This brought satisfaction to George but less so to the King of Prussia. After all, pointed out the latter, George would have one less mouth to feed, he one more, by such an arrangement.

The Queen replied that then they must marry Wilhelmina to the Prince of Wales and although they gained one mouth they would lose one so the feeding bills would not have increased.

The letters went back and forth between Hanover and Prussia. But the situation did not change; each had a daughter of whom he wished to be rid and neither wished to take the other’s daughter off her father’s hands. But at least the plan for a duel was dropped and the two Kings were writing to each other, with the help of their ministers, in civil terms.

George wrote that he would like to see this matter of the marriages settled before he left Hanover; Sophia Dorothea was eager for the completion of what she called the Double Marriage Plan; but the Kings could not agree.

The King of Prussia finally wrote that he would only agree to his son’s marriage to the Princess Amelia if, on that marriage, the Crown Prince of Prussia became the Regent of Hanover.

This George blankly refused; and to the dismay of Sophia Dorothea once more the negotiations came to an end.

There was no longer any excuse for remaining in Hanover. George regretfully had to admit this and Townshend was at his side, urging a return.

‘It grieves me,’ said the King. ‘How beautiful everything is in Hanover ‘

‘Her Majesty the Queen will be eager to have you back,’ Townshend pointed out.

The King’s eyes filled with tears. ‘The dear Queen,’ he said. ‘There is no one who will ever take her place with me, Townshend.’

Townshend bowed his head and knew he had made his point. They would make preparations to return to England without delay.

George presided over his last levee. He wished, he said, that these levees should be held at precisely the same hour every Saturday as they had been during his stay in Hanover. He would not be there, but he would look at his watch and remember that they were assembled in this room. His chair would be empty and they would bow to it as though he occupied it. Only thus could he bear to leave Hanover.

Caroline was at Kensington Palace awaiting news of the King’s arrival.

She was sorry that he had not stayed a little longer in Hanover. Life had been so peaceful; and she and Walpole had achieved so much. Now the King was on his way home and they would have to be so careful. How easily they had dealt with the tricky Portuguese affair and the even more important Treaty of Seville!

Walpole, who was growing more and more frank, expressed his misgivings because the happy days of the Regency were coming to an end.

She was at the window when she saw the outriders approaching the palace. This must mean that the King could not be far off.

She summoned her family—every one of them, even little Mary and Louisa.

‘Your father is home,’ she said, ‘we are going to meet him.’

‘On foot! cried Anne.

‘Certainly. It is what he would wish.’

She took Frederick’s arm and on the other side walked Anne, her head high so that all would recognize her as the Princess Royal. William, always a little sullen when an occasion such as this one thrust him into second place, walked with his sisters. Through Kensington to Hyde Park, with the people falling in behind them and the cry going up: ‘The King is back.’

When they reached St James’s Park the royal coach was visible and when they reached it, this came to a stop and the King alighted.

He was beaming with joy.

Caroline was thinking how well she knew him. Nothing could have pleased him more than to see his family come on foot to greet him.

He took the Queen in his arms and embraced her warmly, the tears in his eyes. The people cheered wildly.

‘I am happy to be back,’ said the King, ‘because I have missed you so much.’

He spoke in French and Caroline answered unthinkingly in the same language. It was some time later before she realized the significance of this.

Then he kissed all the children in turn and the cheers of the watchers grew more ecstatic.

When the greeting was over, the King took the Queen by the hand and helped her into his coach; the rest of the family used the coaches immediately behind the King’s and so the royal party came to St James’s.

Statesmen Quarrel

THE King had changed since his visit to Hanover. He no longer attempted to speak English on all occasions. He slipped easily into French or German and everyone else had to follow him. This did not inconvenience Caroline, who had always been aware that she spoke English with a German accent, and because Frederick spoke the language so much better than his parents it gave him an advantage. Most of the courtiers spoke French if not German, so the former was the language chiefly used.

But the change was significant. The King, who had once never let an opportunity pass without declaring his love for England, now never let one pass without expressing his dislike.

‘This is the worst climate in the world,’ he would say whenever the wind blew or the rain fell. ‘How different it is in Hanover!’

Or: ‘These English do not know how to cook. The food in Hanover was delicious. We shall have to bring cooks over to teach them how to cook.’

The gardens of Hampton and Kensington could not compare with those of Herrenhausen; the people in the streets of London were unruly; those in Hanover were well disciplined; in Hanover he had been supreme ruler; here there was always that miserable Parliament.

‘Soon,’ he said, ‘I shall have to pay another visit to Hanover.’

The Queen said that although that would sadden everyone in England she was sure it would please everyone in Hanover.

‘You seem pleased that I should go?’

How careful one had to be I Had her voice carried a lilt because she was thinking of being Regent once more? ‘Your Majesty must surely be joking.’

He grunted, for he could not imagine that she was not delighted to have him back.

He was a good husband. He had spent every night with her since his return. She was a beautiful woman, his Caroline; there were times when he almost wished that a man need not have mistresses to prove his virility. In fact, Caroline pleased him as well as any woman. She always had; she always would, he assured himself. He liked a woman to be plump and Caroline was that. Her bosom was the best in the world—so soft, so ample. Oh, yes, he would be well content to retire to bed with her at precisely the same time every night if he had not felt that his courtiers expected something else of him.

He called on Henrietta Howard as usual—every evening on the stroke of the hour; but he did not go to bed with her. That was a habit he had changed since returning from Hanover. She was getting old and she was deaf, which he found irritating; in fact if she were not such a habit he would cast her off.

But Caroline was so much more to his taste.

As for Caroline, she dreaded the King’s regular habits, for that secret illness of which she believed none knew except Mrs Clayton was becoming more and more painful, and each night she feared that the King might discover it. That would drive him away from her, she knew. He could never tolerate illness—and such an illness would be an end to all desire on his part.

Strangely enough, for all his infidelities, he still desired her; and she believed that in this was her strength. All the mistresses he had had—and they had been numerous—had never given him the pleasure she had. He had told her this, for there was nothing he enjoyed so much as discussing with her his love passages with other women. She knew a great deal about the sexual habits of many women of the Court—solely because the King had taken her into his confidence. That he did this was meant as a compliment. They were his mistresses; she was his wife. He would have her know that he never forgot the difference.