When she came he was immediately aware of her defiant looks. So she guessed that news of her misdemeanour had reached him.

Smug, pompous, looking self-righteous he suggested that they should pray together for humility.

‘Humility?’ demanded Charlotte. ‘Is that a good quality for a princess to have?’

‘It is a good quality for us all to have, Your Highness. And particularly princesses.’

‘Bishops too, Bish-Up?’

‘For us all,’ replied the Bishop. ‘Those of us who are in positions of authority – or who are being trained for such – must remember it especially. Pride is one of the greatest of sins. One of the seven most deadly.’

‘So humility must be one of the virtues – or do they not go in opposites? Perhaps it is possible to have humility and pride. One changes, you know, Bish-Up. I do. I am sure that sometimes I am very, very humble. Yet I can be proud.’

He put the palms of his hands together and raised his eyes to the ceiling. His most pious attitude! thought Charlotte. This means he is very shocked about something and of course it is my slapping Udney’s face. Serve her right.

‘Proud, overbearing, hot-tempered and behaving in an unseemly manner. Lady de Clifford is alarmed at your inability to control your temper.’

‘It’s true, Bish-Up. It flares up and flies out … and then it is all gone. Almost as soon as I have done something quite dreadful I begin to feel sorry. That must be the old humility creeping in. I told you, did I not, that one can have the deadliest of sin side by side with a lovely virtue.’

‘Being sorry afterwards is not enough.’

‘Oh, I know one is supposed to suffer for one’s sins. I never liked the thought of that very much. If anyone did me a wrong and then was very sorry I should want to say “Forget it” and make it as though it had never been.’

‘That might not be God’s way.’

‘I didn’t say it was. I said it was my way. And I happen to think it’s a good way.’

The Bishop sighed. ‘I despair,’ he murmured.

‘Now you should never despair, Bish-Up. That’s bad. It’s almost as bad as losing your temper. You should always hope. You should be like Queen Elizabeth. Think of all that time when she was in prison and never knew from one day to another whether she was going to lose her head. But she went on hoping and in the end the crown was hers. I should wish to be like her in a way … when she was good. But she could be very wicked.’ Charlotte laughed. ‘Perhaps that’s what I like about her. Bish-Up, do you think she had a hand in the murder of Amy Robsart?’

‘We are not discussing the conduct of Queen Elizabeth but that of the Princess Charlotte.’

‘Oh, we are discussing my conduct. I thought we were discussing sins and virtues. And I thought we all had those.’

‘You acted violently towards one of your servants, I am told.’

‘Hardly violently. She said something I did not like so I slapped her face.’

‘And do you think that was becoming conduct for a princess?’

‘It was most unbecoming not only for a princess but for anyone. It would even have been so with a bishop.’

‘We are discussing an act which you have performed, not the suppositious conduct of others.’

‘Well, to tell the truth, Bish-Up, I lost my temper. You know what my temper is like. She displeased me … violently, so I slapped her … far less violently than she displeased me, I do assure you.’

‘You did not stop to think. I have had to reprove you on other occasions for the quickness of your temper.’

‘It’s true, Bish-Up.’

‘And have I not told you what you should do when you feel one of those uncontrollable fits of rage? How many times have I told you to repeat the Lord’s Prayer to yourself when these occasions arise? “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass against us.”’

‘I did in fact, Bish-Up. The first bit anyway.’

‘And you are telling me that even that could not prevent this unfortunate outburst?’

‘It did much good, my lord Bish-Up. If I hadn’t said those first lines, I should doubtless have killed her.’

She was laughing at his discomfiture.

What could one do with the Princess Charlotte? It was, he told Lady de Clifford afterwards, enough to send him to her father to beg to be released from the almost impossible task of controlling her.

‘Oh dear, oh dear!’ sighed Charlotte, romping into the sitting room which Louisa Lewis shared with Mrs Gagarin, while they mended a gown which she had torn. ‘The Very Reverend Bish-Up has been on at me again. How I wish he were not such a good man – or did not think he was such a good man. Perhaps that is it. It makes him so shocked by the sins of others. What are you doing? Mending that old dress? Did I tear it again?’

Louisa threw an adoring glance at Charlotte and said: ‘Yes, Your dearest Highness did.’

‘That was a nice way of saying it. As though you loved me for all my faults.’

She threw herself against Louisa and putting her arms about her neck kissed her. Louisa pricked her finger and her part of the dress fell to the floor, but she did not complain. Charlotte was always boisterous.

‘You were always the one for tearing things,’ said Mrs Gagarin indulgently.

So Mrs Gagarin must have a hearty kiss too.

‘I was always a great tearer,’ she cried, laughing. ‘Miss Hayman is always telling me how I used to tear my caps showing her how Mr Canning raised his hat and bowed to me. She used to hold me up at the window to see him pass. I think I remember it … or perhaps that is due to hearing Miss Hayman mention it so many times. She was very sad when my father dismissed her and she couldn’t look after me any more. Well, she became my mother’s friend and went to Montague House and I am sure she finds it very lively there.’

She was inviting them to talk of Montague House and what she thought of as That Matter, but they were more cautious than Mrs Udney and said nothing, though she fancied they exchanged glances over her head.

She sighed. ‘My lord Bish-Up is most displeased with me. I have to do a sort of penance. Guess what. But you never will. I am to wear the uniform of a Charity School girl. This is very plain and it is to be hoped that after having worn it for a whole week I may have learned a little humility.’

‘A Charity School girl!’ cried Louisa. ‘The Princess a Charity School girl!’

‘It is not the clothes that are important, dear Louisa. It is the soul within. I shall be the same Charlotte inside my Charity School girl’s costume as the one you see before you now. And I daresay I shall soon be tearing that as I do all my clothes. But perhaps I do need to learn humility. I slapped Mrs Udney’s face, you know.’

‘I’ve no doubt she deserved it,’ said the loyal Louisa.

‘Oh, she did, but I shouldn’t have done it. I should have folded my hands together thus, raised my eyes to the ceiling so, and have said as the dear Bish-Up would: ‘Madam, you have committed a grave error. Pray mend your ways … saying the Lord’s prayer before you utter. Wear a Charity School girl’s gown.’ Oh there are lots of things I should have done, but what I did was slap her face.’

They were laughing. Dear Gagy! Dear Louisa! She could always rely on them.

‘Now let’s talk.’

‘What about, Your Highness?’

‘Me, of course. Talk about the things I used to do.’

It was one of those cosy chats when they all laughed together about the antics, comic and tragic, good and wicked, which had been recorded of Charlotte. They would never admit to the wickedness – that was why they were so much more comforting than the Bishop – they said the worst were natural childish mischief and high spirits.

‘Always so good,’ said Mrs Gagarin. ‘Do you remember the boy in the ditch?’

They all remembered it; they had heard it many times before, but that was no reason why they should not hear it again.

‘There he was lying in the ditch – a poor starving boy – and Your Highness would not leave him there. “What ails you?” Your Highness wanted to know. He was cold and hungry and he had hurt his hand. It was sore and bleeding. And what did Your Highness do but bind it yourself. Of course they did not like that. They reprimanded Your Highness. You might have caught some disease. And what did Your Highness say?’

Charlotte supplied the answer: ‘“Jesus was not afraid to heal the leper, so why should I be to bind this poor boy’s hand?” Why, that might have been my lord Bish-Up himself talking. But at least I did it. And I gave him food and money and he was very grateful to me, that boy. I was not always such a paragon, was I?’

‘You had your naughty moments.’

‘Quite a number of them.’

‘I remember when Her Highness sang in the royal drawing room,’ said Louisa, giggling a little.

‘Such a little thing. The Princess Mary made her stand on a stool and sing for the company.’

‘She was wearing a pink silk dress with a white satin sash, looking lovely.’

‘And I sang the wrong notes, I remember. They all clapped and said I was wonderful … and they only did that because I was the Princess.’

‘It was a pretty sight. The King wept openly.’

‘He weeps very easily.’

‘And the Prince was so proud.’

‘I don’t think he could have been really proud for he sings so well himself. He probably pretended to be proud because it was good manners to do so. He thinks so much about manners.’

‘And all the Princesses applauded and the Queen was pleased.’

‘She is not often pleased with me.’

‘Oh, she was very pleased. It was a beautiful occasion.’

Charlotte was pensive suddenly. ‘But something bad came out of it. Oh dear, I’m afraid I am very wicked. The next day I asked my music master how I had sung and he said, “Perfectly.” I was in a sudden rage because it wasn’t true. I was angry with myself really for standing up there and not singing perfectly. So I turned my anger on him and I said he was a fool and I would not be taught by a fool who was afraid to correct his pupil because she was a princess.’

‘Well, that was good. It shows how right you were not to accept flattery.’

‘But I refused to allow him to teach me and he was dismissed and although afterwards I asked my father to bring him back to teach me, he did not. So you see that was pride in a way … pride in a sort of virtue which ended in that poor music master’s dismissal. I hope he has forgiven me. Oh, let’s not talk of me. Let’s talk of you. Tell me about Mr Gagarin, do please. I love to hear of him. I wonder where he is now. In Russia do you think? But perhaps it pains you, dear Gagy. Does it?’

‘It’s all too long ago.’

‘Then tell us again.’

So Mrs Gagarin told the story of her love for Mr Gagarin … only he wasn’t plain Mr Gagarin; he was a great nobleman in Russia who had come to the English Court on some mission.

‘No sooner had he set eyes on you,’ said Charlotte, ‘than he fell violently in love.’

‘It’s true,’ said Mrs Gagarin, her eyes momentarily soft.

‘And you ought to be the lady of a great mansion in Russia, dear Gagy, instead of mending my old dresses. Do you wish you were there with … him?’

‘It’s all so long ago, Your Highness.’

‘And what happened? What happened?’

‘You know.’

‘Yes, but I want to hear it again. And then you received a letter. Go on from there.’

‘It was from his wife, for he was married already.’

‘And so you were not his wife at all. Oh, my poor, poor Gagy. Your heart was broken.’

‘Yes, my dear Charlotte. I thought so.’

‘But it was mended again. I mended it, didn’t I! Oh, say it. You used to say it. You said that when you came to look after your dearest Charlotte. You did.’

‘Yes, as soon as I came to look after my dearest Charlotte, it began to mend.’

Charlotte was delighted. It was the reason why she wished to hear the story so often.

‘Then,’ she said solemnly, ‘I cannot be so bad, can I? In spite of my lord Bish-Up’s terrible warnings of what will become of me if I continue in my ways.’

She rocked back and forth in her chair.

‘You’ll break it one day, dearest Princess, if you jerk it back so sharply.’

She did not care. What was a broken chair when she had mended a broken heart?

They dressed her in the Charity School girl’s gown with much clicking of tongues. Indeed, what if His Highness the Prince of Wales saw fit to call? What would he say to see his daughter so attired?