‘That is so,’ admitted the Queen.

‘Of course is so. William, don’t stand there like that ... slouching like some stable boy. Stand up. Hold your back straight. Look animated when I come into the room.’

William tried to do all these things and looked rather comical, but the King was already glaring at Amelia. ‘More like a man than a woman. I don’t like those clothes of yours. Do you hear me!’

‘I beg Your Majesty’s pardon but I didn’t quite catch ...’

‘Pray listen when I speak to you. Pay attention, my girl, or you will be in trouble.’ He turned to the Queen on whom he liked to bestow the full force of his irritation when he was in one of his morning moods. ‘And stop stuffing. No wonder you’re so fat. How can you expect otherwise when you sit about swilling chocolate like some fat pig at the trough.’ The King was not noted for the elegance of his expressions especially when he was irritated; and he undoubtedly was now. It was all due to their being late finishing breakfast; they had violated one of his sacred rules; they had ignored Time.

‘Well, come along,’ he said. ‘It’s time for our walk.’

So the Queen had to rise, leave her chocolate and the fruit and sour cream unfinished to go and walk in the garden.

The guards and the gardeners, the courtiers who accompanied them heard his voice raised in anger as he criticised her. She walked too slowly because she was too fat. She guzzled like a pig and that was why she was too fat. He did not like the colour of the gown she was wearing. She had dozed over cards last night. He had seen her nodding and pretending to be awake. He had heard her snore. Yes, she had snored. And when he had come to take her for a walk she had not been ready. She had kept the King waiting. He was angry; he was irritated; but he enjoyed her company more than that of any other person and there was a note of fierce pleasure in the voice that went on upbraiding her.

Oh dear, life was very difficult. Her legs had been more swollen than usual last night and the pain ... it had been impossible to ignore it. Now he was walking too fast and she found it difficult to keep up with him, but to ask him to slacken his pace would be to call down further abuse.

So she puffed along beside him and she thought that life would be intolerable if she did not know—and all wise people at Court knew—that for all his shrill abuse and for all her outward meekness she, with ‘Walpole at her side, was the real ruler of the country.

As for George, as the walk progressed he gradually grew better tempered. Even though he did abuse her for her fatness, secretly he liked her fat. He thought her the most beautiful woman at Court; he would rather be walking in the gardens with her than with anyone else. The abuse was really for those who looked on, not for her; he had never forgotten that nasty little rhyme about her being the real ruler. He had to sneer at her in public; he had to show that he was the master and she dared not answer back. It was the only way he could convince himself. So he strutted a little ahead of her like some cocky little bantam, while she puffed along those few paces behind him; and his show of irritation was the sign of inner contentment.

Back in the Palace the Queen lay on her bed to rest her legs.

Charlotte Clayton put cold compresses on them; she said she had heard of this from Lady Masham who used to do it for Queen Anne.

If it weren’t for these swollen legs I should feel very well,’ said the Queen almost defiantly.

Charlotte deliberately lowered her eyes to show she understood.

‘Of course, Your Majesty.’

Caroline sighed and at the moment Anne Vane came in to perform some duty and the Queen remembered the unpleasant task which lay before her.

‘Oh ... I have something to say to Miss Vane.’

‘Miss Vane,’ called Charlotte, a little officiously, ‘Her Majesty wishes to speak to you.’

Anne Vane came forward and curtsied. Oh yes, thought the Queen, she is clearly pregnant.

The Queen waited, expecting Charlotte to retire as would have been natural in the circumstances, but Charlotte busied herself at one of the cupboards and made no attempt to leave.

Caroline hesitated and then decided that it could not matter if Charlotte remained, for soon everyone would know that Anne Vane had been dismissed.

‘I think,’ said the Queen coolly, ‘that you may have something to tell me.’

‘I ... Your Majesty?’

She was feigning innocence, but she knew very well what the Queen was hinting.

‘It would have been better if you had told me yourself,’ said the Queen. ‘When do you expect your confinement?’

Anne gave a little gasp, but she was not really frightened. This was no ordinary indiscretion. She had the honour of being mistress to the Prince of Wales.

‘Oh ... Madam!’

Charlotte Clayton was frankly listening now, her lips pursed in disgust.

‘It is no use attempting to disguise the truth,’ said the Queen. ‘I cannot allow you to remain at Court. I asked you when your child is expected to be born.’

‘There are ... another three months, Your Majesty.’ ‘Well, it is time you were going.’

‘His Highness ...’

‘You may make your preparations immediately.’ ‘Madam, if His ...’

‘Pray go at once to your apartment and prepare to leave. You must return to your home without delay.’ The Queen turned to Charlotte. She might as well make use of her since she was here. ‘Mrs Clayton will see that you obey my orders without delay.’

‘Madam ...’ began Anne Vane.

But Charlotte had taken the girl by the arm and was leading her very forcibly from the apartment.

Anne ordered the carriage to go to La Trappe at Hammersmith.

There she was welcomed by Mrs Behan to whom she told the story of her dismissal.

‘Wait till George comes,’ advised Mrs Behan. ‘He will know what to do.’

He did. He went himself to the Prince of Wales to tell him what had happened and as a result Frederick came riding to La Trappe.

Anne threw herself weeping into his arms. She had been ignobly turned out of the Court. They were all against him and so against her for they knew how she adored him.

Frederick, who was growing more and more resentful as he grew more and more in debt, agreed with her that the way she had been treated was a slight on him. But they must think what they were going to do.

‘I can’t go home,’ cried Anne. ‘What can I do. And I can’t stay here. Oh, my Prince, what have we done.’

Frederick consoled her. He was delighted that they were going to have a child. She must not have any fears. He would look after her.

‘But where can I go?’ she asked.

Dodington suggested that the Prince might like to set her up in a house of her own. No one could prevent that; and there she could live in peace and comfort with her child.

‘That’s the answer! ‘ said Frederick; and Anne agreed with him.

‘I know of a house in Soho Square which would be ideal,’ Mrs Behan told them. ‘Anne can stay here until she is settled in, and she and I will go and look at it tomorrow.’

The Prince was very grateful to his kind friends; and the next day Anne Vane and Mrs Behan went to see the house which enchanted them both.

The Prince liked it too. It was expensive, but he never worried about money until the bills were presented to him; and who was going to worry about supplying the needs of the Prince of Wales?

The house was fitted out with the finest furniture and plate until it was almost as grande as La Trappe.

Frederick was delighted and promised Anne £1,600 a year. So the entire matter was settled to the satisfaction of Anne and the Prince, for Dodington allowed him to win £5,000 from him at the gaming table to pay for the initial costs.