In her rooms on the first floor on the eastern side of the palace she lay in bed and thought that she would lose no time. She would act this very day.

She often thought this was one of the most enjoyable times of the day. She would lie in bed and rest her limbs—and she always felt better when she was lying down—and very often she would give audience from her bed. If her visitor were a man he would stand outside the door and talk to her from there, for she was determined that no scandal should touch her name. That would be immediately to alienate the King for the one thing that would be unforgivable to him would be to besmirch his supremacy in any way.

Then there would be the ceremony of dressing which took place all too soon, presided over by Charlotte Clayton who on some mornings seemed to give herself such airs of authority that the others resented it, particularly Henrietta Howard who, the Queen often noticed with relief, now made no objections about kneeling with the basin and ewer.

When she was dressed she stood at one of the six great windows looking down on the gardens. Such a pleasant sight and how she loved those gardens She delighted to walk in them; she was sorry she could not walk more often, but her legs did swell so much and there was that other unmentionable trouble. Whenever she thought of it she would give Charlotte a quick look. Sometimes Charlotte intercepted that look and an expression of reassurance would come over her face. Or did the Queen imagine that? Your secret is safe with me.

The children were waiting to join her at breakfast in Queen Mary’s gallery.

They greeted her formally and she sat down and Mrs Purcell, her retiring woman, hovered to adjust the kerchief about her neck. Charlotte’s sharp eyes were on Mrs Purcell, always watchful that none of the women should take too much upon themselves.

William was lounging by the window; young Caroline sat hunched over the table; Anne looked sullen; Amelia was already dressed for riding. The little girls were in their nursery presided over by Lady Deloraine. Oh dear, she hoped the King was not paying too much attention in that quarter. She believed that lady might become a little difficult ... not on her own account, of course; she was far too stupid. But she had heard that the Prince and Mr Dodington visited her apartments frequently. That might mean trouble. Still, that was for the future. The immediate problem was the dismissal of her son’s mistress.

The sight of Amelia made her uneasy. How far, she wondered, had her daughter’s flirtation with Grafton gone. Amelia was so arrogant, almost as arrogant as Anne, although in a less sour manner. Anne was a great trial to her. Poor girl, she should be married. She needed to be married. But whom could she marry? Only a prince would suit Anne and where was that prince?

Some kings and queens had longed for children; she and George, it seemed, had too many.

Not that she did not care for them as a mother. If only they had not been royal, how easy it would have been to have made suitable matches for them. She was sure Amelia would have willingly married Grafton.

She felt impelled to speak to her daughter and that delay might be dangerous.

‘I noticed,’ she said, ‘that you spent last evening at the side of the Duke of Grafton and scarcely spoke to anyone else.’

‘His conversation was more interesting than that of others, Madam.’

Arrogant, almost insolent. If I had had the care of them when they were young it would have been different. Resentment flared within her against the late King who had taken her children from her and refused to let them meet their parents without his permission. Therein lay the root of all the trouble. If Frederick had been allowed to live with them instead of being kept away in Hanover all those years, might there not have been a better understanding between him and his parents? Most assuredly. The troubles of the family lay within its own circle. An alarming thought.

‘I think you should be careful not to give a wrong impression with that young man,’ said the Queen.

‘Scarcely young,’ mocked Anne. ‘He’s old enough to be your father, Amelia.’

‘He is certainly more attractive than my own.’

‘Amelia!’ The Queen was horrified. If such remarks should reach the ears of the King they would never be forgotten, nor forgiven.

‘Oh, Mamma, we don’t have to flatter him when he’s not here, surely.’

Caroline glanced at the women. ‘The King does not need flattery,’ she said. ‘One only has to speak the truth.’

That made them titter. They saw their father too clearly, and they were too rebellious to pretend otherwise. One had to remember that with the exception of William—and he was precocious—and Louisa and Mary in the nursery they were no longer children.

The Queen, anxious to change the subject from this dangerous criticism of their father, turned on Amelia. ‘Your conduct with that man is causing comment. I find it disgraceful.’

‘Nothing to what it was at Windsor,’ commented William, making a face at his sister.

‘Be silent, you spoilt little beast.’

‘Mamma, did you hear what she called me?’

Anne said: ‘I endorse it. The Duke of Cumberland is a spoilt little beast.’

The Princess Caroline looked anxiously at her mother. Dear child! thought the Queen. She hates this family bickering as much as I do, and it is chiefly because she fears the effect on me.

William lunged towards his sister as though he would strike her. Caroline called him sharply to order and he thrust out his lip sullenly.

‘Now you do look beautiful,’ commented Amelia. ‘The handsome Duke of Cumberland! ‘

‘I will not have this,’ said the Queen. ‘Purcell, bring breakfast. I am hungry today.’

‘What would Your Majesty like?’

‘Chocolate, of course, and some fruit with sour cream.’ Purcell retired to bring the food and the Queen turned once more to Amelia.

‘I shall speak to Grafton,’ she said. ‘He shall come to my first drawing room.’

She was already rehearsing what she would say to that arrogant man who tried to remind her every time he met her that he was a direct descendant of King Charles II and she was merely married to a member of an odd sprig of the royal tree. Insufferable man. And now he was trying to—or possibly had—seduced Amelia.

Amelia was looking smug, certain of the manner in which her lover would discomfit her mother. It was intolerable that the Queen should submit to such humiliation. Nor would she from any but her own rebellious brood.

‘Mamma,’ said William, ‘when Amelia and Grafton were hunting in Windsor Forest they left the hunt and went into a private house in the forest. They stayed there for some hours. Everyone wondered where they were and thought it so odd that they had both disappeared ... and without attendants.’

‘How dare you say such things, William,’ said his mother.

‘You have always told us that we should speak the truth, Mamma.’

‘This is ... gossip.’

‘It is also the truth, Mamma.’

‘Amelia, I am sure you will wish to deny this.’

‘No,’ said Amelia pertly. ‘I don’t, Mamma, because you have taught me also to speak the truth.’

‘This is ... outrageous.’

‘Oh ... what are we to do?’ cried Amelia petulantly. ‘Are we to remain virgins all our lives because no one finds husbands for us.’

‘I do not think it will be possible to find a husband for you Amelia if you behave in this way.’

‘And what of Anne? She is interested in no one because there is no one at Court whom she considers worthy of her. But does she fare any better? She is husbandless too.’

‘This is a most unsuitable conversation,’ said the Queen, ‘and I forbid you to continue with it. I shall speak to Grafton and ask him for an explanation of this Windsor incident.’

‘Pray do, Mamma, if you consider it wise. But he will not care, you know; and if others hear of it they will exaggerate it and I believe you will not be pleased with the outcome.’

‘I have not asked your opinion, Amelia. And now, no more of this most distasteful subject. Ah, here comes Purcell.’

Food was always comforting and the Queen greatly enjoyed a cup of chocolate. So did the rest of the family.

The Queen sent for more chocolate and when she was drinking this the King came in to take the Queen for a walk. The Queen, hearing his voice outside, looked at her watch. As she might have imagined he had come exactly at the expected time but she had been so disturbed by the conversation that she had not noticed that they had delayed too long over breakfast.

The King looked with distaste on his family. The breakfast should have been over. He was never in a very good mood in the morning and this was the most trying time of the day for the Queen.

He took out his watch and regarded it. The Queen saw Amelia and Anne exchange glances. They must be careful, she thought. He must never know that they laughed at him.

‘Late!’ he said. ‘You people have no idea of time.’

He spoke in German. He had long given up speaking English to children who spoke it better than he did.

‘We have been talking,’ said the Queen with a quick smile. ‘It made us forget the time.’

‘Time should never be forgotten. Only fools forget time.’

He looked at her as though she fitted into that category and her spirits sank. This was going to be a difficult morning, and before her lay not only the task of placating the King but of dismissing her son’s mistress.

‘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.