Queen in waiting

The King's Departure

Mary Bellenden was leaning out of the window trying to see the last of a handsome man who had crossed the courtyard and was about to disappear through a door which led to the Prince's apartments.

As he waved and was gone, she sighed and turning sharply was aware of two of the maids of honour who had been watching her.

There could not have been two girls less alike than Margaret Meadows and Sophie Howe. Margaret had now folded her arms and was looking extremely disapproving while Sophie was giggling sympathetically.

"Such unbecoming conduct! " muttered Margaret.

"I see nothing unbecoming," retorted Mary.

"Of course you do not. You are accustomed to such manners that you believe them to be acceptable. It's more than I do."

"Really Margaret," protested Sophie. "Tell me what harm can they do by waving to each other from a window?"

"They've made an assignation no doubt."

"There's nothing wrong in making an assignation," pointed out Sophie. "Of course it depends on what happens when they keep it." She began to laugh so hilariously that, thought Margaret, she could only be remembering her own indiscretions.

"Be silent both of you," commanded Mary, "I won't have you say such things about John."

"So it's John?" cried Sophie.

"Yes, it's John and he is an honourable gentleman and I don't want either of you to start a gossip about him. Do you understand?"

"Oh, we understand, we understand?" cried Sophie. "We understand our Mary is at last in love."

"Don't shout so," reprimanded Margaret. "I never saw such behaviour. And you, Sophie Howe, are the worst of the lot. As for you, Mary Bellenden, you should be careful. These men will talk of love until they get what they want and then ..."

"'Tis true, Mary," agreed Sophie. "Oh, how they talk of love! And afterwards they laugh and tell their friends all about the submissive lady while they advise them to try their luck."

"You don't understand ... either of you. You're too much of a prude, Margaret, and Sophie's too much of a flirt."

"And our dear Mary is ... just as she should be?" laughed Sophie.

"I'm ... serious."

"But is he?" laughed Sophie. "I could tell you a few things. In fact if you want to know anything about the most fascinating subject in the world come to Sophie."

"And what would that be?" demanded Margaret.

"Men!" laughed Sophie.

"If you know anything about them, Sophie Howe, it's all you do know," retorted Margaret.

"There's no need to know anything else, I do assure you, Margaret."

Mary listened to them dreamily. Colonel John Campbell was the handsomest man in the Prince's bedchamber; one day they would marry but for the present they must be content to wait for each other. Poor John had little money; and she, as one of the greatest beauties of the court, was expected to make a brilliant match. In fact everyone knew that the Prince had his eye on her. Not, thought Mary scornfully, that that will do him much good. She was not going to take the easy road to honours by becoming a Prince's—and later perhaps a King's—mistress.

In fact, thought Mary, she would be a fool to take any notice of the Prince's insinuations. He was not really very interested in any woman as a woman; his great desire was to prove his manhood and this he thought he could best do by implying that he was the insatiable lover.

How trivial, how foolish these vanities seemed when compared with the love she and John Campbell had for each other.

One day, John, she was thinking, we'll be married. Perhaps secretly at first ... but shall we care about that? John had told her about the great love of his hero the Duke of Marlborough for his Duchess; they had been married secretly in the days before he had become famous; and whatever might be said of the great Duke or his termagant of a Duchess, none doubted their affection for each other. Their love had endured through all their fame and their misfortunes.

"It shall be so with us," John had said.

He would be as great a soldier as Marlborough, she had replied, but she trusted she would never be such a quarrelsome woman as the Duchess.

She would never be anything but the most charming, the most beautiful woman in the world, he told her.

"You're one who has made up his mind," she had retorted, for the rival charms of herself and Molly Lepel were continuously sung in the court and there were continual arguments as to which of the two was the more beautiful.

"Be careful of the Prince," John had fearfully said; and she had laughingly assured him he had no need to warn her.

Sophie Howe was saying: "I told the man I could not pay him yet. I told him it should be payment enough for him to serve a maid of honour."

"If he complains to the Princess you will be reprimanded I can tell you."

"Oh Margaret, how tiresome good people can be! I tell you I owe such a lot that I dare not try to calculate how much. In fact when a bill is sent to me I hide it ... quickly."

"Which is just what I should expect of you. Don't forget you were one of the chief offenders in church and it's due to you that the maids have to be boarded up. You will be getting a bad reputation, Sophie Howe. I'm surprised that Her Highness keeps you in her service."

"She can hardly dismiss the granddaughter of Grandpapa Prince Rupert ... even though there is a slight blot on the family escutcheon."

"You are a frivolous creature and you'll come to a bad end one day."

"Well I shall have lots of fun on the way there, you can be sure. Oh how I wish I were rich! How I wish I had a nice kind friend who would pay all my bills so that I need not be bothered to hide them."

"That's what we should all like," said Mary, coming out of her day dream. "When I think of all I owe, I shudder."

"Goot day to you, ladies!" The door had been opened and the Prince of Wales, accompanied by the Duke of Argyll, with his brother Lord Islay, and a few of his gentlemen came into the room.

The three girls immediately curtsied and the Prince smiled benignly on them all, but his eyes rested on Mary Bellenden.

"And very pretty you look," he commented.

"Your Royal Highness is gracious," answered Margaret Meadows.

"Always ready to be gracious to pretty young ladies."

His eyes were almost pleading but Mary refused to look at him.

He rocked on his heels and put his hands into his pockets. He brought out some coins which he jingled in his hands.

"Alvays ready to be gracious," he went on; and this time Mary could not avoid his eye. "Very ready," he added.

She bowed her head.

"Your Highness would wish us to acquaint the Princess of your presence?" she asked boldly.

"The Princess, yes. Ve are come to accompany her to the theatre. You like the theatre?"

"Very much. Your Highness."

"It is goot."

Little eyes, alight with desire, implied that, like John Campbell, he thought Mary Bellenden the prettiest girl at Court; and it was fitting, surely, that the Prince should choose the prettiest to be his mistress.

"We must not detain Your Highnesses," said Mary.

And she hurried from the ante chamber to the Princess's apartment.

Caroline enjoyed riding through the streets to Drury Lane. Since the rebellion she had become so popular—more so, she believed, than her husband; and she was secretly pleased that this should be so.

When the Prince became the King she would be Queen and she had no intention of being a background figure, she meant to choose the ministers who would serve them; and she was determined that everyone should realize the importance of the Queen, for, she often wondered, when George Augustus betrayed some foolish vanity, what would become of royalty if she did not take the lead. George Augustus was a fool; he must be to grow angry when he remembered how short he was, and keep a mistress like Henrietta Howard for whom he had no great fancy, merely because he wanted it to be known that he had a mistress. George Augustus was a fool; but his wife was a wise woman.

Therefore it was a pleasure to know that she was becoming known to these people and that they liked what they heard.

She was not only wiser than the Prince but than the King also, for George I cared nothing for his unpopularity which showed he was a fool. He clearly betrayed his preference for Hanover—and that was almost as great an offence in the eyes of the English as his refusal to speak their language. The Prince, though not unpopular like the King, missed opportunities—and the scribblers saw through him and did not hesitate to make their vitriolic pen portraits of him.

Caroline learned that the English enjoyed treating their rulers with derision, and decided she would give them no opportunity to treat her so if she could help it.

"Long live the Princess! Long live the Prince! "

She gazed at him uneasily. Did he notice that the cheers for the Princess were a little more prolonged than those for the Prince? She hoped not, or he would be angry with her. How well she was beginning to know this little husband of hers! That was all to the good. The more she understood, the easier it would be to handle him.

"They like us veil," he murmured; and he bowed graciously, his hand on his heart, to a young woman in the crowd.

"It gives me pleasure," said Caroline, "to see how you they like more than your father."

"Ah, they hate that old devil. And I love them for it."

George Augustus laughed happily and those watching said that the Prince and Princess were on the best possible terms, and they gave an extra cheer for the Princess, reminding each other how good she had been during the winter, which had been a hard one.

There was a special cheer from the boatmen who earned their living by ferrying along the river. They had much to be grateful for to the Princess of Wales who had helped them when they were starving.

They would remember the season just passed as that terrible winter when the Thames had been frozen over, when it had been possible to drive a horse and cart from bank to bank and roast an ox on the ice.

That would in future be known as The Winter of the Great Freeze and the Great Hardship, when it had not been possible to ply a waterman's trade. The Princess had concerned herself with their sufferings, had raised money for them. So there was many a poor waterman who would give a cheer for the good Princess every time her carriage rolled by.

There were others who remembered how she had pleaded for leniency towards those poor devils who had been caught up in the '15 rebellion. Not that her pleading had had much effect on sour old George. He didn't seem to want his English crown but he was pitiless enough with those who had tried to deprive him of it. They had seen the executions of Lord Derwentwater and Lord Kenmure. They had heard how the Countess of Nithsdale had implored the King for leniency towards her husband and of George's brutal rejection of that distracted lady.

They were still talking of Lord Nithsdale's miraculous escape from the Tower which was romantic and exciting enough to win the sympathy of even the staunchest Hanoverian. Nithsdale had been in the Tower, doomed to die, and his wife was unable to move the King with her entreaties. She was not only a brave woman but a determined one; she had taken a companion with her to the Tower, and while she had worn two cloaks her companion had worn two gowns; and in the condemned prisoner's cell they had hastily dressed Lord Nithsdale in the extra gown and cloak, had painted his face, drawn the hood over his head, and Lady Nithsdale and her husband had left the prison while the companion had remained behind.

Such a romantic story caught the imagination of all. The Nithsdales escaped to the Continent; even George realized that he could not punish the lady who had helped in the deception, for the mood of the people was not strong enough in his favour; and even though James had retreated to France that did not mean that the people loved George.

But while the Prince and Princess rode through the streets on their way to Drury Lane it was remembered that the Princess had pleaded with the King for leniency towards the prisoners of the '15, among them Lord Nithsdale; so the Princess's name was linked with the nobleman's escape, and the people liked her for it.

As for the Prince, he was not unpleasant. And his father hated him, which was in his favour.

So, decided the crowd, a special cheer for the Prince and Princess of Wales.

To Caroline the streets of London were always an exhilarating spectacle. The noise and colour were so different from anything she had known before coming to London. The shouting of the street vendors who pushed their way between the carriages of the great and the occasional Sedan chair, never failed to fascinate her. She could only be amused when some grinning pieman would catch her eye and shout: "Good hot pies. They warm the cockles of your heart." Her smile would be gracious, appreciating the joke; and the pieman would add his cheers to the rest. She had learned the art of being affable and dignified at the same time; something which neither the Prince nor King could achieve.

They had arrived at the theatre—Caroline in her tight-waisted dress, the bodice of which was cut low enough to give a liberal view of the ''finest bosom in the vorld", her skirt a mass of flounces, jewels at her throat, on her arms and fingers; hair dressed in her favourite style with a curl over her shoulder—not high because that would have added inches and called attention to the fact that she was taller than the Prince. Her heels were low for the same reason.

Drury Lane! And the crowds closing in to have a closer look at the Prince and Princess.

"Who's King and who's Pretender?" cried a voice in the crowd.

"Silence! Three cheers for our Princess."

Still smiling Caroline threw a quick and uneasy glance at George Augustus. He had not noticed the omission, as smilingly he battled his way through the crowd which closed about him.

"Good pipple, I am happy to be here. You are the best pipple in the vorld."

Such blatant flattery, thought Caroline, yet spoken with a beaming sincerity which made it acceptable.

"Long live James II"

"Long live King George."

"Damn King George. Go back to Hanover."

There was loud and ribald laughter. One did not take too much notice of the shouts of an excited crowd.

The Prince and Princess were conducted to their box. They seated themselves in full view and Caroline bowed and smiled as she was greeted from the pit. The Prince beside her beamed.

"They love us, I think," he whispered.

The two guards had placed themselves in the shadows at the back of the box; and now that the Prince and Princess were in their places the curtain could go up.

Caroline's eyes were on the stage. The play was interesting; it was called The Wonder, A Woman Who Keeps a Secret; and it had been dedicated to the Prince, therefore there was a special reason for their presence. She was listening for some allusion to the Prince, perhaps some ridicule, for there was nothing that pleased them so much. The Prince was contented, laughing with the audience, letting them know how much he liked to be among them.

If we had had to go back to Hanover we should have been regretful for the rest of our lives, thought Caroline. Thank God that's over. They've accepted us. James will never make another attempt. He has had his chance and failed. We're safe.

Echoes from the crowd came back to her mind. "Who's the King and who's the Pretender?" That was nothing—merely a quotation from verses which had caught the people's fancy. "Long Live James III I " Oh, these people lived for excitement. One only had to ride through a London crowd to know that. They wanted to laugh and be amused; and one of the duties of royalty was to provide that amusement. They liked to think there was a king across the water; they liked the thought of conflict. But they did not want war; and because they were essentially lazy, they did not greatly care which king was on the throne ... as long as they had their chance to make merry.

We are safe, safe! thought Caroline. This is our home for the rest of our lives. Soon Fritzchen must join us. She had been delighted when little Caroline had arrived in England but she longed for Fritzchen. After all he was her only son; he was their heir—after his father he would be King of England, yet because his sour old grandfather decreed that he should stay in Hanover, there he remained.

Why? she wanted to know. What use to keep him there? How could a boy of nine rule over even a place like Hanover? A figure-head? What nonsense! George I of England was still the Elector of Hanover; ruling over the Electorate was his business; and only the most insensitive of men would separate a boy of nine from his mother.

But then George I was insensitive. I could hate that man, thought Caroline.

But she must not show it, of course. She must still play the gentle game; she must still play the meek woman.

It would not always be so. One day...

One should not wish for another human being's death, of course. But she was ready now to be Queen of England.

George I was no longer young and when he died ... She smiled at the man beside her. He would be the next King of England and when he was she would be Queen. Queen Caroline, the real power in the land!

She was awaiting her time.

It happened without warning. First the loud report; then it was as though in the second or so of silence which followed that the whole of the theatre had become petrified. Silence ... not a sound. George Augustus beside her, his face ashen beneath his towering wig. The actors and actresses on the stage stood as though grouped in a tableau. Then the silence was broken when someone in the pit started to scream.

"Get him! " shouted a voice. "He's shot the Prince."

The cry was taken up all over the theatre.

Then Caroline was aware of the dead man in their box, and she knew that the bullet which had been intended for George Augustus had, by a miracle, missed him and buried itself in the body of one of the guards who were standing at the back of the box.

George Augustus was about to rise, but Caroline put out a hand and gripped his.

What was the mood of those people down there? Riots could be ignited by such an action as had just taken place. She and the Prince were trapped here in a theatre, easy prey for their enemies. One false mood and that could be the end pf all hope, perhaps the end of life.

The manager had come into the box.

"Your Highnesses " He stopped and stared in horror at the man on the floor.

"The Prince is safe," said Caroline.

"Your Highnesses "

"Let the man be taken away Get him to a doctor "

"He is dead, Your Highness."

"Then take him away."

"And Your Highnesses?"

"We will remain here. Let the play go on."

The manager was astounded. The Prince was looking at his wife. Even at such a time he resented her taking charge.

"Perhaps if you speak to the people they would listen," she said. "You could tell them that a man has been killed."

She looked down at the scene below. There was great confusion. The tableau on the stage had sprung to animation; the actors were climbing down into the pit; there were shouts and screams as people began rushing for the doors.

"There'll be a riot," said the manager.

The Prince stood up in his box.

"Good pipple," he shouted, "the trouble is over. A madman tried to shoot me. He has not done so . . . you see. We haf come here to see the play."

He was at his best, for no one had ever been able to call him a coward, and the thought that he had narrowly escaped death even stimulated him. This was what he always wanted to be: the centre of the scene, the hero of the occasion.

He stood there, waiting for silence. It came and all eyes were now on the royal box.

"The murderer is caught," he said. "And now there is the play...."

A man was being hustled out of the theatre and attention was divided between the scuffle and the Prince in the box.

"It is a goot play, eh, my frients?"

There was a short silence during which Caroline felt anything might have happened.

Then the people below began to take their seats. The actors climbed back on to the stage and the play continued.

The King walked in the gardens of Hampton Court discussing an exciting project. His ministers, Townsend, Walpole and Stanhope had never seen him so animated and Walpole was thinking that if the people of England could see him now and know the cause of his pleasure he would be less popular than ever.

"Now that all is orderly there is no need for me to be here. I can take a little respite. After all I have Hanover to consider. I must pay my brother a visit and see how he is faring."

Walpole and Townsend exchanged glances. If he went the affairs of the nation would be left in their hands, and what could please them better than that? In any case George had never meddled extensively. He was not sufficiently interested in his realm to want to govern it.

"I can see no reason why Your Majesty should not pay a visit to Hanover," said Walpole.

"And does Your Majesty intend that the Prince and Princess shall accompany you?"

George was thoughtful.

"The Prince should surely remain in England as Regent," suggested Stanhope.

"Regent!" cried the King. "Never shall this be. You know the Prince. He will be wearing the crown by the time I return."

The ministers were thoughtful. "It is the usual procedure. Your Majesty. The Prince is of age "

"I care not. He shall not be Regent. The Prince is a fool."

"Then what does Your Majesty suggest?"

"I suggest that he is not Regent. That he has no power to govern."

"The people would think it strange."

"The people!" cried the King. "Why one of them tried to shoot him the other night."

"Proved to be a madman. Your Majesty. And the Prince's action in the theatre has made him very popular."

"What action?" growled the King.

"He was very calm; and they are saying that his behaviour— and that of the Princess—prevented a riot. He is very popular at the moment. And the Princess has been ever since she came."

"She is cleverer than he is. He is a fool; she is a she-devil."

The ministers looked uncomfortable; and the King for once was roused from his usual indifference.

"Oh yes, she must be watched. She is the clever one."

Walpole was inclined to agree. He would either have to be the friend or the enemy of the Princess of Wales if she became powerful. She would not, of course, while the King lived; but wise politicians planned ahead.

Already she had shown a desire to meddle in politics, and had hinted that she would like the post of Secretary of the Treasury for the husband of Mrs. Clayton, one of the women of her household for whom she had a great regard. Walpole had no intention of allowing her to have the post for her friend; in the first instance she must not be allowed to acquire the power which friends in high places would give her; for the second he wanted the post for his brother Horatio.

"The Princess is perhaps ambitious," suggested Walpole, "and too ambitious to be content with merely social activities. It may be that she will attempt..."

He stopped; Stanhope was giving him a warning look but he knew very well what he wanted to imply.

"Attempt what?" asked the King.

"Attempt to make a circle ... a little court ... apart from Your Majesty's. It is not the first time it has been done."

Angry lights shot up in the King's eyes. "She would not dare."

"Not openly perhaps, Your Majesty. But it would not be good to have a rival Court. The friendship with Argyll, for instance "

"Dismiss Argyll."

There was silence. The King could scarcely order the Prince to part with a member of his own household. After all the Prince was adult, and heir to the throne; he had some say in the management of his own affairs.

"Dismiss Argyll," repeated the King. "I will send an order to the Prince at once. Well, why are you silent?"

Walpole said: "Your Majesty, I doubt the Prince will agree."

"He will agree or face my displeasure."

A quarrel in the royal family—an open one this time. What effect would that have? The King's ministers considered the effect on themselves. Townsend was telling himself that the King would not live for ever; and when the new King came to the throne he would be more inclined to favour those who had been with him before he took the crown rather than those who hurried to stand in line when he did. If this was going to be a quarrel between King and Prince, perhaps the far-seeing man would take his stand beside the Prince.

Stanhope and Townsend were silent and Walpole said: "Your Majesty will know how to deal with the Prince, and when Your Majesty is in Hanover..."

"I'll not make him Regent. The care of the realm will be left in the hands of my ministers."

Not an unsatisfactory arrangement, thought Walpole. It was in the hands of his ministers now, for George's heart was in Hanover and he did not seem to care much how this country was governed—as long as the Prince had no hand in it.

Family quarrels were bad for a royal family, but very often offered advantages to ministers.

When Caroline heard that the King was going to Hanover she forgot her usual discretion. He would see little Fritzchen; and surely he would be made to understand how a mother felt about her only son.

She asked for an audience with the King which was grudgingly granted. George thought she should have kept away particularly in view of all the bother about Argyll.

When she came to him he dismissed his attendants and looked at her suspiciously. Oh yes, he thought, George Augustus may be a fool but this one isn't.

He waited in sullen silence for her to speak.

"Your Majesty is going to Hanover and will see your grandson. Will you please tell him how I miss him here, how I long to see him and hope that you will soon allow him to join his father, mother and the girls."

"Unsettling," said the King shaking his head.

"But he will come to England ... in time."

"In time. Not yet."

"But he will be the heir to the throne "

George scowled. He did not like any reference to his death; one of the reasons for his great dislike of his son was because he was continually referred to as the next King, a title he could only take on his father's death.

"He has his duties in Hanover."

The mother took possession of the diplomatist, and Caroline cried out: "What duties can a little boy of nine have? It is cruel to keep him from his mother."

"You're hysterical."

"I am not." It was something of which she had never been accused; and it was undeserved. She was a natural mother crying out against an unnatural separation. "Like any mother I want my son."

"You are a Princess and know that Frederick has his duties."

"And how do you think he is growing up there ... without his family?"

"He has his guardians ... and his duties."

"You are hard."

George looked bored.

"You must listen to me."

He stared over her head. "There's nothing more to be said."

The colour in her cheeks hid the slight imperfections made by the smallpox; her auburn hair was simply dressed with a curl hanging on her shoulder. She was an attractive woman, with her magnificent bust accentuated by her small waist and her ample hips. She had a figure which George admired. In fact, had she not been his daughter-in-law ... But she was and there was no sense in involving himself. Not that she would allow herself to be involved.

All women are the same in the dark, thought George with a yawn.

"There is a great deal to be said," she replied. "I want my son to join his family. After all, he is my son."

"He's my grandson. He has his duties."

"I beg of you ..."

"You waste your time."

"Have you no heart ... no feelings?"

"No."

"Can't you understand how a parent feels towards a child...."

He yawned again, this time significantly. He understood very well how he felt towards his son. He despised the fellow; in fact there were times when if he were a more violent man he might have hated him.

"Frederick remains in Hanover," he said.

"I see it is no use appealing to you," she retorted; and for once her calm deserted her. She could not help it. She thought of the birth of Fritzchen and how happy she had been; what plans she had made for his future; and how, even when this monster had given the order that he was to remain in Hanover, she had not really believed he would stay there for more than a few months.

"He must learn to rule," said George.

"As you do?" she cried. "You do not rule! Your German friends rule ... Bernstorff, Bothmer and Robethon, helped by Townsend, Walpole and Stanhope. These are the men who rule England ... and you are content to let them do so. Yet Fritzchen with such an example before him must stay in Hanover to learn to rule. What do you think he is doing in Hanover ... learning to rule like his grandfather does?"

The King was astonished; so was Caroline.

In moments of stress, all one's restraint fell away.

"You get too excited," said the King.

"Your Majesty's pardon."

The King nodded his head and Caroline was dismissed.

She went slowly to her own apartments. What a fool I was! she thought. He'll hate me now. I've shown my true feelings.

There was no point in pretending to be a docile wife and daughter-in-law now she had shown her true feelings. She would come out in the open and if she could not have her son, at least she would have her separate court; she and George Augustus would have their own friends, men of influence; so there would be the court of the Prince of Wales as well as the King's. And the Prince of Wales's Court would be that to which all men of intellect would want to belong.

She would send for Leibniz. But the King would not allow him to come. Still, she would attempt to get him over. Perhaps if the King refused to let her have Fritzchen he would give her her old friend as a consolation. As if George would care about consolation!

Still, it was open warfare from now on.

George was thinking of her, which would have surprised her: "Damn fine woman. A pity she's that fool's wife. He can't appreciate her. If she wasn't ... Oh, well, all women are alike in the dark. She's a she-devil too. We'll have to watch her. George Augustus is nothing but a fool—but not that one.

The whole Court was interested in the battle for Argyll.

"He shall be dismissed from the Prince's household," said the King.

"I only shall decide whom I keep in my household," said the Prince.

Caroline was beside her husband in this. "We will stand firm," she told him. "He must be shown that we demand some consideration."

Her petition that Leibniz be allowed to come to England was met by a blank refusal from the King.

"We don't want these intellectual men here. There are enough of them in England already. Besides he has work to do there."

Caroline was now firmly ranged against the King and this brought her closer to her husband. To quarrel with his father had always been a favourite pleasure of the Prince's and in the past it had been Caroline who restrained him. It was different now. She could not forgive George for separating her from Fritzchen in the first place and refusing Leibniz permission to come to England in the second.

"He cannot force you to dismiss Argyll," said Caroline. "All you have to do is stand firm. You have friends."

"Do you think they'll stand with us against the King?"

Caroline nodded.

"Who?"

"Mr. Prime Minister."

"Townsend! "

"He is playing for safety. He thinks of the time George II is on the throne."

Contemplating such a time always gave George Augustus the greatest pleasure.

"Ah, he is von clever man, this Townsend."

"And ve vill be clever too."

"I think I am, my tear."

She smiled at him. It would always be so. She must learn to accept the fact that she was the one who made the decisions and he was the one who thought they were his.

"Yes, of course you are. I think the King is very foolish. He does not govern. He dreams of Hanover ven he has this great country. He is fou."

"Let him be, Caroline. Let him be. All the better for me the more fou he is, eh?"

"All the better," she agreed. "So we'll keep Argyll, just to show him that if he keeps our son from us at least we can choose our own servants."

"I vill this show him," cried the Prince.

George felt more at ease discussing this family disagreement with his German ministers than his English ones. He would never be sure of the English; and he fancied his Prime Minister while not exactly supporting the Prince was trying hard not to offend him. There were three whom he could trust: Bernstorff, Bothmer and Robethon. His own countrymen on whose loyalty he could rely.

Bernstorff had worked for his father when he was in the employ of the Duke of Celle and it was largely due to him that George's marriage with Sophia Dorothea had come about. True, that marriage had been disastrous and George now wished it had never taken place, but at the time it had been the wish of George's father that it should, and it had been a most advantageous match ... financially. That Sophia Dorothea was a harlot whom he had been forced to put away was no fault of Bernstorff's. And when the Duke of Celle had died, after keeping an eye on his affairs for the benefit of Hanover, of course, it had seemed natural that Bernstorff should openly serve the House of Hanover which had been his real master for so many years. Bernstorff's fortunes were bound up in those of George I; therefore he could be trusted.

Then there was Count Hans Caspar von Bothmer; he had been very useful as George's ambassador at St. James's before his accession and it was due to his efficiency and diplomacy that George's arrival in England had come about so peacefully. Now he was able to advise his master on foreign affairs.

Jean de Robethon was a quiet man. A Huguenot who had found refuge in the German court, he was ready to serve efficiently behind the scenes. He never sought the limelight, but he was aware of what an important part he played—and so was George.

To these three the King now turned in this quarrel with his son, for as he said he did not trust the English. They were out for gain. By God, he thought, I never knew such men for looking after their own pockets. He didn't trust them; while they bowed to him and swore allegiance they were weighing up how much longer he was likely to live and wondering how they could curry favour with the man who would be George II.

So now the King called his three German friends and advisers to his private chamber and there they were closeted to discuss the imminent journey to Hanover and the recalcitrance of the Prince of Wales.

"If he thinks he is going to play King while I'm away he's mistaken," said George.

"Depend upon it," replied Bernstorff, "he will make full use of his opportunities."

"He is a fool," said the King.

"The Princess is no fool," added Robethon.

"That's true enough. But they shall have no power."

"It will be necessary to take this before the Parliament," Bothmer suggested.

"Oh these English and their parliaments! " cried George.

"Of which Your Majesty is head," Bernstorff reminded him.

"We must act carefully," cautioned Robethon. "And one of us should remain behind to watch what is happening in Your Majesty's absence."

The King looked at his three friends; he saw the apprehension in their eyes for they were as homesick as he was and the longing to see Hanover again was great.

"It's true," he said.

Bernstorff he must have with him; Robethon was too useful a man to leave behind. As for Bothmer, he had been the ambassador at St. James's and was the diplomat who understood the ways of the English far better than the others. There could be no doubt who should be the one to remain and act as spy on the Prince of Wales.

They all knew it.

Bothmer said: "I should be the one to remain."

George nodded. That was all; but it was a recognition of a good servant. He was not a man to forget a friend any more than he would forgive an enemy—he could be as loyal as he was vindictive.

It was agreed then that Bothmer would remain.

"Your Majesty must insist on the dismissal of Argyll," said Bernstorff, for his ministers always respected the King's custom of not wasting time on a matter which had already been settled.

"It seems it is not so easy," replied George.

"There is a way," put in Robethon.

They were all looking at the clever one who worked in the shadows.

"Make a condition," said Robethon. "If the Prince does not please you in this matter of Argyll you recall your brother, the Duke of Osnabruck, to act as Regent."

George, taken aback, stared at his secretary and the other two caught their breath. They turned to the King to see his reception of the news.

"You think these English would allow that?"

"They will not have to. The Prince will give way to your wishes over Argyll."

"But to bring my brother here! " George was thinking of his youth when he, the eldest of a family of brothers was hated by them all because they were jealous of his inheritance. Bring Ernest Augustus to England I Let him act as Regent! He saw trouble there.

"You would never have to bring your brother here. Your Majesty. The very mention of his coming would so alarm the Prince that he would agree to do whatever you asked of him to prevent it. No, it is a threat merely. Let me see that it reaches his ears as a rumour—that is all. If it does not have the desired effect well then, we shall have to allow him to keep Argyll. But it is not good for Your Majesty to be flouted. We have beaten off the Jacobites; we cannot allow the Prince to triumph over the King."

George grunted; then he slapped his thigh.

"All right," he said, "we'll try it. But I'd rather keep Argyll in the Prince's service than have Ernest Augustus here."

"If Your Majesty will leave this little matter to me, I will see that it reaches the Prince's ear ... unofficially."

The Prince stalked up and down his apartment, his eyes bulging with rage while Caroline did her best to calm him.

"And you think ve can be calm! This is an outrage. Bring my uncle to England! Vat vill the people think? That I ... the Prince ... am not capable enough to have the charge of this country?"

"He vill not bring your uncle here."

"But this is vat I hear. I hear they are vorking out their plans. He ... and his Germans! The English vill not haf it. They vill vant their Prince."

"Of course. This is a threat ... it is no more."

"But I tell you this: they are planning it. Bernstorff that man ... I do not trust. I tell you the English vill not have."

"Of course they vill not have. They vill say 'Ve vill haf the Prince. Ve love the Prince. He is von brave man.' They vill remember how you acted in the theatre."

George Augustus's face lightened at the memory. "No." he said, "the people vill not haf."

"But," went on Caroline, "the King may bring his brother here. Ve cannot say vat the King vill do."

George Augustus stamped. "I vill not haf it."

"In time," said Caroline, "ve haf our own court ... our own friends. It is not yet. So far ve cannot be sure. So it is better to..."

George Augustus was staring at her.

"I do not think Argyll is vorth ve should make such trouble for ourselves."

"You mean ... ve give vay! "

"It is sometimes better to ... at the beginning, as you tell me.

He had not told her but he was ready to believe he had and it was the way to make him accept the idea. Caroline saw clearly that they could bring great trouble on themselves by clinging to a principle. What mattered now was that the Prince should have power when his father was away. That would give them the opportunity they needed to build up a court, to seek friends and supporters. It would be George Augustus's rehearsal for that day when he was in fact King of England.

He was hesitating.

She went to him and slipped her arm through his. He liked these little displays of affection between them.

"You vill be von great ruler," she said, "People do not understand this until you have had this chance to show them. This vill give you the chance. Many are already on your side. They do not like the King. He does not like them and makes no pains to hide this. They do not like. But you will be their hero. You will show them how much better ruler you are. Then if the King tries to rule you ... he vill not be able to because the people vill be vith you ... and it is at the last the people who decide who shall be their Kings."

He looked at his wife, but he was not seeing her. He saw himself riding through the streets of London, acclaimed by the people. It was true he was more charming than his father. Who could be less? The people cheered him in the streets. He was almost English already and his father would never be.

"Your father must not bring your uncle here," said Caroline. "Ven the King goes to Hanover you must be Regent."

"It's true," he said, "Nothing must stop that."

"Nothing," she agreed. "Not even Argyll."

"Then ..." he began.

"You must go to your father. You must say you vish to please him. This you must say."

"I hate to do it."

"This I know. But as you say it must be done. If you say to the King: 'I vill give up everything to please you and live in amity with you. I vill as you vish part with the Duke of Argyll, then he can haf no excuse. The Regency vill be yours. It is a small price to pay for the Regency"

He stood still scowling, his heavy jaw thrust out giving him the sullen look which made him resemble his father.

"It vill be goot," she said. "You vill be as King. Who knows he may be away ... months ... a year or more. Then you vill show this pipples how much better king you vill be. Your court vill you have. Nothing vill be the same after that ... even ven he comes back. If he ever does. He is a fool. He loves Hanover better than he love England. Let him have Hanover. Let us make England for us."

The Prince nodded slowly.

"Go to him I vill," he said. "I vill tell him that I vill dismiss Argyll because it is his vish."

"Go now/' she said. "Vaste no time. If he sends for your uncle it vill be too late."

The Prince went at once to the King, and Robethon was delighted with the success of his plan.

In spite of the fact that George Augustus had given way and the Duke of Arg)ll and his brother Lord Islay had been dismissed from their public posts, the King was still determined not to give his son the Regency.

He argued with his Council that the Prince was too irresponsible.

His German advisers were firm in their views that harm could come of giving the Prince too much power; the English ministers declared that the Prince being of age must necessarily take the Regency.

If George had not been so eager to see Hanover he would have abandoned the whole project; but he was so heartily sick of his new country and so fervently longing for his old, that he was determined to make the trip whatever the consequences. Moreover war was imminent—war which would involve Hanover and he wanted to make sure that if Hanover should need the support of England, Hanover should have it.

Marlborough, backed by his forceful wife, always ready to seek a way back to power, suggested that six men should be chosen who would support the Prince in his Regency and have equal power with him. This idea enchanted Marlborough, for he saw himself as one, with four of his friends—possibly members of his family—who would sit in Council with the Prince and in fact govern the realm with the Prince as their mouthpiece. A project after his own heart.

But the days of Marlborough's glory were long behind him. Walpole and Townsend laughed at the Duke's temerity behind his back. The old man must be getting senile to think he could get away with that one! They smiled to think of him hatching it with Sarah—and being so unaware of the decline in their fortunes as to think such a suggestion could be anything but laughable.

Townsend, as Prime Minister, had made his decision. The King did not like him so he already had one foot in the Prince's camp and he had made up his mind that his support was going to the Prince.

He addressed the Council, telling them that there was no precedence for what was suggested. Never before when a Prince of Wales had been of an age to become Regent in the absence of the King had he been asked to agree that others should join with him. The Prince would be working in collaboration with the Parliament and that was according to the laws and customs of England.

"I will not have him Regent," cried George. "This would give him too much power. He would have a position similar to that now held by the Duke of Orleans. This is a different matter. Louis XV is a minor, and the Duke is in all but name King of France. To be Regent at this time in France is to be King. It must not be so here. Regent he shall not be called. My son must not have the power of a Regent. His talents do not justify this."

The members of the Council were silent for a while; and then Townsend said: ''There is another title which was once used in England. It is Guardian and Lieutenant of the Realm. It implies a guardianship without the power of a Regent. Does your Majesty think this could be bestowed on the Prince of Wales? It would give him a title without great power. It would thus preserve his dignity while giving Your Majesty less cause for anxiety."

"I will look into this," said George. "I think it may well be what we need."

"Guardian and Lieutenant of the Realm!" cried George Augustus taking off his wig—a familiar habit when incensed— and first stamping on it and then proceeding to kick it round the apartment. "I am Regent. I vill be Regent."

"This is not bad," soothed Caroline. "Vait till he is gone ... just vait. That is all. Vat we must do is make this pipple love us. This ve can do. Ve vill have our court. It vill be as though ve are the King and Queen. And if anything goes wrong ... it is not your fault. You are only the Guardian of the Realm ... not the Regent. As soon as he has gone ve shall show the pipple how much more pleasant it is ven you are King."

"Guardian of the Realm! " growled George Augustus.

"Vat do the pipple know of that? Vat do they care? It is the pipple's love ve vant, George Augustus. It is friends ... Ve vill have our court. To it vill ve invite those who vill help us most ... and those who are not pleased vith the King. Never mind if they call you Regent or Guardian. This is your chance to show this pipple vat a King you vill be."

His scowl lightened; he picked up his wig and put it on his head. He stood on tiptoe; he looked in the mirror. He was already seeing himself as King.

"This is my chance, Caroline," he said. "That is how I see it. Guardian of the Realm! It is an insult. But vat does the name matter? They vill see, these dear good pipple, vat a King I shall be. They vill long for the day ... just as I do. And it vill come."

She smiled at him; she was growing more fond of him as time passed.

There was excited activity at St. James's, but no one was more excited at the project of leaving England than the King; he was almost jovial—a mood in which many of his subjects had never seen him before.

Mustapha and Mahomet were, of course, going with the King; but they were not very pleased. Life in England had offered them far more than it had in Hanover. They had been able to give out many of the smaller posts in the King's household and they had quickly discovered how they could make a profitable business of this.

They had laughed together at the grumbles of the King's courtiers who asked: Who ever heard of a King who would have only two Turkish servants to assist him at his toilet? This had been a longstanding ceremony in the life of English Kings and this German had substituted two Turks for all the gentlemen who could have had lucrative posts in his household.

Just another crude habit of a coarse-minded King, said the disappointed gentlemen; but Mahomet and Mustapha had developed a talent for greed; so they were not pleased to be taken from the happy hunting ground.

Stanhope was uneasy. He was to accompany George to Hanover leaving Townsend and Walpole behind. He would, of course, have the ear of the King which was important, but how could he know what was going on in the mind of Townsend and the even more wily one of Walpole? What would they be doing while he was away?

The King's two mistresses naturally accompanied him—the Maypole and the Elephant. Kielmansegge was not eager to go; she had found lovers among the English and she was growing to like them better than the Germans. Moreover, in Hanover was their old rival the Countess von Platen, who would of course welcome George very affectionately—and even a man of habit as he undoubtedly was could not help being glad of a change.

And Ermengarda? A little while ago she would have been delighted to go to Hanover. That was when she was afraid for the King's safety. But why go now when the horrible Pretender had shown he could do nothing against the King and had scuttled back to France? Why not stay in England where life was really more comfortable and there were so many perquisites for those in favoured places? Oh, yes, Ermengarda would rather have stayed in England.

At the same time she was fond enough of George to be pleased to see him happy. So with her usual placidity she prepared to accompany her lord to Hanover.

There was one other at St. James's who rejoiced as wholeheartedly as George—and that was Caroline, for she saw clearly that the pattern of life had changed. She was no longer going to pretend she was trying to please the King. She had had to come out into the open.

Very well, they were rivals. And while he was away she was going to lay the foundations of that Court of which she would one day be Queen.

They understood each other, and George could not help admire Caroline.

He found himself saying now and then: If she were not my own son's wife ...

She was a damned fine woman. Large enough to please him physically; and it occurred to him that he might even enjoy pitting his wits against hers. It was the first time he had ever thought of a woman having wits—except his mother, of course; and there was his sister Sophia Charlotte who had been a clever woman.

Then he would yawn and think of Ermengarda on whom he had come to depend. She would never have been the comfort she had been if she'd had wits.

Uncomfortable things wits in women. It was a good thing Caroline was his son's wife. A good thing, too, that he was never a man to put himself out to pursue a woman. He'd always thought that a waste of good time. There were women enough about for his needs.

To Caroline's astonishment the King announced that he would spend his last evening in her apartments.

She expressed her pleasure and arranged that a brilliant gathering should be there that he might honour them with his company.

He came—almost excited. No one had ever known him so pleasant.

It was not a very good impression to make, thought Caroline gleefully. He is happier than he has ever been since his coming to England—and the reason? Tomorrow he is leaving it. Oh, his English subjects will love him for this!

All to the good. They could turn their affection to his son.

George Augustus was there. She could hear him talking.

"How happy I am that I do not leave with His Majesty. That is a thing I could not endure. It is because I find the English the best pipple in the vorld "

The King is a fool, thought Caroline, to go away and leave the field to us.

And what had brought the King to their apartments that night? Was it a woman?

Caroline looked about the apartment with interest. Who? There were the black and red wigs of Kielmansegge and Schulemburg—nothing extraordinary about that. They accompanied the King everywhere and whatever woman he wanted, he would always keep those two.

Now I wonder, thought Caroline, and shrugged the matter aside.

The King had come to talk to her. A matter of policy, she thought; he wants to show the company that we are not enemies and there are no quarrels within the family.

"I envy your seeing Frederick," she said. "I want you to tell him that I think of him often. Will you tell him that his sisters are growing big now. They are always talking of him and even baby Caroline who never knew him speaks of him as though he is familiar to her."

"I shall have much work to do in Hanover."

She flushed angrily. "And no time to give a few messages to your grandson?"

How ugly he was, with his heavy jaw and his protuberant eyes. She was thankful she had a husband like George Augustus. How tragic to be married to a man like this! He was coarse, crude and without feeling.

She had raised her voice a little and he was anxious to show that there was no real discord in the family.

"I will tell him what you say."

"And you will tell Gottfried Leibniz that I hope he will soon visit me in England."

The King was silent. He was not going to be pressed too far.

Sullen old boor! thought Caroline; still he did look happy tonight and he was more genial than he had ever been before; he was even smiling at her.

And soon he would be gone and she would have her opportunity.

Momentary irritations could not spoil her pleasure in this night—nor the King's.

The next morning the King was in good spirits while Mahomet and Mustapha dressed him. He had awakened at dawn, which came early for it was July and, eager to waste no time, arose.

By ten o'clock he was at the Tower where he would take boat for Gravesend. The Prince of Wales accompanied him and George even addressed a few pleasant remarks to his son during the trip from the Tower to Gravesend where his yacht was awaiting him.

"We want everyone to know that we are good friends," he told his son.

George Augustus put on his most affable manner, never forgetting to return a greeting from the few on the bank who stood watching the King pass along the river. Very few of them, the Prince noted with pleasure. They were not interested in seeing their Sovereign start on his journey. Let him go back to his sausages and sauerkraut, would be the comment of most of them.

This was indeed a great opportunity.

To Gravesend and aboard the yacht.

Father and son embraced—something they never remembered doing before. But each made the other aware that there was no affection in the gesture; it was merely to show the spectators that there was no family quarrel.

The Prince came ashore.

Back to St. James's to start his reign as Guardian of the Realm while the King sailed away to his beloved Hanover.