She was only tiny – nine years old – and no doubt, Desmond said, a pawn in some political game. Portugal was in chaos, and England and France were involved – for once on the same side – trying to bring a measure of political peace to the warring factions. What purpose there was, if any, in Queen Maria’s visit to Britain’s westernmost port I was never able to find out. No one, in fact, ever did seem to know. But she was already acquainted with Mrs Elizabeth Fox – widow of Robert Were Fox, one of the dignitaries of the town – and it was arranged that the Queen should visit her friend at her home in Arwenack Street, where a reception would be held. The Queen arrived in a black and gold British frigate, accompanied by Lord Clinton, who was a Trefusis; they came ashore at Custom House Quay in a gilt barge rowed by twenty sailors, and were met by rippling rows of dainty white-clad girls, all of about the same age as the Queen, who strewed flowers in the pathway of the procession as it walked up the narrow street until it reached Bank House.
