There was great excitement when the King, the Prince and Princess of Wales and other members of the royal family were going to the theatre, the back door of which was in Market Lane; to reach this, the procession would have to cross the Market; and to see them a crowd would undoubtedly gather, for in view of the strained relations between the king and his elder son, it was rarely that they were all seen together.

Uncle Henry was disturbed. One never could be sure what the crowd would do. What if they became wild? ‘I think,’ he said, ‘we will take the linens out of the window. It will be better so.’

‘If the linens are taken out the children might perhaps sit in the window on our chairs to see the procession pass,’ suggested Lydia.

Uncle Henry considered this, but really he could see no harm in it.

As the children were growing excited at the prospect, Uncle Henry added a little homily about the worthliness of outward pomp and the difference between the shadow and the substance. But he believed they should be there because loyalty to the throne was something the children should be taught; and there were always intolerant people who could work up emotions about those whose opinions were different from their own.

Yes, they should all sit in the window and watch the royal procession to the theatre.

Hannah was delighted with an opportunity to enjoy something without secrecy.

Lydia had placed chairs in the window in place of the bales of linen. Little George and Rebecca were dancing up and down with excitement and Hannah put a finger to her lips to warn them lest their father decide that too much pleasure must indeed be a sin. Young Henry was clutching his mother’s skirts and Hannah’s mother was holding in her arms the newest arrival—Hannah after her cousin. Mary Lightfoot placed the chair for the master of the house and discreetly took her place at the back of the window.

The Market was full of noise and bustle on that day, for people from Jermyn Street, Charles Street and Pall Mall were all hurrying in to see the royal family pass by.

And so they came: the King himself, small and testy, looking neither this way nor that, his face deep red tinged with purple, taking no heed of loyal greetings nor abuse. He gave the impression that he was not interested in any of these people who had come to see him; he had come to see the play and if he had to pass among his people to do so, so much the worse.

And now the Prince of Wales. Frederick was like his father, but much more pleasant; he smiled and acknowledged the people’s greetings as he passed in his chair; but he had the same colourful complexion, the same prominent eyes, the same heavy jaw; but this was less apparent when its owner smiled as Frederick did frequently. And in her chair the Princess, not beautiful but amiable, and a good wife and mother, everyone said, even though there were murmurs about his friendship with Lord Bute.

And then...Prince George, a pleasant, modest looking boy; the same prominent blue eyes, clear complexion, not vet grown too ruddy and no tinge of purple apparent; the same heavy jaw, but he was young and his expression held not the slightest trace of arrogance. The people cheered Prince George who, when the old King died—which could not be long—would be the Prince of Wales.

Prince George’s chair passed very close to the linen-drapers window and as it did so he looked out and his eyes met those of Hannah.

She thought: The Prince is looking straight at me!

That is the most beautiful woman in the world, thought George soberly.

He smiled with pleasure; she found that she was smiling too. Some understanding—neither of them were absolutely sure what—had passed between them.

• • •

Hannah thought a great deal about the Prince. The mile had been for her alone, she was sure of it, although no one else had noticed it. Had she been wrong? Was he bestowing smiles all along the route? Was it part of the royal dun smile indiscriminately?

Perhaps Jane was right and she was a simpleton. But she had glowed with pleasure and she was going to allow herself to go on thinking he had smiled especially for her.

A few days later she was confirmed in this belief, when the Prince’s chair passed through the Market close to the linen-draper’s shop, and from her window Hannah looked out at precisely the same moment as the Prince looked from his chair.

Once more their eyes met and once more the understanding flashed between them.

Hannah was distrait. Could it really be that she was beginning to be caught up in the world outside her uncle’s Quaker household?

• • •

The interest of a boy who could not have entered his teens could not be expected to change her life; and yet she was at the window whenever possible in the hope of seeing him pass. He did not come often. How could he without attracting attention? He was always surrounded by important-looking people, but whenever he did pass that way he never failed to look up at the window for her and when he saw her his face would lighten and he would smile with pleasure.

How strange! thought Hannah. What could it mean? She thought him charming, beautiful in his innocence. He was like a child—untouched by the world, perhaps as she was. She must be many years older than he was—six, seven, eight even—but there was a bond between them, a bond of unworldliness. They were like two children looking at life through a glass door, aware of it, yet ignorant of it. She had been warned of lascivious men; in fact their glances had often come her way. Her uncle could not protect her from that; she was so attractive and he could not shut her up in a lonely tower until he found a Quaker husband for her.

This was different. This was the pure adoration of an innocent boy, years her junior—and he was a Prince. More than that, one day he would be a King.

It was small wonder that she was bewildered.

• • •

When Jane married and went to live in Cockspur Street with her husband, Hannah was desolate. As Mr. H. was still an apprentice the only way in which Jane could join him in his master’s house was by going into service there. Thus she left her employment in the Wheeler house to join that of Mr. Betts the glass-cutter of Cockspur Street.

They did not need another servant, decided Mr. Wheeler. Rebecca was old enough to perform small duties about the house and it was good for her to be useful; George could do minor errands for the shop; there were three able-bodied women in the house, Lydia his wife, Mary his sister and Hannah his niece. Therefore what did he want with serving maids?

So there was no one now for Hannah to chat to in that frivolous but enjoyable way. She heard, of course, that the Prince of Wales had died; and that brought home to her the astounding fact that the young boy with whom she believed she had a secret understanding was now the Prince of Wales. He made the affair so fantastic that she began to believe she had imagined the whole thing. The Prince seemed to have ceased his visits to the Market and life had become very drab indeed. Her days were lightened only by her shopping expeditions to Ludgate where she sometimes lingered in the grocery shop talking to the grocer’s son, Isaac Axford. The Axfords were Quakers like themselves; so naturally they did business together. Isaac was half in love with her, she believed; he was three years younger than she was and not in a position to marry, but she had no wish to marry him. There had been a time when she supposed a marriage would be arranged for her by her uncle, and Isaac had seemed a likely partner; after all, being only the niece of the prosperous linen draper, she could not expect a dowry as enticing as that he would give to his own daughters.

Hannah thought of married life in the grocer’s shop at Ludgate Hill and it did not attract her. She liked Isaac but only mildly. Yet, but for the penetrating glances of a young boy she might have been contented enough to accept him