This was a matter in which the Queen and her minister were in complete agreement.

Oddly enough, strong as was the desire to be with his mistress, the King saw the point of this too.

The Queen was in her apartments when a letter was brought to her from the Prince. The sight of his handwriting always displeased her and hastily she read its contents, wondering what fresh trouble this might mean.

As she read she was saying to herself: ‘I don’t believe it. It’s a lie.’

She threw the letter on to the table. The Princess Augusta pregnant. There was no doubt about this, wrote the Prince, and he hastened to tell his mother the joyful news.

Joyful news indeed! He had his income; he had his wife; and now they were going to produce a child.

She went to the King and said she must speak to him alone.

Then she showed him the letter; his eyes blazed with anger.

‘It is a lie. He is incapable of getting children. He is an insolent, lying puppy! ‘

‘Do you think this is a plot to foist a spurious child on us?’

‘It is such a plan,’ declared the King.

‘It could well be. I have thought the Prince to be impotent. FitzFrederick was Hervey’s. “Why,” I said to Hervey, when Molly Lepel’s young William was presented to me ... “that could be FitzFrederick’s twin.”’

‘It’s a plot ... and it shall not succeed. I will command that he and the Princess live under our roof and we will see the progress of this pregnancy.’

‘And I shall be present when the child is born,’ declared the Queen. ‘I shall not allow William to be done out of his rights.’

The Prince knew what was said of him and jeered at his parents. They wanted to pass him over in favour of that insufferable brother of his. Well, thank God the English people were behind him and he was not surprised at that, for he had always loved England. He was not like his father running off to Hanover at every possible moment and declaring his dislike of everything English. The Prince could not understand why the English tolerated such a King.

He disagreed with everything the King said and did. Augusta, the meek little wife, supported her husband. He was the best husband in the world, she declared; and when the time came—and every right-thinking man and woman in England prayed that time would not be long in coming —he would make the best King in the world.

‘My child shall be born in St James’s Palace,’ declared the Prince. The Princess and I have made up our minds about that.’

‘The child shall be born where I am at that time,’ declared the King, ‘and as it will be summer that will be at Hampton Court.’

‘I say St James’s Palace,’ said the Prince.

‘I say Hampton Court,’ retorted the King.

The Queen’s comment was: ‘Wherever it is I shall be there. I am going to see the entry of this child into the world.’

The Court was at Hampton for the summer and the Prince and Princess were obliged to have their apartments there.

On those occasions when the Prince had to be in the company of his father, the King behaved as though he didn’t see his son; and the Prince declared again and again that he resented his parents’ attitude; and as for his mother’s being present at the birth, he was determined she was not going to be and he was as insistent that the child would be born at St James’s as they were it should be born at Hampton.

‘In this,’ he said to Augusta, ‘they see a symbol. Heirs to the throne should be born at St James’s and they want to pretend even at this late date that our child will never ascend the throne and that it will go to that dreadful William—on whom they dote.’

‘You are right, Frederick,’ said Augusta.

‘And I am going to outwit them.’

‘How?’

‘You will see. Leave everything to me.’

‘Oh, yes, Frederick.’

‘All you have to do is as I say. By September I shall have you installed in St James’s, never fear.’

The Prince was with his friends on the last day of July when one of the Princess’s women came hurrying into the room in a state of agitation.

‘Your Highness,’ she said, ‘please come at once to the Princess.’

Frederick hurried to his wife’s apartments to find her sitting on the bed looking frightened.

‘My pains have started,’ she said. ‘What shall I do?’ ‘It can’t be ... it’s two months too early.’

‘But Frederick, I’m sure ...’ She broke off to cry out.

One of the women said: ‘The pains are coming fairly frequently, Your Highness. That means that the baby will soon be born.’

‘Not here,’ cried Frederick. ‘Not here at Hampton.’ ‘There is no help for it, Your Highness.’

‘But there is,’ cried Frederick. ‘Have the coach made ready. We are leaving without delay for St James’s.’

The Princess’s pains were increasing with every minute. Lady Archibald Hamilton said: ‘Your Highness cannot move her now. It is too late.’

Frederick’s jaw set in a sullen manner. ‘The child will be born at St James’s,’ he said.

For the first time the Princess seemed as though she would go against her husband’s wishes. ‘Frederick, please let me stay here. I can’t move....’

But Frederick thrust aside all hindrance, and commanded that the Princess be carried down to the waiting coach as quietly as possible and as quickly.

He was determined that she should give birth to her child in St James’s Palace.

The Princess shrieked as the coach rattled along at great speed.

‘We must reach St James’s,’ cried the Prince.

‘Oh, Frederick, I am dying ...’ moaned the Princess.

‘Have courage! It’ll all be over soon.’

It seemed to Augusta that they would never reach the Palace. She would die before they did. She should be in her bed at Hampton with her ladies about to minister to her. This was wrong ... to be rattling along in this coach over the cobbles and each jolt an agony.

‘We are here ...!’ cried the Prince. ‘Praise God we are here! Now carry the Princess upstairs. Put her to bed at once.’ His voice had a triumphant ring. ‘Her child will be born at St James’s.’

There were no sheets to be had, but Lady Archibald Hamilton found a pair of tablecloths and with this made some sort of bed. There were no towels, no hot water ... nothing that was required for a comfortable accouchement.

But the child was born—a seven months’ baby—a fragile little girl.

It had, so the Queen thought, been an ordinary evening at Hampton. She and Amelia had been playing quadrille and Lord Hervey and the Princess Caroline had been playing cribbage, a habit of theirs now, and one to which the Queen knew Caroline looked forward with more pleasure than Lord Hervey did. The King was paying marked attention to Lady Deloraine and was playing commerce with her and the maids of honour. It was the sort of evening exactly like so many others.

She and the King retired at the usual time and were fast asleep when they were awakened by a knocking at the door.

The King rose up, startled. The Queen left the bed knowing that something startling must have happened for them to be aroused in this way.

‘Is the Palace on fire?’ cried the Queen.

‘No, Your Majesty, but there is a messenger from the Prince.’

It was Lady Sundon, startled out of her sleep, scarcely believing what she heard could be possible.

‘I have just been told that the Prince of Wales has sent to let Your Majesties know that the Princess is in labour.’