The King hesitated and looked at his watch. Not even for the sake of the war would he interrupt a habit.
‘Fifteen minutes more,’ he said.
Caroline sighed inwardly. Her legs ached. They were becoming more and more swollen and the pain was increasing. She was beginning to dread these walks; she was terrified that she would betray the fact that they were too much for her.
‘We shall soon have Anne back with us,’ she said.
It was an unfortunate remark because it reminded the King that Anne’s husband, the Prince of Orange, had gone to the wars and that was why she would be able to pay a visit to her parents so soon after her marriage.
‘That baboon! He can go to war. He can win distinction in battle while I ...’
‘We will talk to the fat man,’ said the Queen.
He glowered at her, venting on her the anger he felt towards a fate which denied him battle honours.
‘And who are you to laugh at the fat man? We should call you the fat woman. The way you stuff away at your chocolate is the cause.’
She was silent, hoping no one had heard, for he had raised his voice and their attendants always kept a respectful though not too remote distance as they walked.
Why did she not retort: And you, you silly little man, have scarcely a thought in your head that doesn’t spring from your own vanity.
Then she fell to wondering why it was that in spite of all his faults she was fond of him and could not imagine her life without him; and she knew that in spite of the way in which she constantly irritated him he admired and loved her more than any other person on Earth. If anyone else had attempted to criticize her he would have fallen into a passion of rage. She was his, entirely his, and to him only belonged the right to abuse.
She sighed and gave her mind up to the persuasion she would use with Walpole, for this was one of the rare occasions when she and the King were on one side against the Prime Minister.
Walpole faced them in the King’s closet. He was as determined as they were. England was not going to war. Usually he could rely on the Queen, but this time she was against him.
Germans! thought Walpole. Both of them, and in an issue like this it comes out. But England is not going to be sacrificed for the sake of Germany for a hundred Kings and Queens.
‘Your Majesties, the English people want peace. They have no heart for this fight.’
The King’s eyes bulged with fury. ‘We have our duty to think of.’
‘I know Your Majesty will agree with me that our first duty is to the people of this country.’
‘It is the people of this country I think of.’
‘Then Your Majesty will rejoice in the prosperity we have brought to them and join with me in admitting that this prosperity is entirely due to peace.’
‘And when the French are in command of Europe what peace then?’
‘Your Majesty, countries rarely prosper from wars. This will be no easy conquest. And in the unlikely event of Louis’ and Fleury’s conquering Europe, France will be exhausted by the struggle and we so strong because of our exemption from it that we will be in command.’
‘We have our duty,’ said the King. ‘The Queen and I cannot hold up our heads if we desert our allies.’
‘Your Majesties will hold up your heads very proudly among the English if you keep them out of war.’
The King began one of his harangues, not very logical, not very lucid, thought Walpole. What a German he is! His heart is in Germany. And he’s a fool—a conceited fool who wants to plunge this country into war so that he can parade as a brilliant soldier, so that he can come home and wear the crown of laurels. But it shall not be. This is my country as well as his and I am going to keep it at peace.
And the Queen? He was disappointed in the Queen. She was a German at heart too. She could not conceive that the German Empire should be at war and she not with it. She had once seemed so loyal to England; she had really loved her new country. But she was ill. Walpole noticed the physical deterioration. There were times when she could scarcely stand for fatigue and she continued to, smiling, pretending, because in this royal family there was something shameful about confessing to physical defects.
Mrs Clayton had some hold over her. Not that Mrs Clayton would ever dare threaten the Queen. It was as though she kept a secret and her reward for doing so was to be on very specially intimate terms.
Strange that she should support the King in this. Was it love of Germany, the effect of fatigue, or the knowledge that the King was so set on going to war that he would never be deterred from this desire and she had no intention of attempting something which she knew could only end in defeat.
Was she losing her physical hold on him? In spite of his infidelities he was still an uxorious husband. He thought Caroline beautiful; he spent his allotted time with her; her hold on him, Walpole had always known, was partly physical. If that side of their relationship ceased, immediately the bond would slacken. George was that sort of man.
What an anxiety for the Queen!
He brought his mind back to George’s torrent of words, but he was not going to be moved by them. He would lose his favour with them both rather than see England forced into a war which could do her no good and could be brought to no satisfactory conclusion. He thought Louis a fool to have put his father-in-law on the Polish throne for sentimental reasons, for that was what it amounted to. Cardinal Fleury, the real ruler of France, must have deplored that action, but at the same time was using the situation to make a fresh bid to satisfy French territorial claims.
Foolish Louis! He, Walpole, would see that George should not be as foolish.
George was glaring at him, eyes bulging, wig askew, cheeks purple; but Walpole lowered his eyes and said coolly : ‘If England takes part in this fight for a Polish crown, the Crown of England will as surely be come to be fought for as that of Poland. And now may I have Your Majesties leave to retire.’
‘You have ‘ shouted the King. ‘And go ... and don’t come back until you have some sense.’
In the coffee house behind Buckingham House, Hervey waited for Anne Vane. He was eager. He had rarely enjoyed an adventure so much; not only had he an extremely pretty and experienced mistress but he was at the same time cuckolding his great enemy the Prince of Wales; he was also dabbling in intrigue because in all affairs at Court, however ineffectual he was as a man, the Prince was a figurehead and therefore of importance.
Walpole was delighted with the information he could bring to him; and it was amusing and stimulating for Lord Hervey to be the close friend and informant of the Prime Minister.
Anne came breathlessly and a little distraught.
‘My dearest,’ said Hervey, ‘what is wrong?’
His heart leaped with excitement. Had the Prince discovered their liaison; he almost hoped he had because it would be so amusing.
‘It’s Fred.’
‘Naturally.’
‘He wants me to take a house in Wimbledon.’
‘He has discovered ...’
She laughed. ‘Not he. There’d be real trouble if he had. He’s worried about FitzFrederick’s health and he thinks the air of London bad for him.’
‘He’s not tiring of you?’
‘No. Never! But he really is fond of FitzFred. He’s continually finding similarities in him to himself.’
‘I hope they are not obvious to others ... for poor little Fitz’s sake.’
‘No. He just imagines. But what about my going to Wimbledon?’
‘We’ll find a way.’
‘I shall have to come up ... at least once a week. You’ll have to come to my house there. We’ll have to give up this coffee house.’
Hervey was not displeased. This gave a new impetus to the adventure.