"Oh Henrietta, bring them in to me! "

The door was flung open and the girls ran in to throw themselves into their mother's arms.

"Anne ... my dear ... and Amelia ... and where's my baby Caroline?"

"Here, Mamma! Here!"

"Oh, my darlings! "

She was weeping; and they had never seen her weep before. They would not have thought their stately, wise Mamma capable of tears. And because she was crying for them that made them sad and happy at the same time; and very soon they were all crying with her.

"But ve are /ou," said Caroline. "Here ve are together ... and ve veep ven ve should be laughing. Oh, it makes me happy to see you. Are you goot girls? Do you miss Mamma ... and Papa?"

"We miss you. Mamma," said Amelia, the truthful one.

Caroline pretended not to notice the omission. She thought:

What do they hear of their father? There must be whisperings about him in the King's court.

"We are like charity children," said Anne.

"Charity children?" cried Caroline.

"Yes ... although we have a good mother and we have a father ... we are not with them and that makes us like charity children."

"Ve shall be together soon ... you children and Papa and

myself."

"When Mamma, when?" demanded little Caroline.

"Ven it... is permitted."

"I do not like grandfather much," said Amelia.

"He is the King," put in Anne in a shocked voice looking over her shoulder.

Were they being furtive? wondered Caroline. Did they talk together about the King, about the family quarrel? Did their servants whisper gossip to them? 'You must not mention this ... or that...'

It is so bad for them, she thought. Oh, why cannot I bring up my own children in the way I want. It is so cruel. He knows what hurts me most.

"That doesn't make me like him," said Amelia.

"I like Mamma," said young Caroline.

Caroline held her more tightly. "Tell me please ... what do you do all day?"

"Lady Portland is our governess," said Amelia.

"She is kind to you?"

They nodded.

"We walk and we read and we say prayers. And Mr. Handel is going to teach us music."

"You must be goot ... goot ... and learn. And soon ve shall be together."

"Why can't we be now?" Caroline wanted to know.

"Because of Grandpapa and Papa," said Amelia. "They have had a quarrel and it is to punish Mamma."

Oh, what do they hear? wondered Caroline again.

"Mamma is punished because she loves us," said Caroline.

And the Princess was weeping again, straining them to her breast. It was wrong, but for once she could not control her

emotions. These were her beloved children and how did she know when she should see them again?

"The Princess has been with my granddaughters! " cried the King. "This is forbidden. Of what use for me to give orders if they are not obeyed? Who took my granddaughters to their mother's apartment?"

Bernstorff pointed out that it was deplorable that His Majesty's wishes had been disregarded but if the people knew that he prevented their mother seeing the children there might be demonstrations against him in the streets. The people were a little placated because the Princess had been allowed to see her sick son; but if they knew someone had been reprimanded for taking her daughters to her there could be trouble.

"There will be trouble while that woman is under this roof. She shall not stay here."

"But the young Prince is still dangerously ill."

"I have said I will not have her here and I mean it."

"Sir..."

"Let the child be removed to Kensington and his mother can go there to be with him."

"I will ask the doctors if he is well enough to be moved. Your Majesty."

"He is to be moved. They say the air at Kensington is good. Let him go there and his mother with him."

"It shall be so, sir."

The doctors came to see the King.

"Your Majesty, the child is too sick to be moved."

"I do not want his mother here."

"He has improved a little since her coming, sir."

"She makes trouble under this roof. I will not have her."

"We do not advise moving the child."

"Nonsense! They tell me the air at Kensington is better than here at St. James's."

"But at this time of year ... the weather being so inclement ... and the child so sick."

*'Send him to Kensington or send his mother away." The next day Caroline and her baby left St. James's for Kensington Palace.

The child was dying. Caroline knew and so did the Prince who had joined her at Kensington.

They sat on either side of the small cradle and wept; and while they watched that small frail body seized by convulsions they were filled with a great hatred for the man whom they believed was responsible.

Henrietta who had accompanied them to Kensington came and stood at some little distance from the cradle. She knew before they did that the child was dead.

Eventually Caroline rose and went quietly from the apartment.

I shall hate him as long as we both live, she thought.

And when she rode back to Albemarle Street and the crowds were silent in their sympathy she felt a little comfort because she knew that they too hated the man who was their King.

The Royal Quarrel

Her child dead, her children taken from her care, Caroline felt there was only one thing left to her. She would take her revenge on the man who had treated her so cruelly and by so doing lay the foundations of the power she was determined should be hers when she was Queen of England.

"Ve can't stay at Grantham's house," she told the Prince. "Ve must find a place of our own."

George Augustus, whose grief was superficial, agreed.

"Ve vill find a suitable residence," said Caroline, "and ven ve have found it vill ve build such a court as to make the King's look like a provincial country gentleman's house."

The Prince was delighted. His hatred of his father was far from superficial.

"Veil," said Caroline, "ve begin to look vithout delay."

It was not long before they discovered Leicester House, and as soon as Caroline saw it she knew that she wanted it.

It was on the north side of Leicester Fields and a courtyard stood between it and the public square. It had a pleasant Dutch garden at the back; and Caroline pointed out to the

Prince that if they bought the house which adjoined it they could have complete privacy. Although it had only two storeys, the reception rooms were very fine and there was a grand staircase. The neighbourhood was not all that might be desired; on either side of the house were rows of shops; but the main drawback was that Leicester Fields had a bad reputation, having been the resort of all kinds of undesirable characters in the past. Footpads had lurked in the Fields by night and confidence tricksters by day; many a duel had been fought in front of Leicester House, many a nose split by the terrifying Mohocks.

"Is this suitable for the Prince and Princess of Vales?*' asked the Prince.

"Not now ... but it vill be. Ve vill make it so," replied his wife.

Caroline was right. As soon as she and the Prince settled in with their household the neighbourhood changed over night. In place of the footpads came the linkmen; the Fields were almost as safe by night as by day, crowded with the coaches of the rich and influential and the Sedan chairs of the great.