‘I must stop this,’ cried Mrs Selwyn. ‘You shall not fight in my house.’

But Walpole had drawn his sword and Townshend had done the same.

‘No! ‘ screamed Mrs Selwyn and ran towards the door with the intention of calling the palace guard.

One of the guests stopped her.

‘There’ll be such a scandal. It will be all over the town if you call the guards. Sir Robert! My Lord Townshend ... for God’s sake put your swords away.’

Eeven Townshend’s temper had cooled a little and he was thinking how ridiculous it was for two middle-aged men—one the premier statesman of the land—to be facing each other, swords drawn at a dinner party.

Neither would be the first to put his sword away although neither had any wish to continue with the farce.

‘There will be such a scandal,’ wailed Mrs Selwyn. ‘Oh, Sir Robert, I beg of you ...’

Sir Robert turned to her and sighing replaced his sword in its scabbard. Townshend did the same.

‘It is impossible for us two to work together,’ said Walpole firmly.

‘That is one matter on which I am in complete agreement with you,’ replied Townshend. ‘I shall retire from any ministry in which you serve.’

Walpole bowed his head.

He excused himself to his hostess. After such a scene he believed it was for one of the offenders to retire, and he would do so with his apologies.

He went immediately to the Queen.

‘Townshend has resigned,’ he said.

She was delighted and he explained exactly what had happened at the Selwyns’.

‘Can you call this a resignation?’ she asked. ‘He vas not speaking officially.’

‘Madam, we must take it that he was speaking officially.’

Walpole then asked for an audience with the King; the Queen was present, but she said nothing while Walpole explained that Townshend had tendered his resignation.

Would His Majesty agree to Lord Harrington’s taking Townshend’s place?

The King had nothing against Harrington. He looked at the Queen who lowered her eyes. She did not want him to know that she and Walpole had long ago decided that as soon as they could rid themselves of Townshend they would set Harrington up in his place.

‘Harrington ...’ The King put his head on one side.

‘I am of the opinion that he would serve Your Majesty well,’ said Walpole.

Yes, Harrington would be a good man—a lazy, easygoing man; just the type who would suit Walpole for he would not attempt to frustrate him as Townshend had done.

‘Does the Queen think Harrington would be a good man?’ asked the King.

‘I know nothing of politics. Your Majesty knows all.’

Oh, dear, thought Walpole. Was that going a little too far? But no! The conceited little man was swallowing the flattery and savouring it. He really believed it was so. ‘Harrington, I think,’ said the King.

To his surprise Townshend realized that he had retired from the Ministry.

Well, he was weary of conflict in any case and that there would always be while Walpole was the chief minister. Chief minister! thought Townshend. He had made himself the sole minister. The Queen had helped him in this for he was the Queen’s man. If Townshend had had the foresight to seek his fortune through the Queen instead of through Mrs Howard he might not find himself outside politics now.

But it was over and done with. And he had a charming estate in Norfolk. It could be more rewarding perhaps developing that than fighting against an old ruffian like his brother-in-law, for any man who engaged in conflict with Walpole must fight a losing battle.

So to Norfolk went Townshend, and the field was clear for Walpole and the Queen.

Lord Hervey returned to England from a stay abroad where he had gone to recuperate from his almost perpetual ill health; and the Queen was delighted to welcome back her handsome Chamberlain, who sparkled with the wit she failed to find in the Prince of Wales.

Mrs Howard kept her place; Townshend was dismissed. And this was very comforting.

But while the Queen played cards and enjoyed the witticisms of her Chamberlain, while she knotted in the King’s company and led him the way she wanted him to go, Walpole continued to wonder what hold Mrs Clayton could possibly have over the Queen.

There was one whom both Walpole and the Queen seemed to have forgotten. This was the Prince of Wales. Since he had been denied the Regency he had been growing more and more dissatisfied. He himself would have been perfectly content to go on as he had been; he was lazy and good tempered generally, but there were many who resented Walpole’s power and who knew that such power could never be theirs while there was such a strong alliance between Walpole and the Queen. All astute observers of the scene knew that the Queen led the King and that only the King was unaware of this; so therefore if they wished to set up in rivalry against this powerful triumvirate, they must look beyond their Majesties.

And here was a Prince of Wales—not only neglected by his parents but disliked by them.

Bolingbroke, Pulteney, Wyndham, and such men were watching the Prince of Wales, and dropping casual hints now and then to remind him of his ill-treatment.

There was another who was deeply aware of the Prince, but his methods of using that young man would be different from the ambitious politicians. This was Lord Hervey, court beau and wit.

So while the Queen and Walpole concerned themselves with the waywardness of Mrs Howard, the secretiveness of Mrs Clayton, and the intolerable conduct of Lord Townshend, Lord Hervey was seeking to become the intimate friend of the Prince of Wales.

Lord Fanny

LORD HERVEY lay back languidly as the carriage rattled along the road to Ickworth. He had been long away from home and was pleased to be back; he would not, of course, stay long at Ickworth. A few weeks would suffice with his wife and children; then he and Stephen Fox would go to Court. That was where the excitement lay nowadays.

He gazed across at Stephen—his beautiful beloved companion. All the Fox family were noted for their beauty, but Stephen was surely the most beautiful of them all. Stephen caught his eyes and gave him a look of adoration. Theirs was a relationship on which some might frown. Let them! thought Hervey. What did he care? He was glad to provide gossip, for when a man ceased to be gossiped about, that man might as well be dead. That was his philosophy.

He studied the tips of his elegant shoes with the diamond studded buckles. Everything about Hervey was elegant. The frilly front of his muslin shirt rippled over his brocade waistcoat; his almost—though not quite—knee length velvet coat with the turn back embroidered cuffs, his exquisite lace cravat were all in the latest fashion and his three-cornered hat perched on top of his flowing wig was a masterpiece of millinery. From his person there rose a delicate but none the less pronounced scent and his cheeks were delicately touched with rouge. Stephen said he was as beautiful as he had been in those days ten years ago when he had first appeared to dazzle the Court of the Prince and Princess of Wales who had now become the King and the Queen.

Those days seemed far back in time. Much had happened since. Hervey had fallen in love with beautiful Molly Lepel and married her, for he was proud to be both a lover of men and women. He imagined it gave him a two-edged personality which was interesting.

Molly had suited him. For one thing she had been the most beautiful, most written about, woman of the Court. At least she had shared that honour with Mary Bellenden and there had been a constant controversy in those days as to which of the girls were more beautiful. Molly had beauty and charm. Moreover her personality fitted his. She was a strange woman, his Molly. She had shared his life for those first years without intruding on it. It had appeared to be a perfect marriage—and a fruitful one. Sons and daughters had been born to them and there would doubtless be more for they were both young. He was in his early thirties and Molly was four years younger than he was. She stayed with the children at Ickworth and had no desire to return to Court. She had lived her early life in Courts and had had enough of them. In the country she entertained a great deal, looked after her children, and her life was complete in the world she had made for herself. Hervey visited her now and then as a close friend might; she never questioned the scandals which surrounded him; she never criticized his friends. The fact was that Molly did not care.