Wood, to offer up thanksgiving in St. Paul's, where, at the same time, she
found her name omitted from the Church service. She wore white velvet and
ermine, and was surrounded by thousands of shouting followers, as if she
had been the most discreet of queens and best of women. The poor
passionate, wayward nature, which after all had been cruelly dealt with,
was touched as well as elated.

On the very day after Queen Caroline's arrival in London in June, she had
dispatched Alderman Wood to Kensington, to condole with the Duchess of
Kent on her recent widowhood, and inquire after the health of the infant
princess. The message was innocent in itself, but alarming by implication;
for Queen Caroline was not a woman to be kept at a distance, or to
hesitate in expressing her sentiments if she fancied her overtures
slighted by the embarrassed Duchess. In the month of August Queen Caroline
had established herself at Brandenburg House--the Margravine of Anspach's
house, by the river at Hammersmith--near enough to Kensington Palace, to
judge from human nature, to disconcert and provoke a smile against the
smiler's will--for Caroline's extravagances would have disturbed the
gravity of a judge--in the womanly Princess at the head of the little
household soberly settled there. Never were princesses and women more
unlike than Caroline of Brunswick and Victoria of Coburg; But poor Queen
Caroline was not destined to remain long an awkward enigma--a queen and
yet no queen, an aunt and yet no aunt, a scandal and a torment in
everybody's path.

In the summer of the following year, when the country was drawn away and
dazzled by the magnificent ceremonial of the coronation of George IV., she
exercised her last disturbing influence. She demanded to be crowned along
with her husband; but her demand was refused by the Privy Council. She
appeared at the door of Westminster Abbey, but the way was barred to her.