So she must act with care.

By good fortune for her she encountered the Prince of Wales when he was alone and was immediately struck by the change in him.

Our Prince has turned into a very serious young man, she thought. Something has happened.

Elizabeth must naturally find out what without delay.

She dropped a charming curtsy.

'What pleasure to see Your Highness looking so well. It is long since that pleasure was mine.'

'You have been away from Court, I believe, Miss Chudleigh?'

'Yes, I had to pay a duty call on my aunt and uncle in the country and I used that opportunity to take a little air.'

'You are looking well for the change.'

'How gracious is Your Highness.' She took a step nearer. 'Oh, this is presumptuous of me... but it is out of my deep regard for Your Highness. I... I trust all is well?'

'All is well, Miss Chudleigh.'

'I was thinking of... that dear friend of us both.'

The Prince coloured. 'She... she is better, thank you.'

'So she has been ill?'

He looked at her steadily for a few moments; her lovely face was suffused with tender affection. Much as he loved Hannah he could always be deeply affected by a beautiful woman, and there was something motherly about Elizabeth at that moment.

He longed to confide in someone; he was deeply worried. He had done something which he knew his mother would consider disastrous. Only that day she and Lord Bute had talked about the day he would marry; they had talked complacently as though they were looking forward to it. He had made an effort to tell them, but he could not bring himself to do it. Lord Bute had been saying that people might like their King to have an English bride, but his mother said that he must have a royal Queen and that his ancestors had always taken their wives from Germany.

It was painful to listen to such talk and yet he could not bring himself to stop them, to explain to them. He had wanted to, but he knew and he was realizing this more and more every day what a shock it would be to them when they heard of his marriage to Hannah.

Therefore it would be comforting to explain to someone who would be sympathetic and he knew she would because she always had been.

'Miss Chudleigh,' he said quietly, 'I wish to confide in you.'

'Yes, Your Highness.' She tried not to sound too eager.

'You were so kind to me... and to Hannah.'

'Your Highness, it is my duty to serve you with any power I have. As to Hannah... I look upon her as a very dear friend. If I could do anything... just anything... to make you two happier, I beg of you, I implore you, to let me know what it is.'

'Miss Chudleigh, I have married Hannah.'

She caught her breath. It was incredible. Fresh from her own adventure with the church register of Larnston it still seemed fantastic. The future King of England married to a little Quaker girl the niece of a linen-draper! Oh no. It couldn't be true. It simply could not.

He was watching her eagerly, so she forced her features into an expression of deepest sympathy.

'It seemed to me the only possible action, Miss Chudleigh.'

'I understand.'

'I knew you would. Oh... I knew you would. So you are not shocked.'

'I think you have done a brave and n.o.ble thing.' She forced the tears into her eyes; it was not easy, but she had taught herself this trick and in any case she was so surprised that it was not so difficult as usual.

'Oh, Miss Chudleigh, I feel much better having confided in you.'

'I am glad Your Highness so honoured me. Have you... told any others?'

'Only my sister Elizabeth and Edward... my brother. Edward was our witness.'

'And who married you?'

'Dr Wilmot. I commanded it. They cannot blame him.'

'Your Highness is your own master and will ere long, I doubt not, be the master of us all. So... no one else knows.'

He shook his head. 'It is a great relief, Miss Chudleigh, to share this burden. I want to explain. Hannah is ill... she fears she may not live. It was necessary, you see. She could not die with this sin... on her soul. I had to do this, Miss Chudleigh. It was the only way.'

'I understand. I am sure you were right. It was good and n.o.ble. I am sure of it. And Mr Axford... ?'

'The marriage to Mr Axford was no real marriage. It took place at the marriage mill, which is illegal. Mr Axford himself believes this, for he has recently married a Miss Bartlett. Dr Wilmot helped me discover the truth of this and there is no doubt of it.'

'So... there is a Princess of Wales,' murmured Elizabeth.

'I do not know whether Hannah would wish to be so described... nor that my grandfather...'

Elizabeth nodded. Here was excitement. This made her little adventure seem like a nursery prank. The Prince married and the King in ignorance of it. And the Princess and old Bute... ! She wanted to laugh, but she smiled benignly, sympathetically and affectionately.

'Your Highness, may I dare to advise you... ?'

'Oh, Miss Chudleigh, please do.'

'Say nothing of this to anyone... who does not know already.'

'I certainly will not. And thank you for your kindness.'

'Your Highness, you must not thank me. I have done nothing... though I wish you to know that I will do anything to serve you now and at any time.'

The Prince went to his apartments considerably comforted by the encounter; and Elizabeth went to hers in a state of great excitement.

Elizabeth presented herself to the Dowager Princess. Augusta forced herself to smile. She wished the woman had stayed in the country. There was something quite brazen about her; and when one thought how much she knew of that unfortunate affair of George and the Quaker it was really quite disconcerting.

'So you have returned,' said Augusta.

Elizabeth swept a demure curtsy. 'And have come to ask Your Highness's pardon.'

The Princess raised her eyebrows.

'Have I Your Highness's permission to proceed?'

'Pray do.'

'I have to confess, Your Highness, that I am married.'

'And when did this occur?'

'Some years ago, Your Highness.'

'I see, so you have been posing at my Court as a single woman.'

'That is so, Your Highness.'

'I find this distasteful.'

'Your Highness, I fear there is much going on that is distasteful.' The beautiful wide-open eyes met those of the Princess Dowager and the Princess felt her own colour rise. A reference to herself and Lord Bute. The insolence of the creature. She would not have her at the Court. Could this clandestine marriage be used as a means of getting rid of her?

'The name of your husband?'

'The Honourable Augustus John Hervey.'

'Bristol's grandson... and heir.' Light was beginning to dawn on the Princess. Bristol was very ill, close to death, she had heard. Now she knew why Elizabeth Chudleigh was anxious to announce her marriage. She was looking forward to being Countess of Bristol. The woman was shameless, a schemer, unscrupulous.

Yes, in spite of Lord Bute's warnings she was going to get rid of her.

'I trust Your Highness is not displeased.'

'I am very displeased. I do not care for this secrecy. I find it... discourteous. I trust you enjoyed your stay in the country. Where was it?'

'Larnston, Your Highness, not far from Winchester.'

'A pleasant part of the country, I believe. You should enjoy staying there.'

Elizabeth was startled. Was that a command?

'Now you may leave me.'

Elizabeth was alarmed. She knew what would happen. She had seen it before. She would retire to her apartments, and in a very short time a messenger would come to her with the news that there was no longer a place for her in the Princess's household and she would be expected to leave within a few hours. And once out it would be hard to come back. The King? He was getting old and tired. He might have forgotten that he had once found her attractive.

She must act quickly. She had always been impulsive; it was one of her great faults; but this was definitely an occasion when prompt action was necessary.

'Your Highness... certain information has come to me which my loyalty to you demands I pa.s.s on... without delay.'

'What?'

'Madam, I scarcely know how to tell you. I fear it will be a great shock. It is a matter of the utmost gravity...'

'What are you trying to say to me?'

'It concerns the Prince.'

The Princess Dowager's att.i.tude had changed. She had suddenly realized that they were no longer discussing a maid of honour's trivial misdemeanour, and she was a frightened woman.

Dare I? Elizabeth asked herself. But it was the only way. She must not tell him that I told... I must prevent that. And if she did? Well, then she could go to him when the storm had abated and tell him she had done it for the sake of the crown, the throne, the country.

She must create a diversion now . . . she must show that she could be useful to the Princess... otherwise a greater calamity than the Prince's marriage would occur: Elizabeth Chudleigh would be expelled from Court.

She had made up her mind.

'Your Highness, the Prince is married.'

The Princess Dowager had risen; she was speechless and reached blindly for the arm of her chair to steady herself.

'I am sorry it is I who must give Your Highness such news.'

'It is not possible...' stammered the Princess, for this was the only state of affairs she could possibly tolerate.

'Alas... Your Highness.'

'How? When? To whom?'

'A short while ago, Madam. He did not tell me the date. But he was married by Dr Wilmot in Curzon Street to Hannah Lightfoot.'

'The... the Quaker woman?'

'Yes, Your Highness.'

'I do not believe it. It is some fabrication. It is quite untrue. It would not be possible.'

'Would Your Highness wish me to summon one of the maids to bring you some... stimulant. Your Highness seems in need...'

'Summon no one. Is the door shut? Make sure that no one is near.'

'Yes, Your Highness.'

'Now... who has told you this... ridiculous falsehood?'

'His Highness, the Prince.'

'He has told you this?'

'He confides in me, Madam. He finds me sympathetic. You will remember how useful I was able to be to Your Highness when he began this connection... because he himself had confided in me.'

The Princess picked up her fan absently and began to fan herself. She felt faint. It is not true, she kept telling herself. It could not possibly be true. I am dreaming, of course. This is a nightmare. I must wake up because this idea is intolerable... even in a dream.