And now she must find jewels for the Queen’s Coronation.

Mrs Clayton was thinking how shocking it was that the Queen should be without jewels; she was a self-important self-righteous woman and prided herself on her understanding of religious matters. The fact that Henrietta was the King’s mistress disturbed her far more than it did the Queen, and although Henrietta had had no jewels to boast from the King she was linking her now with those rapacious women who had denuded the Queen of her rightful possessions.

‘I am sure,’ said Mrs Clayton, ‘that I can find the jewels Your Majesty will need.’

At a very early hour in the morning Caroline was dressed by her women—and everything she put on had to be new. She then went quietly out of the Palace where a chair, bearing no distinguishing marks, was waiting for her. Mrs Howard who accompanied her was carried in a hack Sedan, and thus, Mrs Howard preceding her by a very short distance, the Queen was carried across St James’s Park to the House of Lords and there in Black Rod’s Room she was dressed in her state robes.

This was Coronation Day.

As her robes were being adjusted she looked with pride at the diamonds which decorated her skirts and which had been borrowed from the Jews of London for the occasion because although so many ladies had been eager to provide her with their pearls and jewels she needed more than they could give. She wanted to glitter on this occasion as no Queen had ever glittered before. The King would expect it; so would the people; and she was nothing loath. She enjoyed these ceremonies; and on this day of her coronation she was determined to forget everything but the fact that she was being crowned Queen of England. She refused to think of her painful legs or of that other matter which she kept so secret, or the fact that she must continually placate the King and make sure that she never gave him an inkling of who really reigned, or the fact that Frederick would have to come home and her darling William could never be Prince of Wales.

This was the great day and she intended to enjoy it, decked out as she was in borrowed finery, which was comic really considering she was the Queen.

From the House of Lords she was escorted to Westminster Hall where George was already seated under the canopy—a glorious glittering figure. He gave her a quick glance of approval, so it was well worth borrowing from her ladies and the Jews. How fine he looked! She was reminded of the day he had come courting her, incognito as Monsieur de Busch; he had attracted her then; and over the years, the often difficult years, she had she supposed, grown used to him. But she was fond of her little man for all his conceit, for all his infidelities; and he was fond of her; she often thought that however many mistresses he took she would always have first place in his affections.

These thoughts made her happy.

The sword and spurs were presented and the Dean and Canons of Westminster had appeared carrying the regalia. For George St Edward’s crown, the orb, sceptre, and the staff; and for her, the crown, sceptre, and ivory rod.

On their cushions of cloth of gold these were presented to the King and Queen and then given to those who would carry them in the procession to the Abbey.

Now it was time to make their way from the Hall to the Abbey and the way they would take was canopied in blue cloth and a rail had been fixed on either side of this path.

The people were crowding into the streets so as not to miss a moment of the ceremony and a military band was playing as it led the procession from the Hall to the Abbey. The King’s herb woman led a party of the Queen’s maids to sprinkle fragrant herbs and flowers along the way the procession should pass. First came the peers and peeresses, magnificent in their robes of state, holding their coronets, and after them the Lord Privy Seal, the Archbishop of York, and the Lord High Chancellor.

Caroline who followed them, preceded by the Duke of St Albans, who was carrying her crown, was conscious of this being the proudest moment of her life. She had always secretly loved pomp and ceremonies even in the days when she had lived as a girl with the erudite Sophia Charlotte, Queen of Prussia, and had pretended to despise what Sophia Charlotte called empty ceremony because Sophia Charlotte had. But it wasn’t true. She loved the glitter of the diamonds she had borrowed, the milky sheen of pearls, the richness of velvet and ermine; and, most significant of all, the crown which St Albans carried with such reverence. If only Sophia Charlotte could see her now, what would she say? Don’t mistake the glitter of tinsel for gold; don’t attach more importance to power than to understanding. But the old Electress Sophia—through whom the Hanoverian branch of the family had come to the throne—would feel as Caroline did, for what Sophia had longed for beyond everything on Earth was the crown of England.

Oh yes, this is a proud moment. Somewhere among the people who were assembling in the Abbey would be Sir Robert Walpole and Caroline believed that if they were careful—and of course they would be—between them he and she would rule England, for the little man—today such a splendid little man—who was at the very heart of this procession could be manipulated as though he were a puppet doll, provided one pulled the strings so expertly that he was unaware of their existence.

On either side of her were the Bishops of Winchester and London and the three Princesses were bearing her train. Anne would be a proud girl on this day. As Princess Royal she would make sure that her sisters behaved with decorum. Not that one need fear they wouldn’t. Amelia had her own dignity and Caroline was quite meek. They must look very charming in their purple robes with the gold and jewelled circlets on their heads. She hoped theirs weren’t as heavy as hers for it pressed hard on her head and was giving her a headache. Her legs were a little painful too.

She impatiently dismissed such infirmities from her mind, smiled at the crowd, pressing close to the rail, who cheered her wildly. And the forty barons of the Cinque Ports who carried the canopy she guessed made a colourful background for her with the Sergeants at Arms going ahead and following behind.

The crowd was growing very excited, for behind the Queen came the four principal ladies of the Queen’s household and among them was Henrietta Howard, and everyone wanted a glimpse of the King’s mistress. They were a little disappointed; she was neither ravishingly beautiful nor comically ugly. There was a mildness about her, yet her gravity was charming and she had very beautiful hair of a striking light brown colour. The King’s habits of visiting her were talked of because such gossip quickly became common knowledge and there were titters of amusement in the crowd.

But when the King appeared the ridicule disappeared for he made a very fine figure under the canopy of gold in his crimson velvet furred with ermine and edged with gold lace. On his head was the cap of state—crimson velvet, decorated with enormous jewels and edged with ermine. His ruddy complexion gave him a look of health and because he was delighted to be the hero of the day his blue eyes were benign and beamed good will on all.

At the west door of the Abbey the Archbishop of Canterbury with other distinguished members of the Church was waiting and the procession began to move slowly up the nave.

As Caroline seated herself on her chair of state facing the altar she glanced at her husband on his. She thought how young he looked—like a boy who has at last grasped a gift for which he had waited a long time. He, of course, was completely unaware of her—unaware of everything, she thought, half cynically, half affectionately, except himself. Well, no one could deny that this was his triumph more than hers, his day; he was the King of England and she but his consort.