Текст книги "The Prince and the Quakeress "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
• • •
The King raged up and down his apartment.
He’ll have a stroke if he doesn’t take care, thought Waldegrave.
‘This letter from that impudent puppy! I know who has put him up to this. It’s that mother of his. Sly -faced row. And that Scottish stallion. A pox on the pair of them. He will take the money. By God, he will. But he prefers to live with his mother. Baby! Cannot leave Mamma! You know why? Tied to her apron strings, that’s why. And Bute has tied the knots. Never trust a Scotsman, Waldegrave. They’re the ones to make trouble. All the trouble starts across the Border and this fool of a daughter-in-law of mine has to keep a warm place for one in her bed. Here’s a nice state of affairs. I’m flouted in my own Court. He’ll take the money but he’ll stay with Mamma. By God, he won’t. If he stays with Mamma he gets no money from me. If his grandmother were alive...’ Sentimental tears in the blazing blue eyes, incongruous when his anger blazed in his purple cheeks and the veins were knotted in that dangerous way at his temples. ‘No, I’m glad she’s not alive. That’s how I feel sometimes, Waldegrave. I’m glad she’s not alive to see what an ungrateful puppy she’d have for a grandson. A Prince of Wales! A ninny who can’t leave Mamma. And this is the whelp who asks me for £40,000 a year and he’ll graciously accept it as long as we don’t untie the leading rein Mamma and Mamma’s bedfellow have tied about, his silly neck. I tell you this, Waldegrave: If he does not come here he’ll get no money and that’s my word on it.’
Waldegrave waited a few seconds for the worst of the anger to subside a little.
Then he said mildly: ‘It may well be that Your Majesty’s ministers will think that the allowance is the Prince’s due.’
‘So my ministers are on his side, eh? My ministers will work for the puppy against me?’
‘I can only suggest that this may be so, Your Majesty.’
‘We’ll see. If my ministers cannot serve me, Waldegrave, they can get out.’
Waldegrave was silent. The King would doubtless have to give way. He must remember how unpopular his own father had become when he quarrelled with his Prince of Wales, George II himself. Did the old King know how unpopular he was and how the people were all waiting for this blue-eyed boy to step up to the throne.
Perhaps he did. Perhaps he gave way to these spasms of rage out of habit. He had always been a man of habit.
‘And there’s something else, Waldegrave, something which makes me wish I had that puppy here so that I could kick him round this room till he yelped to be let free. There’s something else.’
‘Your Majesty?’
‘He asks a favour for Bute. "Groom of the Stole," he says. "I know of no one who could better fill the role, nor one whom it would please me better to have about me." No, I’m sure he doesn’t. Who’s put him up to that, do you think? Mamma! Let’s have him Groom of the Stole to the Prince as well as Stallion in Chief to the Princess. This is my witless nincompoop of a grandson, Waldegrave.’
‘Sire, I doubt not your ministers would decide the Prince should choose the members of his own household.’
‘But he has to come to me for the key, eh. He has, in fact, to have my assent. I’ll tell you this, Waldegrave, I’d meant this office for you. You’ve done good service and it was to be your reward.’
‘Sire, I shall be happy indeed to retire from the Prince’s household.’
‘Well, that’s what it will mean, Waldegrave, that’s what it will mean. He’s of age now. No place for a tutor. He’s a man at last...so they tell me. But I fail to see it.’
‘Your Majesty, I beg of you have no regrets on my account, for I shall retire from the Prince’s household with none.’
‘I know well your opinion of the boy.’
‘He is not a bad boy, Your Majesty, but by no means bright. He is not ill-natured; he simply cannot apply himself.’
‘In other words, he’s a fool. Don’t mince your words, Waldegrave. He’s my grandson, but he takes after his father. Fred was the biggest fool in Christendom and a rogue in the bargain. This young whelp is not that...yet. But, believe me, that mother of his and her Scot will make him so. Depend upon it. Depend upon it.’ The King looked at the watch which was hanging on his coat. ‘In five minutes I must call on the Countess of Yarmouth. Never fear, though. I shall have thing to say to young George.’
Waldegrave took his leave. Still making love by the clock. Those rages of his were alarming. One of these days...thought Waldegrave, and surely that day not far distant...then young George!
Not a very hopeful prospect, thought Waldegrave; but he must be thankful that at last he was free of his duties with the Prince. He had never wanted them; and was delighted to find they were at an end.
Groom of the Stole indeed! Let Bute have it. His own idea was to put as big a distance as possible between himself and that uninteresting young man.
• • •
The King was angry. Newcastle and Henry Fox had just left him. He must, they had told him, respect the wishes of the Prince of Wales, and if the young man decided he preferred to live with his mother, then he should do so. The people would not be pleased if the King tried to interfere with his grandson’s domestic arrangements.
‘And I am not pleased that he defies my wishes.’
‘Your Majesty will remember your own case, and the feelings of the people. They were with you against your father. They would be with the Prince of Wales now.’
‘If he can’t be gracious enough to accept my offer of apartments he can forget about his allowance.’
‘It is a matter for the government, Your Majesty.’
‘A pox on the government!’
Silence for the outburst to subside.
‘So I am to have that puppy dictate to me?’
‘It would be the wish of the people and Your Majesty’s government. The custom is that when the Prince of Wales comes of age his allowance is increased. That sum has been set aside...’
‘So he is to dictate to us, is he?’
‘It is the custom, Your Majesty.’
‘So be it, then. Give him the money. Let him go his own way. I hear he’s an ignorant young fool and knows nothing. I was giving him a chance to learn...a chance to acquire an understanding of state matters...’
The ministers were silent. The King faced them, his rage subsiding suddenly; his voice breaking with emotion.
‘I thank God his grandmother is not here to see this day.’
• • •
The King summoned the Duke of Grafton.
‘You’re a member of the Prince’s household.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘I have something here I wish you to pass on to a man I have no wish to see here.’
Grafton murmured in surprise: ‘At Your Majesty’s service.’
The King went to a drawer and took out a golden key—the badge of office for the Groom of the Stole.
‘The Prince wishes to bestow this on a certain gentle...on a certain person. It is against my wishes that it should be bestowed on this person. But, my ministers inform me, it is for the Prince to choose the officers of his own household, so my wishes in this matter are ignored. Ignored, I say.’ His voice rose to a shout; and Grafton lowered his eyes. ‘Hey,’ went on the King, ‘take it, Grafton, and give it to the person for whom the Prince intends it.’
‘That is, Your Majesty?’
‘Lord Bute. I don’t want that Scottish fellow in my presence. My ministers inform me that he is to have the key. Very well, he shall have it, but by God, I’ll not give it to him Here, take it. Give it to him. Tell him it comes to him with my pleasure. I’ll tell you this, Grafton, if that Scotsman came within a few inches of my foot I’d be ready to kick him so hard he’d go hurtling back across the Border where he belongs.’
‘I will see that the key is delivered, Your Majesty.’
• • •
On his way from the– Prince’s apartments where he had been to congratulate him on the success of their firm stand against the King, Lord Bute met the Duke of Grafton. Grafton was looking rather uneasy as he paused, exchanged a few words and muttered that he had just come from the King.
‘And he was in his usual humour by the look of you.’
Grafton lifted his shoulder and dipped something into Bute’s pocket.
‘Don’t be put out,’ he said. ‘It was ungraciously given but it least it is yours and he could not withhold it.’
‘What...’ cried Bute putting his hand into his pocket and drawing out the gold key.
‘It is yours since you are to be the Prince’s Groom of the Stole.’
‘But the King...’
‘Would not present it to you himself. He asked me to slip it to you.’
‘But...it is an insult.’
‘My dear fellow, George is insulting someone every minute of his life. He always has. It’s a habit. And you know his habits. Don’t take it to heart.’
‘Do you mean to say he wouldn’t even see me to hand me the key?’
‘That’s it. However, you have the key and that’s all that matters.’
‘Yes,’ said Bute slowly. ‘I have the key.’
But it was an insult nonetheless.
There was another shock ahead of him Miss Elizabeth Chudleigh was waiting to have a word with him He was surprised. He wondered why she should wish to see him and for a moment he thought she had come to give him some news of George’s Quakeress.
She was a very beautiful woman, Miss Chudleigh—beautiful, bold and brazen. He was certain that she had passed through many adventures, and wondered why she had not married. Not still mourning for Hamilton surely; it was years since he had married the famous beauty Elizabeth Gunning.
‘It is good of you to call on me,’ said Bute, and she smiled her very bold smile and he wondered whether it held an invitation. He would have to let her know that there was no place in his affection even for such an exciting woman. He could consider no other mistress but the Princess Augusta. ‘I am glad that you did. I wanted to congratulate you on the very excellent entertainment you gave for the Prince’s birthday. His Highness was delighted and felt it was so good of you to take such pains to please him.’
‘It was a glittering occasion, was it not? And how gratified I am that the Prince and you, Lord Bute, enjoyed it. I trust the Princess did also.’
‘We were all delighted. I can assure you that.’
‘Such a costly entertainment! Ah, my lord, you doubtless would not think so. But I am not as rich as you are.’
‘You are a very fortunate young lady to be able to afford such entertainments.’
‘That is the trouble, my lord. I can’t.’
‘That hardly seems so on this magnificent occasion.’
She laughed light-heartedly but there was a steely quality in her flashing eyes. ‘Well, my lord, I knew I had good friends.’
‘You mean you are in debt?’
She lifted her hands and raised her eyes to the ceiling in mock dismay.
‘I am sure the Princess will be displeased. You know that she disapproves of the members of her household becoming involved in financial difficulties.’
‘But for the sake of the Prince of Wales…’
‘I do not understand you, Miss Chudleigh.’
‘We are all concerned for his happiness. I know. I think he is at times a little anxious. He thinks a great deal of his little Quakeress tucked away in Tottenham.’
‘I do not think you should talk of such matters, Miss Chudleigh.’
She was smiling at him slyly. She was a woman who could convey a great deal by a look, by a gesture, by the emphasis she put on a word.
‘In view of your position in the household, my lord, I felt sure you would agree with me that we should help to make the Prince happy. If this affair of his were brought into the open...Oh, there are rumours now of a lady of Islington, but people are not sure and there are always rumours; I think for the sake of the Prince we should keep it...just a rumour.’
Oh God, thought Bute. The woman is blackmailing me. She is a menace. She is going to spread rumours of myself and the Princess. Not that there were not rumours already; but a woman who had lived in the Princess’s intimate circle would be able to supply details...any details she liked to invent and she would be believed. If she whispered to the Prince, that prim young man would be horrified. It seemed incredible that he had no idea of the true relationship between his mother and Bute, but it was the case. And if he knew...And worse still if the woman started to talk of his affair with the Quaker; if she put out her highly coloured version...oh, disaster!
She was watching him obliquely.
‘I believe that your lordship will wish to help me in this little matter of the Prince’s entertainment. I know how fond you are of the Prince...and the Princess. And His Majesty is so difficult. Oh, not with me...in fact, the old gentleman is rather fond of me...If His Majesty heard certain facts…on which he could rely...Oh, what an unhappy time for the Prince and, as you and the Princess are so devoted to him, for you also. In view of all that I felt a little entertainment to cheer him up would be welcome...and I was certain that would agree with me.’
‘How much do you owe?’
‘Your lordship really wants to know? Oh, how generous of you.’
‘I should warn you, Miss Chudleigh, that in future before you engage yourself in such expense you should first decide whether you can meet it.’
‘Oh, Lord Bute. You are an angel! This is a lesson to me, I do assure you.’
Lord Bute was very uneasy. He could not get the memory of that beautiful sly face out of his head.
Visit from a Blindfolded Doctor
The Prince of Wales was unrecognizable as he slipped out of Leicester House. To some young men adventure like this would have been the spice of life. George hated it. Intrigue, subterfuge, romance that lacked the blessing of the clergy were abhorrent. He believed passionately in love and marriage. One of the things he hoped to do – he had said it to Edward and Elizabeth and to Lord Bute – when he was King was to restore morality to the Court. His grandfather and his great-grandfather had been a disgrace to the family. A King, he knew, set the morals of his Court. That was what he intended to do. And yet here he was, living in sin with his beautiful Quakeress. Of course we are married in the sight of God, he had told her. But those were empty words. God would demand the certificate, the signature, the written evidence that two people had decided to live together in holy matrimony.
Hannah was the wife of Isaac Axford; there was a certificate to proclaim this to the world. If only I had been a linen-draper! sighed the Prince. Or a grocer, like Isaac Axford, how happy we might have been.
And yet his future was beginning to excite him. As the carriage jolted on its way to Tottenham he was thinking of conversations with Lord Bute and his mother. They were making him see what an important destiny lay before him. There was great work for him to do, work which no linen-draper or grocer could hope to achieve.
Oh no, how much better if Hannah were a Princess—a German Princess preferably because that would please his mother and he loved her so dearly that he wanted to please her—then he and Hannah could be married and live happily ever after.
The carriage turned in at the private drive. Hannah would be waiting for him as she always was, peeping out from behind the curtains watching as the carriage drove up. Poor Hannah, she never knew when a carriage would turn in this drive or the main one—or perhaps not a carriage...but some sinister figure would come creeping in...Isaac Axford, her husband, who had discovered her at last.
It was a life of subterfuge for poor Hannah, shut away from the world, never sure from one moment to another what the day would bring.
He strode into the house. She was standing on the stairs waiting for him. He always felt in those first moments of reunion that everything—all the fears and alarms, all the subterfuge, even the sin of all this—was worthwhile.
She threw herself into his arms.
‘Hannah, my little Quakeress...’
She smiled. Quakeress had become a word of endearment between them. She did not look like a Quakeress now. Gone were the sombre grey garments. Her seamstress was constantly engaged on devising new gowns for her. Today she wore one of rich claret-coloured velvet and looked regal, for she had a natural grace.
She is fit to be a Queen, thought George angrily. Why could they not accept her? Why should everyone make life so complicated when it could be simple. If they could marry now they could be completely happy, completely at peace. They could repent their sin in forestalling their marriage vows and live in respectable bliss for the rest of their lives.
What of Mr. Axford? George had temporarily forgotten him. But perhaps he would die. People did die. They caught the smallpox. Almost everyone caught the smallpox. One of Hannah’s greatest charms was her clear unblemished skin – so very rare when almost every other woman was pockmarked. If God saw fit to remove Mr. Axford from the scene...if Hannah were a Princess...how happy they could be.
‘It seems long since we were together,’ said George.
‘I have waited long for thee.’
George was always moved by the Quaker form of address. It was part of her charm for him; it set her apart from Court beauties like Elizabeth Chudleigh.
‘And I have waited too. I have thought of you constantly. My grandfather sent for me because of my birthday.’
‘Yes, your birthday...’ She smiled secretly. She had a gift for him. It would be something wrought with her own hands, something he would treasure for always. An embroidered waistcoat perhaps; she was so clever with her needle, but always careful not to prick her fingers. ‘Thou wouldst not wish me to be as a sewing-woman in thy mother’s palace.’ He had laughed and told her that he would not care how she pricked her fingers. When she talked of his mother’s palace he was always tenderly amused, for she had no notion of what a Court household was like, and George was not fluent enough to describe it so vividly as to make the picture clear. She doubtless had visions of a Sultan’s Palace of the utmost magnificence and the King walking about in a golden crown.
Sometimes he wished he could show her his grandfather in one of his rages, his wig awry, his face scarlet, spitting as he roared and shouted at this ninny or that puppy. A very different picture from Hannah’s King, he was sure.
He linked his arm in hers and they went to her rooms on the ground floor. The heavy curtains obscured the windows...it was a luxurious prison, thought George.
When he kissed her, when they made love, he thought there was something changed about her. He was not sure, for he was neither very sensitive nor observant. But she seemed remote, more ethereal than usual.
It was later that she told him.
‘George, we are to have a child.’
His emotions were great but mixed. He would be a father. It was a matter over which any man must rejoice. A child...his child. How strange! How wonderful! He wanted to tell everyone—his mother, Lord Bute, his brothers and sisters...even his grandfather. Oh yes, he even wanted to tell his old grandfather. ‘You call me a ninny, a baby tied to his mother’s apron strings, a puppy—but I’m man enough to be a father.’ But how could he tell anyone. This was another secret. No one must know. The birth of the child would have to be kept secret forever...Now he was aghast. What had they done? It was all very well to sin oneself and be prepared to take the consequences. But this was involving others...This was involving a child.
‘I see thou art disturbed,’ said Hannah.
‘It...it is wonderful...We are to have a child! But...I think...’
‘I know. I think, too. This child will be without a name. It will be a bastard.’
‘Oh, don’t call our child that, Hannah.’
‘But it is what the child will be. We must face the truth, George. We cannot hide from truth.’
‘We will love this child, we will cherish it...we will plan for its happiness. It shall be happy as no child ever was before.’
‘But in time it will know the truth, George, that we brought it into this world when we had no right to do so. I am a sinful woman and I fear for this child.’ She turned to him and her face was radiant. ‘Yet I rejoice. I cry "My spirit doth rejoice in God my saviour." I do not know what has happened to me, George. I am steeped in sin and yet I am so happy.’
‘We will find a way,’ he said. ‘Hannah we will find a way of pleasing...God.’
She looked at him tenderly and shook her head. ‘Perhaps I should go away. Perhaps I should return to my people...repentant and contrite.’
‘Return to Isaac Axford?’
‘Oh...no...never, never...’
‘That is what they would call repenting. To live with him, to bear his children...’
‘To stand up in the Steeple House, to confess my sin. That I could do...but return to him...never.’
George said: ‘I shall he King of this country. When I am. I shall know what to do. You must think of nothing but the child. It would be bad for it if you fretted. Remember that And leave it to me. I will think of what we must do.’
On his way back to Leicester House he could not suppress his excitement.
I am about to be a father. I, George, Prince of Wales!
This would be the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me if only...
Recently he had gained confidence. Everyone paid homage to him. His mother listened to him with more attention than she ever had before. Lord Bute was respectful. And even the King could not command him to do what he did not want.
He must not forget that he was the Prince of Wales and that one day he would he King, kings were meant to govern, so Lord Bute and he was a very wise and clever man.
Surely it was within the means of a King to discover a way round a situation like the one in which he found himself.
• • •
He wanted to talk to someone about it and whom could he trust but his favourite brother and sister.
He called Edward and together they went to Elizabeth’s apartment. Poor Elizabeth, it was one of her bad days and was unable to leave her bed. She looked very wan propped up with pillows, but at least one did not see her deformity in this position.
‘I have some news for you.’ said George. ‘I don’t know what you will think of it.’
‘Well, let’s hear and we’ll tell you,’ retorted Edward.
‘I am going to be a father.’
He looked from one to the other. Edward’s mouth had opened in surprise; a faint colour touched Elizabeth’s cheeks, making her look almost healthy.
Elizabeth spoke first: ‘So Hannah is with child.’
George nodded.
‘What are you going to do about it?’ asked Edward.
‘Do? What can I do?’
‘Is Hannah happy?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘She is both happy and sad. She is happy because she longs for the child and unhappy because of the circumstances.’
‘Poor Hannah! And you, George?’
‘I wish to God I could marry Hannah.’
‘They would never allow it.’
‘No. And there is Mr. Axford.’
‘It was a marriage mill,’ said Elizabeth. ‘So perhaps if it were possible it could be proved that the marriage was not legal and that Hannah was free.’
‘Oh, do you think that could be.’
‘Marriages like that are illegal,’ said Edward. ‘If you married Hannah, and if this child is a boy it could be a King of England, think of that.’
‘Children can be made legitimate, I believe, even if the parents were not married at their birth,’ said Elizabeth.
George’s blue eyes were shining with purpose. ‘I shall not rest,’ he said, ‘until I have righted this.’
‘George,’ cried Elizabeth, suddenly fearful, ‘will you promise never to do anything...that might be considered rash...without first telling me about it.’
George was at his sister’s bedside; he took her thin hand and kissed it.
‘I swear that I will consult you first.’
She seemed relieved.
‘It is most exciting,’ said Edward. ‘George, I never thought you’d have it in you. When we used to sit in the schoolroom while we cogitated over those ridiculous problems and I copied the answers I used to think Old George will always be the good and respectable member of the family.’
‘I always wanted to be good and respectable,’ George admitted. ‘It is strange how fate seemed to decide against one’s own decision and make one what one is not.’
‘We always have the chance to go our own way,’ Elizabeth reminded him.
‘It’s true,’ put in Edward. ‘If you had taken one look into that linen-draper’s window and then looked away and forgotten all about the girl you saw there this would not have happened. You would have been cosily married either to one of the Wolfenbüttels of Grandfather’s choice or the Saxe-Gothas of our mother’s. Perhaps you would have been about to be a father. You see it is in our own hands.’
Elizabeth was watching her elder brother anxiously But he had promised to let her know before he did anything rash
• • •
The Prince was not subtle enough to hide his feelings and Elizabeth Chudleigh recognized the change in him and guessed its cause.
‘A natural and not unexpected result.’ she chuckled. ‘What now?’
Whatever it was she decided to have a place in the centre of affairs.
As soon as she had an opportunity of speaking to him alone she told him that she was sure there was something about which she should congratulate him.
He looked startled. ‘How...how did you know?’
‘Oh...’ she smiled wisely and with the utmost affection. ‘Perhaps it is knowing Your Highness so well, having Your Highness’s welfare at heart. I sensed that something of importance has happened.’
The Prince had unconsciously pressed his lips together.
‘Your Highness should not imagine that I wish to pry. I only want to tell Your Highness that if at any time you should need my help...’
‘You are very good, Miss Chudleigh. I shall never forget how good.’
‘Then if there is anything I can do at any time...’
‘Oh yes, yes, indeed. I know I can ask you because I know I can trust you.’
As she had guessed, it was not long before he was confiding in her.
Hannah was going to have a child and he naturally wanted the best attention for her. He believed that a lady might help him best in this matter.
He was right about that, Elizabeth assured him. In fact she had some knowledge of these matters. Some of the maids of honour...Oh, the Prince must not be too harsh in his judgment of these giddy young girls. They were careless, thoughtless and they found themselves in this kind of trouble. She had helped more than one.
‘But how?’
‘Taking them away from Court...perhaps some servant’s house...and there taking a doctor to them.’
‘I should want this to be very secret.’
‘It could be arranged so that even the doctor did not know whom he was attending.’
‘But this would have to be a very qualified doctor.’
‘Naturally. Has Your Highness anyone in mind?’
‘Y...yes. Dr. Fothergill.’
‘The Quaker!’
George nodded.
‘Well, it is natural that she should wish for one of her own sect.’
‘Being a Quaker he may not consent to...’
‘Not a bit of it, Your Highness. I know Dr. Fothergill well. He is not a very stern Quaker. He will wish to serve Your Highness.’
‘But he is not to know.’
‘Of course not. I will tell him it is a person in a very high place. I will accompany him in the carriage and when we reach a certain point he must consent to be blindfolded.’
‘Blindfolded!’
‘It is an old method, Your Highness. Doctors have attended ladies in extraordinary circumstances before. You may safely leave this to me. I will approach Dr. Fothergill. I will tell him his services are needed; and then when the time comes I will take him to Tottenham, but before we reach the house I shall blindfold him, and the bandage will not be taken from his eyes until he is actually in the room with the patient. Then he will do what is necessary, we shall blindfold him again and then...when we are back in London the bandage will be removed from his eyes. He will be well paid...paid a little extra, of course, Your Highness...’
‘Of course.’
‘And that is an end to the matter. You have had the doctor you wished for; he has delivered the child safely; and he cannot be sure where he has been or whom he has delivered.’
‘It sounds very clever.’
‘But I do assure Your Highness that it has been done many times before.’
‘I shall pass on this information. I am sure it will give great relief. And when the time comes...’
‘When the time comes, you can count on me, Your Highness.’
• • •
So, when Hannah’s time came, Elizabeth was there with Dr. Fothergill, the not-too-stern Quaker, who was delighted to act as instructed. Such commissions were always very profitable and he had undertaken them before and he was becoming known throughout the Court for his discretion...not the important quality in such a doctor’s reputation.
He rode out to Tottenham in the company of that fascinating, mysterious and rather wicked young woman, Miss Chudleigh, allowed himself to be blindfolded at the appropriate moment, and entering a house, the destination of which he could not be sure but could vaguely guess, he delivered a very personable young woman, whom he quickly discovered to be of his faith, of a healthy girl.
‘The Butcher’s’ Disgrace
Cumberland was coming home to England...in disgrace. The King strode about his compartment, wig on one side, cheeks scarlet with rage.
‘Hanover!’ he moaned. ‘Hanover in the hands of the French! And he calls himself a son of mine. Was ever a father so cursed by his children? I thank God the Queen has not lived to see this day.’
Mr. Pitt had called to see the King. Mr. Pitt, the man who believed that England’s glory lay overseas. Here was a pretty state of affairs, a good beginning to Mr. Pitt’s grand schemes. Hanover, the home of the Kings of England, the sacred spot, loved by this royal family as St. James’s, Windsor, Hampton, Kensington had never been...and now it was in the hands of the French!
‘Mr. Pitt, sir, you find me low...very low.’
‘Your Majesty is grieved by the loss of Hanover, I know.’
‘It is the home of my fathers, Mr. Pitt. I was brought up in Hanover. As you know, I have never let long periods of time pass without visiting it.’
‘I know it well, Sire.’
‘I was happier at Hanover, Sir, than anywhere else in this world.’
‘Your Majesty’s subjects haw been made aware of that fact.’
‘And now it is lost...lost by that fool of a son of mine. Why did I ever put him in charge of my armies…?’
‘An old custom, Sire, to keep the plums of office in the family.’
‘Eh...eh, what’s that?’
‘Not always a wise one as Your Majesty is now perceiving, but is Your Majesty being entirely fair to His Royal Highness?’
