‘She seems a pleasant creature … docile, amenable. I think she will make a good wife. Edward seems to have been put into leading strings. Victoria is not unprepossessing in her way but she has her fixed opinions and she won’t rest until those about her share them. An attractive woman, but not as comfortable as your Adelaide.’

‘Yes, I think Adelaide will make a good obedient wife – and all things considered I prefer her to Victoria. But why should I disrupt the Bushy household when Adelaide doesn’t object?’

‘Because, William, the people would object.’ The Regent was a little weary of the subject, so he yawned gracefully to show that the subject was closed as far as he was concerned and he expected William to comply with his wishes.

‘Who was that woman you thought of engaging as a governess?’

‘Her name is Miss Cooper. She is a very intelligent and capable woman.’

‘There is your answer, William. Now I must ask you to leave. I have a long session with my tailor.’

William realized there was no help for it. He acquired a house in South Audley Street and amid the protests of his daughters moved them there and put the efficient Miss Cooper in control.

Then he prepared for his wedding. He must devote himself to his wife and the object of the marriage, which was to make it fruitful as soon as possible.

It was the day of the double wedding, which was to take place in the Queen’s drawing-room at Kew. The Regent was due to arrive just before four o’clock in order to preside benignly over the proceedings and give both brides to their husbands.

The Duke and Duchess of Kent were less nervous than Adelaide and William. They had in fact already been married in Germany two months before and were quite satisfied with each other.

Victoria was attractive and domineering; and Edward in spite of a somewhat pompous exterior was a good subject for her domination. He had been able to salve his conscience concerning Julie by doing everything possible for her comfort and he was sure that she had found peace in her convent. He had to admit that he was such a man of habit that Julie had to some extent become a habit; and it was more exciting to have a young – or comparatively young – wife, who was gay, affectionate and charming – as long as it was accepted that she was always right. And she invariably was – a fact which might have been a little irritating to some, but not to Edward. He liked precision and efficiency; he liked Victoria.

As for Victoria she was enjoying her new life. Edward was dignified it was true; strictly religious, unimaginative; but she was satisfied with him. When she compared him with her first husband, the old Duke of Leiningen, she considered herself lucky. She had come satisfactorily through that first marriage because of her own sound good sense; but everyone had agreed that the old Duke was a trial. From him, though, she had her dearest Charles and Feodore, and for them she was grateful; and she looked forward to the time when she would have her children with her in one nursery with that all-important child who was to be the ruler of England.

She was sure she was going to be the one to produce the heir – and wasn’t she always right? Only Adelaide and Clarence stood between the throne and the child she would have; and there was a certain ineffectuality about Clarence which she recognized – and as for Adelaide she did not believe she was a strong woman. She lacked the radiant health of Victoria.

Soon, soon, she prayed every night. I shall have my child – and that child is to be the one.

Edward had told her of the gipsy’s prophecy, which she would have dismissed as rubbish if it had concerned anything else. But this prophecy was right – only she did not accept that it would be a Queen. She believed it would be a King.

But a Queen would do very well as the English did not regard sex as a bar to sovereignty.

So it was a very satisfied Victoria who stood before her mirror surveying her plump but seductive form. The dress of gold tissue was so becoming to a widow. Adelaide would be dressed in white no doubt. But the fact that she was in gold was a symbol that she was not a newcomer to marriage and she had already proved her ability to bear children. Her darling Charles and Feodore were living evidence.

It was a very complacent Victoria who made her way to the Queen’s drawing-room.

Adelaide was less composed. The dress was charming. The insignia of a bride – silver tissue and Brussels lace. And the effect was enchanting.

As the diamond clasp was fastened about her waist she thought: Even I look beautiful today.

Duchess Eleanor clasped her hands with delight.

‘You look lovely, my dear. No bride ever looked more beautiful.’

‘It’s the dress that’s beautiful, Mamma.’

‘Oh, why must you always denigrate yourself!’ exclaimed the Duchess impatiently.

‘I don’t want to shut my eyes to the truth, Mamma.’

The Duchess clicked her tongue; but she was not displeased. That unfortunate matter had been comfortably settled and the FitzClarences moved to South Audley Street. A victory, she decided; and it showed that the Queen was ready to treat Adelaide with due respect even if William were not.

‘It is time to go,’ said the Duchess, studying her daughter intently to make sure that all was well.

‘I am ready,’ said Adelaide.

In the drawing-room members of the royal family were assembling. The Cambridges were already there – Augusta looking very beautiful – and Mary with ‘Slice’. The Duke of York arrived, without the Duchess, who was ill and unable to attend. Though they had not lived together for years they were good friends and the Duke was melancholy on his wife’s account. None of the other brothers and sisters were present and the Duchess Eleanor, noting this, thought how strange it was. There seemed to be so many rifts in this family. She knew that the Cumberlands had been dismissed from the country and the Duchess was not received at Court. The rumours she had heard over the years of the quarrels of the family were certainly based on fact.

But that did not matter. Her daughter’s wedding was about to take place.

Adelaide looked composed and quite lovely; the Duchess of Kent, Eleanor decided, was too flamboyant in her gold tissue. How buxom she was, how healthy! Adelaide looked frail beside her. But Adelaide had more grace. She might not be beautiful but she managed to look elegant – far more so than Victoria. But Victoria did look as though she were bursting with vitality and very fit to bear children – which was, after all, what this ceremony was about.

But Eleanor refused to think of that, for the Regent was leading in the Queen, who looked very old and very ill, and the Archbishop of Canterbury was ready to preside with the Bishop of London, the Prime Minister and the Hanoverian ambassador as witnesses.

Leaflets were distributed among the company on which the service was printed in German and English. Victoria had found it very difficult to learn English and knew scarcely anything of the language; Adelaide had progressed much better; but it was comforting to have the German translation.

The Regent took his place at the altar which had been set up in the drawing-room and the ceremonies began.

Thus were the Dukes of Clarence and Kent married to their Duchesses in the presence of the Queen and Regent.

The ceremony over, the Queen looked as though she were about to faint and the Regent insisted on conducting her to her bed.

‘I insist,’ he told her playfully. ‘Dearest Madre, if you had one of your attacks on such a day we should all be plunged into melancholy.’

‘I know that as long as you are there everything will be conducted in the most fitting manner.’

The Regent inclined his head in acknowledgement of this; and having handed her over to her attendants and telling her that he would come back to make sure she was comfortable before he left Kew, he returned to his guests.

The company then adjourned to the dining-room where a banquet awaited them. The Regent at the head of the table, a bride on either side of him, conversed with grace and wit while he consumed large quantities of the most excellent turtle soup, delicious fish garnished with highly flavoured sauces and venison.

Victoria, who had a good appetite, did justice to the food and the Regent talked to her in some German and chiefly French (which he found a more graceful language admirably suited to his musical voice). He did not forget Adelaide whose quiet charm appealed to him. As he commented afterwards to Lady Hertford, she was a pleasant creature if one did not look on her face.

Clarence was at first a little sullen because he believed that the FitzClarence children should have been at the wedding and the Queen had firmly refused to allow this.

She’s got to accept her stepchildren some time, he was grumbling to himself.

But grievances never disturbed him for long and he was at last married … a state he had never achieved before, although he had made many attempts.

And Adelaide – she was growing on him. He thought: I’d rather have her than Victoria. There is something about her … gentle and kind. The Regent likes her – and he knows a great deal about women. I fancy he is more taken with her than with Victoria who talks too much and is too sure of herself.

His eyes met Adelaide’s and he smiled almost shyly.

She thought: He is young at heart. I believe he will be kind. It is not so bad. I really believe I am rather lucky.

The banquet was over and the company went back to the drawing-room from which the altar had now been removed. The Regent walked about among the guests and talked to them in his charming affable way.

Then Leopold’s carriage which he had put at the disposal of his sister and her husband arrived to take them to Claremont for the honeymoon.

The Regent took a farewell of the Duke and Duchess; and the company went out to see them ride away for the first stage of their honeymoon in that house which so recently had been the scene of so much happiness and so much tragedy.

The Regent then led the company on a tour of the gardens which were such a feature of Kew.

He had taken Adelaide’s arm and told her how he remembered these gardens so well from his youth. Here he used to make assignations with delightful young ladies. Happy, romantic days.

He sighed, thinking of occasions when he had crept out of his apartments to meet Perdita Robinson, the heroine of his first big romance. What joy that had brought in the beginning and what humiliation in the end when she had threatened to publish his letters. But he would not think of the end of that affair, only the beginning when they had met in the glades of Kew and later on Eel Pie Island.

So long ago and yet with this young bride beside him they seemed like yesterday. He looked at her with affection. Suppose he were the bridegroom instead of William. He would be content. If he were rid of that woman. Oh God, why had fate been so cruel as to burden him with Caroline of Brunswick!

And here he was back to an ever-recurring theme. His bondage with that woman; his desire to escape.

‘I grow melancholy,’ he said to Adelaide. ‘You see, I am envious of William.’

At the Queen’s cottage beside the Pagoda they stopped for a dish of tea; and afterwards they returned to the palace and as they came across the gardens it began to rain.

The Duke’s carriage had now arrived. It was time to leave; the ceremonies were over.

William had been hoping that Duchess Eleanor would have been invited to stay at Kew, but the Queen had not mentioned this. It was typical of William’s affairs that he should find himself on his wedding night to be in a quandary about his mother-in-law.

He looked hopefully towards the Regent, but his brother was saying his farewells in that manner which was slightly ceremonious and could clearly not be broached on such a matter at such a time.

He had been hoping too that someone might have offered him a house for the honeymoon as Leopold had offered Claremont to the Kents.

But William had always been treated less royally than his brothers; it was an attitude he seemed to attract.

And here was his carriage – new for the occasion – with his coat of arms glistening on it – very fine, he commented; but where could he take his bride? If it were to Bushy, how easy it would have been; but everyone had set their minds against Bushy. He was beginning to think they were right; there would have been too many memories of Dorothy Jordan there; there might even be some of her possessions about the place.