“Of course,” Lady Danbury said.
George went back to Charlotte and kissed her on the brow. “May I borrow him for a moment?”
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “I’m very tired, actually.”
“Rest,” George told her. “Lady Danbury is going to stay with you while I present our son to my mother and your brother.”
Charlotte nodded sleepily and closed her eyes. George carefully cradled the swaddled babe in his arms and took him out to the hall, where Augusta and Adolphus were waiting.
“My grandson!” Augusta exclaimed.
“He is magnificent,” Adolphus said. “How is Her Majesty?”
“Taking a well-deserved rest,” George said.
Augusta moved closer. “Is he healthy? Oh, I wish I could count his fingers and toes.”
“I can assure you there are ten of each,” George said. “And I have been warned by the nurse that under no circumstances am I allowed to release him from the swaddling.”
“It appears to be a highly engineered set of folds,” Adolphus joked.
Augusta peered down at the little prince’s face. “So beautiful,” she said softly. And then, after casting a furtive glance at Adolphus, she quietly asked George, “Are there any signs of . . . ?”
“Of what, Mother?” George said, almost daring her to say it.
But Augusta was all too aware of Adolphus’s presence, so all she said was, “I am only asking . . .”
“He is our next King,” George said. He looked his mother straight in the eye. “Could he be anything but perfection?”
Charlotte
Buckingham House
The Nursery
15 September 1762
“Your Majesty,” Brimsley said. “He needs you.”
Charlotte nodded and hurried out of the nursery. She should have been with George already, but little George had been fussy and had required more of her time than usual.
Today was the day. George’s speech to Parliament. He had been working so hard. Draft after draft of his speech. Charlotte had read them all and offered her thoughts and opinions, but she was still new to this country. There were cultural subtleties that she didn’t fully understand.
“How is he?” she asked Brimsley.
“Nervous. Reynolds looks concerned.”
Charlotte bit her lip. Reynolds was such a stoic. If he looked concerned, then George was definitely in need of help.
“Walk with me,” she said to Brimsley.
“I always walk with you.”
That elicited a little smile. “So you do.”
“If I may speak freely, Your Majesty . . .”
“You often do that as well.”
He acknowledged this with a nod, then said, “I think perhaps he simply needs some good cheer.”
“Encouragement, you mean?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. He has been very well lately. Would you not agree? This is probably just nerves. Anyone would be nervous in such a situation.”
“This is true,” Charlotte said. “Even I.”
Brimsley bit back a smile.
“You are not so stoic as Reynolds, are you?” she murmured.
“I beg your pardon?”
She waved this away. They had arrived in the formal sitting room. George was pacing near the window, mouthing words and making hand gestures. Reynolds was watching him with a worried expression.
“Here I am!” she announced, her voice cheerful and bright.
“I have been waiting,” George said. He looked magnificent in his formal military uniform, but his hands were shaking.
“I was with the baby,” Charlotte said. “I am not late. There is plenty of time.”
George nodded, but it was a shaky, jerky motion.
“You look very handsome,” Charlotte said, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his coat. “Do you have your speech?”
“In hand,” he confirmed. “Though I am rethinking the middle section on the Colonies . . .”
“Parliament will appreciate all of your thoughts,” she assured him. “You have worked so hard. You are ready.”
She reached up to kiss him. He rested his forehead against hers, and the connection seemed to help him settle. She took an extra moment to take his hands in hers. She held them long enough for the shaking to subside.
He let out a long breath. “Thank you.”
“Off you go,” Charlotte said. It was now or never. And they both knew that never wasn’t an option.
George departed, Reynolds right behind him. Charlotte counted to ten, then turned to Brimsley. “He is going to be brilliant,” she said.
“Of course, Your Majesty. He is the King.”
Buckingham House
The Queen’s Sitting Room
One hour later
“Your Majesty.”
Charlotte looked up to see Reynolds standing in the doorway. This was a surprise. She would not have thought he’d be back so soon.
And the look on his face . . . it was not good.
Dread began to pool in her stomach. “What was it? Did his speech not go well?”
Reynolds glanced at Brimsley, then looked at her with a pained expression. “His Majesty did not deliver a speech. He never got out of the carriage.”
Charlotte stood. “What do you mean, he never got out?”
“His Majesty could not get out of the carriage.”
“Well, what happened?” Charlotte demanded. “What did you do? He was quite fine when he left here.”
“He was not fine!” Reynolds exploded.
Charlotte froze, and beside her Brimsley audibly gasped at Reynolds’s outburst.
“Your Majesty,” Reynolds said. “Forgive me. Please. It is only . . . He was not fine. He was not. That was merely . . . hope.”
“Hope,” Charlotte repeated.
Reynolds nodded. His eyes were sad, and so very tired. “I have tried to say . . .” he began.
“I know,” Charlotte said. It was just that she had not wanted to know. But now she had no choice. “What happened?” she asked Reynolds. “Tell me everything.”
“It started well,” Reynolds said. “I rode on the footboard so I could see through the back window. He was studying his speech. Practicing, mouthing the words. But as we grew closer . . .”
Charlotte took a shaky breath.
“His hands started to tremble.”
Charlotte’s heart sank. She knew what this meant.
“And he started to . . .” Reynolds looked up at her with the most tortured expression. “I don’t know how to describe it, Your Majesty, except that he began to shrink.”
“To shrink?” Brimsley asked, when it became apparent that Charlotte could not.
“It was as if he were closing in on himself.” Reynolds demonstrated, his shoulders hunching, his belly going concave. “And then before I knew it, he was on the floor.”
Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth. “The floor? Of the carriage?”
Reynolds nodded. “He was on the floor, but no one knew but me. I was the only one riding on the footboard. I didn’t know what to do when we stopped in front of Parliament. I got down as fast as I could. I wouldn’t let anyone else near the door.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte whispered.
“I tried to open it, but he’d locked it from the inside.”
Charlotte closed her eyes. “Oh no.”
“Were there many people there?” Brimsley asked.
“Yes,” Reynolds said, with just the barest tinge of what could only be termed hysteria. “Yes, there were many people there. All of Parliament was waiting for him. I did the only thing I could think to do. I climbed up and looked in the carriage.”