Adelaide passed an uneasy morning and finally the Duke arrived in a special carriage. From this was taken a stretcher on which lay the young man whom William had sent to greet her at Grillon’s Hotel on her arrival in England.

‘It’s George,’ shouted William. ‘He’s had an accident.’ Then he was giving orders. ‘Lift it carefully. He’s broken his leg. Now! Got it? Be careful not to jolt it.’

Adelaide said: ‘I should put him on the bed … our bed. It will be more comfortable.’

So Major George FitzClarence was laid on the bed which had been made for the King of Prussia. Pale and shaken he looked apologetically at Adelaide.

‘I was driving my carriage,’ he said, ‘when the horse took fright and bolted.’

‘You will soon be well,’ she told him. ‘You will stay here and I will nurse you.’

‘You! That’s impossible.’

‘What do you mean? Do I understand? Not possible? My mother has been ill often. I always nurse her.’

She was happy suddenly. Now she would show William that she intended to be not only a good wife but also a mother to his family. It was true the young man on the bed was about her own age, but that did not matter.

‘You will nurse him?’ said William.

‘Why are you surprised? I am a good nurse. You will see.’

And they did see.

‘It’s a strange way to spend a honeymoon,’ said William.

‘But it is not such a bad way,’ she told him.

He was beginning to be quite fond of her.

It was a strange honeymoon. Everyone was saying how typical it was of the Duke of Clarence to take his son by Dorothy Jordan to his wife so that she might spend her honeymoon nursing him.

‘Let them talk,’ said Adelaide. ‘It is, after all, our affair.’

The Queen thought it a ridiculous situation and quite undignified. She would have protested but she felt too ill. Now that all her sons were married she had done all she could and it was up to them. This acceptance seemed to have its effect on her. It was as though she were gradually relinquishing her hold on life.

She sent for Adelaide meaning to remonstrate with her but when her daughter-in-law arrived she was feeling so ill that she merely commanded her to sit by her bed and tell her how she was liking England.

‘I did hear young George FitzClarence is with you.’

Adelaide told her in fluent German how he had had his accident and that he was progressing. The Duke had been very anxious about him and she was not surprised, for George was a son of whom anyone would be proud.

‘And you are content to spend your honeymoon nursing him?’

‘I am content,’ said Adelaide.

‘You are a strange young woman,’ the Queen told her bluntly.

‘Do you find me so?’

‘I find you … unusual, shall we say,’ said the Queen; and she was silent, thinking back to the days when she had arrived in England. Would she have been prepared to nurse a son her husband had had by another woman? She was not sure. But she had come to the conclusion that there was a strength of purpose about this quiet young woman which was admirable.

She said suddenly: ‘I think you may do a great deal for William.’

Adelaide waited but the Queen said no more.

She had fallen into a doze and lay so still that Adelaide wondered whether she should leave. She rose quietly but the Queen opened her eyes and said: ‘Don’t go. Sit there. You comfort me.’

So she sat while Charlotte dozed and, half asleep, thought of the past and all its trials and the anxieties her children had brought to her and the King.

A Queen’s life could be a hard one. Would she have been happier if she had stayed at home in Mecklenburg-Strelitz and remained unmarried? Would this young woman have been happier if she had not married?

But I became Queen Charlotte, she thought. Perhaps in time she will become Queen Adelaide. And if she has a child that child could rule England.

What are we – any of us – but links in the chain?

At the end of three weeks George FitzClarence and Adelaide had become the best of friends and George could not say enough in praise of his stepmother. William would sit listening while they talked together in German – and at Adelaide’s attempts at English – with a smile about his lips. His marriage was going to be a success; he was sure of it. He had forgotten Miss Wykeham already; she would never have nursed young George as Adelaide had done.

But they could not stay in England, for in spite of the extra money his marriage had brought him, his creditors were pressing and a stay abroad was a necessity. Besides, it had been arranged that he and Adelaide should join the Cambridges in Hanover, where young Adolphus was acting as Governor-General.

Adelaide did not look forward to another sea crossing but she did not protest and as the time drew near for their departure she went to see the Queen at Kew to say goodbye to her.

She felt melancholy as the carriage carried her through Hammersmith; and the reason was that she was going to say her last farewells to her mother-in-law. It was a strange feeling, for the Queen had shown her very little warmth and yet there had been something between them – a certain rapport which Adelaide instinctively knew Charlotte felt with very few.

If we were together for a long time we might become friends, thought Adelaide.

When she arrived at Kew the Queen received her in her bedroom where she was resting. Adelaide found Charlotte lying in bed, and she knelt and kissed her hand.

‘Sit down, my child,’ said Charlotte gruffly. ‘So you are shortly leaving for Hanover. I am sorry … but it is best. William is surrounded by his family here. It is better for you to be away. There you will get to know him.’ She smiled crookedly. ‘You will find him a little … ridiculous. But perhaps you will teach him …’

Adelaide did not answer.

‘It is sad,’ went on the Queen. ‘Sad … for princesses. I remember …’

But she did not say what she remembered.

Adelaide believed that she would never forget these moments – the dark bedroom, the curtains drawn to shut out the sun which worried the Queen, the faint musty smell of illness – and she thought: This is the last time I shall see the Queen.

‘You nursed that boy,’ said the Queen suddenly.

Adelaide replied: ‘The Duke was anxious for him. He is, after all, his son. He could not be turned away. I think the Duke is pleased that we have become friends.’

‘Ten children,’ said the Queen. ‘An actress’s bastards! The scandal! It was all scandals.’

‘Perhaps there will be no more scandals. I shall do my best to see that there are none.’

The Queen said: ‘My heart-felt wishes go with you. But William was always ridiculous.’

They were silent for some time during which the Queen seemed to have forgotten her visitor.

‘I tire you,’ said Adelaide at length. ‘I but came to say goodbye before we leave. I will go now.’

The Queen nodded without opening her eyes and Adelaide kissed her hand and tiptoed from the room.

At the door she took one look round the room and her eyes rested on that little shrunken figure on the bed.

I shall never see her again, thought Adelaide, once more, as she shut the door quietly behind her.

She stood outside the door. How quiet it was! She believed that Death was already in that room, waiting to come forward and say: Follow me.

An irresistible impulse came to her to take one more farewell of the Queen; she opened the door quietly and stood on the threshold.

Queen Charlotte opened her eyes and they looked at each other.

‘You … came back,’ said the Queen.

‘To say goodbye … again.’

‘A last goodbye,’ said the Queen.

Adelaide felt tears on her cheeks.

‘Come here,’ said the Queen; and she went to the bed and stood there.

‘My dear child,’ said Charlotte, ‘God bless you.’

‘God bless Your Majesty,’ whispered Adelaide.

‘Go now, child,’ said Charlotte. ‘I shall remember that you came back. I shall remember that you wept for me.’

Adelaide went out to her carriage, bewildered and yet exhilarated, wondering what had happened between her and the unloving and unloved Queen of England.

The next day Adelaide and William embarked on the Royal Sovereign but despite the elaborate furnishings of the royal cabins on board it was an uncomfortable crossing.

The Duke had no desire to go to Hanover. He had travelled the world, he told Adelaide, when he was a young man and was sent to sea and he had had enough of travelling. He wanted now to settle in England.

‘That’s my home,’ he said, ‘and that’s where my family is.’

He referred constantly to the FitzClarences.

Adelaide tried to tell him of her last meeting with the Queen but he did not listen. William liked to talk rather than listen.

‘My mother?’ he said. ‘Oh, I fear she is a disagreeable old woman. She led the King a nice dance before he was put away.’

So it was useless to try to explain to him. She realized that there would always be things which it was impossible to discuss.

‘And what is it going to be like in Hanover?’ he demanded. ‘Cambridge is Governor-General and you will have to take second place to his Augusta because we shall have no official position there. How shall you like that, eh? And Adolphus is nine years younger than I.’

‘It will be of no importance,’ said Adelaide.

At which he laughed.

‘You know, you are the most easy-going woman I ever ran across.’

That seemed to amuse him.

‘I trust,’ she said timidly, ‘that this does not offend.’