The Third George

George III - The royal family

The King of England was perplexed. It was less than a year ago when his grandfather, George II, had arisen as usual, taken his dish of chocolate, asked, as he did every morning, which way the wind was blowing, announced his intention of taking a walk in Kensington Gardens, gone into his closet in his dressing room and fallen dead. The old king had been in his seventy-seventh year so his death was not unexpected; all the same George, his grandson, had found the mantle of kingship oppressive.

The shock had not been so great as that he had suffered nine years before at the death of his father. That had been unexpected. Frederick Prince of Wales had seemed a normal healthy man until a blow from a tennis ball had triggered off a series of illnesses and at the age of forty-five he had died leaving his widow, the Princess Augusta, pregnant and already the mother of a large family to support her claims to importance in the country and to make her a formidable figure in the eyes of her father-in-law, King George II. She was the mother of this George who had become Prince of Wales on his father's death; her dear George, her meek and malleable George through whom she intended to govern England, although at this time none was aware of the fact.

Then there were Edward Duke of York, William Duke of Gloucester, Henry Duke of Cumberland and young Frederick William. She also had daughters: Augusta who was the eldest of the family and a year George's senior, and Elizabeth, poor deformed clever Elizabeth, who had died when George was Prince of Wales; and lastly there was Caroline Matilda, Frederick's posthumous child who was born four months after his death. But it was her eldest, George, who commanded her attention, for he was the King and on him rested her power.

But all the intricacies of state affairs had been overshadowed in George's mind by thoughts of marriage; for he was betrothed to the Princess Charlotte Sophia of Mecklenburg-Strelitz and he was in love with the Lady Sarah Lennox. As he confided to Lord Bute, that man whom he regarded as his closest friend and who was more than a friend to his mother, George 'boiled for Sarah Lennox'. All day he thought of Sarah; and Sarah was angry with him, which he would be the first to admit was reasonable. Had he not openly shown his feelings for her; he had even proposed obliquely it was true, through innuendoes, to her cousin and friend the Lady Susan Fox- Strangeways. And everyone had believed that he intended to put up a fight at least. There might not have been great opposition. He would have had Henry Fox, Sarah's brother-in-law, on his side and, apart from William Pitt, Fox was perhaps the greatest politician of the day.

But that would not be for long, George knew. His friend Lord Bute was already making plans to remove all those who stood in his way including Mr. Pitt for the reason that Mr. Pitt was no friend to Lord Bute and had made it quite clear that he would not give him a high place in the Government.

George had decided that he must do his duty which his mother and Lord Bute had made clear to him. Kings, of the House of Hanover always married German princesses; he could not marry this young English girl, although she had royal blood in her veins (the wrong side of the blanket, the Dowager Princess of Wales pointed out, for the girl's great-grandmother was Louise de Keroualle, Duchess of Portsmouth, and her great grandfather Charles II). As Sarah was the sister-in-law of Henry Fox this would mean that that very ambitious politician would have far too much influence with the King; moreover, the girl was frivolous and both Lord Bute and the Princess Dowager agreed that if they were going to maintain their hold on the King he must marry a docile German princess preferably one who spoke no English. This would leave them entirely in control of George as they had been since his father's death.

So together they had managed to persuade George of his duty, which had been made easier by that earlier disastrous affair of Hannah Lightfoot, the beautiful young Quakeress with whom George had fancied himself in love over several years and was so besotted that he had set her up in a house in Islington, had had children by her and even committed the greatest indiscretion of all by going through a form of marriage with her.

It was the memory of Hannah which had made George realize the folly he was capable of when he acted without the advice of his friend Lord Bute and his mother.

And so, while he yearned for Sarah Lennox, he agreed to this marriage which they had arranged for him. And now he was desperately trying to put all thought of Sarah from his mind and fall in love with the Princess Charlotte, for he was determined to be a faithful husband and a good king.

He was eager that the Court under his direction should be a moral Court. His grandfather and his great-grandfather had openly flaunted their mistresses. That was shocking, George declared, and had determined that a new standard of morals was going to be set in the reign of George III; if he had to make sacrifices, he was ready to do so.

Never in his life, he assured himself, would he be asked to make a bigger one than this. Therefore he set about making plans for his wedding, throwing himself into the arrangements heart and soul, in this way hoping to drive Sarah from his thoughts.

"There shall be no vulgar ceremony in the bedchamber," he announced. "I have long thought it time we dispensed with that ceremony which after all comes to us from the French.”

His mother and Lord Bute listened delightedly.

"Let him do what he will as long as he agrees to the marriage," said Lord Bute.

"I shall not wish her to bring more than one or two attendants with her," went on George. "These people are apt to meddle.”

His mother and Lord Bute agreed sympathetically that this was true.

"Your Majesty does well to take a firm stand," Bute told him.

The Princess Augusta shot a warning look at Lord Bute. Perhaps they should not remind George that he was the King and could do as he pleased. What if he decided to use the royal prerogative and insist on marriage with Sarah Lennox?

But Lord Bute knew what he was doing. The Princess smiled fondly at the man who was her secret lover though perhaps not so secret, for the whole Court was aware of their liaison and these titbits of gossip never remained inside the Court but always filtered through to the people.

Lord Bute gave her their intimate smile which seemed to say: "You can trust me." And she believed she could.

"How long, I wonder," said George, 'before the Princess arrives?”

"We shall press forward with all arrangements as soon as possible," Bute assured him. "Harcourt will see that there is no delay. Your Majesty is impatient for your bride.”

George hesitated. Perhaps, he thought, when she comes it will be easier. Once I am married to her I shall think only of her. It would be wonderful to put an end to this continual ache for Sarah.

"I am very impatient for that moment to come which will join me to her, I hope for my life.”

The Princess and Bute exchanged glances. George was so reliable except of course when he tried to act without their guidance. They both still shivered now when they contemplated the Lightfoot affair. The Sarah Lennox matter had been far more manageable. But once George was married all would be well. The marriage must take place at the earliest possible moment. Therefore it was comforting to hear from George's own lips that he was impatient for it. When they were alone Lord Bute and the Dowager Princess of Wales began discussing events more candidly than they were able to in the King's presence.

"I cannot wait for Charlotte's arrival," declared the Princess. "I shall not feel safe until they are married.”

"This will surely be one of the most hasty royal marriages that ever took place," smiled Bute. "I keep feeling that something will go wrong.”

Bute took her hand and kissed it tenderly; his eyes regarded her affectionately. He had good reason to feel affection for her. His fortunes had been going up ever since that day fourteen years ago when at Egham races a shower of rain had driven the late Prince of Wales into a tent and he, Bute, had been invited to join the royal party for a game of whist. He had immediately become a favourite of the Prince and an even greater one of the Princess. In those days Frederick had welcomed Bute's devotion to his wife; it had left Frederick to dally with his mistress of the moment while Bute took care of the Princess.

They had been a happy foursome and nothing could have been more amicable. But since Frederick's death, Bute's fortunes had risen fast. Not only had he made himself indispensable to the Princess but to her son; and George looked upon him as a father, for he had always played the part to perfection; and now that George was king, Bute's eyes were on the greatest power available. He wanted the position which was now held by William Pitt the man who was known throughout the country as the Great Commoner, who had dreamed of an Empire for England and had set about obtaining one for her. How he had succeeded was only too apparent.

Horace Walpole, that old gossip, had remarked that each morning he must ask what fresh English victory there had been for fear of missing one. Pitt had declared that he could save England and he was the only one who could. He had taken over the ministry in all but name when England was engaged in a war that seemed disastrous, for her only ally was Frederick the Great, and he and England stood together against the combined forces of France, Austria, Russia and Spain. Pitt was fighting out the conflict in America and India and doing what he had said he would do: turn a kingdom into an Empire.

Recognizing the man's genius, Bute would have been contented to work with Pitt. It was Pitt who had shown so clearly that he would not work with Bute. Pitt had stood firm against the folly of nepotism. The right man for the job, was his cry. And he was proving how right he was. Yet if ever a man hoped to climb through favouritism that man was Bute. He had relied for years on the love of the Princess Dowager; now he relied on that of the King. Bute wanted to rule England; and Pitt had already declared that if the unfortunate day arrived when Bute moved in, he, Pitt, would move out.

Ever since that day Bute had made up his mind that Pitt should go and he was waiting for the time to come when he would have an opportunity of disposing of his enemy.

As he smiled at the Princess he was thinking how safe he was with her. She adored him and he was very fond of her. They worked together, saw eye to eye; Augusta was not a promiscuous woman; she had been the perfect wife when Frederick had been alive; she had stood firmly beside him, accepting his policies, hating those whom he hated, favouring those whom he favoured; and she had not been unfaithful, although Bute knew that often she wished to be ... with him. And as soon as Frederick died there was nothing to prevent their union; neither of them asked for the impossible, which marriage would have been. They were wise enough to do without that mixed blessing. They were as one in mind and body; and they asked nothing more.

Lady Bute came to Court. Thank God-, he had been wise enough to choose a sensible wife. She knew of the relationship between her husband and the Princess. He had given her a large family: "Fourteen children," the Princess Augusta had remarked admiringly, 'in as little time as it takes to get them." She had special privileges as the wife of one of the most prominent men at Court, and so did her children; Bute himself had become a member of the Privy Council, Groom of the Stole and First Gentleman of the Bedchamber; the King consulted him at every turn and he was fast becoming, to all intents and purposes, the Prime Minister. Lady Bute had been created Baroness Mount Stuart of Wortley; and this, her husband had assured her, on one of the rare occasions when he could absent himself from the side of his mistress to spend a little time with her, was a beginning. Yes, Lady Bute was a sensible woman, determined to put no obstacle in the way of her husband's advancement. So with his women he was singularly blessed.

"Nothing will go wrong with this, my love," he said firmly. "But I agree with you that the sooner our Princess arrives and is formally married to His Majesty, the happier we shall all feel.”

"The girl should be grateful," said the Princess. "After all, what is this place, Mecklenburg- Strelitz? Can you imagine their feelings when Colonel Graeme made our intentions clear to them?”

"They must have been overwhelmed with joy.”

"I should think so! And Charlotte should be grateful. I hope she will be. We do not want any interference from her.”

"You will know how to manage her, my dearest. I am sure of that.”

"Oh, yes." The Princess was very confident. "I shall let the child see that she must do as I say. She is very young and will need guidance.”

"Let us hope that she will be wise enough to take it.”

"My dear, I shall insist on that wisdom.”

Bute laughed. "I am sure of it. But His Majesty ...”

"What of George?”

"If he should become enamoured of her and she plead with him for her own way ...”

The Princess nodded. "George does become enamoured in the most single-minded fashion. That Sarah Lennox ...”

"It was not insuperably difficult to part him from her. It is not Sarah Lennox who alarms me so much as ... the other.”

"That was when he was young and I believe he was led into that folly. He would never be so foolish again surely. It is merely a matter of managing Charlotte. And I am sure I shall be able to do that. Sarah Lennox is a minx... and Hannah Lightfoot must have been a strong-minded woman.

German women are brought up much more sensibly. They know their places. So it will be with our little Charlotte. And I shall be hoping that she becomes pregnant as soon as possible.”

"Then your mind is at ease?”

"As much as it can be until George is actually married to a safe little German princess.”

While they were talking the King burst in upon them. It was clear that something had happened to alarm him. His face was pinker than usual a sure sign that he was distraught. His mouth with its thick Hanoverian lips was trembling a little.

"George ... my dearest son, what is wrong?”

"News," he said, 'from Mecklenburg.”

"Pray tell me quickly." It was Bute who took the letter from the King's trembling hand and read that the Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz had died and that in the circumstances the wedding would have to be postponed.

The Princess Augusta sat down heavily. It was what she feared. Some impediment, something that would stand in the way of getting George married promptly. Was she imagining it or did she see a look of relief in the King's eyes? Was he saying to himself: It could happen that the marriage does not take place after all. And there is Sarah ...

Bute took charge of the situation as he had on so many occasions, promptly, tactfully and resourcefully, thought the Princess fondly. This is sad news," he said, 'but I do not see why the death of our little Queen's mother need delay the wedding. Poor little lady, she will be so desolate and in need of comfort... the comfort her husband can give her. I think Your Majesty should write immediately and insist that the plans are not held back in any way whatsoever.”

"It is very sad ... for Charlotte," said George.

"I knew," said Bute warmly, 'that you would want to comfort her. Let us write of your feelings without delay. And we will say that on no account should the Princess Charlotte... our little queen ... delay her journey to her kingdom and her King.”

George allowed Lord Bute to lead him to his mother's writing table while the Princess watched her forceful lover. What an ally! How she adored him. More today, than in those weeks which had followed their first meeting in the tent when the new excitement had come into her life. More than ever, she thought fondly, after all these years.

Lady Sarah Lennox came down to breakfast at Holland House looking fresh and lovely, as though she had not a care in the world. Her sister Lady Caroline Fox regarded her with some impatience while her brother-in-law looked up from his plate sardonically as she fell into her chair. Lady Caroline found it difficult to forgive her for losing, as she said, the greatest chance that would ever come her way, for Lady Caroline was sure that had her foolish young sister played her cards as any wise girl would have done, she would now be betrothed to the King and not known throughout the Court as the girl he had jilted. What was so irritating was Sarah's indifference. In fact Sarah's indifference was at the whole root of the trouble. If Sarah had shown some enthusiasm for the King's courtship in the first place, Caroline was sure George would have been so determined to marry her that nothing would have stopped him.

Sarah was holding something in her lap and her brother-in-law asked what it was she was regarding so tenderly. Lady Caroline gave a little shriek as Sarah held up the hedgehog.

"Not at the breakfast table." she cried.

But Sarah began to laugh and set the creature on the table. "Is he not a little darling?" demanded Sarah.

"I refuse to have him on the breakfast table," declared Lady Caroline.

But Sarah was looking appealingly at her brother-in-law. Henry Fox thought her a little idiot, but she amused him and was so pretty so he said: "Don't be hard on poor Sarah, Caroline. She has suffered three bereavements so recently the death of her little squirrel, that of Beau her horse ...”

Sarah's eyes filled with tears at the recollection.

"Not to mention," went on Mr. Fox as though he were addressing the House of Commons, 'the King of England.”

"Oh, dear Mr. Fox," sighed Sarah plaintively, 'do not bring up that stale matter again. I am so sick of the King and his wedding.”

"Sarah, for God's sake try to be sensible," pleaded Caroline. "I know it is difficult for you ...”

"Very," sighed Sarah mischievously. "Don't you love the way he rolls into a ball. Look at those spikes.”

Caroline sighed and looked at her husband who shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to his food. "People are going to be sorry for you, Sarah," went on Caroline.

"Why?”

"Oh, don't be absurd. You are the most publicly jilted woman in England.”

"I shall be very cool to him when we meet and show I don't care in the least.”

"Try to be sensible. This is the King.”

Sarah was silent, eating stolidly.

"The wedding will be delayed, I doubt not," Mr. Fox was saying, 'on account of the death of the bride's mother.”

"Perhaps," put in Lady Caroline hopefully, 'it will not take place at all.”

"Little fear or hope of that. I have no doubt that the Duke of Strelitz is not going to miss such an opportunity,”

"He has more sense than some foolish people.”

Sarah groaned. "How we do return to the same point in this house," she said.

"It is not every house which has a member of the family so foolish as to throw away a crown.”

"George is a fool," cried Sarah. "If he had not been he wouldn't have let them persuade him and he would have asked me himself ... not through Susan. If you ask me I'm well rid of him.”

"Well rid of a crown, the power to do your family good, to bear a king?" said Caroline.

Sarah looked at her sister helplessly. "There are other things we might talk of. What of our sister Emily's confinement? Is that not more important than my being jilted?”

"Nothing that has ever happened to this family is more important than your being jilted by the King.”

Sarah picked up her hedgehog and flounced out of the room. "I'm sick of all this talk, Sukey," she said to the hedgehog, and she laughed for she had named him after her friend Susan Fox- Strangeways to whom she had given the nicknames of Sukey and Pussy.

"But Sukey was more suitable, for you, Sukey," she said. "You could hardly be Pussy could you?

I have an idea that might have offended your dignity.”

Reaching her room she did what she enjoyed doing when she wished to soothe herself: wrote to Susan.

"Dearest Susan ..." She paused and thought what fun it would be if Susan were here. Everything seemed a joke then, although Susan was far more serious than she was. If George had had any sense he would have fallen in love with Susan rather than her. She was sure Susan would have known how to deal with the matter. There! she was as bad as her sister and brother-in-law; the thing was constantly in her mind. It occurred to her that Susan might not yet have heard the news of the King's proposed marriage. Could it be that it had not yet reached Somerset? She wrote rapidly: To begin to astonish you as much as I was, I must tell you that he is going to be married to a Princess of Mecklenburg ... Does not your choler rise at this ... But you will think, I daresay, that I have been doing some terrible thing to deserve it, for you won't be easily brought to change your opinion of any person; but I assure you I have not. I have been in his company very often since I last wrote to you, but though nothing was said he always took pains to show me some preference by talking twice and they were mighty kind speeches and looks. Even last Thursday the day after the news came out, the hypocrite had the face to come up and speak to me with all the good humour in the world and seemed to want to speak to me but was afraid ...

Sarah laid down her pen and thought: I am angry with him after all. He has behaved badly, and when I next see him I shall show him what I think of him.

She wrote rapidly and went on to say: In short, his behaviour is that of a man who has neither sense, good nature nor honesty. I shall have to see him on Thursday night, and I shall take care to show that I am not mortified to anybody, but if it is true that one can vex anyone with a reserved cold manner, he shall have it, I promise him.

Now as to what I think about it myself, excepting this little revenge, I have almost forgiven him.

Luckily for me I did not love him and only liked him, nor did the title weigh anything with me; so little at least, that my disappointment did not affect my spirits above one hour or two I believe. I did not cry, I assure you, which I believe you will, as I know you were more set upon it than I was. The thing I am most angry at is looking so like a fool ... but I don't much care. If he were to change his mind again (which can't be though) and not give me a very good reason for his conduct I would not have him, for if he is so weak as to be governed by everybody I should have a bad time of it...

She paused, smiling. How easy it was to understand one's true feelings when one set them on paper to friends with whom one could be entirely candid as with dear Sukey. She was piqued. She did care a little. But not much ... not so much as she had cared about the death of her squirrel or her darling Beau.

She took up her pen and wrote: I charge you not to mention this to anyone but your parents and desire them not to speak of it, for it will be said we, invent stories and he will hate us anyway, for one generally hates people that one is in the wrong with and that knows one has acted wrongly ...

It was true, she thought. But George was perhaps too weak to hate anyone. He was at heart kind, she was sure, so perhaps it would not have been so bad to marry him. She sighed and hastily finished off her letter.

His bride's mother had died. The wedding would be postponed. Was it possible ...? When all was said and done there was some satisfaction in being a queen.

There was consternation at Holland House. Lady Caroline was furious; she paced up and down the drawing room unable to control her anger. "I never heard the like. How dare he! It's an added insult.”

Mr. Fox tried to calm her. "It had to be, Sarah's position demands that she should be invited. In fact it would have been a bigger slight not to invite her than to do so.”

"She must refuse," insisted Lady Caroline.

Lady Kildare, recently delivered of a child, said that she was unsure what should be done about the matter, but her husband said: "Sarah should go. What is going to be said if she refuses.”

"It is the most humiliating business I ever heard," declared Lady Caroline.

"Let's see what Sarah herself thinks," suggested Mr. Fox.

"Sarah!" spat out Caroline. "Sarah has no opinions about anything but horses and hedgehogs ...

and perhaps squirrels. Sarah is a fool as we have learned in the bitterest manner possible.”

"Poor Sarah." murmured Mr. Fox. "At least she should be allowed to give an opinion.”

Mr. Fox summoned a servant and asked that the Lady Sarah come to the drawing room. As soon as Sarah entered it was clear to the gathered family that she knew what matter was under discussion.

"I've decided to go," she announced.

"What!" cried Caroline.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "If I refuse he will think I am sulking.”

"Which you have every reason to do.”

"He might even think that I care. I am going to show him that I do not. I shall look at him ...

insolently ... while he is marrying that woman and I shall make him feel so uncomfortable that he'll wish he had never seen me ... or her. But I shall go. I have decided.”

"I don't think you have given the matter serious thought," said Caroline.

"I have made up my mind," retorted Sarah. "And after all, the invitation is sent to me. I am invited to be the bridesmaid, remember, and it is for me to decide. All I'm telling you is that I have decided.”

"It's madness," cried Caroline.

"I'm not so sure," put in Lord Kildare.

They were all waiting for Mr. Fox to express an opinion; after all he was the most important member of the family.

He lifted his shoulders. "To go or to stay away ... either is not very comfortable. Which ever is done will raise comment.”

"At least Sarah should show she has some pride," insisted Caroline.

"But I don't think I have, sister ... not much in any case. Everyone knows George is still dangling on his mother's apron strings, they know that she and Lord Bute arranged for him to marry this Charlotte person and he wasn't man enough to refuse. Poor Charlotte! I pity her.”

"I should have thought you would be envying her," snapped Caroline. "You would if you had any sense.”

"But you always said I had none of that useful commodity," smiled Sarah. "And ... I have decided.

I am going to be a bridesmaid at the King's wedding.”

Mr. Fox smiled at her, half amused, half exasperated. He deplored his sister-in-law's failure to achieve the royal marriage as much as anyone, but he couldn't help being fond of her. We shall have further trouble with Sarah, he prophesied to himself.

Sarah flounced out of the room back to Sukey the hedgehog and immediately sat down to write to Susan.

Dear Pussy, I have only time to tell you that I have been asked to be bridesmaid and I have accepted it. I'm sorry to say it's against my sister Caroline's opinion a little. I beg you to tell me what your opinion is. I think it is not to be looked upon as a favour, but as a thing due to my rank.

Why refuse it and make great talk, be abused by those who don't know and perhaps by those that do, for they are always in the right, you know ... Those that think about it will say perhaps that I want spirit and pride, which is true enough, for I don't dislike it in the least, and I don't like to affect what I don't feel though ever so right ...

Sarah put down her pen and laughed. Yes, there was no doubt writing to Susan helped her to understand her own feelings. And even when Susan replied that she thought Sarah was wrong to be one of the King's bridesmaids Sarah clung to her opinions. She was determined to go.

When George heard that Sarah had accepted the invitation he did not know whether to be relieved or alarmed. While he was being married to this strange young woman, Sarah would be standing close by! He was sure he would not be able to think of anything but Sarah. If Sarah only knew how much he had wanted to marry her! But perhaps she did. Had he not made it plain? Scarcely perhaps, since he had so quickly been persuaded. But there were secrets people did not know.

There had been Hannah. He thought of her, his beautiful Quaker, and how he had loved her and believed he always would, until he met Sarah. If he could have married Hannah, made her first Princess of Wales and then Queen of England perhaps he would never have noticed how beautiful Sarah was.

He tried not to think of Hannah, but he could not forget her. It was natural that he should think of her with his wedding day so close. How different this would be from that other wedding day when he and Hannah had stood before Dr. Wilmot and exchanged their marriage vows. He shivered.

How could he have been such a fool! But it had been no true marriage because Hannah had been married before to Isaac Axford, the Quaker grocer, one of her own sect. It was true that the marriage had taken place in Dr. Keith's Marriage Mill which was now declared illegal... but it was a true marriage all the same; and that made it impossible for the ceremony through which he had gone with Hannah to be anything but invalid. Besides, Hannah was dead. Or was she? If he could be sure... But he was supposed to be pining for the loss of Sarah, not thinking of Hannah. No, no, he was not supposed to be doing either. He was supposed to be thinking of welcoming his bride the Princess Charlotte.

George forced himself to think of Charlotte. He would be a good husband to her; they would have children, and when he was a father he would cease to be bothered by romantic follies. But he could not dismiss Sarah from his mind; and while he made almost feverish preparations to receive his bride, images of Sarah continued to torment him.

**** In the nursery Caroline Matilda, the youngest of the family, was chattering about the wedding.

She was ten years old and had always felt herself to be apart from the family because she had been born four months after her father's death. So she had never known him. Neither had her brother Frederick William really, although it was true he had been born a year before she had, when their father was alive but he could remember nothing of him, so he was as much in the dark as Caroline Matilda. Henry was sixteen and swaggered about the nursery, impatient because he was neither a boy nor a man, but very much despising his younger sister and brother. Then there was William who was eighteen, very much the man with no time to spare for ignorant little sisters. Elizabeth, the saintly one, had died what seemed like a long time ago to Caroline Matilda, but was in fact only some three years back; then there was Edward, Duke of York, who was twenty-two; and Augusta, haughty, eldest of them all, who was twenty-four years old; but she was not the most important member of the family. How could she be when there was George and although one year younger than Augusta, he was the King.

The thought that George was King of England made Caroline Matilda want to giggle, for George was less like a king than any of her brothers. He was always kind and even treated the youngest of them all as though she were worthy of some consideration. Now he was always giving audiences and receiving ministers, and even his family had to remember to show due respect to him, although he never asked for it. Before he had become king he had had time to talk to Caroline Matilda about their father. She was constantly asking questions about Papa. It seemed to her so odd to have a father who had died before she was born.

She did not share George's delight in Lord Bute, for he scarcely noticed her. All his attention was for George. And Mamma of course did not notice her much either only to lay down a lot of rules as to how the nursery was to be run, She liked to listen to her brothers, Henry and Frederick, talking together or rather Henry talked and Frederick listened. It wasn't only the gap in their ages which made, Henry supreme. Henry was only sixteen but healthy, whereas Frederick always had colds and was often out of breath. Poor Frederick; he listened patiently, only too grateful that his brother talked to him.

Caroline Matilda knew better than to attempt to join in. Henry would soon have put her in her place if she had. He wasn't like dear George dear King George, she thought with a little chuckle and the reason was that everyone knew George was king so he didn't always have to be reminding people how important he was.

Henry was saying: "It'll be different now George is king. They can't keep us cooped up forever.”

Frederick timidly asked what would happen when they were no longer cooped up.

"We shall go to balls and banquets. We shan't just be the children in the nursery. You see. Of course you and Caro will be children for years yet...”

"Frederick will be as old as you are in five years' time," Caroline couldn't help putting in.

Henry looked at her coldly. "As for you, you are only a baby still.”

"I'm ten years old which is only six years younger than you.”

"And you're a girl.”

"They marry before boys," Caroline reminded him cheekily while Frederick looked at her with amazement at her temerity. "After all," she went on, 'the Princess Charlotte is only seventeen and that's a year older than you are now.”

"That is not the point of the argument. The trouble with you, Caro, is that you don't think.”

"I'm thinking all the time.”

"What about?" challenged Henry.

"What I'm going to do when I grow up.”

"What's that?”

"Run wild," she told them.

Henry laughed. She had voiced his own sentiments. So even little Caroline Matilda was longing for freedom; it all came of what he called being cooped up. "It is Mamma who keeps us as we are," said Henry. "She's afraid we'll fee contaminated by wicked people if we aren't kept shut away like this.”

"George will be a good king," Caroline said, 'so then there won't be any wickedness, and when there's no danger we won't have to be shut away.”

"Poor George" said Henry knowledgeably. "He's not looking forward to his wedding.”

"Oh, but he loves the Princess Charlotte.”

"How do you know?”

"Well, he must because she is going to be his wife.”

"You don't know anything," Henry told her, 'and you would therefore be wise to keep your mouth shut. Our brother wanted Sarah Lennox not this Charlotte, and I repeat he is not going to be pleased with this wedding.”

"But ..." began Caroline and was warned by a quick look from Frederick.

The door opened suddenly and Augusta their eldest sister looked in. They were immediately silent. One always was when Augusta arrived. It was well known that she delighted in carrying tales to their mother whether to try to divert some of that affection which was lavished on George towards herself or because she liked telling tales and making trouble, no one was quite sure. But in any case her arrival was the signal to guard their tongues.

"What are you children chattering about?" she wanted to know.

Henry flushed at the term, which amused Augusta; she always knew what would hurt people most and contrived to do it.

"I'll swear it's the wedding," she went on. "And Henry is telling you all about it. You should remember though that Henry knows very little. And sit up straight, Frederick. All humped up like that! No wonder you're always tired. And you supposed to be working at your embroidery, Caroline?”

Caroline said: "I had only just laid it down for a moment.”

"Then pick it up and make up for that moment of idleness. I shall be forced to tell Mamma how I found you all wasting time and telling each other stories about the wedding.”

"Oh, but we weren't!" cried Caroline.

And Augusta looked at her in that way which implied she was lying because she, Augusta, had stood outside the door for fully five minutes before coming in. Even when you were not guilty, thought Caroline, Augusta made you feel you were.

Augusta laughed unpleasantly and said: "Well, if you want to know, that silly little Sarah Lennox is furious because she will not be Queen of England. I spoke to her yesterday at the drawing room.

I showed I understood how she must be feeling.

"Poor Lady Sarah," I said; and she tossed her silly head and pretended not to care. And something else I'll tell you. She is to be one of the bridesmaids. That will be fun, I promise you.”

Caroline Matilda contemplated what excitement existed in the outside world; and even while she listened avidly to what Augusta had to tell about the King's desire to marry Lady Sarah -which had been rightly thwarted it seemed, according to her sister's account, as much by her, Augusta, as anyone she was thinking of the story of Augusta's birth when their father and mother, then Prince and Princess of Wales, had fled from Hampton Court that their first child might be born at St.

James's; and how the King and Queen Caroline Matilda's grandfather and grandmother had been so angry; and there had been no sheets at St. James's and nothing ready, so that the baby Augusta had The royal family to be wrapped in a tablecloth. What drama surrounded their lives. All except mine, thought Caroline Matilda. I have to stay in the nursery, 'cooped up', while all the excitement goes on in the world outside.

And how her grandparents had quarrelled with her parents! They were always quarrelling, Henry told them. They were a quarrelling family. Well, she would have some fun one day. She would be free to run wild. In the meantime she listened to Augusta's account of the snubbing of silly Sarah Lennox who had believed mistakenly that she could be Queen of England.

**** And while the wedding was being discussed in the schoolroom, the Princess and Lord Bute were also talking of it. There was to be no delay. In spite of the death of the Grand Duchess, the plans would go on as previously arranged.

"She will be here soon," said the Princess Dowager of Wales, "I confess I shall not feel safe until she is.”

"Never fear," soothed Lord Bute. "All will be well.”

He fervently hoped so. He was about to climb to the top of the pinnacle towards which he had patiently striven ever since he had seen the way to favour through George who was now the King.

Prime Minister, he thought. I shall rule this land. There is no end to the power which will be mine.

Pitt will have to do as he is told ... or go. And Pitt would never be able to let go; he was too ambitious. I'll use Pitt, thought Bute. He's too good a man to lose. But he'll have to realize who is his master.

He smiled fondly at the Princess. They were in agreement. The sooner George was safely married the better. And the Princess Charlotte was ideal. Plain, so that she would not enslave George; daughter of a very minor dukedom, so that she should be forever grateful; and not speaking a word of English so that she could not wheedle with her tongue at any rate. All would be well and once the wedding was over they would feel safe.

George too was thinking of the wedding. Sarah, Hannah, Charlotte. He saw them all in turn. The two first so vividly the shadowy charm of Hannah, the vital beauty of Sarah; and he turned away from those two and saw a Princess whom he endowed with their grace and beauty.

Charlotte. He kept saying her name over and over again. And he longed for her coming because it would end the uncertainty, and he was sure that once he saw her, once he had taken his vows neither Sarah nor Hannah would torment him. They would be banished from his thoughts for ever, for no faithful husband gave a thought to other women.

"And I will be faithful," he assured himself. "I am impatient for her arrival and for the moment when she shall be joined to me ... forever, I hope. And I pray God that He will make her fruitful.”

And all through the hot August days the whole Court talked of the wedding. The Court of Mecklenburg might be in mourning but there was to be no delay in the marriage ceremony. This was the order of the Duke.

He sent for Charlotte, bewildered Charlotte, who had so recently lost her mother, but was to gain a husband. Poor Christina had nothing to gain, thought Charlotte, but at least she remains at a Court familiar to her.

The Duke regarded his sister with the increased affection which he had felt for her since the King of England desired her for his bride.

"My dear sister," he said, embracing her somewhat curtly, as a duty, thought Charlotte, and as an acknowledgement of her new importance, "I understand your grief for your mother. It is a grief I share. I have been thinking of the postponement of your marriage and I can see no good that can come from it.”

"A wedding so soon after a funeral..." began Charlotte.

But her brother silenced her. He had not summoned her that he might hear her views, but in order that she might hear his. "It is the best way to forget your grief," he told her. "I have asked that there shall be no delay.”

"But… “

"I am thinking of you, sister. This is what our mother would have wished. She knows you mourn in your heart. Your husband will comfort you.”

"And Christina ...?”

Her brother raised his eyebrows. Christina had been foolish; she had fallen in love with an English duke. That would not have been an impossible union but for the clause in Charlotte's marriage contract; as it was the affair had ceased to exist as far as the Duke was concerned, and Charlotte was extremely indiscreet to have mentioned it. But Charlotte could be indiscreet. There was that letter she had written to Frederick of Prussia. What tremendous impertinence! But by great good luck it had worked to her advantage, and he was delighted that she had written the letter. But in his secret thoughts he considered it was most indiscreet. What a mercy that Charlotte would soon be leaving for England. Now he silenced her with a look.

He said: "The proxy marriage will take place almost immediately; and after that there will be little delay in your departure. The coronation is to be the twenty-second of September; and you must have been married to him before that. So you see there is very little time.”

"So soon ..." gasped Charlotte.

Her brother smiled at her. "Your bridegroom is, where his wedding is concerned, a very impatient man.”

The Duke came into Charlotte's bedroom. She was wrapped in a robe more splendid than any she had had before; beneath it she was shivering, though not with cold.

"Are you prepared?" asked her brother sternly.

"Yes," she answered.

He took her hand. "All is ready in the salon," he told her.

Flunkeys threw open the doors that they might pass through to that salon which was lighted by a thousand candles. The cost must have been great, thought Charlotte. But the petty Dukedom of Mecklenburg-Strelitz was allying itself with the throne of England, so it was not the time to count the cost of a few candles.

And this is all on account of me I thought Charlotte, more than ever before by the awesomeness of the occasion and all that it meant. She saw the ceremonial velvet sofa on which she was to lie and beside it Mr. Drummond, the representative of the King of England, who was to stand proxy for him in this preliminary ceremony.

The sight of the sofa filled her with dread because it brought with it a fresh realization of her responsibilities. This was not only leaving home, breaking up Christina's romance, it was living intimately with a stranger, bearing his children, with the eyes of the world on her because she would be the mother of the next King of England.

The sofa represented a state bed, their royal bed which she would have to share with a strange young man and therein perform rites of which she was ignorant. She was trembling; her legs had become stubborn and were refusing to carry her towards that symbolic couch. It was not too late even now. Suppose she refused to continue with this. Suppose she cried out that they must let Christina marry her Englishman for she had decided not to marry hers. Christina longed for marriage; she was breaking her heart because it was being denied her; whereas she, Charlotte, was realizing in this solemn moment that she did not wish to marry. She did not want to leave her home; she wanted to stay here ... remain a child for a little longer, doing her lessons Latin, history, geography, making maps with Madame de Grabow, mending, sewing. Why should she not protest that this was too sudden? There was something she suspected about this hurried wedding. Why so much haste? Was her bridegroom being hurried as she was? Was he in England crying out against the marriage as she was here? Why should she, who had once written a letter to Frederick the Great, hesitate now? But it was because of that letter ... This web was of her own making. But at least it showed that one had the power to direct one's own life.

"It is not too late." It was a message tapping out in her brain.

Her brother took her hand and pressed it impatiently. "Come, come. We are waiting for you.”

"No..." she whispered.

"Don't be a baby," hissed her brother angrily. "You are going to be Queen of England.”

Don't be a baby. She was seventeen years old ... old enough to leave her home, to marry, to bear children. It was the fate of all Princesses. All through history they had found themselves in positions like this. They were not expected to have any free will. They obeyed orders. They married for the good of their countries, where their fathers or brothers decided they should. And they had decided that she should be a queen as readily and as ruthlessly as they had decided Christina should lose her hopes of happiness.

She lay on the sofa and the coverlet was placed over her. Beneath the coverlet she must expose her right leg; it was all part of the proxy ceremony.

Mr. Drummond, the Englishman, removed his boot and thrust his leg, bare to the knee under the covers. When his flesh touched hers she tried to stop her teeth from chattering. Now the symbol had been expressed, Mr. Drummond removed his leg and replaced his boot, while beneath the coverlet she arranged her robe to cover her own bare leg and rose from the couch.

The ceremony was over. Her brother, all tenderness and affection, embraced her. She was a very important person now. He called her Your Majesty.

"Preparations for the journey must not be delayed." The Duke was giving his orders throughout the schloss. "We must think of Her Majesty's coronation. There is very little time.”

There were only two days left to her in Mecklenburg and these were to be spent in ceremonies.

No longer did she eat her meals in the schoolroom under the scrutiny of Madame de Grabow.

Now she dined in public. It was her very first experience of such ceremony. She must sit at a separate table at the banquet which followed the proxy ceremony and beside her sat Christina, pale and sombre, looking as though she would never smile again, while since her mother could not be there her place was taken by the girls' great aunt, the Princess Schwartzenburg. All the time the Princess talked of the great honour which had come to charlotte and how proud they were, and how she must do her duty and be a docile wife and bear her husband many children.

Christina said little; she ate scarcely anything. Poor sad Christina! Charlotte began to feel that she would not be sorry to leave home... in the circumstances. In the great salon her brother was seated with the English envoy Lord Harcourt, Mr. Drummond, and members of the English embassy; there were one hundred and fifty guests in all, and through the windows Charlotte could see the gardens lighted by forty thousand lamps. All in honour of my marriage, she thought. I have become very important here. But soon she would be on her way to her new country.

When she reached her bedroom she found her new dressers, Madame Haggerdorn and Mademoiselle von Schwellenburg, waiting for her; everything was going to be so much more ceremonious from now on. Though these two ladies had been chosen to accompany her to England, there had been some controversy about their coming, for it deemed that the King would have wished her to come without attendants and on her arrival choose English ones or have them chosen for her. But she had pleaded that she be allowed at least two of her own countrywomen.

"For I do not speak the "language," she had explained. She spoke French tolerably well, her brother told her, and German would be understood; so she need have no fears; but the English envoy had agreed that two female attendants, provided they were well chosen, might accompany her. She was also allowed to bring Albert, her hairdresser.

As the new dressers helped her to prepare for bed, Charlotte thought nostalgically of Ida and the lack of ceremony of the old days, and it was clear that Madame Haggerdorn was in awe of Mademoiselle von Schwellenburg right from the start.

Mademoiselle von Schwellenburg, putting herself in charge, made it clear that she intended to extract the utmost ceremony from the occasion. She signed for Madame Haggerdorn to hand the nightgown and she herself slipped it over Charlotte's head.

"I trust there is nothing Your Majesty needs.”

"No thank you," answered Charlotte.

"Then we beg Your Majesty's leave to retire." Yes, thought Charlotte, retire and leave me alone.

So they left her and she lay in her bed unable to think, scenes from this eventful day darting in and out of her mind. She saw herself entering the brightly lighted salon; she heard again her brother's impatient voice; she was lying on the couch; she could feel the cold touch of the Englishman's flesh against her own. And through it all she saw the brooding unhappy eyes of Christina. I believe, she thought, frightened as I am of what the future may hold, I shall not be sorry to go.

There was one more day of ceremony and then she left Strelitz. For ever, she thought, and she knew in her heart that it would be so. Farewell, brother, she thought, you who are so glad to see me go. Farewell Christina, my poor broken-hearted sister.

Her brother embraced her with a show of that new affection. Affection for a crown rather than a sister, she thought cynically. "You are going to a new country, sister. You are going to be a queen, but never forget you are a German; never forget your homeland.”

She knew what that meant. If ever she had an opportunity to bring good to Mecklenburg-Strelitz she must never neglect to do so.

"You are the most illustrious member of the family now," he told her with a smile.

And goodbye Christina. Forgive me for what I have done to you ... for if I had not written that letter it would have been your marriage we should have been celebrating. Of course there would not have been those thousands of candles; there would not have been the ceremonies; but you would have gone to your bridegroom so willingly and with such joy, whereas I go to mine ... But she had promised herself that she would not think of what awaited her in that remote land.

Mademoiselle von Schwellenburg's importance was growing hourly. The Queen must have this ...

must do that. She seemed to proclaim constantly: I am serving the Queen. No one in the Queen's retinue is as important as her dresser Schwellenburg; and both poor Haggerdorn and Albert seemed to agree with her.

Everyone was talking anxiously of the weather none more so than the Duke, who lived in terror that something would happen to delay his sister's departure for England. The day was overcast and inclined to be stormy when the cavalcade, consisting of thirty coaches, set out, and as they rode through the countryside the people from the villages came out to see them pass and gape in wonder, for it was a new experience to see a wedding procession and far more welcome than the soldiers to whom they were accustomed.

Charlotte took her last look at the schloss, trying to forget what she was leaving behind and to choke back the lump in her throat. She must smile all the while and speak gaily when anyone addressed her. Those were her brother's orders. She must not offend the English by letting them think that her great good fortune in marrying their kind did not make up for all the bereavements she had suffered.

She would feel better, she told herself, when she reached Stade, for there she would meet the English party who had crossed the seas for the purpose of escorting her to her new country; once she was on the boat she would really feel that she had left the past behind. As the party rode into Stade the wind was blowing fiercely but the bells were ringing and the cannons were firing in her honour.

Charlotte looked up at the lowering sky and said to Schwellenburg, "We shall never embark in weather like this.”

"It would be most unpleasant, Your Majesty, and unsafe.”

"So we have a little longer in Germany.”

Charlotte sighed, uncertain whether to be pleased or sorry. At one moment she longed to get on, to come face to face with her bridegroom; but the next she was hoping to be able to postpone the encounter.

They had come to rest at a small schloss where they would spend the night; and as Lord Harcourt came to help her from her carriage he told her that the party from England had arrived and were waiting to greet her. As she stepped inside the schloss she saw them waiting for her and how magnificent they seemed in their brocades and velvets, as they came forward to kneel and pay homage to their queen! Their queen! She could scarcely believe that the odd and rather ridiculous ceremony made her so.

"And Your Majesty, your new ladies in waiting, the Marchioness of Lome and the Duchess of Ancaster. She stared at them. She had never seen such women before. They were like goddesses.

It was their rich garments. No, it was not. That smooth skin which they both possessed; those magnificent eyes; the abundant hair coiled about shapely heads; the grace; the charm. She had always known that she was plain; now she believed that she was ugly.

"At Your Majesty's service.”

She heard herself say incredulously in French, because so far most of these English seemed to prefer it to German, "Are all English women as beautiful as you?”

The ladies laughed and said: "Your Majesty is gracious.”

It did not answer the question and as others were presented to her she scarcely noticed them for she was thinking of what the King would do when he saw her. If he were accustomed to women who looked like these two, and she had to face the fact that she had never seen any so lovely and there were two of them, what would he think of his new bride? She was frightened now.

"Your Majesty is tired." It was kind Lord Harcourt at her elbow.

She admitted that she was and he suggested that she announce her intention to retire to the apartments which had been prepared for her. There she studied herself in the mirror. How ugly her mouth was ... so wide and thin! She thought of the beautifully moulded lips of the English women pink tinted; she kept hearing the laughter in their voices when she had asked if all their countrywomen were as beautiful. And they had not answered.

Schwellenburg came in and because Charlotte was caught looking in the mirror she said: "The English women are so beautiful. I fear the King will be disappointed when he sees me.”

"He chose Your Majesty," was the answer.

"Without seeing me.”

"Both those women seem very flighty to me.”

"I suppose when one is as beautiful as they are one can be forgiven all else.”

"Nonsense, begging Your Majesty's pardon.”

"Oh, Schwellenburg, I'm apprehensive.”

"What, Your Majesty! And you a Queen!”

"Of very short duration. What if he should decide that I'm too ugly to marry and sends me back?”

"He could hardly do that. Your Majesty forgets that he's married to you already by proxy.”

Charlotte sighed. It was not the answer she wished; she wanted reassurance; she longed to be told that she was not so ugly as she feared. But Schwellenburg would not flatter; she answered with the logical truth. Charlotte was plain; it was likely that if the King were expecting a beauty he would be disappointed; but all the same the proxy ceremony had taken place and whatever he thought he would have to take her now.

"It's all so hurried," she complained.

"Schwellenburg, does it not seem to you a trifle mysterious?”

But to Schwellenburg it did not seem in the least mysterious. The marriage had been made as many royal marriages were. If Charlotte could provide her husband with children, in Schwellenburg's opinion no one could complain. Lord Harcourt was asking for an audience. She greeted him with pleasure, but he was looking grave.

"I have messages from His Majesty the King," he told her.

"He commands that we proceed to Cuxhaven without delay and there embark for England.”

"At once?" she asked.

"We shall have a night's stay here and leave in the morning. I was planning to wait until the weather changed.”

"Perhaps it may by the morning.”

"I shall hope that it does, Your Majesty, but whatever it is like my orders are that we should sail.”

She nodded; she had no great fear of the sea. A peal of bells was heard followed by the salute of guns.

"The people of Stade are determined to give Your Majesty a good welcome," said Harcourt.

She frowned a little. "Am I worthy of all these honours?" she asked.

Lord Harcourt bowed and murmured: "Your Majesty is the Queen of England.”

At Cuxhaven, when the royal party arrived, the wind was howling and the rain was pelting down.

Lord Harcourt was anxious; so, Charlotte noticed, were the beautiful women who now rode beside her and were threatening to put Schwellenburg's nose out of joint. They were a little mischievous, Charlotte felt, despising Schwellenburg and Haggerdorn for two frumps; Charlotte would be the first to admit that they were dowdy and no beauties; but at least she felt more at home with them in spite of Schwellenburg's domineering ways.

There was no help for it, they must go aboard. The ship was rocking uncomfortably and everyone except Charlotte was unhappily aware of this. Charlotte had never been to sea; therefore she had no notion what seasickness was. She had come to a decision; if the King did not like her then he must make the best of her. She had not asked for this marriage although her brother had been more than eager for it. She would do her duty and if the King was not prepared to do his, she would try to shrug her shoulders and not care. After all, these two Englishwomen might be beautiful, but they were not Princesses, so what she lacked in beauty she made up for in rank ...

even though in that she was not of such a high standard.

Lady Lome came to stand beside her at the rail as she stood watching, that she might see the last of her native land.

"Your Majesty seems unaffected by the rocking of the ship.”

"Should I be affected by it?”

"Most of us are.”

"And you?”

"Not yet. But with Your Majesty's permission if it becomes more uncomfortable I shall retire to my cabin.”

"Pray do so. But you did not answer my question about the women of England. Are they all as beautiful as you and the Duchess of Ancaster?”

"I trust Your Majesty will not consider me unduly conceited when I tell you that we are both known as two of the outstanding beauties of the Court.”

Charlotte's relief was obvious. "I had imagined a Court of goddesses," she said.

"Your Majesty is too gracious.”

"I don't mean to be ... only truthful. You are without doubt very handsome, both of you. Tell me about your life at Court.”

The Marchioness replied that she had first come to Court as Elizabeth Gunning some ten years before from Ireland, she and her sister and her mother. "We came to seek our fortunes.”

"And you found them?”

The Marchioness was silent for a few moments. "I suppose some would say we had. A year after we arrived I was married to the Duke of Hamilton.”

"And you were happy?”

She smiled sadly "It was a runaway marriage of a sort, Your Majesty. We were married in a Mayfair chapel at half past twelve at night; and as the Duke had not thought to provide a wedding ring we used a curtain ring.”

"It sounds ... romantic," said Charlotte wistfully. "He must have been very much in love with you.”

"That was true, Your Majesty. Then I was presented to the King and that was a great occasion.”

"That would be... my husband's grandfather.”

"Yes, Madam; He was most kind to me ... but he was not considered as kind generally as his present Majesty.”

"So you find the King... kind?”

"The King would never, I believe, be unkind to any. He is very different from his grandfather, who was inclined to be irascible, constantly flying into rages. Forgive me, Your Majesty, my tongue runs away with me.”

"I have asked you to be frank. And so the King is different from his grandfather, then?”

"Very different. The King is tall and handsome and there is a charm about him... a gentleness...”

Charlotte was beginning to feel better. It was pleasant to chat with a woman like this and so get an idea of what was waiting for her. "I hear from Lord Harcourt that he is impatient for the wedding.”

"It is true. He has fixed the date of the coronation and I have heard that he wants his queen to share it with him.”

Charlotte nodded, beginning to feel almost happy. She was curious about this beautiful woman and wanted to know why she was the Marchioness of Lome when she had married the Duke of Hamilton.

"The Duke died six years after our marriage.”

"And you have married again?”

"Yes, Your Majesty, to the Marquis of Lome.”

"So you became a marchioness instead of a duchess.”

"My husband, Your Majesty, is the heir of the Duke of Argyll.”

Charlotte smiled. "So it is only a temporary loss of rank. Have you any children?”

"Yes, by my first husband I have a daughter and two sons; I have a little boy by my second marriage.”

"You are a very fortunate woman. Was your sister as lucky?”

"My sister died a year ago of consumption. They said it was due to the white lead she used for her complexion.”

"Oh ... how terrible.”

"I myself was very ill less than a year ago and I thought I was dying of the same disease; but my husband took me abroad and I have completely recovered.”

Charlotte nodded. "White lead." she murmured.

"Yes, Your Majesty, it produces a perfect whiteness which I have heard is most appealing.”

Charlotte laughed more merrily than she had since the wedding ceremony. "Perhaps it is as well not to have such beauty that has to be preserved by such lethal means.”

The Marchioness smiled and whispered that if Her Majesty would grant her permission she would retire to her cabin, for she was beginning to feel a little queasy.

Charlotte stood at the rail after the Marchioness had gone. She liked the feel of the wind on her face. She did not feel in the least ill. She believed that she had really begun to look forward to the new life.

The ship was battling against the elements and all Charlotte's attendants lay groaning in their cabins or on their bunks-praying for the journey to be over... or for death. But Charlotte was not in the least affected. A harpsichord had been placed on board for her entertainment and she spent a great deal of time playing this, though her ladies did not hear her, since every one of them, even the redoubtable Schwellenburg, was prostrated. Lord Harcourt told her that they were days from the coast of England and that he had just learned that the storms had driven them almost on to that of Norway.

"It is a pity for my ladies that we did not wait for more propitious weather," commented Charlotte.

"Your Majesty, the King's orders were that we embark without delay.”

"Why, Lord Harcourt, is he so very eager for our arrival?”

Lord Harcourt, smiling, bowed. "That, I am sure, His Majesty will make clear to you on your arrival.”

The suggestion was that the King was so eager for her arrival. But how could he be so eager for someone he had never seen? Why had it been decided that he must marry without delay? There was some mystery, Charlotte was sure. Well, perhaps she would soon discover.

"Your Majesty has no one in attendance," said Lord Harcourt.

"Poor ladies, they are prostrate, all of them. The sea does not take to them at kindly as it does to me.”

"Your Majesty is fortunate ... in more ways than one.”

Am I? wondered Charlotte. What will life be like with my new husband in England? "I shall play the harpsichord to them," she announced. "Perhaps it will comfort them. If I leave the door of my saloon open they will be able to hear it as they lie on their bunks.”

Charlotte played and found pleasure in playing; but the poor ladies were unaware of anything but their own misery. The wind dropped suddenly and the storm was over; sun dappled the grey waters turning them to green and opalesque. One by one the ladies rose from their bunks. The change in them was miraculous. Schwellenburg became her old domineering self, Haggerdorn her faithful second; and the two English ladies put on their poised elegance as though it were a gown and were soon as beautiful as ever.

As these two dressed themselves and the horror of the last days faded and as the Duchess of Ancaster said she felt like a human being again, they discussed together the advisability of warning the Queen of the King's attachment to Sarah Lennox. The Duchess of Ancaster thought it unwise; the Marchioness of Lome was not so sure.

"She is so plain ... That mouth of hers makes her look like a crocodile.”

"Poor creature. George is going to be so disappointed. I'll swear they've told him she's a beauty.”

"Queens are always credited with more beauty than they actually possess. George should know that and discount half of what he has heard.”

"George is so unworldly. It would never occur to him to doubt.”

"And what of the little Lennox?”

"What of her?”

"You know the King bitterly regrets not marrying her.”

"Oh, that is over and George is such a good young man. They say he won't give Sarah a thought once he is married to Charlotte.”

"Do you believe that?" asked the Duchess scornfully.

"No," answered the Marchioness.

"But I believe that it is better for Charlotte to discover this for herself. Though we could at least try to make her a little more attractive.”

"A difficult task," retorted the Duchess.

"Still ... a little improvement might be possible. I shall try.”

"Grim Schwellenburg will be most displeased.”

"Let her. She doesn't know the competition Charlotte will have to face in Sarah Lennox.”

"Sarah's a pretty little thing, but she's not exactly a beauty.”

"She has something more than beauty. Charm. And she's young.”

"So is Charlotte.”

"More's the pity. She would have a better chance of winning George from Sarah if she were a little older, a little more experienced. I think her appearance could be improved a little ... though that mouth would spoil anything. But I think we ought to try.”

Albert was dressing Charlotte's hair. The two English women looked on rather sadly and the Duchess of Ancaster suggested that Her Majesty might like to try an English style.

Charlotte answered promptly, "No, I should not.”

"A little toupee ... beautifully curled ... would make a great deal of difference to Your Majesty's appearance," added the Marchioness. Charlotte studied the hair of the two ladies and remarked coolly that she believed the style in which Albert dressed her hair was as becoming as theirs.

The ladies were silent. Perhaps she was right in thinking no hairstyle could add beauty to such a plain face.

"If the King wishes me to wear a periwig I will do so," added Charlotte. "But until he asks it I shall remain as I am.”

"The King likes to see ladies dressed in a feminine English style.”

"As you are dressed?" asked Charlotte.

"That is so, Your Majesty.”

Charlotte studied them, her head on one side. "I do not think it is the style of dress that is becoming. I understand you are two of the most beautiful women of the King's Court, but it is not your dress which makes you so. No, I shall dress as I have always dressed, and shall not try to ape you, my ladies.”

The two women exchanged glances. They had done what they could. The King was going to find his bride vastly different from lovely Sarah Lennox.

"The King," Charlotte was saying, 'may dress as he likes and I shall dress as I please.”

"Your Majesty will doubtless make your decisions when you have seen Court fashions.”

"Doubtless, but I have no intention of changing my ways unless the King expressly wishes it.”

She was gaining confidence. It was wonderful what the sea trip had done for her. To have seen these elegant women in the throes of seasickness while she herself sat playing the harpsichord for their comfort had done a great deal for her. The girl, who had dared to write to Frederick the Great was not going to be persuaded into wearing fashions which she was not at all sure would suit her.

Moreover, if she were dressed as they were the comparison would be even more unkind; and if she could not be a beauty, at least she would stand out by the strangeness of her costume.

"Tell me what you know of the King," she said, to show them that the subject of dress was not to be mentioned again.

The King had changed since his accession, they told her. He had always been serious, but now he was more so. He was often closeted for hours in the company of Lord Bute and his mother who acted as his chief adviser much to the disgust of Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox.

What were his amusements?

He danced a little. He was not exactly a good dancer, but he was a very skilful one; he played cards a little, but not for high stakes. He was going to reform the Court, everyone said; because in the days of his grandfather this had been at times scandalous.

"His Majesty rises early and therefore likes to retire early.”

"Oh," cried Charlotte, "I do not relish going to bed with the chickens. And I have no intention of doing so.”

The ladies were further surprised. It seemed that Charlotte was growing more and more confident as they came closer to the shores of England.

Lord Anson who was in command of the expedition told Lord Harcourt that he had decided to put in at Harwich instead of going to Greenwich as had been planned. The storms had driven them so far off course that it would be more convenient to go to Harwich. Moreover, he feared they might run into a French man-o'-war if they travelled farther south and Lord Harcourt could guess what that would mean.

Lord Harcourt expressed his misgivings that there would be no welcome awaiting the Queen at Harwich, as there most certainly would be at Greenwich where she was expected.

"Better an unwelcomed bride than a prisoner of the French," was Anson's sage reply, and Lord Harcourt agreed with him.

Thus Charlotte first stepped ashore at Harwich. It was three o'clock in the afternoon on 7 September and a fortnight since they had sailed away from Cuxhaven. Everyone except Charlotte was relieved to set foot on dry land and as soon as it was realized that the Queen was in Harwich the Mayor summoned his aldermen to give her a welcome. This had to be brief, for Lord Harcourt explained to the Mayor that they must leave Harwich without delay as they were expected in London immediately. So two hours later they had reached Colchester where at the house of a certain Mr. Enew they stopped to drink tea, which Lord Harcourt reminded the Queen she would find refreshing. She did, and she was particularly delighted to receive a box of eringo root which was one of the products of the town. Tasting this she found it to be a delicious sweetmeat and Lord Harcourt explained to her that the sweets were made from the roots of the eringo which was a kind of sea holly, and it was the custom of the inhabitants of Colchester to give boxes of this sweetmeat to members of the royal family who honoured their town by visiting it.

They left Colchester for Witham, where they were to spend the night at the mansion of Lord Abercorn; but alas Lord Abercorn was away in London, being unaware that he was to receive such an honoured guest. However those members of his family who were at home proceeded to show their loyalty to the Crown by arranging as impressive an occasion as they could manage at such short notice and members of the nobility from the surrounding country having heard of Charlotte's arrival came hurrying to be presented to her.

She was beginning to feel that the English were really pleased to see her. Perhaps this was why next morning as she was prepared to continue the journey and knew that that day she would come face to face with her husband, she allowed Elizabeth to persuade her to adopt an English mode of dress. In fact she was rather pleased with the effect, for the English fashion was more becoming than the German, and when she did not look at the dazzling beauty of her two English ladies-in- waiting she felt she looked tolerably well. Her fly cap had laced lappets which were very fine; and the stomacher with which she had been presented was decorated with diamonds, her gown was a white brocade with gold embroidery. It was quite magnificent and more elegant than anything she had ever possessed.

When they set out and she saw how many people had come to see her she was glad she had worn a dress more in keeping with what these people had been accustomed to think of as high royal fashion. She sat in her coach smiling at them as she passed along.

At Romford the King's servants met her; they surrounded her coach and prepared to bring her into the capital; and along the road the cavalcade was joined by more soldiers, all in dazzling uniforms, all come to escort her on her way. And so she came to London.

She was bewildered and fascinated so much so that temporarily she forgot the ordeal before her.

As her coach rattled over the cobbles past the magnificent buildings such as she had-never before imagined existed the magic of the great city enveloped her. She saw the people jostling for a look at her; from the windows of the houses they called to her; she could not understand what they said, but she knew it for a welcome and she bowed and smiled and her delight in what she saw was obvious, so London took her to its heart. She was plain they saw; but they liked her no less for that. She was a young bride for their young King; her coming would mean a wedding a day of holiday and revelry, then a coronation.

"Long live the Queen” shouted the people of London.

She saw the gaily coloured signs hanging from the shops; apprentices with their masters and their masters' wives; ladies in their chairs, elegantly scented, powdered and patched. There were men in brocaded coats, their quizzing glasses held up in the procession, delicate lace ruffles falling from their wrists; and there were beggars, ragged and, dirty, and women with children in their arms and dragging at their skirts; there were the street traders who yelled their wares, to mingle with the shouts of loyal greetings. The ballad sellers, the pie men, the milk girls with their panniers on their shoulders, the pin woman, the apple woman, the gingerbread-seller ... they were all there to play their part and add to the noise and squalor, the colour and excitement of the London streets.

Charlotte stared in amazement as the coach rumbled on. The Marchioness was amused by the effect the London scene was having on Charlotte. She looked at the watch which hung at her side and declared: "Your Majesty will scarcely have time to dress for your wedding, which is to take place tonight.”

"Tonight! But surely I shall have a day or so to ... grow accustomed to the King?”

"It has been arranged, Madam, that it shall take place tonight.”

The significance of this suddenly struck Charlotte. She was almost at St. James's. There she would come face to face with the man they had chosen to be her husband; she was to be hurried through a ceremony and then left with him alone. I cannot do it, she thought. It is too much to ask. The Marchioness was looking at her oddly.

"Your Majesty is not well," she began, then cried out in alarm for Charlotte had fallen sideways, her face ashen.

"Quick," cried the Marchioness to the Duchess, 'the Queen is about to faint. We shall be there in a minute. She can't be laid at her bridegroom's feet... in a faint!”

The Duchess took a bottle of lavender water from her pocket and opening it threw the contents into Charlotte's face. As the sweet scent filled the carriage, Charlotte opened her eyes.

"She is recovered," whispered the Marchioness.

"Oh, thank God! Your Majesty, we have arrived.”

The coach had stopped before a garden gate and a young man was coming towards it.

"The Duke of York," whispered the Marchioness to Charlotte.

Using all her will power Charlotte threw off the faintness which had almost overwhelmed her in the coach and looked about her; it seemed as though a crowd of people were pressing in on her.

Oh, God, help me, she thought. I am going to faint again.

A tall young man had stepped towards her. She knew at once who he was, for the miniature with which she had been presented was a fair likeness. Flattering, of course, but there were the prominent blue eyes, the heavy jaw, the mouth which was trying hard to smile but which in repose could be sullen.

This was her husband ... the man whose children she was to bear ... whose bed she would share this very night if it were true that they were to be married without delay. Her knees felt weak and unable to support her. She was about to sink on to them when he took both her hands and kissed them. He could not meet her eyes and she noticed this and she guessed that he was disappointed in her. She knew he must be. Doubtless they had told him she was if not beautiful tolerably attractive. And she felt so ill, so faint.

But he spoke to her kindly and his voice was tender. At least he was determined to hide his disappointment and she was grateful for that.

"My mother is waiting to greet you," the King told her. "Allow me to conduct you to her.”

He took her hand and the rest of the company fell in behind them as they went into the Palace.

Beside Augusta, Dowager Princess of Wales, stood a tall man, middle aged, but still outstandingly handsome. Charlotte guessed this was Lord Bute whose name she had heard mentioned many times as a great power in the land on account of his influence with the King and his mother.

The King presented her to his mother first and Charlotte was aware of a pair of shrewd eyes studying her; she was not sure of the meaning behind their expression but she fancied it was one of approval.

"My sister, the Princess Augusta," he said, 'who wishes to welcome you into England and the family.”

The Princess Augusta, a year older than the King, looked anything but pleased, thought Charlotte; she made a formal speech in French to which Charlotte responded; and after that Caroline Matilda was presented a girl not much more than ten years old, Charlotte realized; and she too made her speech of welcome.

Then it was the turn of Lord Bute - 'my dear friend', the King called him and Charlotte's hand was most courteously kissed and Lord Bute told her, with emotion in his voice, how delighted he was to have her with them.

The Dowager Princess had risen and said that there was little time to spare, for the wedding was to take place at nine o'clock.

"Your wedding garments are all ready in the wardrobe room," she was told. "But it may well be that some alterations will be necessary." The Princess Dowager looked as though they could hardly have expected George's Queen to be quite so thin and little.

"So we will lose no time," said the Dowager Princess, and Charlotte was walking with her into another apartment. The King had remained behind with Lord Bute and a panic seized Charlotte.

She had felt safer with her husband than with the women: the cold woman who was her mother- in-law; the supercilious girl who was her sister-in-law and the young Caroline Matilda who, she felt, was secretly amused. Why? Because she was thin and small and ugly, and the child felt this to be some sort of joke?

"Oh" cried Caroline Matilda as they entered the apartment in which the clothes were laid out.

"Did you ever see such magnificent garments!”

Charlotte said in French: "I do not speak English.”

"Then," replied Caroline Matilda, 'you will have to learn quickly, will you not?”

The Duchess and the Marchioness appeared suddenly and the Princess Dowager commanded them to assist the Queen to dress in the garments without delay. Then she signed to her daughters to retire with her.

As soon as they had left, the sewing women came in, pins hanging on strips of paper from their belts, their small eyes which seemed to have sunk deep into their heads through so much close work, beady and alert, as the magnificent gown was slipped over Charlotte's head.

"Your Majesty is trembling," said the Marchioness.

"It is well for you to smile," retorted Charlotte. "You have been married twice. I never have before. So I find it no joke.”

Indeed not, she thought as the little sewing women seized her and lifted the gown up on the shoulders and in at the seams. It is like a bad dream that goes on and on, she thought. A nightmare.

At last the dress had been made to fit her. It was truly magnificent, being of white and silver; and her purple velvet mantle was fastened at one shoulder by a cluster of beautifully matching pearls.

The King's present to Charlotte was a diamond tiara, and this with her stomacher of diamonds also a gift from the King was valued at 60,000 pounds and when she put these on they scintillated so brilliantly that she was sure their glitter would take people's eyes from her face. Never had she seen such diamonds and she wondered fleetingly what Ida von Billow would say if she could see her now.

She wished that she could know what the King's thoughts had been when he had first seen her.

**** In his own apartments, being dressed for the wedding, George was attempting to deceive himself.

He had been startled by his bride's appearance for, romantically, when he had thought of her he had pictured her so different; he had made a composite picture of Sarah Lennox and Hannah Light foot and deceived himself into thinking Charlotte would bear some resemblance to those women whom he had loved so devotedly at one time of his life. And to see her pale, thin, small, with that wide mouth, he had been temporarily shocked. His inherent kindness had forced him to smile, to treat her with special tenderness and the most important thing in those first moments of meeting had not been his disappointment but his great desire to hide it.

He had kissed her warmly, had spoken to her tenderly and trusted she had not been aware of his distaste. He determined to be a good husband to her. He must never think of another woman. Fate had been good to him where Hannah was concerned. When he thought of the difficulties that could have arisen out of that youthful indiscretion and yet at the time what a passionate necessity it had been he could tell himself that he had been obliged to pay for that folly by giving up Sarah.

In any case the affair with Sarah was at an end. Charlotte was now his wife and it was his duty as her husband to be faithful to her and as a King to set an example of morality to his people.

So he would stop comparing Charlotte with Sarah. He would never give Sarah another thought.

Hannah and Sarah belonged to the past. Charlotte was now and the future.

Lord Bute came into the apartment in the unceremonious way he now and then adopted to stress the intimacy between them. "Your Majesty is smiling," he said. "I trust you are pleased with your bride.”

"I already have an affection for her," lied the King, at the same time trying to believe it.

"I think she will make a good wife and, I pray, a fruitful one.”

The King bowed his head in agreement. His spirits were raised a little. It would make up for a good deal if they had children; and Charlotte's children would live under his roof; he could be a true father to them. He was sad again, thinking of Hannah's children and his ... living their lives in a Surrey household, not knowing who their true father was.

What mystery. What intrigue. It was a good thing that he was suitably married now. Over the indiscretions of the past he would build a solid family life. Lord Bute was smiling at him quizzically. He believed his dear friend read his thoughts accurately.

In the Chapel Royal the Archbishop of Canterbury was waiting to perform the ceremony. It was nine o'clock and in her glittering wedding garments Charlotte felt more composed, although the mantle of velvet and ermine was so heavy it was all the time threatening to fall off her thin shoulders.

Charlotte was joined by her bridesmaids; there were ten of them, all daughters of dukes or earls and charming looking creatures they were, she thought some, she noticed with chagrin, comparing with her two ladies-in-waiting for beauty, particularly the girl at the head of them who was quite lovely in her bridesmaid's gown of white and silver and the diamond coronet on her head.

She whispered to the Duke of Cumberland the King's uncle, whose name she knew as the victor of Culloden and who was giving her away, that the bridesmaids were charming and who was the leader of them.

Cumberland bent his head and gave her a very tender look which was a little grotesque on his poor face, so distorted by the palsy, although he was not an old man. He said: "Your Majesty, she is Lady Sarah Lennox, sister of the Duke of Richmond and sister-in-law to Mr. Fox, one of the King's chief ministers.”

"She is charming," murmured Charlotte. And she was aware of a slight ripple of amusement which she did not understand. Her brothers-in-law the Duke of York and Prince William were close at hand, and Dr. Seeker the Archbishop was ready to begin the ceremony.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation ...”

Charlotte glanced sideways at her young bridegroom. He seemed resolute, almost grimly determined. I can be happy with him, I believe, she was thinking. There was a kindliness in his face which was comforting and led her to believe he would be tender towards her. Nowhere had she heard an unkind word spoken of him. He was a young man determined to be a good king and a good husband and if she were equally determined to be a good wife and queen what could go wrong?

"Look, O Lord, mercifully upon them from heaven and bless them as Thou did send Thy blessing upon Abraham and Sarah...”

The King started suddenly. He was looking at the chief bridesmaid, staring at her with longing and almost pleadingly as though he were asking her forgiveness. Charlotte was conscious of the look. She saw the beautiful young girl turn her head away and stare stonily in another direction.

There was something of which she had yet to learn, thought Charlotte; but she could guess. What had happened did not need words to explain it. Lady Sarah Lennox! Abraham and Sarah. They would have met on many occasions. As the sister and daughter of a duke and one of the leading dukes, that girl would have had many opportunities of meeting the King. And she was beautiful.

She was all that Charlotte was not. Charlotte kept reminding herself that she had one asset though which made her more desirable: she was a princess.

The ceremony was over and the procession from the chapel had begun. Charlotte was aware of the heaviness of her cloak and the hands which held her train were those of Sarah Lennox. The name kept repeating itself in her head. So it was Sarah Lennox he had wanted, that girl who was even lovelier than the Marchioness and the Duchess who had come to Stade to meet her, because she was young and fresh a girl, whereas they were women.

It seemed that those small hands tugged viciously at the cloak but that was not so. It was too heavy for her to support. She could feel it being pulled halfway down her back and saw several amused glances. She learned afterwards that Horace Walpole, that inveterate gossip and recorder of events, had noted that 'the spectators knew as much of the Queen's upper half as the King himself." And in fact she thought they would drag the clothes completely from her back before they reached the banqueting hall.

At last they arrived there to find that there had been a delay in preparing the banquet; and as it had been reported that Charlotte had played the harpsichord to her seasick ladies, it was now suggested that she should play for the company until dinner was served. Having played and sung all her life Charlotte had no shyness on this score and played and sang so enchantingly that everyone applauded enthusiastically and declared that music had charms to soothe empty stomachs as well as savage beasts.

In time supper was served. The King sitting beside his bride was very attentive to her, as though, it was observed, he would make up for that lapse in the chapel when he had been so overcome at the mention of the name Sarah and had been unable to prevent himself gazing at the chief bridesmaid. Charlotte, fresh from her triumph on the harpsichord, felt excited and the King's attention was flattering. The more she knew him the more she liked him, and that she told herself, was a very promising start.

Supper over, the King took her hand and told her that they must mingle with the guests who would wish to be presented to her; this they did and the King seemed in no hurry to break up the party. Nor was Charlotte for as soon as it was over they would retire to their bedchamber and there be entirely alone. It was as though everyone was aware of this and understood the feelings of the young married pair.

At last the Duke of Cumberland approached the King and said: "When is Your Majesty going to break up the company? I am exhausted and must need leave without your permission if you won't give it.”

George immediately gave the required permission. It was almost three o'clock in the morning and hopeful eyes were turned towards the royal couple. Now was the time for the nuptial celebration, the putting to bed of the bride and groom, the witnessing of the young couple in bed together, the sly comments, the whispered suggestions. George had been dreading this and buoying himself up with the reminder that he was the King and could do as he wished, he announced his intention of abolishing the old custom which he found in extremely bad taste. There would be no ceremony whatsoever. The King himself would conduct his bride to their bedchamber.

There was disappointment, for this ceremony was always enjoyed by all except the principal actors; however, the King's show of resolution was admired and no one could gainsay his orders.

So, taking Charlotte by the hand he led her away to the nuptial bedchamber.

The King was apologetic. "We met only for the first time today," he said, 'and you will be feeling that I am almost a stranger.”

"Indeed not," she answered. "I have heard little mentioned that did not concern you since the day the news arrived that you had spoken for me.”

"Then ... I am glad.”

"I trust I am not as a stranger to you.”

"No ... as you heard of me, so I heard of you.”

They faced each other nervously. The King said: "I daresay you will agree with me that finding ourselves in this position we must do our duty.”

"It is what I shall always wish to do... my duty.”

And so while the Court speculated on what was happening in the royal bedchamber, George and Charlotte were solemnly doing their duty.