Queen in Waiting - Plaidy Jean (электронную книгу бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

man accent and you are far from fluent. We shall have to speak in German, and Mr. Howe would far rather speak in English."

Caroline felt alone. The Electress Sophia, whom she had regarded as a bulwark was now inclining away from her—so wrapped up was she in her own glorious future as Queen of England.

The Electress had to take her mind from England to celebrate the marriage of Sophia Dorothea to the Crown Prince of Prussia. As both bride and groom were her grandchildren she was quite delighted with the match; and she was certain that the pretty, not exactly clever, but spirited Sophia Dorothea would be a match for the rather violent Frederick William. In any case they were both eager for marriage and there had been no reluctant tears from the bride, no protests from the groom. In fact their eagerness was the reason why they were being married at such an early age.

Frederick William was nearly five years younger than George Augustus but he seemed more mature in many ways. They disliked each other intensely so it was fortunate that the newly married couple would not live at Hanover to add to family strife.

In spite of her friendship with Sophia Dorothea Caroline was glad when the celebrations were at an end and the young couple left Hanover. George Augustus's jealousy of his cousin was painful to watch.

She fancied she had grown a little closer to her husband through her friendship with his maternal grandmother the Duchess of Celle, the Frenchwoman who still showed signs of great beauty and who at the end of her life was so sad. The Duchess mourned her husband deeply, even though the last years of the marriage had been soured by the Duke's siding with Hanover for state reasons while the Duchess had one motive in her life which was the care of her daughter. The Duchess would never forgive her son-in-law for what he had done to her daughter. She it was who visited Ahlden regularly, who took accounts of her children's lives to their mother. She

would tell of the marriage of the young Sophia Dorothea, of Caroline the wife of her son.

Caroline was attracted by the Duchess, a woman of great culture and charm, as clever as the Electress and far more beautiful. And Caroline knew her friendship towards Sophia was weakening because of that she immediately felt towards the Duchess. The Duke of Celle had refused to marry Sophia, had given up lands and titles rather than do so; and that was something, even so many years later, that Sophia found hard to forgive. Particularly when he fell so deeply in love with the woman he married and with whom he remained deeply in love, until the marriage of their daughter brought such bitterness into their lives. Sophia had hated the Duchess of Celle with a vindictiveness which appalled Caroline; and after that she did not feel so friendly towards the old woman. Moreover Sophia's preoccupation with the English had already driven a rift between them and a coldness had sprung up, which a few months before would not have seemed possible.

George Augustus was delighted with Caroline's friendship towards his mother's mother. At the same time he was doing his best to please the English visitors. It was a natural instinct to go against everything that his father stood for.

It was a great relief when Caroline realized that George Lewis was indifferent to her friendship with the Duchess of Celle. She supposed it was because he thought the Duchess too insignificant to be of importance. If she attempted to see the prisoner she would be sternly reprimanded, but of course she would do no such thing. She was learning how to be a Hanoverian wife, outwardly docile. But there was something they did not understand: inwardly she was in revolt.

Domestic storms could blow up quickly in Hanover. Violently and suddenly they arose out of the most insignificant incidents.

George Augustus marched into his wife's apartments, his face red and puffed, his eyes watering with emotion.

*'Have you heard the news?" he demanded.

Alarmed she asked what catastrophe had happened.

"That puppy Frederick William is going to the Netherlands."

**Oh?" said Caroline surprised.

"Don't stand there saying Oh. Can't you see what this means! He's going with the armies. He's going to fight. His father has not stopped him. He doesn't have to get a son before he goes. He's five years younger than I and yet I'm kept out and he's allowed to go! "

"Your time will come..." began Caroline soothingly.

"Yes, when you have given me a son. When will that be? What signs are there? Do you think you're barren? God knows you ought to have shown signs by now. And my father is laughing at me with those scarecrows of his. George Augustus ... married to a barren wife ... we'll keep him at Hanover till he's too old to make a soldier."

"George Augustus, this is absurd."

"Absurd, is it? I tell you he's gone. Gone to win honours on the battlefield. And they're laughing at me because I'm not allowed to be a soldier ... because I can't get a son. They're jeering at me ... me ... the Prince. And all because you are barren. If I'd known it..."

He stopped and looked at her. He hadn't meant to say that. He was proud of her. She was beautiful. She had never really crossed him ... she never showed off as he called it, after that one attempt when he had made her understand that he didn't like it.

But he was angry. He was too unsure of himself to accept the fact that he could occasionally be wrong. He always had to be in the right, always the injured party. If his father would not let him go to war that was because his father was jealous of the honours he might win. If he was not yet a father that was Caroline's fault.

He picked up his wig and throwing it on the floor stamped on it; then kicked it round the room. It was a favourite outlet for outraged feelings; and after that display of physical violence he felt a little better.

He took up his wig, slammed it on his head and walked out.

He would show them whose fault it was that he had no son.

Caroline aid n^rl^e l^h' liSil. nigiif. The next day she

learned that her husband had a mistress. Such news travelled fast in Hanover.

If only Sophia Charlotte were here, she would have advised her what to do. Life was so disappointing, so unfulfilled. How she longed for Liitzenburg, and intelligent conversation beneath the trees!

What was life at Hanover? There was no culture. Leibniz was still with them but he despaired of bringing distinguished scholars to the court, and even the Electress was no longer interested in philosophical discussion now she had one aim in life—to gain the crown of England before she died.

And here was Caroline—young, beautiful, vital and above all clever, doomed to be the typical German wife, to remain silent when her husband spoke, to accept his word as law— even though he had the mind of a boy of fourteen and the manners and control of one younger—to be humble, docile, suppressing all desires but to be a good wife and bear many children.

No! said Caroline.

But what was the use of rebelling when one was in a Hanoverian prison? There was at least a pretence of freedom here which was more than there was at Ahlden.

There were times when she felt she could give way to despair but in her heart she knew that because she had a more alert mind, a deeper power of concentration, because she had considerable more knowledge than her husband, there must be a way of eluding his domination. She was certain that in time she would find it. And until she did she must allow him to believe that she was the wife he wanted her to be. That was the way she would always have to live. She would always have to let him believe that he was the master. There was no harm in playing a game of pretence so long as in reality she was in command of her own destiny.