made to understand that one day he would be King of England. He was such a good boy; there was no trace of wildness about him; yet he must learn to be a King.
The rain had started. Oh dear, now they would have to wait until it was over.
Bubb was fussily conducting them into the tent. It would soon be over, he said; and perhaps their Highnesses would like a game of cards to while away the time?
Fred declared that he fancied a game of whist but they needed a fourth, of course.
Bubb put his finger to his lips in that rather vulgar way of his and declared that His Highness could safely leave the finding of the fourth member of the party to him.
Fred sat down in the tent, yawning. ‘A pox on the rain,’ he said. Poor Fred, his conversation was obvious; small wonder that wags and wits thought him a little dull. Augusta was content with him the way he was, for she herself was not considered brilliant. She never raised her voice in contradiction to her husband, and from her first coming to England she had made it a point to agree with everything he said. That did not mean that she was not aware of what was going on about her, that she did not see Fred’s failings. The fact that she had so successfully hidden her own ambitions during the years she had lived in England might suggest that she was by no means stupid. She had seen Queen Caroline appear to bow down to her husband’s wishes; she had seen her meekly accept humiliations from the King; but everyone except the King had known that it was she who ruled the country. She, Augusta, had dutifullyhated her mother-in-law because her husband did, but that did not mean that she could not admire her and imitate her as far as her own abilities would allow her. So while she echoed Fred’s words she could be thinking that Fred was ineffectual, that he was a little dull and that if he were not the Prince of Wales he would have been a nonentity.
And then Bubb came into the tent with Lord Bute.
There are moments in one’s life when the whole pattern of one’s existence can change. Augusta recognized this as one.
As soon as he entered the tent she was immediately aware of the shortcomings of all other men. Frederick seemed inane as he never had before and Bubb more vulgar than ever.
‘May I present Lord Bute to Your Highnesses?’
She was very ready to be presented. Surely, she thought, he is the most handsome man at Court. Why have I never seen him before? If he had been there, I must have noticed him. Who could fail to do so?
He was tall and his dignity was overwhelming. How much more kingly than Frederick! His manner was grave yet courteous; respectful yet admiring; and he had the finest pair of legs she had ever seen.
‘Lord Bute,’ she said, ‘I am surprised that we have not met before.’
‘I have only recently come to London, Your Highness.’
She knew whence he had come. His accent betrayed him. Surely it must be one of the most charming of accents. She had never thought it so before. Like all the family she had hated everything from beyond the Border, that stronghold of the Jacobites, for Scotsmen had never taken kindly to the Hanoverians. The recent’45 had started up there, and it was they who had harboured their Bonnie Prince Charlie. But Lord Bute was not of that kind. She was sure of it. He would be loyal to the crown. Bubb would never have brought him into the tent if that were not so.
‘You’re welcome,’ Fred told him. ‘Come now, Bubb, the cards.’
‘Your Highness.’ While fussy Bubb produced the cards and dealt, Augusta watched the newcomer’s strong hands. His calm expression betrayed nothing. She refused to admit to herself that she was unduly excited. An interesting man, she thought,whose conversation would surely have been more diverting than the cards.
They talked between games.
He had come down to London, he said, soon after the’45. He had felt that he no longer desired to stay in Scotland after that.
‘Perhaps you should remain
The rain had started. Oh dear, now they would have to wait until it was over.
Bubb was fussily conducting them into the tent. It would soon be over, he said; and perhaps their Highnesses would like a game of cards to while away the time?
Fred declared that he fancied a game of whist but they needed a fourth, of course.
Bubb put his finger to his lips in that rather vulgar way of his and declared that His Highness could safely leave the finding of the fourth member of the party to him.
Fred sat down in the tent, yawning. ‘A pox on the rain,’ he said. Poor Fred, his conversation was obvious; small wonder that wags and wits thought him a little dull. Augusta was content with him the way he was, for she herself was not considered brilliant. She never raised her voice in contradiction to her husband, and from her first coming to England she had made it a point to agree with everything he said. That did not mean that she was not aware of what was going on about her, that she did not see Fred’s failings. The fact that she had so successfully hidden her own ambitions during the years she had lived in England might suggest that she was by no means stupid. She had seen Queen Caroline appear to bow down to her husband’s wishes; she had seen her meekly accept humiliations from the King; but everyone except the King had known that it was she who ruled the country. She, Augusta, had dutifullyhated her mother-in-law because her husband did, but that did not mean that she could not admire her and imitate her as far as her own abilities would allow her. So while she echoed Fred’s words she could be thinking that Fred was ineffectual, that he was a little dull and that if he were not the Prince of Wales he would have been a nonentity.
And then Bubb came into the tent with Lord Bute.
There are moments in one’s life when the whole pattern of one’s existence can change. Augusta recognized this as one.
As soon as he entered the tent she was immediately aware of the shortcomings of all other men. Frederick seemed inane as he never had before and Bubb more vulgar than ever.
‘May I present Lord Bute to Your Highnesses?’
She was very ready to be presented. Surely, she thought, he is the most handsome man at Court. Why have I never seen him before? If he had been there, I must have noticed him. Who could fail to do so?
He was tall and his dignity was overwhelming. How much more kingly than Frederick! His manner was grave yet courteous; respectful yet admiring; and he had the finest pair of legs she had ever seen.
‘Lord Bute,’ she said, ‘I am surprised that we have not met before.’
‘I have only recently come to London, Your Highness.’
She knew whence he had come. His accent betrayed him. Surely it must be one of the most charming of accents. She had never thought it so before. Like all the family she had hated everything from beyond the Border, that stronghold of the Jacobites, for Scotsmen had never taken kindly to the Hanoverians. The recent’45 had started up there, and it was they who had harboured their Bonnie Prince Charlie. But Lord Bute was not of that kind. She was sure of it. He would be loyal to the crown. Bubb would never have brought him into the tent if that were not so.
‘You’re welcome,’ Fred told him. ‘Come now, Bubb, the cards.’
‘Your Highness.’ While fussy Bubb produced the cards and dealt, Augusta watched the newcomer’s strong hands. His calm expression betrayed nothing. She refused to admit to herself that she was unduly excited. An interesting man, she thought,whose conversation would surely have been more diverting than the cards.
They talked between games.
He had come down to London, he said, soon after the’45. He had felt that he no longer desired to stay in Scotland after that.
‘Perhaps you should remain
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