by Jean Plaidy
In the Queen's drawing room the children were gathered and there was Elizabeth waiting on Charlotte and that woman Schwellenburg 'with whom I could well do without', thought the King.
But poor Charlotte, he supposed, must have some say in the management of her own household.
So she kept her.
The Queen was saying: "I want Your Majesty to meet Mrs. Delany.”
An old lady was making her curtsey; she had bright intelligent eyes and was clearly very aware of the honour done to her, first to be received in the Queen's drawing room and then to be presented to the King. The King sat down and did Mrs. Delany the further honour of requesting her to sit with him. There was an air of goodness about the old lady which appealed to him. She had been brought to the Queen's notice by the Duchess of Portland who was very fond of her, and the Queen had received her on more than one occasion. She had on this day asked the Queen to accept one of her flower pieces, which she believed were quite original, and the Queen had graciously accepted it.
"Perhaps," said the Queen to one of her ladies, "His Majesty would like to see the specimen of Mrs. Delany's work which she has presented to me.”
"Your Majesty is most gracious," said the old lady. "I fear I was over-presumptuous in offering this lowly tribute of my humble duty and earnest gratitude.”
Charlotte, who had taken to the old lady, said that she found the work delightful. Here it was.
Would the King give his opinion? The King examined the specimen which consisted of pieces of coloured paper of all shapes stuck on to a plain piece of paper making a mosaic of delightful shapes and colours.
George was always interested in other people's work and the simpler it was the more it delighted him. He wanted to know how the work was done and insisted that Mrs. Delany explain to him in detail. There was nothing Mrs. Delany enjoyed more than talking of her work and Charlotte watched them benignly, listening to George's continual questions (Eh? What? What?) It was all soothing and natural, although she was always watching that he did not start to speak too rapidly.
Always her mind went back to that other and most fearful occasion. But he had been well for so long now, so perhaps she need not worry any more.
If George were ill ... there was the Prince. She thought of him longingly. Why did he not come to see her now? He would always be her favourite; she remembered every detail of his childhood and now ... well perhaps it was fortunate that he did not come and see her, for the King might be there and the Prince did upset him so.
"These flower pieces are delightful," said the King. "I think they are very clever, what? Little bits of paper, eh?”
He turned to Charlotte and explained in detail the process of the paper mosaic he had just learned from Mrs. Delany. The old lady was flushed with pleasure. She clearly adored the King and he had taken her to his heart immediately. He was calling her already 'my dear Mrs. Delany.”
The children came in to pay their respects to their parents and Mrs. Delany was invited to stay.
George swooped on Octavius.
"And how is my son, eh? Glad to see his papa, eh? What? What?”
"Very glad, Papa," said the child.
"And now I must present you to Mrs. Delany who makes clever paper mosaics. Perhaps you might ask her to show you the one she has presented to the Queen, eh? And tell you how it is done, eh, what?”
Octavius was brought to Mrs. Delany and being delighted by the necklace she was wearing stretched out to touch it.
Mrs. Delany overcome with emotion, kissed the child's hand; and George to show what a fancy he had taken to this woman said : "Kiss his cheek, Mrs. Delany. Kiss his cheek.”
And this she did with tears in her eyes.
"Now, Mrs. Delany, the children will perform for you. For this is the concert hour. Now are we ready, eh? I hope you have included some Handel in the programme. There is no composer to my mind to compare with him, Mrs. Delany. I trust he is a favourite of yours, eh? what?”
Mrs. Delany was ready to make any favourites of the King and Queen hers. And in the second drawing room the concert was held a family affair. Little Prince Ernest, nine years old, carrying a chair almost as big as he was for Mrs. Delany to sit on.
The King sat back listening to his little daughters singing together. What a charming scene! There was dear Elizabeth Pembroke, pensive and beautiful, beside the Queen and dear Mrs. Delany so happy to be honoured, such a good and loyal subject. What a pity, mused the King fleetingly wondering what the Prince of Wales was doing at this moment, that one's children cannot always remain young. But even the young can cause distress. Nine months after the death of Prince Alfred, little Octavius was taken seriously ill.
This was an even greater tragedy than the loss of Alfred, for Octavius was four years old and the most lovely and charming of the children. The King had adored him and had spent hours playing games with him in the nurseries.
"This is more than I can bear," he said to the Queen. Poor Charlotte! She shared those sentiments.
She was pregnant again and was not feeling as well as she usually did; and the anxiety concerning Octavius was terrible.
When the little boy died the King could scarcely contain his grief; he shut himself into his room and would see no one. But when he emerged he was obviously resigned.
"Many would regret that they had ever had so sweet a child since they were forced to part with him. I do not feel that. I am thankful to God for having graciously allowed me to enjoy such a creature for four years.”
He went to Charlotte and repeated these sentiments to her. "You must agree with me, my dear.”
And Charlotte did her best.
A few months later she gave birth to a daughter. They called her Amelia; she was a little frail but lovely, and she did much to make the King forget his grief for Alfred and Octavius.
More and more did the King seek the refuge of his family. Only in the heart of it with his young children around him could he be happy. North had resigned a fact which had greatly upset the King; Charles James Fox was making a nuisance of himself and was allying himself more and more closely with the Prince of Wales; young William Pitt, Chatham's second son, was making himself heard in Parliament; and the King was favouring young Pitt because he was the enemy of Fox. When Pitt was appointed First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer there was derisive laughter through the Commons, for Pitt was not then twenty-five years old. Pitt was on his mettle. He was going to show these old fools what a young man could do. He had his father's tradition behind him and he carried with it all the confidence and courage of youth.
George believed in this young man. He knew there would be no lip service to royalty, but George did not seek that. He wanted a man of principles at the head of affairs who would bring back honesty into government. George wanted a peaceful existence. He knew that he needed this. He had been aware of certain failings in his health both physical and mental and he was often worried. Let the lampoon writers say that the country was in a schoolboy's care, he trusted that schoolboy and because of this felt he could escape more and more often to the pleasant domesticity of his private life which was what he needed and indeed what he must have.
He dared not think towards what disasters the Prince of Wales might be heading. He now had a place in the House of Lords and had already given his vote in support of Fox. He was decorating Carlton House at great expense; he had discovered the virtues of Brighton where he had started to build a fantastic Pavilion, and worst of all there were rumours that he had offered marriage to a Catholic widow, Mrs. Maria Fitzherbert.
The King shut his ears; he did not want to know what the Prince of Wales was doing. He felt ill when he contemplated this son of his; it made him dizzy; it made him talk even to himself at a great rate. It alarmed him.
No, he wanted to get down to the country. It was Windsor he frequented now. There he had farms to inspect; he would ride and walk about the country; he could come home and play with the children. His greatest happiness was in Baby Am
elia, the most adorable of creatures. He loved that child. Not that he did not love all the children, but the adorable girl who held out her arms to him when he came near her was, he admitted secretly, his favourite.
The Duchess of Portland died suddenly and when the Queen told him of this he immediately thought of his dear friend Mrs. Delany. "For," he said, "I do not know how much she relied on the Duchess, but I do not believe dear Mrs. Delany is so comfortably placed as I could wish. What do you think, eh? What?”
The Queen said that she thought poor Mrs. Delany was not very comfortably placed.
"Then," replied the King, 'we must do something about it, eh? What? Can't allow that dear lady to be in difficulties.”
He had the answer. She should have a little house all her own and it should be at Windsor so that he could call on her any time he wished. And she should have an annuity of three hundred pounds a year so that she need have no anxiety. Wasn't there a niece, a Miss Port, or someone? She should come and live with her. He would busy himself to see that everything was as it should be. This was the sort of task he enjoyed. It did not worry him in the least; it only stimulated him. He would see about stocking the house.
"Let her know," he said to the Queen, 'that she is to bring nothing to Windsor but herself, her clothes and her niece. Now let me see what will she want, eh? What? Now the furniture. Leave it to me ... leave it to me ...”
He saw to everything. Plate, linen, china, glass, wine in the cellars and there was even sweetmeats and pickles in the still-room. It was a strange task for a king; but no one was surprised. A king who went round to the farms on his estate and helped make the butter was capable of anything.
When Mrs. Delany arrived at the little house which the King had prepared, it was to find George himself on the threshold waiting for her.
"Now," he said, 'this is your home!" And he was so excited he could not wait to show her round.
He was clearly charmed with his work and he kept shouting excited questions at her.
"You like this, eh? What? There is everything you want, eh?”
Mrs. Delany, with tears in her eyes, thanked His Majesty. What had she done to deserve such bounty from the best king in the world? There were tears in George's eyes too. Events like this gave him the greatest happiness. It took his mind off the exploits of the Prince of Wales, which, however much he tried to forget them, insisted on obtruding into his thoughts.
Fanny Burney. Miss Burney at Court
In the literary circle which Mrs. Delany had frequented in London she had made the acquaintance of Miss Fanny Burney a young lady who was enjoying a great deal of fame because of a novel which she had written called Evelina. The identity of the writer had been kept secret and had intrigued some of the most well-known people in the literary world of London; among these were Samuel Johnson and Mrs. Thrale. Fanny was an amusing and clever girl, and now that she had a house in Windsor Mrs. Delany asked her to visit her there.
Fanny was delighted to come, for she was very fond of Mrs. Delany, but she did confess that she was a little alarmed for she knew on what terms her friend was with the royal family, and it was almost certain that she would at some time meet the Queen or perhaps the King.
Mrs. Delany laughed away her guest's fears as she showed her round the house. Those were the very pickles which the King had chosen for her.
Fanny was very impressed, and when she retired to her room lost no time in writing in her journal a detailed description of everything she had seen. She had started this journal when she was a child and nothing would prevent her keeping it up.
It was a pleasant stay. The royal family were at Kew so Fanny was able to relax and enjoy the days. These were enlivened not only by Mary Port, Mrs. Delany's niece, but also by Mrs. Delany's great niece, an enchanting little girl to whom Fanny at once took a fancy. The child's father was also a guest at the same time.
The little girl was delighted with Fanny who was able to give her an account of her own family life which had been extremely happy. She told the little girl about her sisters and the games they had played together when they were young; and the child wanted to play them too.
And Fanny said she would show her at the first opportunity and everyone must join in. One day, under Fanny's guidance, the company was playing a childish game in the little drawing room when suddenly the door opened and a tall man came in. He said nothing but shut the door quietly behind him and stood watching the group at play.
He was dressed in black. Fanny thought: Surely he's a ghost. Then she saw the glittering diamond star on his coat and at once she knew. For a moment the others did not see him and he and Fanny looked at each other appraisingly. Then Miss Port, turning her head, seemed suddenly struck by horror.
"Aunt," she whispered. "The King!”
Mrs. Delany had seen. She went towards the visitor to greet him, then it seemed to Fanny that everyone else had disappeared except herself, the King and Mrs. Delany.
Fanny stood against the wall hoping that she would be unnoticed while Mrs. Delany with calm assurance, but conveying a deep sense of the honour and happiness this visit gave her, curtsied and spoke to the King as to her health and his.
George was looking beyond Mrs. Delany to her visitor. He had heard of Fanny Burney. Indeed who had not? The whole of London had speculated about her identity until it was known. She was the friend of the great Dr. Johnson. The Queen had read Evelina and had told the King it was most commendable and that she had heard it was the first novel to appear since Richardson's Clarissa and a great deal more moral; and the Queen had been told as soon as she returned to Windsor Lodge that Miss Burney was a guest in Mrs. Delany's House.
The King said: "Is that Miss Burney, eh?”
"Yes, Your Majesty," answered Fanny, dropping a curtsey.
The King looked at her piercingly for some seconds.
"You are enjoying your stay here with my dear friend Mrs. Delany?”
"Yes, sir. Very much.”
"That is good, eh? What?" He nodded to Fanny and turned to Mrs. Delany. "You will be asking me how the Princess Elizabeth is. I am worried about her health. Ever since I lost my sons...”
Mrs. Delany was nodding sympathetically.
"Well," went on the King, "I have to tell you, dear Mrs. Delany, that the Princess has been blooded twelve times this last fortnight. Seventy-five ounces of blood she has lost. It's a lot, eh?
What? What do you think, eh? What?”
Mrs. Delany said she thought it was a great deal.
"They're blistering her, too. I am anxious, most anxious." He was aware of Fanny again.
"Pray, does Miss Burney draw too?" he asked.
"I believe not, sir," replied Mrs. Delany. "At least she has not told me if she does.”
The King laughed slyly.
"Ah, that's nothing. She's apt not to tell. She never does tell, you know. Her father once talked to me about her book." He moved towards Fanny and studied her intently.
"But what? What?" he went on. "How was it?”
He was speaking so quickly that Fanny, unaccustomed to his manners, did not understand the question.
"Sir?" she began.
"How came it about, eh? What?”
"I wrote it for my own amusement, sir.”
"But publishing it ... printing it... eh? What? How was that, eh? What?”
"Well, sir, that was because...”
For the life of her Fanny could not think of the answer to his question. But the King was not a man to give up. He was very interested in detail; and he wanted to know why Fanny had published her book if she had written merely for her own amusement, just as he had wanted to know how Mrs. Delany did her mosaics.
"I thought, sir, that... er ... it would look well in print.”
The King laughed; he walked over to Mrs. Delany. "That's fair," he said. "Very fair and honest.”
He stood at some distance looking at Fanny; every now and then laughing and saying "Yes, very fair and honest.”
&nb
sp; The Queen arrived to see dear Mrs. Delany and to talk to her about the treatment the Princess Elizabeth was having. She was delighted, too, to see the famous Miss Burney, and was gracious when Fanny was presented. Fanny was invited to sit beside her and the King came and joined them. He told the Queen that Miss Burney had had her book printed because she thought it would look well in print. And he laughed again.
They talked of literature for Fanny's benefit and behaved with such courtesy towards her that she was charmed. As she began to grow used to the King's unusual ways of speaking, it was easier for her to understand and to know when the 'ehs' and 'whats' demanded an answer.
"Shakespeare," said the King. "Was there ever such stuff as a great part of Shakespeare? Only one must not say so. But what do you think, eh? What? Is it not sad stuff, eh? What?”
Poor Fanny. How could one writer deny the greatest of her kind. And yet how could she argue with the King. This unfortunately was one of the questions which demanded an answer.
"Oh yes, sir," she said, 'though mixed with such excellencies that...”
The King burst into laughter. He found Fanny very amusing.
"Of course it is not to be said. But it's true, eh? Only it's Shakespeare and nobody dare abuse him.
Some of those characters of his. Poof. Stuff. Sad stuff. But one would be stoned for saying so.”
Everyone seemed to be very happy and Fanny found the company of the royal pair not nearly so alarming as she had feared it might be. The Queen was so gracious and determined to be kind; and the King clearly wanted to be pleasant.
When the royal pair had left Mrs. Delany said that it was obvious to her that they had taken a liking to Fanny. This was confirmed on further visits to the little drawing room. Shortly afterwards Fanny was offered a post in the Queen's household as second keeper of the robes, with which she would receive a drawing room in the Queen's Lodge at Windsor with a bedroom opening from it, a footman of her own, together with an allowance of two hundred pounds a year.
Fanny was uneasy. It was no part of her ambition to become a royal servant. But having become acquainted with the King and Queen in such an intimate and friendly manner through Mrs.
