‘I can see,’ said Lord Bute, ‘that you have been studying these affairs with the greatest interest. You are following your mother’s advice, which is to be a King. Look at this letter which I have written to Mr. Pitt and tell me what you think of it. From now on, you and I should have no secrets from each other.’

George felt the flush stain his cheeks. He was thinking of the house in Tottenham, the two children Hannah had given him.

What would his dear friend say if he knew that his Prince was a father?

Bute was aware of the Prince’s confusion and guessed that it had something to do with the Quakeress. It was time that affair was finished. When they had him married, which would he soon, he would have to desert his Quakeress, for it was difficult to imagine George with a wife and a mistress. At the time of his marriage, at any rate, he must stop seeing the woman. Was this the time to warn him? Perhaps not. Bute was a little displeased about the Quakeress, for George had not confided in him, preferring to do so in that Chudleigh woman. Oh, what a fool he was! The idea of betraying himself to a woman like that and keeping his affair secret from Lord Bute and his mother.

No, this was not the time. It would only make him withdraw further. But they must keep him busy, give him little time to spare for his Quakeress.

He thrust the letter he had written into George’s hands.

‘Oh, my dear friend, Mr. Pitt, what dreadful auspices we begin with. And yet, thank God I see you in office. If the wreck of this crown can be preserved to our amiable young Prince, it will be to your efforts, my deal Pitt, that he must owe it. I have the greatest confidence that you will rise above all adversity, my dearest friend.

Most affectionately, Bute.’

‘Wreck of a crown...’ repeated the Prince.

‘These affairs do us no good, Your Highness. Cumberland’s disaster...Byng’s...We are low...low … low. But I have an idea that we shall soon begin to see changes.’

‘And it will be due to Mr. Pitt.’

‘Mr. Pitt is a clever man. But he is a commoner. The Great Commoner he may be, but a commoner nonetheless. He needs guidance...our guidance, but he is a great man for all that, and there is no harm in letting him know that we appreciate him.’

‘Your letter will tell him that.’

‘In a few days’ time I intend to put a suggestion to him...with Your Highness’s consent, of course.’

‘What is that?’

‘I am going to ask him to give me Newcastle’s place when the King dies.’

‘That is First Lord of the Treasury!’

‘And Your Highness does not think me capable of holding such a high post?’

‘On the contrary, I think no one will do it such honour.’

‘None could do it much less than Newcastle has done.’

‘You must have it, my dear friend. Nothing will satisfy me than that you have it.’

Bute clasped George’s hand and shook it warmly. ‘I knew I could count on Your Highness’s support. First he shall receive this letter. We will give him a chance to consider it...then I shall take an opportunity of seeing him and getting a promise from him.’

‘I shall feel so contented if you do, for then I shall know that you will be with me when I mount the throne.’

Let that day be soon, prayed Lord Bute, for when it comes I shall be ruler of this land.

• • •

Mr. Pitt was no respecter of persons. Although he was almost servile in the presence of the King and the Prince he made no effort to please anyone else.

Bute! Who was Bute? A man who owed his position to the favour he found in the Princess Dowager’s bedchamber. Unfortunately that gave him easy access to the Prince of Wales, a boy...who knew nothing of affairs. If the Prince thought he was going to govern Mr. Pitt he was mistaken.

Bute was ingratiating.

‘I have watched with growing admiration, sir, your work in the government. England has need of men such as you at this time.’

The hawk’s eyes looked down the long aquiline nose and Mr. Pitt’s hand lightly touched his tie wig. His expression was very haughty.

‘You know, sir, of the Prince’s regard for me,’ went on Bute. ‘I have his word on this. When he should attain the throne he wishes me to have Newcastle’s place.’

The eyebrows shot up. ‘That, my lord, would not be possible.’

‘Not possible! How so...if it were the King’s wish?’

‘You lack the experience.’

‘Experience is something one gains in office. I have watched affairs...’

‘Watching is not enough, my lord. Moreover, you are a Scottish Peer. Long residence here in the South has allowed this to slip your mind.’

Lord Bute was angry. He said: ‘I suppose you would consider the King’s command must be obeyed.’

‘That might be so.’

‘So if I tell you that the Prince has given his approval, what then?’

‘My lord, I would never bear the touch of command. If I were dictated to, I should resign. So, my lord, I could not give you the post you ask for and if you were to receive it, it would not be my place to give it to you, for the fact of your receiving it could only mean that you would not have it from my hands.’

Lord Bute was furious. Mr. Pitt determined. The perfect actor—as he was on most occasions and never more than in circumstances such as this—he swept off the stage; dignified as ever, holding the advantage because, vain as he was, delighting in pomp and ostentation, he was a man of honour and would never allow his personal promotion to interfere with his principles.

But Bute was his enemy from then on.

He sought the Prince and told him that on the day he became King he would have to find a way of ridding the government of that arrogant Pitt.

• • •

Pitt was triumphant. He had persuaded the King that it was to the country’s interest to provide Frederick the Great with a subsidy that he might fight England’s battles in Europe.

‘We have a small island, Sire, a small population; we need an Empire. Let Frederick take care of our commitments in Europe and we will turn the Frenchman out of Canada and India. These territories will be of more use to us than anything in Europe which is too costly to hold and will never be worth the money and effort we spend on it.’

The King was loth to send money to Frederick, but he saw Mr. Pitt’s point; and he was with him.

So very soon was the country.

The tide was turning. Victory was in the air. Clive was going ahead in India. Amherst and Wolfe were doing well in Canada.

This was Mr. Pitt’s plan and it was working. Englishmen were proud of their country. In the streets they were singing Dr. Arne’s Rule Britannia. Men congregated in the taverns to talk of great victories and Britain’s growing power beyond the seas.

In a few years the position had changed. England was no longer fighting hopeless wars on the Continent of Europe; it was building an Empire. This little island was on the way to becoming the greatest world power.

It was a great year. God save the King...and Mr. Pitt. Britannia was preparing to Rule the Waves.

The Secret Wedding

In the drawing-room in which Mr. Reynolds had painted her picture Hannah sat sewing. She no longer embroidered—a pastime she had learned from the sewing woman, for in Mr. Wheeler’s house she had never wasted her time in such a frivolous occupation. But how she had enjoyed it once she had learned! She would sit for long hours, her ears alert for the sound of carriage wheels which would announce her lover’s arrival, while her needle plied the cambric, and the reds and blues, the purples and whites grew under her hands. Now she was making clothes for her children. She had a family of two and another was on the way. She had become a fertile woman; she loved her children, but more than anyone on earth she loved the Prince.

Perhaps she had built up this love through her great need of it. She needed more than physical contact, more than constant declarations of loyalty and enduring affection; she needed to prove to herself that love such as she had could not be denied. It was her only excuse.