How careful one has to be in a family like ours, thought Charlotte.

She was shut in by people who watched her all the time because she was an heir to the throne. The only thing that could prevent her attaining it, as far as she could see, would be the birth of a brother to her parents. And that was most unlikely.

She did love some of these people who surrounded her – Dr Nott, for one. Well, hardly loved, but she was fond of him. Perhaps the two she loved most were her dressers Mrs Gagarin and Miss Louisa Lewis. They were comforting as one imagined mothers might be. They scolded in a tender way which pleased her so much that she often behaved in such a way as to provoke their reproaches.

But she did not talk to them of what happened at her mother’s house. She was aware when they accompanied her there of their silent disapproval. Mamma never gave them a thought. She never altered anything because they were there. At the entertainments she gave she laughed wildly as she ran about playing Blind Man’s Buff, her eyes bandaged, her arms outstretched, and she always caught one of the gentlemen and the forfeit for being caught was a kiss. There was always a great deal of kissing going on at Mamma’s parties and there were always plenty of bluff hearty gentlemen living in the house, it seemed. They were very courteous to Charlotte although they did not kiss her – only when there was a forfeit in the games in which she joined.

Her mother’s house was quite different from anything she had ever known – or was likely to.

There was a sailor whom everyone called Sir Sydney – and wherever he was, there was lots of gaiety; he was constantly chasing and kissing the ladies; but he could tell a good adventure story of how brave he was. Charlotte particularly liked the one in which he defended Saint Jean d’Acre.

Mamma used to listen, her eyes alight with pleasure.

‘One of these days,’ she said, ‘I shall sail round the world. Will you come with me, my precious?’

Charlotte had replied that she would like to but she thought that, since she would one day be Queen of England, her place would be at home.

That made her mother screech with laughter. ‘You see, Sydney, they are making a queen of her already.’

Strange Montague House, where everything was so different from what it was at Windsor or Carlton House. But perhaps it was Mamma who was so strange that she would transform any place where she was and even Kew would become strange if she lived there.

She had not realized how interested she was in the manner in which life was lived at Montague House until she was not able to go there.

It is excuses all the time. Well, I am going to find out, she promised herself.

Who would tell her? Mrs Gagarin and Louisa Lewis she had hoped, but however much she tried to worm it out of them they would not tell her. They had such a stern sense of their own duty.

Her thoughts went to Mrs Udney, who, with Mrs Campbell, was attached to the household as assistant governess. Charlotte was quite fond of Mrs Campbell, though she was rather a colourless woman always talking about her family connection with the de Cliffords – and it was no doubt due to this that she had been given the post. Mrs Udney was of a different nature. There was something about Mrs Udney which Charlotte did not like. She was rather good-looking, with charming manners, so that one took to her at first and then began to wonder. Charlotte had seen her fly into a sudden temper, which was something with which Charlotte could sympathize, but then she did not pretend to be so calm and gentle. She had heard Mrs Udney sniggering with Mrs Campbell, and when she was aware of the Princess’s attention she would smother her sniggers. Charlotte could not help wondering what it was that brought that expression to her face until one day she discovered that it was the affairs of the Princess of Wales.

There were, of course, many rumours; and she did hear of them at her mother’s house where one could read the papers and see the cartoons. But she believed that even her mother might keep some from her; and these would probably be the ones she most wanted to see.

Mrs Udney would be in the Princess’s bedchamber at this time putting her clothes away and setting out what she would wear for her audience with her grandmother and aunts. So to her bedchamber went Charlotte and there as she had expected she found Mrs Udney alone.

‘I thought you’d be here, Mrs Udney,’ said Charlotte, coming straight to the point. She sat down on the bed and bounced up and down on it while Mrs Udney put her head on one side and regarded her with amusement.

‘I want to know why I do not go to Montague House,’ said Charlotte bluntly.

‘Because Your Highness is at Windsor.’

‘As I am not a child, Mrs Udney, I would prefer you did not treat me as such.’

Mrs Udney inclined her head by way of apology. Oh yes, thought Charlotte, there is something about her which I do not like.

‘I command you to answer my questions,’ she said imperiously. ‘Do you know why I am not allowed to go to Montague House? A plain yes or no, please.’

‘Why … yes, Your Highness.’

‘Then pray tell me.’

‘Your Highness, I might be exceeding my duty.’

‘Your duty to whom?’

‘Those who place me in my responsible position.’

Charlotte coaxed: ‘Oh come now, please tell me. I do want to know. And why shouldn’t I? It concerns me, does it not?’

‘It does, Your Highness.’ Mrs Udney’s little pink tongue licked her lips and she really looked as though she found this rather to her taste. ‘Your Highness would not tell tales of me.’

‘Tales of you? Whatever for?’

‘If I were to talk of this matter it might be frowned on.’

‘I have told you I will frown if you do not.’

Mrs Udney came close to the bed and said: ‘You know all is not well between the Prince and Princess. You know they do not … live together.’

‘Of course I know this. The Prince lives at Carlton House and Brighton; and my mother is at Montague House; and if she comes to London she stays at Kensington Palace.’

‘I mean they do not live … as husband and wife. Your Highness understands?’

‘I understand p … perfectly,’ declared Charlotte, stammering a little because it was one of those lies which Dr Nott deplored.

‘But that does not prevent their having other … friends.’ Mrs Udney’s smile was sly; Charlotte felt that it was distasteful in some way but she was not sure why.

‘Friends. Of course they have friends. Everyone has friends … I hope.’

‘Rather special friends, Your Highness. And with special friends there are sometimes … results.’

‘Results? What results?’

‘Your Highness always disliked the boy. Your Highness said more than once that he was a vulgar little brat.’

‘You mean … my mother’s adopted boy?’

‘I did mean William Austin, Your Highness.’

‘What has he to do with this?’

‘Everything.’

Charlotte was puzzled.

Mrs Udney put her face close to Charlotte’s and all her fine manners had suddenly gone. ‘Some are saying that the Princess of Wales did not adopt the boy. They are saying that he is her own.’

‘That he is my father’s son! How silly. If he were …’ The enormity of the possibility overwhelmed her.

Mrs Udney went on: ‘Oh, no, not the son of the Prince of Wales. There were plenty of other gentlemen ready to be the … friend of Her Highness.’

Charlotte did not fully understand but she knew that was some fearful slander against her mother. How dared this … this creature stand there looking so sly and knowing … yes, and pleased.

The ungovernable temper of which Dr Nott and Lady de Clifford despaired was in the ascendant.

Charlotte brought up her right hand sharply and gave Mrs Udney a stinging blow across the cheek.

Then, appalled by what she had done and what she had heard, she ran out of the room.

Mrs Udney could not allow such treatment to pass and immediately reported it to Lady de Clifford.

‘Why, Mrs Udney,’ cried her ladyship, ‘what on earth has happened?’

Mrs Udney’s eyes were blazing with fury and there was a red mark on her cheek.

‘Her Royal Highness has just seen fit to slap my face.’

Lady de Clifford put her hand to her eyes. ‘Oh, no, no! How could this have happened?’

‘Madam came into my bedchamber in a mood. She fired a few questions at me, was not pleased by my answers; then she rose and slapped my face like a vulgar fishwife.’

‘Where does she learn such manners?’

‘Where could she but at Montague House?’

‘I greatly fear she is growing like her mother. Oh dear, if only she were a little more like the dear Prince.’

‘I pray she does not behave as her mother does.’ Mrs Udney’s fury was diminished slightly by a certain gleeful pleasure at the prospect. ‘Then there would be ructions at Carlton House and Windsor as well.’

‘I beg of you, Mrs Udney, do not even suggest such a thing.’

‘I believe she has heard something of what is happening.’

‘Do you think she could?’

‘Everyone is talking about the Investigation and the general belief is that William Austin is the Princess’s little bastard by Sir Sidney Smith or Captain Manby or Lawrence the painter. Young Willikins cannot be said to lack a father, although his actual identity is unknown.’

‘Mrs Udney, I beg of you. But I shall have to tell the Bishop of the Princess’s behaviour. I really cannot have her actually laying hands on those who serve her.’

‘I sincerely hope she has discovered nothing,’ said Mrs Udney piously, ‘for who knows how she might romance about the affair. She does not always keep to the truth. Do you not think it is better to refrain from mentioning anything that might remind her of her mother and the life she leads at Montague House?’