Tonight he would preside over his Accession Council; he must not make it known during the meeting that he had dismissed Walpole. But Henrietta had told her that Sir Spencer Compton was already being treated with homage and that Walpole was being ignored.

Something would have to be done. She wondered how she could do it.

Her woman, used to her pensive moods, worked silently; they were doing her hair when the King came in. He was dressed for the Accession Council meeting and he sat down heavily in the chair which Henrietta hurried to place for him.

‘Ha, my tear,’ he said, looking affectionately at his wife, ‘I see you are looking very beautiful ... as beautiful as a queen, eh?’

‘And you look like a king.’

‘Ve must grow accustomed to looking so.’

He smiled at the two women and his gaze lingered on Henrietta. She is getting old, he thought; now that I am King perhaps I should choose new mistresses. I should not continue with a woman who is no longer young.

He scowled. ‘Vy haf you covered the Queen’s neck?’ he demanded. ‘Is it because you haf not a beautiful neck that you must cover the Queen’s?’

He snatched the scarf which was about Caroline’s shoulders.

‘There. That is better. Now ve see this beautiful neck.’

Caroline nodded dismissal to the two women and they went quietly out.

‘This is a most important meeting,’ said Caroline. ‘The Council vill be assembled to hear your speech. You vill have it by now.’

‘No, I have it not.’

‘But ...’

‘It vill come. It vill come. Compton is von good man.’ ‘I hope he can write as good a speech as Valpole.’

‘That fat old fox. I tell you he is von scoundrel. You should have seen his face. It came out so neatly. You vould haf laughed.’

No, thought Caroline. I should have groaned.

‘Veil, the speech should be here.’

‘You should not vorry, my dear. Ah, I think it comes now.’

The King’s page had appeared to say that Sir Spencer Compton was in the King’s antechamber.

‘Bring him here,’ commanded George.

Sir Spencer came in with the speech which Walpole had just brought to him.

The King read it aloud.

‘It is vith great sorrow that I hear of the death of the King, my dearest father ...’

George grimaced. But of course it was what was expected of him. He must pretend to mourn; although the gaiety of his expression would surely belie that.

‘My love and affection is for England and I shall preserve the laws and liberties of this kingdom. I shall uphold the Constitution ...’ Yes, this was what they wanted to hear.

Caroline came and looked over the King’s shoulder as he read; Compton watched them with relief. He was very uneasy; he knew he was unfitted for the task; he was no Walpole. It was only due to the latter’s help that he had extricated himself from a difficult situation in the first hours of his new office. Suppose Walpole had refused to write the speech!

The King was saying, ‘No, this vill not do ...’

Compton started. ‘Your Majesty does not like the speech?’

‘It is yell enough. It is vell enough. But this must be changed. Change it now.’

‘What ... what does Your Majesty wish to say?’

‘I do not know. It is for you. Do it now. The women vill give you a table and chair ...’

‘Your Majesty, it would be a great mistake to change the speech.’

‘Vat is this?’

‘Your Majesty, the speech should remain as it is.’

‘But I say this is not goot. This paragraph ... he must be changed.’

‘It would be better to leave it as it is.’

‘Better. But I say this vill not do.’

Compton was bewildered. How could he change the speech? It was Walpole’s work and he could not imagine what might be substituted for the offending paragraph.

‘I ... I will take it away, Your Majesty,’ said Compton. ‘I will need to do this.’

‘Then do not be long. I must haf it ... soon.’

When he had bowed himself out, the offending speech under his arm, the King looked at the Queen. She was examining the stuff of her gown; she dared not look at the King for fear she betray a certain triumph. It had occurred to her that the King was going to see that he had acted rashly.

It was only a short time later when they heard that Walpole was asking for an audience.

‘This I vill not give,’ said the King. ‘I haf not the time. Vere is this speech. Vat has happen to Compton?’

‘It may be that Valpole hav come about the speech ...’ began the Queen, an idea occurring to her.

‘How is this?’

‘If you thought fit you might permit him to come. There could be no harm.’

The King looked at her in a puzzled fashion and then said he would see Walpole. Caroline was inwardly exultant when she saw that Walpole was carrying the speech.

‘Vat the ...’ began the King.

‘Your Majesty. Sir Spencer Compton has asked me to adjust the paragraph of which you do not approve.’

‘But vy ...?’

‘Your Majesty, I had written so many speeches. Sir Spencer so few. And so ...’

‘You wrote this von, Sir Robert?’ asked the Queen. Their eyes met. It’s not too late, thought Walpole. She is with me.

‘I wrote it, Your Majesty. The need for haste ...’

‘Yes, yes,’ said the King testily. ‘Let us see this paragraph.’

The Queen read it with him. am sure the King vill say that is vat vas needed,’ she said.

‘It is vat vas needed,’ said the King gruffly.

Walpole bowed his head; he stood before the King and said: ‘Your Majesty, if I can serve you in any way ... in or out of office, you may depend upon me.’

‘I shall remember,’ said the King, and turned away. Again a look was exchanged between the Queen and the minister. Walpole bowed and went out.

The King was annoyed.

‘I do not like this man,’ he said.

‘He drinks too much,’ agreed the Queen.

‘He is von big fat ox.’

‘His conversation at table is most coarse.’

‘It is yell he is dismissed.’

‘It is ell if ve can find better men than he.’

‘Vat you mean?’

‘There is much to be done. Perhaps you vill not vant to hurry to make a new ministry.’

‘I am tired of this man. He takes bribes. He is von greedy old rogue.’

‘There will be other greedy rogues. He must be rich by now. Perhaps Your Majesty will say that others less rich might be more open to bribes.’

‘Vat is this?’

‘Old leeches are not so hungry as young ones . . . it is often so.’

The King looked at his wife for a few moments and she said quickly: ‘It may be that Your Majesty vill think so. May I look at your speech?’

She read it through and he continued to watch her.

‘It is good,’ she said. ‘That sly old Valpole wrote it. I know his style.’

‘He is von fat old leech,’ said the King; and the Queen laughed immoderately.

He was pleased; but he was also thoughtful. Perhaps, he was thinking, he should not be too hasty.

THE new King, his speech in his hand, entered the council chamber where his ministers were assembled.

George noted with pleasure the new deference they accorded him. They were wary too, a little apprehensive, wondering whether in the past they had sided too openly with his father against him.

I shall not forget! George gleefully told himself. They shall regret their mistakes.

Already Walpole was regretting. He had heard the fellow only had to enter a room and all backs would be turned on him. Now he must be wishing that he had remembered that a Prince of Wales, however out of favour with the reigning monarch, in turn becomes the King.

He acknowledged their homage and read his speech of regret for his father, and if any of them felt like tittering they made no sign but composed their faces into attitudes of respectful melancholy.