Page 55 of A Foreign Crown
The men all turned to him, waiting.
“Oh, I hope he can. Since my arrival, I’ve seen nothing but great lucidity and excellent conversation from him. There is no great talk of anything otherwise. Just this morning, the Queen’s lady-in-waiting talked of his mental acuity.”
They exchanged glances. Hemming swallowed the last of his port. “And what if he does deteriorate? What’s better: a half-crazed King or an incompetent prince?”
They grumbled.
Standly frowned. “Prinny is nothing but an overgrown lad.”
Hemming held up a finger. “While I agree, I think the worst problem we can expect from Prinny is the creation of a complete lack of respect and trust from the populace.”
“Agreed,” Standly said. “While many fawn over him and want to be included in his parties, not many expect good leadership from the man.” He turned to Layton. “Can you imagine such a problem in your own nation? We have a King who might at any moment lose his sanity, and his son behaves as though he himself has already done so.”
“And what of the Queen?” Pickering, who seemed the quietest of the bunch, shrugged.
“Is there talk of her stepping in?” Layton stepped closer.
The other two snorted, but Pickering held his ground. “There is not enough talk of consideration of the Queen, and I ask why not? She’s the best chance we have in the palace right now.”
Lord Standly shook his head. “King George’s mother might have something to say to that.”
“Undoubtedly she will; nevertheless, Queen Charlotte should be considered, should she not? Could she not be regent?” Lord Pickering took a long swallow from his cup.
Lord Hemming refilled Lord Pickering’s glass. “Parliament already made that decision during the last bout. Queen Charlotte will never be regent.”
The others discounted the notion so completely that Layton didn’t know what to think. He wondered if Lady Aribella was aware such an idea existed. He wondered if the Queen herself was even aware.
“Are we assuming King George will one day need a regent?” Layton was beginning to think all of Aribella’s efforts would have little influence on a generally held expectation of the King’s incompetence.
“Most feel that we will. When one was needed once before, a process was put in place so that we can move forward quickly if needed.” Lord Hemming rubbed his brow.
Layton didn’t think his parents were aware of the potential emotional disturbance of England’s Crown. How could a country be at war while its monarch couldn’t be trusted to make sound decisions? “What exactly is wrong with him?”
The others fell into a massive round of general speculation. Hemming coughed. “I heard under good authority the man’s gout moved up to his head.”
Pickering nodded too many times, obviously oversure of himself, and raised a hand in the air. “I heard he’s opposed to leeches. The blood is collecting and clogging up his brain.”
“It was consumption gone wrong, I tell you.” Standly seemed as convinced as the other of the cause of the King’s illness. “Remember that winter before the first bout? He could have easily caught it, and he’s never recovered.”
Hemming laughed after several more minutes of diverse speculations. “Short response?” He faced Layton and said, “We don’t know,” then turned away again. “Do you suppose it’s all those people coming back from the East India Company? What if they brought their diseases with them?”
Layton shrugged, doubting that was the case. What an odd and terrible quandary for a country to find itself in, particularly one as powerful as England.
A servant entered. “Beg pardon. I’m looking for Prince Layton.”
“I am here.” Layton lifted a hand.
“The Queen is requesting your presence at Buckingham House.”
His grip tightened around his cup for a moment, and then he placed the cup down on the sideboard. “Very good. Has a carriage been called?”
“She sent the family’s personal carriage for you. It’s waiting out in front.”
Layton felt the others’ gazes and bowed. “Gentleman, thank you for your excellent company.”
“And you, Your Highness,” Hemming called after him as Layton followed the servant toward the front steps of the palace.
When he arrived at Buckingham, another servant led him into a solemn and deathly quiet house, then directed him to a front sitting room. “Please sit and enjoy some tea. Someone will be with you shortly.”
