expects Minney and me to be waiting to pounce on him and play childish games.’