"Fox," answered Bute. The King's face grew pink. Fox! Sarah's brother-in-law! He had hated Fox ever since he had given up Sarah, for he was sure that the man was jeering at him for allowing himself to be persuaded by his mother.

"He is the only man wily enough to do it.”

"He never would. It would mean deserting his party, being disloyal to Pitt.”

"All Fox would care about was being loyal to himself.”

"But you really believe ...”

"I am convinced it is the only course left to us." Left to us thought the King. So Bute was including him in his failure. He was shocked to find that for the first time in his life he was critical of his dear friend.

"We cannot afford to be squeamish," said Bute.

The King recoiled. This was shocking. Nothing seemed as it had in the past. Everything was turning against him. He could have wept, "So Your Majesty gives your consent to my approaching Fox." The King nodded, turning away.

Mr. Fox returned to Holland House cynically amused after his interview with Lord Bute. He would, he had said, consider the noble lord's proposals, but they did not fill him with any great enthusiasm. Lord Bute was almost pathetic in his desire to include Mr. Fox in his confidence. So my Lord Bute was learning sense after all.

And His Majesty? Mr. Fox had asked. How did he feel about having Mr. Fox as the leader of the House of Commons? His Majesty was as eager as Lord Bute, so said the lord. Well, thought Mr.

Fox, they must be anxious. George had not been able to look him in the face after jilting Sarah.

Perhaps now that Sarah had married Bunbury he felt that little matter was settled. Bunbury in place of a king! Mr. Bunbury who would become Sir Charles one day. Not much of a match to set beside that with a king. But Sarah had chosen him and seemed happy although how long that would last Mr. Fox was not sure and his feelings were sceptical. However, the important matter of the moment was not Sara but the future of Henry Fox.

He found his wife in the drawing room and told her that he had just come from St. James's. Lady Caroline raised her eyebrows.

"Bute is asking me to take over the leadership of the House of Commons.”

"No!”

"Yes, my dear, yes. They are most eager to have me. Even His Majesty raises no objections.”

"They are in trouble," said Lady Caroline. "Best leave them to it.”

"H'm.”

"You can't be considering this proposal?”

Fox nodded slowly. "For a while ... perhaps it would not be such a bad thing.”

"You know you promised you were going to give up politics.”

"I haven't forgotten.”

"But you are considering taking up this offer?”

He slipped his arm through hers. "For a while," he said. "I promise to make a fortune from it and retire with a high sounding title in a blaze of glory.”

She laughed at him; they understood each other. He was a cynic; he loved money even more than power; he was only vulnerable where Lady Caroline was concerned. Ever since their romantic elopement they had been lovers.

So Caroline understood. It would be the finale; and when it was over they would live as she had planned they should, away from the anxieties of state ... enjoying life.

Mr. Fox was granted an audience in the King's chamber at St. James's. As he expected, Bute was with George. Mr. Fox's expression was a little sardonic. He was not the handsomest of men with his bulky figure and dark face; it was when he talked, not with Mr. Pitt's brilliant oratory, but with those sudden flashes of spontaneous wit, that he could even triumph over Mr. Pitt.

George looked at him with mild distaste. Never would trust that fellow, he thought; but it was no use; he would have to have him. Lord Bute had explained that they were lost without a strong man to lead the Commons and make sure that the signing of the Peace of Paris was brought to a successful conclusion.

"So Mr. Fox, sir," said George, "Lord Bute tells me that you are ready to take on the leadership of the House of Commons.”

"Reluctantly, Sire, but since it is the wish of Your Majesty ...”

Fox smiled ironically, as though, thought George, the sly creature so rightly named knew how he hated to be forced into this position and was reminding him of it.

"Lord Bute feels that your services could be invaluable.”

"And since Your Majesty is in agreement with him I offer them with all my heart.”

"His Majesty and I agree that it is necessary to get these essential matters passed through the Commons and the Lords. At the moment there is great opposition. This must be wiped out. We must have a majority vote in favour of the peace.”

"It is not an impossible achievement.”

"We have powerful enemies.”

Mr. Fox smiled what George thought of as the foxy smile. "We can secure their support in the time-honoured way.”

"And that?”

"Bribes, Your Majesty. Bribes.”

"Bribes! But this is something I cannot countenance.”

"Then the measures will be defeated, and I can be of no use to you. But if Your Majesty and you, my lord, ask me to bring these measures safely through, I tell you I can do it. And I give you the blunt remedy. Bribes.”

The King had turned away; Bute was watching him uneasily. Fox shrugged his shoulders.

"Your Majesty and you, my lord, cannot consider bribes? Then I can only say that I can be of no use to you. You will understand that in coming to your side I shall be in opposition to my old friends.”

"Unpopularity is the price we must all pay for parliamentary services," said Bute bitterly.

"Not all, my lord. Consider Mr. Pitt. He cannot move through the City without a crowd of worshippers following his coach. They are ready to kneel and kiss the hem of his garment.”

George frowned. He did not like blasphemy.

"As for myself," went on Fox, "I am ready to face unpopularity if I can do His Majesty essential service.”

Bute said quickly: "His Majesty and I are eager to see this peace treaty carried through, no matter at what cost.”

He waited with great apprehension for the King to speak, but George said nothing.

The King was depressed and disillusioned. His head ached; he wanted to get rid of Mr. Fox. He was certain that that odious man was laughing at him, jeering at him for having lost Sarah; he would go away and whisper about him to that wife of his, Sarah's sister, who was a little like Sarah.

Bute was watching him anxiously, thinking: He has such strange moods nowadays. One can never be sure what he is thinking. But Fox was preparing to take his leave and to throw himself into his new task as leader of the House of Commons who knew exactly how to administer those bribes which would get unpopular measures passed through Parliament.

Mr. Fox was true to his word. He set about his new duties with alacrity. Bribes were offered in cash and in the form of titles; and places in the Government were given in order to form one which would be solidly behind Fox and obey his commands to vote as performing dogs at the crack of the whip.

The Dukes of Devonshire, Newcastle and Grafton were expelled from their offices to make way for complacent men; and by December Fox was ready to go into the attack. Crowds surrounded the Houses of Parliament knowing what issues were at stake. Pitt was still the hero of the piece; Bute the black-hearted villain.

In the Lords, Bute had to defend Fox's policy; and in the Commons, Fox had to face Pitt, who had arrived, swathed in bandages, wrapped in flannel, suffering hideously from his old complaint of gout. Pitt harangued the Government for three hours; he pointed out that their enemies had not yet been beaten; that if peace were made now they would recover and get to their feet again. Peace was a danger to England. Pitt's eloquence was, as ever, spellbinding, but his gout got the better of him and before he had delivered the final summing up he was obliged to retire to his seat. Then Fox rose and with reasoning, cold against Pitt's heat, logical against emotionalism, he defended the Government's policy for peace. France and Spain had agreed to great concessions, and England was suffering from acute taxation.

Listening, Pitt seemed to sense defeat; in any case he was in agony. While Fox was speaking he got up and hobbled from the House, thus leaving his supporters without a leader.

The motion was carried for the Government 319 to 65. A triumph for the Government, for Fox's policy and for peace.

It was hardly to be expected that Pitt's supporters would quietly accept this state of affairs. It was known how the Government majority had been achieved. Bribery! was whispered throughout the streets; and the mob marched carrying a jackboot and petticoat which they ceremoniously hung on a gibbet. The feeling against Bute was rising. He was the arch enemy, the Scot who had dared to try to rule England, the lover of the Princess Dowager who with her ruled the King, and therefore ruled England. Even the King came in for his share of criticism and his popularity waned alarmingly.

When he went to call on his mother, crowds following his carriage shouted. "Going to have your napkins changed, George?" And: "When are you going to be weaned?”

George did not like it. It wounded him deeply; when he came back to his apartments he would weep and his headaches would begin; he felt that everyone was against him. When he could escape to Richmond, to the quiet life with Charlotte, he felt better. But he could not be a King and live the quiet life of a country gentleman.

Bute was feeling ill; he had lost his swagger. It was an uncomfortable feeling, every time he went out, wondering whether the mob were going to set on him and murder him. Power such as this had been his goal; now it was his it was very different from the dream.