Виктория Холт - The Third George

The King was with the Queen when the Princes arrived with Lady Charlotte Finch.

"Ha," said the King. "So here is my family, eh? What?”

Prince George looked at his father with solemn eyes.

"Why do you not wear your crown, Papa?”

"It is not to be worn when my children come to see me.”

"But I would like to see it. I would like to wear it.”

The Queen laughed and looked at the King, who smiled. Such a precocious little fellow. They couldn't help being proud of him.

"Frederick wishes to say something," said the Queen.

"What is it, my pet?”

"It ... it ..." began Frederick and was overcome with confusion.

Young George looked contemptuously at his brother, but Charlotte said quickly: "Frederick means that it is too big for your little head, George. Why, it would slip over your face and you wouldn't be able to see a thing.”

"I wouldn't mind," said George. "I'd fed." He stretched out his hands as though playing blind man's buff and ran laughing round the room.

Lady Charlotte whispered to George, uneasily, and he turned and grinned at her, reminding her by a look that she had no power over him in the presence of his parents.

"Lady Charlotte is warning you, George," said the King. "You must obey her. She is your governess, eh? What?”

"What? What?" cried young George and began to laugh and caper round the room still faster.

"Lady Charlotte, I pray you bring the Prince to me," said the Queen.

Lady Charlotte caught the boy's hand and he looked at her mischievously and whispered: "What?

What?”

"The Prince," said the Queen conversationally to the King, 'is a little too full of high spirits.”

Frederick wanted to say something and was tugging at his mother's skirts.

"What is it, my pet?”

"Ami?”

"What's that?" asked the King.

"What? What?" cried young George, almost choking with laughter.

"Tell your Papa what you mean, my dear," said the Queen.

"Shall I have spirits too?" Frederick wanted to know.

"Yes, my dear, but not so many as George which will show that you behave better than he does.”

Young George was astonished and Frederick elated. The Queen said: "Now come here, George, and tell me how you are getting on with your lessons.”

George, a little subdued, wondering about his high spirits, listened to Lady Charlotte telling his mother how bright he was when he applied himself. The King listened gravely and the little boys were aware of the solemnity of the occasion. George must work harder. He must listen to what he was told. He must obey his governess, his nurses, his mother and father, for he was after all only a little boy.

"But Prince of Wales," he told them slyly.

"Your Papa is the King and he always listens to everybody, that is why he is a good king. Are you going to be a good Prince of Wales?”

"I'd rather be a good king," said the irresponsible Prince.

"You must first be a good prince," the Queen told him; and listening, the King felt an emotion rising within him; she was a good mother and good wife; and there was something about her which made him wonder. Could she be pregnant again? Praise be to God, he hoped so. Being pregnant kept her contented. In between pregnancies she was inclined to meddle and that was something he would not have, loath as he was to disturb the harmony of their life. No, he liked Charlotte to remain at Kew or Richmond, away from the Court except for those ceremonies which it was imperative that she attend; then she kept her nose out of affairs and did not meddle. He couldn't tolerate a meddling woman. Women's mission in life was to bear children and Charlotte could do that very adequately indeed. Five years married and three boys to show and, if he were right, another child on the way. No one could complain about that. Although, thought George grimly, 'those ministers of mine would if they had a chance." He had the most intransigent set of ministers that ever plagued any king. But George was beginning to think that he was capable of running the country's affairs. He gave a great deal of thought to them and once he had come to a decision he stuck to it. He had lost that doubt of his ability; and once he made up his mind he was certain that he was right.

When the children had left, he said to Charlotte: "I had a notion that perhaps you're in a very happy condition once more.”

"I am not certain," she told him. "But I think ...”

He patted her shoulders. "Well done," he said. "What?”

Mr. Pitt lay in his bed, his limbs swathed in bandages, cursing his gout, but for which he would be leading the country now; no man had stopped him doing this; his implacable enemy was this accursed gout.

He longed to be back at the head of affairs but unfortunately it was rarely that he was well enough to go to the House of Commons. He was still a power though; as long as he lived the King and his government would continue to be aware of him. It had always been so; he remembered a long ago occasion when Newcastle had come to see him in this very room; it had been winter and Newcastle who was always worried about his health had found the room too cold for him.

"All very well for you in bed," he had said. "I'll catch my death in the ice house." And he had got fully clad into Hester's bed and pulled the coverlets about his ears and had stayed there while they talked business. But Newcastle was now out and the Marquis of Rockingham's ministry was in.

And I have no faith in it, thought Mr. Pitt.

To be incapacitated, to know that your genius was being thwarted by your wretched body could there be anything more frustrating? Pitt knew himself to be the man who could establish the greatness of England and he was forced to lie in his bed for days at a stretch or to go to Bath to take the waters, to live the life of an invalid when he longed to be a Prime Minister. For nothing short of the head of affairs would be of any use to Pitt.

In his bed he railed against government measures; but what use was that when the pain of his gout was too great to allow him to go to the House of Commons. He wanted to be there arguing against the Stamp Act which George Grenville, his own brother-in-law, had brought in when he was Chancellor of the Exchequer. Pitt was against the Stamp Act which was going to raise difficulties with the American Colonies. He had warned the house of this but he was too sick a man to go in and fight for what he believed. Protests had come thick and fast from America and there was considerable dissatisfaction there with the home country.

Pitt understood this. He wanted to get that Stamp Act repealed. If it were not he could see trouble.

Why should England make laws for America? Why should the Colonists be expected to pay taxes to the English Government? It was an absurd imposition, said Pitt; and one which he would do all in his power to abolish. He had talked to Hester about it. His wife was a brilliant woman who, being devoted to him, made his enthusiasm hers. He was constantly at loggerheads with her brothers now that they had become politicians; but in the early days when he had been a guest at their house they had all been overawed by his grasp of affairs, by his powers of divination which Hester said were supernatural because he could prophesy what would happen if such and such a thing were done. He had laughed at her and told her that it was long-sightedness one of the most desirable gifts in a politician's life. It was in fact a complete concentration on the matter at hand.

He had these gifts; and that was why she thought he was some sort of soothsayer.

To be with Hester, to talk with Hester, that was the greatest pleasure in life ... No, he would be honest. The greatest moments were when he stood up in the House and swayed it the way he wished it to go. But Hester was the balm in his life. She was there not only to dress his painful limbs but to restore his pride and ambition, at moments like this when he believed that he, the greatest politician of his day, was being deprived of his birthright by his enemy, the Gout.

Hester came in to tell him that the Earl of Northington had arrived and was asking if he might see Pitt.

"Northington!" Pitt scrambled up in bed. "He comes from the King.”

"So he tells me.”

"He brings some message … some secret message, doubtless. George is weary of the Rockingham ministry, believe me. Hester, he wants me. He always has wanted me. By God, if he had not been under the influence of that fool Bute ...”

"But Bute need no longer concern you.”

"No, the only thing that really concerns me, Hester, is this accursed gout. You'd better bring Northington up at once.”

"I thought I'd prepare you.”

He nodded. "But until I know what the King wants of me it's hard to be ready with my reply. But bring him in, Hester. Bring him in.”

"You won't commit yourself to anything rash.”

"Rash! What's rash?”

"You know you are unfit just now to go back there. You must rest your feet. You know that.”

"Yes, Hester, I know," he nodded grimly.

"But let's see Northington and hear what it is he has come to say.”

Accompanied by Hester, Robert Henley, first Earl of Northington, came into the bedroom. Of middle height, with florid complexion, he was quite a handsome man, but the signs of hard drinking were apparent. His language was punctuated with blasphemous expressions except when he was in the company of the King who strangely enough had an affection for him, and two years or so before had created him Viscount Henley and Earl of Northington.