‘But only briefly.’
‘My dear Fred, one can fall in love in an instant. I have assured her of my friendship.’
Frederick glanced down at the paper.
Adieu, dearest Miss Hamilton, and allow me to sign myself him who will esteem and love you till the end of his life.
Frederick whistled, but George impatiently snatched the paper from him, sealed it and summoned Lord Maiden to take it to the lady.
The Duke of Cumberland rode out to Kew and when he demanded to be presented to the King none dared dismiss him.
George, being told that his brother was asking for an audience, was uncertain how to act. He thought he had made it clear that he had no wish to receive his brother who had so disgraced the family. And yet how could he send Cumberland away? He shouldn’t have come of course. He should have written and ascertained first that the King would see him.
George paced up and down his chamber. He thought of Lady Grosvenor and the letters Cumberland had written to her. No, he’d not see his brother. Cumberland lived riotously with that Duchess of his and she was a woman he would not receive.
It was sad, of course, that there should be quarrels in the family, but sadder still that members of it should behave as disgracefully as Henry had.
Then George thought of his mother who had dominated him, and with her lover Lord Bute put him into leading strings until he had broken free of them. She had loved him, though; he was certain of that. And she had died so bravely hiding the fact that she was in terrible pain from the cancer in her throat.
‘Forgive your brothers, George,’ she had said. ‘Don’t have quarrels in the family if you can avoid it. Your father and his father … Your Grandfather and his …’ Quarrel, quarrel, quarrel … Father against son. And it was no good to the family; no good to the monarchy.
Yet he had refused to receive Cumberland although he had accepted Gloucester – but not his duchess.
He called suddenly: ‘All right. All right. Tell the Duke I’ll see him.’
Cumberland stood before him, a little sheepish, a little truculent. He should be ashamed, thought George, writing those disgusting letters to Lady Grosvenor … and making me pay thirteen thousand pounds’ damages to the woman’s husband. And now he had this woman with the fantastic eyelashes. Eyelashes, eh what? thought the King. Who but a fool would choose a wife for her eyelashes?
‘Well,’ said the King, ‘so you’ve come here to Kew, eh, what?’
‘Yes, George. I thought we should make an end to this quarrel.’
So it was George, eh? The brother, not the subject. As though it were for him to decide such a matter.
‘I said I’d not receive you at Court and I meant it. You understand that, eh, what?’
‘At Court, yes. I understand that. I’ve been involved in scandal, but I am your brother George.’
‘H’m,’ grunted the King. ‘A regrettable fact.’
Cumberland looked hurt and the King was immediately sorry. ‘Scandalous,’ he said gruffly. ‘Don’t you know that? Eh? What?’
‘Yes, of course. But it’s in the past.’
‘And then to marry without consulting me. And those letters.’ The King blinked his eyes as though trying to prevent himself seeing those lurid phrases.
‘It’s over, George. Grosvenor’s had his pound of flesh.’
‘Yes, at whose expense?’
‘You’ve been a wonderful brother and a wonderful king to me, George.’
The King grunted.
‘I’ve thought a great deal about you. You’re a lucky man, George. When I think of your family. Octavius is the thirteenth and the Queen will soon be presenting you with another. A lucky man, George.’
‘H’m,’ said the King, and thought of young George. What was he up to now? One never knew. And rising eighteen. Something would have to be done when he was eighteen. He’d have to be given a little freedom. And when one considered what tricks he could get up to without it – that was an alarming proposition. Still, he was fortunate to have such a fertile wife even if she lacked eyelashes a yard long.
‘I feel deprived, George, not to know my own nephews and nieces. I’d give a great deal to be allowed to visit them.’
Oh, no, thought the King, you are not going to contaminate the children.
‘I will conduct you to the Queen,’ he said. ‘I don’t see why you should not pay your respects to her.’
Cumberland ostentatiously wiped his eyes. He was succeeding beyond his hopes. He had always known old George was a sentimental fellow. He had told Fox so. It was only because he had made no special effort at a reconciliation that there had been none.
‘George, it would give me such pleasure …’
‘Come this way,’ said the King.
Charlotte was sitting at her embroidery, her snuff box beside her, a few of her ladies working with her. She looked startled when she saw her brother-in-law and at a sign from the King dismissed her women.
Cumberland approached her and kissed her hands. ‘This is a very happy day for me, Your Majesty,’ he said.
‘My brother called on me and so I brought him to you,’ said the King.
And even as he spoke he noticed how plain she looked and he kept thinking of his brother’s wife who, he had heard, was one of the most beautiful women in the country. Charlotte never looked her best during pregnancies – she was so small – and one scarcely saw her otherwise!
It was wrong of him to criticize her for doing her duty. He should be grateful. Cumberland might have a beautiful wife but he did not possess thirteen children and a fourteenth on the way.
‘I am constantly hearing of the Prince of Wales,’ said Cumberland.
Startled lights appeared in the Queen’s eyes. What had George been doing now? What new scandal?
Cumberland saw their alarm and delighted in it.
‘The people dote on him. He is so handsome. That is what I hear.’
The Queen breathed more easily. ‘He is a very good-looking boy.’
‘And a scholar too.’
‘He was always good with his books. He speaks several languages fluently.’
‘German is one, I hear. Our ancestors all spoke that fluently, but George is fluent in French, Italian and English too. And a classical scholar.’ Cumberland raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘How did we produce such a genius, George?’
The Queen looked pleased. A discussion of the Prince’s perfections always delighted her.
‘He’s apt to be wild,’ murmured the King.
‘In that he does not take after his father … nor his mother. But it’s youth, George, only youth.’
‘Then the sooner he grows up the better, eh, what?’
‘I am so looking forward to being presented to him.’
The King’s lips were set in stubborn lines.
‘You cannot see the children,’ he said.
‘Oh, but …’
‘I make it clear, eh, what? You cannot see the children.’
Cumberland looked downcast and bewildered. But the King repeated: ‘I said you cannot see the children. You heard, eh, what? You cannot see the children.’
Cumberland remembered what a stubborn old mule George had always been. Let him get an idea and there was no moving him. There was something adamant about the way he spoke. So he could do nothing but take his leave and report to Mr Fox that in spite of being received he had made little headway.
The Prince was developing a great fondness for his sisters and could not let a day pass without visiting them.
‘It is pleasant,’ said the Queen, ‘to know that there is such affection between them.’
Even the King grunted when she told him and said he was glad George was at last realizing his responsibilities.