The Third George: (Georgian Series) by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online Page B

youngest of the family, was chattering about the wedding.
    She was ten years old and had always felt herself to be apart from the family because she had been born four months after her father’s death. So she had never known him. Neither had her brother Frederick William really, although it was true he had been born a year before she had, when their father was alive but he could remember nothing of him, so he was as much in the dark as Caroline Matilda. Henry was sixteen and swaggered about the nursery, impatient because he was neither a boy nor a man, but very much despising his younger sister and brother. Then there was William who was eighteen, very much the man with no time to spare for ignorant little sisters. Elizabeth, the saintly one, had died what seemed like a long time ago to Caroline Matilda, but was in fact only some three years back; then there was Edward, Duke of York, who was twenty-two; and Augusta, haughty, eldest of them all, who was twenty-four years old; but she was not the most importantmember of the family. How could she be when there was George and although one year younger than Augusta, he was the King.
    The thought that George was King of England made Caroline Matilda want to giggle, for George was less like a king than any of her brothers. He was always kind and even treated the youngest of them all as though she were worthy of some consideration. Now he was always giving audiences and receiving ministers, and even his family had to remember to show due respect to him, although he never asked for it.
    Before he had become king he had had time to talk to Caroline Matilda about their father. She was constantly asking questions about Papa. It seemed to her so odd to have a father who had died before she was born.
    She did not share George’s delight in Lord Bute, for he scarcely noticed her. All his attention was for George. And Mamma of course did not notice her much either – only to lay down a lot of rules as to how the nursery was to be run.
    She liked to listen to her brothers, Henry and Frederick, talking together – or rather Henry talked and Frederick listened. It wasn’t only the gap in their ages which made Henry supreme. Henry was only sixteen but healthy, whereas Frederick always had colds and was often out of breath. Poor Frederick; he listened patiently, only too grateful that his brother talked to him.
    Caroline Matilda knew better than to attempt to join in. Henry would soon have put her in her place if she had. He wasn’t like dear George – dear King George, she thought with a little chuckle – and the reason was that everyone knew George was king so he didn’t always have to be reminding people how important he was.
    Henry was saying: ‘It’ll be different now George is king. They can’t keep us cooped up forever.’
    Frederick timidly asked what would happen when they were no longer cooped up.
    ‘We shall go to balls and banquets. We shan’t just be the children in the nursery. You see. Of course you and Caro will be children for years yet …’
    ‘Frederick will be as old as you are in five years’ time,’ Caroline couldn’t help putting in.
    Henry looked at her coldly. ‘As for you, you are only a baby still.’
    ‘I’m ten years old which is only six years younger than you.’
    ‘And you’re a girl.’
    ‘They marry before boys,’ Caroline reminded him cheekily while Frederick looked at her with amazement at her temerity. ‘After all,’ she went on, ‘the Princess Charlotte is only seventeen and that’s a year older than you are now.’
    ‘That is not the point of the argument. The trouble with you, Caro, is that you don’t think.’
    ‘I’m thinking all the time.’
    ‘What about?’ challenged Henry.
    ‘What I’m going to do when I grow up.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Run wild,’ she told them.
    Henry laughed. She had voiced his own sentiments. So even little Caroline Matilda was longing for freedom; it all came of what he called being