Not only was the King expected, but good Queen Charlotte and one or two of the princesses had expressed their intention of driving over to Stanmore. A few select guests had been invited to meet them. Among others was Lady Tryon. There were also General Perkins and his wife, and the well-known couple, Sir James and Lady Wallace. The General and the Admiral were old friends, and older enemies, for they had met as lads, when one was lieutenant of marines, and the other a midshipman, and had actually fought a duel, at a time when that foolish and wicked custom was in vogue even among youths. [The writer thinks it well at this point to state that the Royal visit actually took place as described; also that the main facts and characters in the story are taken from an unpublished diary of the time, in possession of a member of the family.] The great mass of the neighbourhood were invited to the grounds. All the arrangements were reported complete; but Madam Everard kept looking up anxiously at the sky, which threatened every instant to send down its waters upon the earth. The clouds gathered closer and closer, and some time before the hour at which the royal family were expected to arrive the rain began to descend. It was melancholy to look at the tents growing darker and darker as the water poured down on them, and to see the flags which should have been blowing out joyfully drooping on the flagposts. The rain pattered against the window panes, and the air blew in with a damp feel, which gave promise of a drenching day. Madam Everard became very unhappy; even the young ladies lost their spirits. The Colonel was the only person who seemed unconcerned. "I have done my best," he observed, "and there is no man more ready to make allowance than the King, God bless him." The Colonel had been page to George the Second, and had been attached to the court of the present King, and knew him well, and, moreover, his many trials and difficulties. "`Uneasy is the head that wears a crown.' Our good King finds it so, and few of his subjects have greater domestic as well as public trials to go through." Harry Tryon had been very busy and highly flattered by the confidence which the Colonel and Madam Everard had placed in him. Whether or not he still contemplated fighting the Baron de Ruvigny cannot now be said. Seeing Madam Everard's anxiety, he offered in spite of the rain to mount a horse and gallop off to ascertain whether the royal party were coming or not. His offer was accepted, and he was soon galloping away through the street of Lynderton on the high road to Lyndhurst, by which it was expected the King would come. He met on his way an open carriage and four horses, full, as it seemed to him, of old women wrapped up in red cloaks and hoods, such as were worn by the peasantry. He had got to the turnpike kept by an old woman, Mammy Pocock by name, when he inquired whether the royal family had come by.