When the Prince saw the cartoon he thought: Yes, Maria is the chief mourner. She believed that when I became Regent I would have recognized her. And if I had what would have happened? He remembered those sullen crowds at the thanksgiving service and was alarmed.

Maria could ruin me, he thought.

Somewhere from the past came the echo of an old song:

"I crowns resign

To call thee mine."

Coming so near to the Regency had made him realize what the Crown would mean to him. He knew in his heart that he would never resign it. And if it came to the point of choosing between it and Maria ...

A few years ago he would have said unthinkingly: Maria.

And now?

I have already given up a great deal for her, he thought resentfully.

The Duke's Duel

The Queen was savouring her newly found power. The King's illness had shattered his confidence and he lived in constant terror of his malady returning. He had become an old man—a frightened old man—and the Queen, after years of submission, was now the ruler of the Court.

Her great enemy was the Prince of Wales and she was ready to do battle against him. She had her spies everywhere. How exciting life had become! How different this was from suffering the discomforts of pregnancy, being continuously concerned with nursery affairs, dealing with the accounts and managing her own household. Mr. Pitt was her great friend. He did not despise her influence; and everyone would agree that Mr. Pitt was the greatest politician of the age. Moreover, he was Prime Minister and head of the Tory Party, and the Court was Tory. When she gave a ball to celebrate the King's recovery all the ladies were in blue—the Tory colour—and the tables were decorated with devices complimentary to the Tory party; and there were even mottoes inscribed on the sweetmeats.

"The entertainment is for ministers and those persons who have voted for the King and me," she announced, "and those who have proved themselves my friends."

A new tone, everyone noticed. Queen Charlotte could never have made such an announcement before the King's illness.

The Prince of Wales and his brothers had attended, although the Queen had shown quite clearly that she had no wish for them to come. The King, however, appeared to be pleased to see his sons and was anxious that all should be peaceful within the family.

But it was obvious from that evening—if it were not before —that there was open warfare between the Queen and the Prince of Wales and, since the Duke of York supported his brother in all things, that meant that the enmity extended to him as well.

The Queen was determined that no one but herself should have charge of the King. She knew as well as his doctors the precarious state of his health. He had at the moment recovered to some extent, but she was aware that at any moment his reason could again desert him. He was a poor, sick old man.

If he should again become insane she must be ready. In the meantime she was determined not to relinquish the smallest part of that power which she had just begun to relish.

When she was alone with the King she dwelt on the wickedness of the Prince of Wales, how he had cared only to grasp power; how he had revelled in his father's incapacity, how he had been unable to hide his dismay at his father's recovery.

"We have a rogue for a son," she said. "A profligate who longs to snatch the Crown from your head. I regret the day I ever bore him."

The King wept. "He has caused us such anxiety, but we must try to come to terms with him, eh, what?"

"Terms with him? We never shall. His terms are ... the Regency. That's what he wants. And Frederick is almost as bad."

The King shook his head. Not Frederick, his favourite son, the hope of the House. "No, no ... not Frederick ..."

The King was looking at her appealingly and she feared he would have a relapse.

"Well, perhaps not Frederick," she conceded, "but he is under the influence of George and I think we should be watchful."

"Trouble, trouble," wailed the King. "Eh, what, trouble!"

The tears began to fall down his cheeks and the Queen warned herself that she must be careful.

The battle between the Queen and the Prince went on and her allies saw that stories were circulated about the Prince's behaviour. Because of the King's recently pathetic condition he had the sympathy of the people.

Each day the Prince grew more and more disturbed—not by the animosity of his family but by that of the people.

Once on the way to the opera his carriage was surrounded by the mob who threatened to drag him from it. The Prince disliked violence and was alarmed and astonished that it should be directed against himself, but his greatest emotion was anger that the partisans of the Queen should have spread such stories about him that the people who had once admired him should have turned against him.

He looked through the window of his carriage at those jeering faces.

"Pitt for ever!" came the shout.

"Damn Pitt!" retorted the Prince. "Fox for ever."

The crowd was startled by his reply and the driver seized the opportunity to drive on. As they passed through the shouting crowd the Prince began to think of what might have happened. It was very unpleasant.

But one thing was clear to him. He was no longer the popular idol.

* * *

One early May morning the Prince, who was at Carlton House, was awakened by his brother's coming into his bedroom and flinging himself on to a chair by his bed.

The Prince started up, crying: "Why, Fred, what on earth has happened to you? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"It might well have been you who was seeing a ghost at this moment, George. My ghost! Less than half an hour ago I faced death"

"What are you talking about?"

"My dear George, I have just come from Wimbledon Common where I faced Colonel Lennox in a duel."

"Frederick, you tool."

"You say that, George, but something had to be done about these rumours and slanders ... all directed at you."

"Good God, Fred, what if ..."

Frederick laughed at his brother's dismal.

"Well, you see me here safe and sound."

"Thank God for that. And Lennox?"

"Equally unharmed. But at least we have had satisfaction though no blood was drawn."

"Fred ... this is going too far."

"I tell you something had to be done. You know how friendly the Lennoxes are at Court. Lennox's mother is hand in glove with the Queen and the Colonel is a great favourite of our old toad of a mother, too. He has been abusing us right and left for months. Of course we know who is behind all this. I let it be known what I thought of Lennox and he challenged me ... so what could I do? We met on Wimbledon Common. I refused to fire. But Lennox's ball grazed my ear. Oh, nothing to be startled about. It singed one of my curls. No other damage, I do assure you, brother."

"Fred, do you think our mother asked Lennox to challenge you?"

"It could be so."

"The woman's nothing less than a monster. I shall see the King about this."

"There's no need. The matter is over, except that the Queen will know that at least her sons are not afraid to face her friends in duels."

"The wicked creature! Leave this to me."

Frederick sat back in his chair, laughing at his brother's concern for his safety. The affection between them was as strong as it had been all through their lives.

The Prince called at Kew and demanded to see his father, but although he was respectfully conducted into the King's apartments it was the Queen he found there.

"Madam," said the Prince, "I wish to speak to the King."

"His Majesty is not well enough to receive visitors."

"Then his son should be with him."

"Not if his wife decides the meeting might upset His Majesty."

"Madam, have done with this overbearing attitude. I have come to tell you that you are responsible for what has happened at Wimbledon this morning."

"What ... has happened?"

"Your son, the Duke of York, fought a duel with your favourite Colonel Lennox. Madam, are you a mother or a monster? What pleasure do you find in sending your sons ... to death."

The Queen turned pale, and the Prince went on: "I demand to see His Majesty."

"Frederick is..." The woman was shaken, thought the Prince. She is really frightened now. Let her be.

"What I have to say I will say to His Majesty."

"I did not ask Colonel Lennox to fight a duel. I..."

"Madam, the blame for what has happened lies at your door. You have slandered your sons and the Duke of York has fought a duel with one of Your Majesty's servants who has been most active in spreading lies about us. I hope you are satisfied and I intend to give a full account of the matter to the King ... and to make sure that he is aware of the part you have played in it:

The Queen was truly frightened. She thought of Frederick, the rash young adventurer, who was capable of any foolish act. He was her son, and her only complaint about him was that he had placed himself on the side of his brother. If he were dead... Oh God, she thought, I will in a way be responsible for his death. But he is not dead. George would not be so calm if he were. He is enjoying this. He could not be if Frederick were dead. Selfish and careless as he is, at least he loves his brother.

The Prince saw his advantage and pushing the Queen aside went through to the King's bedchamber.

The King was resting, but he started up when he saw the Prince and cried: "What's this, eh, what?"

"Your Majesty, I have come to tell you that the Duke of York, unable to endure any longer the ridiculous and wicked slanders which have been circulated about myself and himself lias today faced, with pistols, Colonel Lennox—a creature of the Queen's—to demand satisfaction."

The King gasped. "What? What's this? Frederick ... in a duel. He can't. Royal Dukes can't ... But he has, eh? what? Frederick? Oh, my son ..."

The Queen had hurried to the king's side and was trying to soothe him and the Prince said quickly: "It is all right, Father. He is unharmed. Lennox's bullet grazed his ear and that's an end of the matter. The Duke did not fire. He just wished Lennox to know that he would accept his challenge and that was that. He had no wish to take life ... only to defend his honour."

But the King was staring wildly before him.

"Frederick," he said. "My son Frederick ... the Hope of the House. Frederick ... my son. He's dead. Oh, yes, he's dead ... I know it. You're deceiving me. You've come to break the news gradually, eh, what?"

The Prince said: "He is alive and well, sir. He is outside in my carriage. I guessed you would wish to see him to make sure that he had suffered no harm. I had no wish to upset Your Majesty, only to bring home the point to some people that these wicked slanders are dangerous and must stop."

"So he is dead," said the King, " eh, what? So you have come to tell me my son Frederick is dead."

The Prince immediately sent an attendant down to the carriage to tell the Duke of York to come at once to the King's apartment.

When Frederick came the King embraced him with tears in his eyes.

"I'm here, Father," cried Frederick. "Alive and well. But I had to accept Lennox's challenge. You wouldn't have a coward for a son, would you?"

"Never thought you were that, son. The Hope of the House I always said. The best of the bunch ... Wish you'd been the eldest, eh? what?"

"I'd never have cut such a fine figure as George," said the Duke, grinning at his brother. "Now Your Majesty is satisfied, eh? But there shouldn't be this trouble in the family. I'm sure Your Majesty agrees."

The King continued to embrace his son and the Prince watched his mother through narrowed eyes.

She was discomfited. This was a bad business. But the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York need not think that she was going to be ousted from her position because they happened to have scored this time.

The occasion of the King's birthday ball was coming nearer. The news of the duel was common knowledge and everyone had been particularly interested in the Queen's attitude towards Colonel Lennox who might so easily have killed her son. It was astonishing, but she had received him warmly, even affectionately, and he had not been reproached for challenging a royal duke to a duel.