Charlotte Clayton had been watching the growing friendship between the Queen and Sir Robert Walpole. It seemed to her that whenever she wished for a little tête-à-tête with Her Majesty, Sir Robert was either with her or on the point of calling.

Charlotte did not approve of Walpole. The man was a notorious lecher; he drank to excess; his conversation was crude; he was, in Charlotte’s eyes, not worthy of the Queen’s friendship.

In the past she and the Queen had been very close. They agreed about so many matters. They had had many interesting theological discussions; but since the coronation and the closer friendship between the Queen and Walpole, Charlotte felt shut out.

Moreover, she had always guessed that Walpole did not like her. There would come a day when he would poison the Queen’s mind against her and the Queen would become so besotted by the man that she would be ready to believe all he told her.

That must not happen. But how prevent it? Was she, Charlotte Clayton, going to stand out against the chief minister?

Something would have to be done.

It was definitely wrong for the Queen to be closely attended by the King’s mistress—and for all the woman’s soft ways and meekness Charlotte would never like Henrietta Howard—and a lecher like Walpole. One good godfearing companion had to be close at hand.

She was growing really alarmed. Only a few days ago she had heard Walpole speak of her disparagingly. He had called her ‘that old viper’. He never guarded his tongue but there was something in the tone of his voice which made her realize his dislike of her.

She was not going to be pushed aside at ‘Walpole’s decree. The Queen needed her ... and she needed the Queen.

The Queen was lying on her bed. Charlotte stood at the foot looking at her, her eyes were round with horror, her face pale.

‘Your Majesty ...’

‘It is nothing ... nothing....’ said the Queen.

‘But madam, I saw ...’

‘Nothing at all ... nothing....’

‘Madam ... I should call your physician.’

‘Please say nothing about it.’

‘But ...’

The Queen was almost pleading. ‘You know, Charlotte, what is wrong.’

‘I can only guess, Your Majesty.’

‘It is something which many women suffer from.’ ‘But the physician ...’

‘Do not speak to me of physicians. Listen Charlotte. I have had this ... affliction since the birth of Louisa.’

‘But Your Majesty should have treatment.’

‘No. No one must know. Do you understand that? It will pass, I tell you. It will pass. Charlotte I ask you ... I command you....’

‘Your Majesty!’ Charlotte bowed her head.

‘No one must know. I should feel so ... ashamed. It is such an unfortunate affliction. The King...’

‘Oh, Madam!’

‘Listen to me, Charlotte, I command you.’

‘Your Majesty, I would never disobey your command. This shall be our secret.’

Our secret. Sorry as she was for the Queen, Charlotte felt a thrill of triumph. She shared a secret with the Queen; always Caroline would remember it.

A secret, thought Charlotte, which she would share with no one ... not even Robert Walpole.

TO Windsor went their Majesties; they walked in the Park; they dined in public; they hunted in the forest—the King, young William, Anne, and Amelia on horseback, and the Queen in her chaise and Caroline in another. The Queen did not care for the hunt and she made Lord Hervey ride beside her and entertain her with his witty talk, for that young man was becoming a greater favourite with her every day.

They were pleasant days at Windsor, but the King was a little sullen because he hated the place and was longing to be back at Hampton or his beloved Kensington. Still the cheers of the people delighted him and there was no doubt that they had been wise to make the tour.

Caroline made sure that they spoke to the people whenever possible; moreover, she gave a sum of money towards paying the creditors of many who had been for years in the debtors’ prison there and thus securing their release.

Caroline could have been very gratified apart from the nagging pain she suffered now and then, apart from wondering whether Anne should be reprimanded for showing too much haughtiness, Amelia for flirting with the Duke of Grafton, Caroline for not sitting up straight, William for his forwardness. The one of whom she must be most watchful was of course the King. Never must she betray by a look that she believed herself to be his intellectual equal.

There were so many things to remember.

Everything was going well. At the last general election Walpole had emerged triumphant; his government had been returned with a big majority, having secured this by bribery; he laughed at the ease with which it had been accomplished, explaining to Maria Skerrett during brief respites from public life at Richmond that every man had his price. He was ruling with a cynical ease which proved to be the best possible thing for the country. He wanted a successful England and that meant an England at peace both at home and abroad. The Jacobite menace was always with them but under Walpole it grew more remote. Unscrupulous he might be, but he was a strong man and he wanted to see the country strong. In this Caroline was immediately beside him. Their alliance was becoming friendship. They were both fully aware of each other’s qualities and the greatest bond between them was their need of each other.

Choleric conceited little George, although he was no absolute monarch, was not without power. The government needed the support of the King and Walpole knew that Caroline could slip those invisible reins on her little man and lead him where she would. Her dexterity, her tact, her cool intelligence and her ability to play the humble wife filled Walpole with admiration. They were ideal partners; and it was not long before the results of their rule began to be seen. Trade increased at home; the price of wheat fell; credit abroad rose. Politicians were aware of this; and the people knew that life was more comfortable than it had been for a long time. For this they would reject romantic dreams of a handsome King across the water, of the stories of the charming King Charles II and his lovely Court. The Hanoverians might be dull and ugly, but if they brought prosperity to England the English preferred them to the more glamorous branch of the family.

The reign was becoming popular thanks to Caroline and Sir Robert Walpole.

But they were surrounded by astute politicians and enemies. William Pulteney was one, Viscount Bolingbroke another. Both these men were intensely ambitious and coveted Walpole’s position. That he owed much to the Queen was apparent to them and they and their friends believed that the best way to disrupt this alliance was to bring it to the notice of the King.

George himself was of the impression that the country’s growing prosperity was due to him. He liked to compare his reign with the previous ones, himself with other Kings of England to his own glorification.

On one occasion he said: ‘These Kings of England . . . they have not known how to rule . . . they have not ruled. Others have ruled for them.’

Bolingbroke, always ready for mischief, pointed out that the constitutional monarchs of the day lacked the power of the kings of the past. Such a remark was bound to anger George.

‘Pooh and stuff!’ This inelegant expression was a favourite of his. ‘I vill show you. Charles I was ruled by his vife, Charles II by his mistresses, James II by his priests, Villiam III by his men-favourites, and Anne by her vomenfavourites.’