Виктория Холт - The Third George

The Queen said that she thought poor Mrs. Delany was not very comfortably placed.

"Then," replied the King, 'we must do something about it, eh? What? Can't allow that dear lady to be in difficulties.”

He had the answer. She should have a little house all her own and it should be at Windsor so that he could call on her any time he wished. And she should have an annuity of three hundred pounds a year so that she need have no anxiety. Wasn't there a niece, a Miss Port, or someone? She should come and live with her. He would busy himself to see that everything was as it should be. This was the sort of task he enjoyed. It did not worry him in the least; it only stimulated him. He would see about stocking the house.

"Let her know," he said to the Queen, 'that she is to bring nothing to Windsor but herself, her clothes and her niece. Now let me see what will she want, eh? What? Now the furniture. Leave it to me ... leave it to me ...”

He saw to everything. Plate, linen, china, glass, wine in the cellars and there was even sweetmeats and pickles in the still-room. It was a strange task for a king; but no one was surprised. A king who went round to the farms on his estate and helped make the butter was capable of anything.

When Mrs. Delany arrived at the little house which the King had prepared, it was to find George himself on the threshold waiting for her.

"Now," he said, 'this is your home!" And he was so excited he could not wait to show her round.

He was clearly charmed with his work and he kept shouting excited questions at her.

"You like this, eh? What? There is everything you want, eh?”

Mrs. Delany, with tears in her eyes, thanked His Majesty. What had she done to deserve such bounty from the best king in the world? There were tears in George's eyes too. Events like this gave him the greatest happiness. It took his mind off the exploits of the Prince of Wales, which, however much he tried to forget them, insisted on obtruding into his thoughts.

In the literary circle which Mrs. Delany had frequented in London she had made the acquaintance of Miss Fanny Burney a young lady who was enjoying a great deal of fame because of a novel which she had written called Evelina. The identity of the writer had been kept secret and had intrigued some of the most well-known people in the literary world of London; among these were Samuel Johnson and Mrs. Thrale. Fanny was an amusing and clever girl, and now that she had a house in Windsor Mrs. Delany asked her to visit her there.

Fanny was delighted to come, for she was very fond of Mrs. Delany, but she did confess that she was a little alarmed for she knew on what terms her friend was with the royal family, and it was almost certain that she would at some time meet the Queen or perhaps the King.

Mrs. Delany laughed away her guest's fears as she showed her round the house. Those were the very pickles which the King had chosen for her.

Fanny was very impressed, and when she retired to her room lost no time in writing in her journal a detailed description of everything she had seen. She had started this journal when she was a child and nothing would prevent her keeping it up.

It was a pleasant stay. The royal family were at Kew so Fanny was able to relax and enjoy the days. These were enlivened not only by Mary Port, Mrs. Delany's niece, but also by Mrs. Delany's great niece, an enchanting little girl to whom Fanny at once took a fancy. The child's father was also a guest at the same time.

The little girl was delighted with Fanny who was able to give her an account of her own family life which had been extremely happy. She told the little girl about her sisters and the games they had played together when they were young; and the child wanted to play them too.

And Fanny said she would show her at the first opportunity and everyone must join in. One day, under Fanny's guidance, the company was playing a childish game in the little drawing room when suddenly the door opened and a tall man came in. He said nothing but shut the door quietly behind him and stood watching the group at play.

He was dressed in black. Fanny thought: Surely he's a ghost. Then she saw the glittering diamond star on his coat and at once she knew. For a moment the others did not see him and he and Fanny looked at each other appraisingly. Then Miss Port, turning her head, seemed suddenly struck by horror.

"Aunt," she whispered. "The King!”

Mrs. Delany had seen. She went towards the visitor to greet him, then it seemed to Fanny that everyone else had disappeared except herself, the King and Mrs. Delany.

Fanny stood against the wall hoping that she would be unnoticed while Mrs. Delany with calm assurance, but conveying a deep sense of the honour and happiness this visit gave her, curtsied and spoke to the King as to her health and his.

George was looking beyond Mrs. Delany to her visitor. He had heard of Fanny Burney. Indeed who had not? The whole of London had speculated about her identity until it was known. She was the friend of the great Dr. Johnson. The Queen had read Evelina and had told the King it was most commendable and that she had heard it was the first novel to appear since Richardson's Clarissa and a great deal more moral; and the Queen had been told as soon as she returned to Windsor Lodge that Miss Burney was a guest in Mrs. Delany's House.

The King said: "Is that Miss Burney, eh?”

"Yes, Your Majesty," answered Fanny, dropping a curtsey.

The King looked at her piercingly for some seconds.

"You are enjoying your stay here with my dear friend Mrs. Delany?”

"Yes, sir. Very much.”

"That is good, eh? What?" He nodded to Fanny and turned to Mrs. Delany. "You will be asking me how the Princess Elizabeth is. I am worried about her health. Ever since I lost my sons...”

Mrs. Delany was nodding sympathetically.

"Well," went on the King, "I have to tell you, dear Mrs. Delany, that the Princess has been blooded twelve times this last fortnight. Seventy-five ounces of blood she has lost. It's a lot, eh?

What? What do you think, eh? What?”

Mrs. Delany said she thought it was a great deal.

"They're blistering her, too. I am anxious, most anxious." He was aware of Fanny again.

"Pray, does Miss Burney draw too?" he asked.

"I believe not, sir," replied Mrs. Delany. "At least she has not told me if she does.”

The King laughed slyly.

"Ah, that's nothing. She's apt not to tell. She never does tell, you know. Her father once talked to me about her book." He moved towards Fanny and studied her intently.

"But what? What?" he went on. "How was it?”

He was speaking so quickly that Fanny, unaccustomed to his manners, did not understand the question.

"Sir?" she began.

"How came it about, eh? What?”

"I wrote it for my own amusement, sir.”

"But publishing it ... printing it... eh? What? How was that, eh? What?”

"Well, sir, that was because...”

For the life of her Fanny could not think of the answer to his question. But the King was not a man to give up. He was very interested in detail; and he wanted to know why Fanny had published her book if she had written merely for her own amusement, just as he had wanted to know how Mrs. Delany did her mosaics.

"I thought, sir, that... er ... it would look well in print.”

The King laughed; he walked over to Mrs. Delany. "That's fair," he said. "Very fair and honest.”

He stood at some distance looking at Fanny; every now and then laughing and saying "Yes, very fair and honest.”

The Queen arrived to see dear Mrs. Delany and to talk to her about the treatment the Princess Elizabeth was having. She was delighted, too, to see the famous Miss Burney, and was gracious when Fanny was presented. Fanny was invited to sit beside her and the King came and joined them. He told the Queen that Miss Burney had had her book printed because she thought it would look well in print. And he laughed again.

They talked of literature for Fanny's benefit and behaved with such courtesy towards her that she was charmed. As she began to grow used to the King's unusual ways of speaking, it was easier for her to understand and to know when the 'ehs' and 'whats' demanded an answer.

"Shakespeare," said the King. "Was there ever such stuff as a great part of Shakespeare? Only one must not say so. But what do you think, eh? What? Is it not sad stuff, eh? What?”

Poor Fanny. How could one writer deny the greatest of her kind. And yet how could she argue with the King. This unfortunately was one of the questions which demanded an answer.

"Oh yes, sir," she said, 'though mixed with such excellencies that...”

The King burst into laughter. He found Fanny very amusing.

"Of course it is not to be said. But it's true, eh? Only it's Shakespeare and nobody dare abuse him.

Some of those characters of his. Poof. Stuff. Sad stuff. But one would be stoned for saying so.”

Everyone seemed to be very happy and Fanny found the company of the royal pair not nearly so alarming as she had feared it might be. The Queen was so gracious and determined to be kind; and the King clearly wanted to be pleasant.

When the royal pair had left Mrs. Delany said that it was obvious to her that they had taken a liking to Fanny. This was confirmed on further visits to the little drawing room. Shortly afterwards Fanny was offered a post in the Queen's household as second keeper of the robes, with which she would receive a drawing room in the Queen's Lodge at Windsor with a bedroom opening from it, a footman of her own, together with an allowance of two hundred pounds a year.