Chapter 1

Lord George Gainsborough, 5th Earl of Poole, 26 June, 1830

Frederick William Augustus of Saxe-Coburg Saalfeld, Duke of Edinburgh was born to Princess Charlotte of Wales and Prince Leopold on the inauspicious date of Fifth November, 1817. Tragically, the boy’s mother died two days thereafter, and his care became subject to a bitter dispute between his father and grandfather, then the Prince Regent. Upon obtaining the throne in his own right, King George IV took charge of the boy, taking him to live at Windsor with him. He given into the care of a nursemaid by the name of Twygg, who had rather odd ideas about education, and his early life consisted of a mixture of her instruction and the malign influences of his royal grandfather. As His Majesty declined, however, the Cabinet was able to persuade him to set up a school, directed by Twygg, at which the Prince would be educated with a number of similarly aged youths of noble birth, whom it was hoped would have a positive influence on the boy. Because Twygg believed that frequent sea-baths were conducive to good health, the school was set up near His Majesty’s rather garish Pavilion at Brighton, and built in a similar style. I was despatched there together with the Archbishop of Canterbury upon the death of King George IV to retrieve the new King.

When we arrived we were informed that His Majesty was out riding, and waited in a drawing room for him to arrive. He was announced by a servant, and both the Archbishop and I stood. When he entered I was glad the servant had announced him, for his dress could not have been farther from what one would expect in a prince. He wore a plain cotton shirt and linen breeches, but his feet and legs below the knee were quite bare, and his hair was slightly longer than the fashion, curling down to his shoulders.

The Archbishop and I both bowed, but the prince waved us off. “There’s no need to stand on courtesy here. You can see we don’t follow the mores of polite society.”

I remained standing “Sire, I regret utterly that I must inform your illustrious grandfather has died, and that we have been ordered by Parliament to escort you to London to assume the throne.”

His Majesty looked taken aback, perhaps on the verge of tears, but maintained his composure. “I see, would you care to remain here while I bathe and dress?” I nodded assent, and he retired for about an hour. When His Majesty returned, wearing a dark suit and buff trousers and carrying a pair of boots, I could tell from the condition of his face that he had wept recently, but had recovered his wits.

“Shall we make our farewells?” The Archbishop asked?

“I have already done so. I suppose we had better be off if we have any hope of reaching London by nightfall.”

“Indeed.” His Majesty followed us to the carriage and we set out for the long ride back to London. The King, seeming melancholy, looked out the window of the carriage. He finally spoke after about two hours.

“Who is to be the Regent?”

“The Duke of Clarence and St. Andrews.”

He nodded. “I do not believe that I have made his acquaintance.”

“You will soon enough. He wishes you to observe him in his duties as Regent, so as to prepare you to rule upon your majority.”

“So I will not be returning to Brighton?”

“Perhaps when Parliament is not in session.” At that moment I realized that no arrangement had been made for His Majesty’s further education. We would have to deal with that within the month.

As we approached London, our carriage was joined by a troop of dragoons. This made it obvious to any observer who was inside, and by the time we crossed over the Thames we had attracted an enthusiastic crowd. Fortunately, they were apparently loyal to their new sovereign, and cheered us as we passed.

“Should I get out of the carriage and ride?” His Majesty asked? “They seem eager to see me.”

“No, we can’t risk an assassin in the crowd, especially not now.”

He sat back, and was quiet for the rest of the trip to the palace. Once there, I saw that he was given something to eat and put to bed. Then I went into the Privy Council.