‘Careful,’ said the King aloud. ‘Eh, what?’
But how could he stop his thoughts?
Now his mind had switched to the riots which had broken out in Scotland and had been going on all during the year. A protest against the Catholic Relief Bill to which he had given his assent the year before. He had been glad to do it; he felt that people should be free to worship in the way they wished – as long as they worshipped; he had little patience with those atheists and agnostics or whatever they called themselves. People should go to church; they should obey the commandments; but high church, low church … that was a matter for individual conscience. But up in Scotland the low church didn’t like it at all. ‘No Popery,’ they shouted. Troublemakers. Mob mostly. Serious-minded people discussed their differences. They didn’t go about burning people’s houses because they thought differently on certain matters. Ever since he was a young man he had believed in religious tolerance. He had been lenient to all denominations. Quakers, for instance. And there he was back at Hannah.
No, no, go away, Hannah. I must not think of you … dare not, eh, what?
‘Pray God the riots don’t spread below the Border,’ he said.
Time to get up. Yes, the room was warm now … or warmer. He would devote himself to going through the state papers and then he would go to the Queen’s apartment to take breakfast with her.
When he arrived there he found the Queen already seated at the table with Madam von Schwellenburg in attendance. The King did not like that woman. He remembered how his mother, when she was alive, had tried to get her dismissed because she felt she had too great an influence on the Queen; but Charlotte had showed herself remarkably stubborn and refused to let the woman go. It was not that she wanted her; it was simply that she clung to the right to choose her own servants. He had decided then that although Charlotte might have some sway over her own household she should have none in political affairs. No, said George, I have seen what havoc women can play in politics. Look at the late King of France, how he had allowed his women to rule him. Madame de Pompadour. Madame du Barry. And look at the state of that country! ‘Not very happy,’ murmured the King. ‘Not very happy. Would not like to see my country like that. Women ruin a country. They shall never lead me by the nose.’
Charlotte dismissed Schwellenburg. The arrogant German woman was quite capable of remaining if she had not done so.
‘Your Majesty looks a little tired,’ said the Queen solicitously.
‘Eh? What? Not a good night.’
‘You have been worrying about something?’
He did not answer that question. She was not going to worm state matters out of him that way.
‘Your Majesty should take more than a dish of tea.’
‘A dish of tea is all I want.’
‘But …’
‘A dish of tea is all I want,’ he repeated. ‘People eat too much. They get fat. All the family have a tendency to fat. Young George is too fat, eh, what?’
Charlotte’s doting look illuminated her plain face. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that. He is well formed and because he is so handsome and fairly tall he can carry a little weight gracefully.’
‘No one can carry too much weight with grace,’ declared the King. ‘I shall have to make sure that he is not eating too much fat on his meat. Pie crust, I’ll swear … in spite of my orders that they were not to have it.’
‘George is nearly eighteen now …’ began the Queen timorously.
‘Not yet. Not yet. He’s a minor. He’ll have to remember that, eh, what?’
‘But of course, of course,’ said the Queen hastily.
‘Seems to have settled down, eh? Not so much chasing the maids of honour. There hasn’t been one to take the place of that Harriot Vernon, has there?’
‘Schwellenburg told me that he was very, friendly with Mary Hamilton, but I discovered that it was a very good friendship. Mary is a good girl and he regarded her as his sister.’
‘Sister. He’s got sisters … five of them. What’s he want with another sister?’
‘It was a pleasant friendship, that was all. Mary Hamilton is one of the girls’ attendants and he saw her when he visited them. It meant he was visiting his sisters quite frequently and I’m sure Your Majesty will agree that is a good thing.’
‘Should have gone to see his own sisters … not this young woman.’
‘They were just friends.’
‘You’re keeping your eye on him?’
‘I wish I saw more of him.’ The Queen sighed.
‘Send for him then. Send for him.’
‘I would like him to come of his own accord. But when he does come, all the time he seems to be thinking of getting away.’ The King frowned and the Queen went on hastily: ‘Of course he is so young and full of high spirits. I hear that he only has to appear to set the people cheering. In Hyde Park the people nearly went wild with joy when your brother stopped his coach to speak to them. They were cheering George … not Cumberland.’
‘Cumberland had no right …’ The King’s eyes bulged. ‘I’ve forbidden him to the Court.’
‘This wasn’t the Court. It was the Park. After all they are uncle and nephew. They could scarcely pass by.’
‘Family quarrels,’ said the King. ‘I hate them. They’ve always been. I thought we’d avoid them. But I never could get along with Cumberland. It was different with Gloucester. I’m sorry he had to make a fool of himself. But Cumberland … I don’t want the fellow at Court, brother of mine though he may be.’
‘I must say he lives … scandalous …’
The King spoke bitterly: ‘So even eyelashes a yard long can’t satisfy him.’
‘I’ve heard some of the women talking about the house he keeps … the people who go there. Fox is a frequent visitor. Do you think because you won’t have him at Court he’s trying to build up a little court of his own?’
The King looked at his wife sharply. This sounded remarkably like interference. Any conversation which brought in Mr Fox could be highly political. He was not going to have Charlotte interfering. He’d tell her so; he’d make it plain to her. But for a few moments he gave himself up to imagining the sort of ‘court’ there would be at the Cumberlands. Men like Fox … Fox was a lecher … Fox had all the vices and none of the virtues; but he was a brilliant politician, and if he was a habitué of Cumberland’s court that could be very dangerous. For where Fox was other men of affairs gathered.
The King looked distastefully at the Queen. She was not really an old woman … thirty-five or so … but having spent some nineteen years in almost continuous child-bearing this had naturally aged her. Compared with women like Elizabeth Pembroke she was old and ugly. And she was the woman with whom he was expected to be content while his brother sported on sofas with Grosvenor’s wife and before that matter was settled was doing the same with a timber merchant’s wife and before very long marrying the woman he had made his Duchess. Not that he was faithful to her. He was living dissolutely … frequenting gaming clubs, hanging about the theatres in the hope of seducing every little actress that took his fancy. Disgusting! The King could not bear to think about it … yet he could not stop himself thinking about it … and when he looked at Charlotte … plain, fertile Charlotte sitting there, smug and so obviously with child … he felt bitter against a fate which had made him a king with a high moral standard who had forced himself to be a faithful husband all these years to a woman who did not attract him at all.