‘I should set about discovering how best it can be done,’ suggested Edward.

‘And, George,’ murmured Elizabeth, ‘do remember not to mention to anyone that you would like to be a Quaker. It would never be possible...and you can never be sure what would come of it.’

‘Not even to my Lord Bute? He has asked me to tell him everything...’

She leaned forward and laying her hand on his arm looked at him earnestly.

‘Don’t mention it to anyone...but Edward and myself, George. It could be dangerous. To please me.’

George kissed her forehead tenderly. ‘You know I would do anything to please you, little sister.’

‘So it’s a promise.’

‘A promise.’

Elizabeth was relieved. George could always be trusted.

• • •

Elizabeth Chudleigh daringly offered to give a ball in honour of the birthday of the Prince of Wales. It was a great occasion, she said, and one which should call for celebration. So she, who had a very particular fondness for His Highness, would beg the honour of his attendance at her ball.

‘Impertinence,’ said the Princess Augusta to Lord Bute. ‘I have never known a woman so...so blatant.’

‘It would be well for George to attend, pointed out Bute. ‘She knows a great deal about the Lightfoot affair. In fact, she may know more than we do. We must be careful with Miss Chudleigh.’

‘What harm can she do? The Prince keeps a mistress at Tottenham. That is going to please rather than shock the people.’

‘George is not like other young men. Let us remember that. He is too serious...too sentimental. We must watch this Lightfoot affair. I had not thought it would go on so long. We must be very careful and I do not think it wise to offend Mrs. Chudleigh.’

‘It seems ridiculous that we must consider this...maid of honour.’

‘She is no ordinary maid of honour, my love. There is much we do not know of Elizabeth Chudleigh, I am sure. And while this is so I believe we should go very carefully with that young woman. What harm can there be in George’s going to her ball? In fact, he will have the chance of meeting there some beautiful young women. I should be happy to see him lured from his fair Quakeress.’

‘Well, we will raise no objection then, and George shall accept her invitation.’

• • •

Life was very amusing, Elizabeth Chudleigh told her mother, and had been more so since the Lightfoot Affair.

‘Do you know,’ she declared, when she visited her at Windsor, ‘I do believe Madam Augusta is afraid of offending me.’

‘You be careful,’ warned her mother. ‘The old King could go at any minute. Then where would you be?’

‘This isn’t the old King’s doing, my dear Mamma. It is my own. I helped George to enjoy his little Quaker girl and Mamma Princess knows it. The fascinating point is that she doesn’t know how much I know and that is causing herself and her dearest Bute some anxiety.’

‘I repeat, be careful.’

‘Oh, I shall be careful, never fear...careful to keep this happy state of affairs just as it is.’

And now the ball. Every lady of fashion should come; it would be a ball worthy of the occasion. A Prince’s coming of age—and a Prince of Wales at that.

She asked for an audience with the Prince to thank him for honouring her by accepting the invitation.

He received her in his simple way which she found charming. He was quite unspoilt, this Prince. It remained to be seen how long he would stay like that once he was King and my Lord Bute began teaching him how to govern, for Elizabeth was sure that was Bute’s intention. Bute was going to make George what he would call ‘a real King’. They would be hearing about the Divine Right of Kings before long if my lord Bute had his way—and Madam Augusta, of course.

Oh well, life was very amusing for Miss Chudleigh and the deeper she was in her intrigues, the more she enjoyed life.

‘Your Highness, I am overwhelmed by the honour you do me,’ she told him.

He flushed and stammered. ‘I...feel I should be overwhelmed. Such a beautiful lady, to go to such trouble to celebrate my birthday.’

‘Your Highness’s birthday is a day we should all celebrate and there will be many to come and wish you well. You will find some of the loveliest ladies in England at the ball, Your Highness.’

His expression was a little prim. Oh dear, thought Elizabeth, he’s still enamoured of the little Quaker.

‘How I wish,’ she went on quickly, ‘that I could invite the most beautiful of them all. I often think of Your Highness’s happiness and rejoice in it. I would wish you to know if at any time you need my help...’ She paused and added ‘again’, for there was no harm in reminding him how useful she had once been to him...‘you should not hesitate to ask me.’

His expression had changed. How easy he was to read! ‘I shall never forget your kindness to me at a time...at a time when I most needed it.’

‘I count myself fortunate to have been of service to Your Highness.’

‘And I to possess such good friends.’

It was very agreeable. She could be sure that if any fresh contretemps arose she could count on his keeping her informed.

‘May I ask a special favour?’

‘I beg you to.’

‘Will you give her my respects when you next see her. Tell her I think of her often and rejoice in her happiness.’

‘I will. I will.’ Face flushed with emotion; eyes alight with sentimentality.

So matters have not changed at Tottenham for our little Prince, thought Elizabeth.

• • •

That was clear at the ball. There were many young ladies who had come in the highest hope. The Prince was eighteen years old—time he began to amuse himself—and any week now might see him King. Could the old -man go on much longer? King’s mistress. What an enviable position! And with such a King as George—a simple boy, weak, malleable—great power would be in the hands of his mistress.

All eyes were on him. He was really a very handsome young man. Hanoverian, of course. German to the fingertips, but not as unpleasantly German as his forebears. He was very tall for one thing. How different from dapper little George II! And charming, modest. Different in that way too. His eyes were blue and clear; there was nothing debauched about this one; he seemed gentle, eager to be on good terms with everyone.

He danced, not exactly with grace but not unskilfully. His mother and Lord Bute were watchful; and it was not difficult to guess what they were thinking. His indifference to any particular young lady seemed to affect them deeply. Did they want him to take a mistress? Or was there something in that rumour about a woman he kept at Tottenham.

However, one fact was made apparent at Miss Chudleigh’s ball: the Prince of Wales was not very interested in young women, and it seemed hardly likely that he would take a mistress at Court.

• • •

The King could not ignore his grandson’s coming of age and sent for him.

George obeyed the summons reluctantly. Ever since his grandfather had struck him he had not wanted to go near him. The King had forgotten the incident. His temper went as quickly as it arose and as he forgot it he expected everyone else to do the same.

This grandson of his was a bit of a ninny, he was thinking, but after all he was his grandson. The boy would be King one day and it was time he started to learn something about kingship. They should be together more. The Prince of Wales might not take after his father; and the King guessed that that mother of his and her lover, that insufferable Scotsman, were trying to poison the boy’s mind against him. It was time he put a stop to that, and the best way to do it was to have the young fellow under his roof. They could take walks together; they could discuss affairs together; in fact, he could prime his grandson so that he would be ready to take his place when the time came.

‘Well,’ the King looked almost benignly at young George, ‘so you’re of age now.’