‘But why?’
‘Imagine him. He was seven years old when Papa and Mamma left Hanover and they haven’t seen him since.’
‘What would he be now?’ asked Caroline.
‘Over twenty ... nearly twenty-one,’ said Anne. ‘He’s two years older than I.’
‘Do you remember him, Anne?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Yes, I think I do ... a little. He was very spoilt. He had rickets for a long time and couldn’t walk ... but that was before I was born. They called him Fritzchen and it was quite sickening the fuss they all made of him.’
‘So you were jealous?’ asked Amelia.
‘Of course. I wanted to be the eldest ... and a boy ... so that in time I could be Prince of Wales. Then Queen Anne died and Grandpapa came to England and after a while Mamma brought us girls, but Grandpapa wouldn’t allow Fritzchen to come. He had to stay behind and look after Hanover.’
‘What, at seven?’ asked Amelia.
‘He was a figurehead. Grandpapa was quite fond of Fritzchen, which is saying something, for he wasn’t fond of anyone else ... except the poor old Maypole. I wonder what she is doing now.’
‘I’m sorry for her,’ said Amelia. ‘It must be terrible to be a king’s mistress and be important and then suddenly he dies ... and nobody cares about you any more.’
‘Don’t worry about her. She looked after herself very well, I’m sure.’
‘I wasn’t thinking about money. It’s rather strange that a man like Grandpapa could be faithful to a woman like that—for all those years. And she was terribly ugly too. I heard she was almost bald under that awful red wig.’
‘He wasn’t exactly faithful. That reminds me. Mistress Anne Brett must be feeling very sorry for herself. Do you know she threatened to speak to Grandpapa about me because I wouldn’t allow her to alter the arrangement of this palace. What is she thinking now, do you imagine?’
‘She’s busily packing and preparing to leave, I’ll swear,’ said Amelia.
Anne threw back her head and laughed. Caroline did the same.
‘It’s a small matter,’ said Amelia. ‘Scarcely worth feeling triumphant about. The point is that everything will be different for us. Our parents will come here ... we shall all be together. Instead of being two separate families, there’ll be one. The family will be reunited; we shall be with our little brother and sisters. And Fred will most certainly come home.’
‘When?’ asked Caroline.
‘Very soon. After all he is Prince of Wales now. Fancy that! Fritz who has never set foot in England is Prince of Wales.’
‘I know why you hate him,’ said Amelia. ‘You would like to be Prince of Wales.’
‘How could I be?’
‘You could be Princess of Wales,’ said Caroline. ‘And if there were no boys ...’
Anne stood up and raised her eyes almost ecstatically to the ceiling.
‘Do you know,’ she said, ‘if I could be Queen of England, if only for one day, I’d be willing to die the next.’
‘Anne!’
‘It’s true,’ she declared. ‘And I’m sure I’d make a better ruler than Fritz ... or Papa ... or Grandpapa. There was a Queen Anne of England. I was named after her. They call her good Queen Anne.’
Amelia stood up. ‘Listen. You can hear the sound of trumpets. Papa and Mamma are passing through the city.’
The girls were silent, listening.
Sir Spencer Compton came in all haste to Chelsea. He was a worried man. Greatly as he appreciated the honour the King had done him, he was a little uncertain of his ability to hold the high office which was being thrust upon him, and now right at the beginning of his new duties he was confronted by a task which he was incapable of performing, and he feared he was going to show not only the King but the whole Court that he could not compare with Walpole.
It was the simple matter of the King’s Speech which it was his duty to prepare and he had no idea how to do it.
There was one man who knew exactly what should be said and what left unsaid; that man was Sir Robert Walpole.
Walpole had, when informing him that the King had dismissed him and told him to take his orders from Sir Spencer Compton, assured the latter that he would be willing to help in any way possible. Well, here was a way in which he could help.
‘I have come,’ said Sir Spencer, ‘to ask you to write the King’s Speech, because for the life of me I have no idea how it should be done.’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Walpole. ‘I will do it immediately and it shall be in your hands in good time.’
‘I am indeed grateful,’ Sir Spencer told him.
When he had gone Walpole went to work on the speech, amused and gratified that his services should be so quickly needed; but there was a desolation in his heart, for he was already realizing how much power meant to him and he felt deeply depressed because it seemed that he had lost it forever.
Even in the streets they would already be talking of his fall. He was not so clever as he had thought he was. He had been so sure of himself that he had neglected to fawn on the Prince of Wales and the Prince of Wales was now King. He was not sure of the new Queen; he had displeased her now and then, but she was too clever a woman to bear long grudges and in the last years they had appreciated each other.
But the King had dismissed him. And even though the new favourite had to ask his help the cry had gone up; it was echoing throughout the Court and the city: Walpole is dismissed.
There were so many things to be done, thought the Queen, as she sat before her Mirror and Charlotte Clayton with Henrietta Howard loosened her hair and unbuttoned her gown, to give her greater comfort.
The girls must be brought into the family again, and Frederick must come home. She used to think of him as Fritzchen, but that was long ago. It must be years since she had ceased to think of him at all. Indeed since young William was growing into such a charmer she had almost wished that her firstborn had never existed. What would he be like after all these years? He would be like a stranger . . . a German stranger.
But that could wait. Even the girls could wait awhile. There were more pressing problems.
‘How I hate this bombazine!’ she sighed.
‘It is quite becoming to Your Majesty,’ Henrietta told her.
Caroline eyed herself. Yes, Henrietta was right. The black showed up the fairness of her skin and the magnificence of her shoulders and bust—that bosom which George Augustus declared was the most beautiful in the world.
But this was no time to be thinking of what she looked like. There were important matters to be dealt with and the most important was that the King should not act foolishly now that he had ceased to be the Prince who was of no account because it was his father’s wish that he should not be.
She could see fearful pits yawning at their feet. The situation in Europe was very tricky; and there was one man who was so well versed in foreign affairs that they would need him; that was Sir Robert Walpole. There was one man who could keep the government steady; and that was Walpole.
In fact, thought Caroline, he is crude and uncultured, his morals are questionable; he is ugly and too fat; he drinks too much; he is not exactly a charming man; but he is the man we need.
She thought of the King’s delight when he had come to tell her how he had dismissed Walpole. ‘I have said to him: “Your orders you vill take from Spencer Compton.” He vas scarcely off his knees ven this I tell him.’
And she was expected to applaud such promptitude, such sly action, such a neat way of paying off old scores, when she wanted to shout: But we need this man. He is the only one clever enough to help us. If he does not work for us he will work against us.