Queen in Waiting, стр. 95

And by the time his coach reached Osnabriick King George I was dead.

The End of Waiting

In the palace of St. James Anne Brett was giving orders to the workmen.

"I want this door taken away and a new staircase made," she was explaining. "You need have no fear. I have the King's authority to do as I wisli."

They hesitated but she was an imperious young woman and they knew how she commanded the King.

But the Princess Anne, almost eighteen years old, was as imperious as Anne Brett and she was supported by a dignity which being born granddaughter of a King had come to her naturally.

"What is being done here?" she demanded.

And when she was told she said: "This door remains and there shall be no new staircase."

Anne Brett came out to face the Princess Anne.

"I have given orders..." said Mistress Brett.

"And I have countermanded them."

"I want that door taken away."

"But I want it to remain."

"We shall see. When I tell the King.. r

*'Being the King's whore does not entitle you to rule us all, Madam."

*'You will see ... when the King comes home "

"Until then, pray remember without him you are nothing but a common whore and as such should remember your place."

"You are insolent."

"You are mistaken. It is you who are insolent. Have you forgotten that I am a Princess."

Anne swept haughtily away; but the workmen dared not continue the work.

Anne Brett went to her room to rage and await the return of the King.

When the Duchess of Kendal heard the news she refused to believe it; she tore at her wig, pulled her bodice to shreds and threw herself on to her bed where she wailed in her misery.

For so many years they had been together. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. She could not live without him.

Her friends tried to soothe her, but they could not; and they feared for her reason.

In Richmond the Prince was enjoying his after dinner nap. The weather was warm and he had eaten with his usual gusto.

Caroline in her apartments had just risen when she heard the clatter of horses hoofs in the courtyard. She went to the uindow and saw Sir Robert Walpole.

He looked excited. Something important had happened for Iiim to come riding to Richmond in the hot afternoon.

She went to the Prince's bedroom to tell him that Walpole was below and just as she had awakened him the minister burst into the apartment.

The Prince sat up in bed. Walpole was on his knees.

Caroline heard him say: "Your Majesty..."

And she knew the moment had come. The waiting was over. She was Queen of England.

There was change everywhere.

Caroline went to her daughters.

"We are all together now," she told them, embracing them in tears.

Frederick would come home from Hanover.

The whole family would be reunited.

Anne Brett made a hasty retreat from the Palace. She had nothing to hope for now, so even if she had succeeded in getting the alterations she wanted of what use would they have been to her?

The only one who truly mourned the King was Ermengarda, who went into deep mourning and was melancholy for the rest of her life. After a stay at Brunswick she came back to her house in Isleworth and her only comfort was a raven whom she dressed in sable because she believed it was the King come back to her, as he had promised to do if it were possible.

George Augustus strutted happily about the court. None dared cross him now. The tyrant was dead; and now there was George II to reign over England.

Caroline was beside him, and wise men knew who would be the true ruler. It would not be King George but Queen Caroline.

(Continued Jhm Jront flap)

would no longer be the Queen in waiting but the Queen in fact. She strove to be worthy of the throne of her adopted land, never quite sure that her husband would indeed become George II. Her court was filled with famous philosophers and literary men such as Swift and Steele, Gay and Walpole. And at the center of the court was Caroline, yearning for the children whose lives had been cruelly taken from her, steering a dangerous course between the King and her husband, the Prince of Wales, and quietly preparing herself for the glorious future which lay ahead of her.

In this, the second volume of Jean Plaidy's brilliant new Georgian Saga, the bawdy, raucous world of eighteenth-century England springs to vivid life.

Jean Plaidy's bestselling historical novels are praised on both sides of the Atlantic for their meticulous attention to the exciting periods they illuminate. She lives in London.

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