Queen in Waiting: (Georgian Series) (13 page)

Here she had walked with dear Sophia Charlotte before her marriage. How unhappy the girl had been, and how it had hurt Sophia to part with her – more so, she believed, than it had hurt Sophia Charlotte to go. But the marriage had been a good one, for she had become Queen of Prussia and the King had been indulgent to her. If their son could marry young Sophia Dorothea the family would be kept intact. Would his father agree?

In the meantime there was Caroline – the immediate problem. She must throw herself into this for the sake of Caroline, for the sake of Sophia Charlotte’s memory, and because when you were old, there was nothing left except living through the young.

She sent a message to the Leine Schloss requesting George Lewis to come to Herrenhausen to see her since she was not well enough to go to him.

He sent an ungracious message back that he was detained that day, but would, if his business permitted, visit her the next.

‘He has the manners of a stable boy,’ she grumbled. Unfortunately it was this stable boy who ruled them all at Hanover.

In a grudging mood, George Lewis set out for Herrenhausen, which was about two miles from Hanover.

What was his mother after now? he wondered. He had been disturbed enough by the foolish action of his sister in coming to her old home to die. Since she must have known how ill she was, why hadn’t she stayed at home to die decently? He hated sentimental scenes and had no intention of indulging in them.

Not that his mother was fond of them either.

No, it was more likely that she had some proposition to put to him and believed his sister’s death might have put him in a mood to grant it. She was making a big mistake if she did – and his mother was not one to make mistakes.

George Lewis’s plain, dark face looked even more dour than usual as he rode between the double avenue of limes. He liked the orderliness of the Park for he could not endure untidiness. His affairs were conducted in an efficient manner and he believed, rightly, that since he had been Elector, the prestige of Hanover had risen in other countries. There might be more splendid courts among the German states, but there was none
so prosperous as Hanover and this prosperity, begun by his father, had been increased by George Lewis. He had been a cruel husband; he was a promiscuous lover, having three favourite mistresses; he was a dour son and an indifferent parent; but if he had no idea how to win affection, he understood very well how to rule a state. Industry had flourished since his rule; farming prospered; he was growing richer, and so was his Electorate. Even his mother could find no fault with his rule. And how had he done it? By keeping the women out; by trusting no one but himself.

He was vindictive, as his wife had discovered to her cost; his manners were coarse; he had no refinements; and the only artistic pleasure he ever received was from music. As a result his Opera House was as fine as anything they had in Vienna.

He made his way to that wing of the house which he had assigned to his mother, and when he threw open the door her attendants scattered; he did not have to speak to them, only to frown and they were gone.

He did not kiss his mother’s hand; he merely nodded to her and sprawled in the chair by her bed, his legs thrust out, his heels resting on her carpet, while he studied the tops of his boots as though he found them more interesting than her.

How did we manage to get this one? Sophia wondered, as she had many times before. If I hadn’t borne him myself I’d say he had been foisted on us. How did we allow him to be brought up without grace, without charm, without manners? Yet he had excelled as a soldier and now was showing he could rule.

‘It was good of you to come, George Lewis,’ she said a trifle acidly, ‘good of you to call on your mother when she asked you to.’

‘I had nothing important to do today.’

‘Then I must be grateful for that,’ she retorted ironically.

He grunted. ‘What’s your business?’ he asked.

‘You don’t ask how I am?’

‘Well, you’re better, aren’t you? You wouldn’t have asked me to come if you were ill. So what point in asking!’

‘As a matter of courtesy perhaps.’

He puffed contemptuously. So they might do in the stables. And he in the presence of the granddaughter of a King of
England! What would they think of him in England if he ever went there? And go there he must… a King. She thought of Charles, her cousin, roaming the Continent before his Restoration. He had had all the charm of the Stuarts. Who would believe that this heavy-jowled, awkward Hanoverian was in any way connected with the Royal Stuarts. What would the English think of him!

‘No sense in asking questions when you know the answer.’

‘You’ve too much sense, perhaps, and not enough sensibility.’

‘Eh?’

My son! she thought. This is my son!

She must get down to the matter in hand before he rudely told her he had no time to waste.

‘I wanted to see you about George Augustus.’

The scowl deepened. George Lewis had no love for his son. His marriage had gone sour very quickly and how could it have been otherwise with such a man? Though, in his way, he was faithful enough to his mistresses and kept them in favour even when they lost their looks.

‘What about him?’

‘He’s no longer a boy.’

‘I know his age very well.’

‘It was time he was married.’

‘Married?’

‘Why not. He needs a wife. He needs to get sons.’

George Lewis was silent thinking of the boy. He could not bear the sight of him. Perhaps because he reminded him of his mother. He was almost pretty and although he was fair and his mother was dark, the resemblance was strong. He was small – too small for a boy, neat and willowy, as she had been; and he had a way of gesticulating which was rather French. George Lewis liked the gardens to be laid out in a French style but he did not like French manners in his son. They were clearly inherited from his mother who was half French; perhaps that was why he was constantly reminded.

It was not that he regretted what he had done to his wife. In his opinion she deserved her fate and he didn’t think of her unless her name was mentioned and on those rare occasions when his son or daughter reminded him of her by their looks.

‘You’ve someone in mind?’ asked George Lewis.

‘Yes. Caroline of Ansbach.’

‘What! My sister’s adopted girl?’

‘Why not? We should have to act quickly for the Archduke Charles is in the field.’

‘You mean he’s asked for her?’

‘She is considering whether she will accept him.’

‘Then she must be a fool.’

‘Why?’

‘She won’t get another such chance.’

‘How do you know? Austria considered her worthy, why not Hanover?’

‘The boy’s not ready for marriage.’

‘He’s nearly twenty-one.’

‘He seems retarded. More like a child than a man.’

‘How can you say that, George Lewis?’

‘Posturing! Dressing himself up! Throwing his hands about.’

‘He is certainly more gracious than his father.’

‘And you think that makes a man of him?’

‘I say he’s old enough for marriage and I think Caroline would make him a good wife. What do you say? I tell you we should act without delay.’

George Lewis grunted.

‘I wish you wouldn’t make those animal noises,’ she said sharply. ‘They may be intelligible to your soldiers but they’re not to me.’

‘I’ve other matters to think of.’

‘This happens to involve the succession.’

‘The succession! With you it’s an
ob
session.’

‘Surely you must admit that to be King of England would be a more inviting prospect than Elector of Hanover?’

‘No! No. I don’t.’

‘I marvel at you. Have you no ambition?’

‘I’m content where I am.’

‘Content! To go off and fight periodically and live like a common soldier? Yes, I can see you would be well content with that. What will you do when the Spanish succession has been settled? What will you do for fighting then? To fight… and then come home and rule your little state and bestow your
favours in turn on your three favourites! Even your choice of mistresses is laughable. Schulemburg is well past her youth – she’s lost any beauty she ever had and she never did have any brains to lose. Kielmansegge – Clara von Platen’s daughter! She might very likely be your own sister. When I come to think of it she’s not unlike you. And the young Countess von Platen – she’s the only one with any pretensions to looks. But I hear she doesn’t get the opportunities the other two do to amuse Your Highness.’

This was foolish. Sophia knew it as soon as she had spoken; but she was not herself and the sight of George Lewis lolling in his chair was more irritating than usual. A great bitterness was in her heart because she had lost her beloved daughter.

Why did she have to die and this one be left to her? Why had Sophia lost the children she loved best and been left with those she cared little for?

George Lewis appeared to be unmoved by these reproaches. He yawned.

‘I’ve work to do,’ he said.

‘But this project of a wife for George Augustus?’

‘It’ll be taken care of when I’m ready.’

He caught his foot in a stool and kicked it aside. The door shut behind with a bang.

She should have waited, Sophia reproached herself. She had been too upset as yet.

There was no time to be lost, and she feared her reckless handling of the situation had spoilt any hope there might have been.

George Augustus was in his apartments in the Leine Schloss trying on a wig, while his servants fluttered round him.

‘This is most becoming, Your Highness. The colour is your own.’

‘Yes… yes…’ muttered George Augustus, looking at his neat, almost pretty face. ‘That is good.’ He fondled the tight curls of the wig. It gave him height. One of the great disappointments of his life was his lack of inches. ‘Another four and I’d be passable; another four on top of that and I’d be tall,’ he often thought. As it was, it could only be exasperating that the heir of Hanover was so much shorter than most other men about
him. More so was the fact that he was not allowed to do anything that a man of his age should be doing. His father went off to the wars every year, but was George Augustus allowed to go? Certainly not. One day he would be the Elector of Hanover. But would his father allow him to take part in government and prepare himself? No! He hated his father and he was sure his father hated him.

His sister Sophia Dorothea came into the room. She was seventeen, more than three years younger than he was, and very pretty. Their mother’s daintiness, which they had both inherited, looked well enough in her.

There was a bond between them. When they were young he had told her why they never saw their mother and they planned together how they would rescue her.

Now he dismissed his servants because he guessed she had something secret to say to him. Sophia Dorothea could never hide anything and she was clearly excited.

As soon as they were alone, she said: ‘Our father has gone to Herrenhausen. He is not in a good temper.’

‘Is he ever?’

‘Yes,’ giggled Sophia Dorothea, ‘when he retires with the tall Malkin.’

‘No, he’s in a better temper with the Platen woman.’

‘But he prefers the other from habit.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘Sometimes I wonder whether he ever thinks of our mother. It was here that it happened… in this very Schloss.’

‘Much he cares about her. But what have you to tell me?’

‘Why has our grandmother asked him to go to see her at Herrenhausen? His company will hardly help her to recover. It must be something important, mustn’t it?’

‘I daresay.’

‘Then what?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Well, I have an idea. And I think I’m right. It’s about you.’

‘About me. He’s going to let me go with the armies after all!’

‘Of course not. You’re a son… the only son. You can’t be allowed to go to the wars until
you’ve
got a son. Now I’m sure… being just a little bit like our revered father you may have one… two or even three by now… but they aren’t legitimate
and so they can’t be the heirs of Hanover. Why, if Father was to die and you were to die, what would happen to Hanover?’

‘What are you driving at?’

‘George Augustus, you’re dense! You spend too much time admiring your pretty face. Our grandmother wants you to be married… soon. She wants you to produce the heir which will make it possible for you or our father to be killed without calamity to the house.’

‘I see. But you have a pleasant way of putting it.’

‘It’s being brought up here. Father sets us such an example in finesse and diplomatic conversation.’

‘I believe you hate him as much as I do.’

‘I have to be in the fashion. Everybody hates him… except the tall Malkin and fat hen and of course Madam von Platen.’

‘What have you heard?’

‘I’ve heard a little and deduced much. That’s feminine intuition, brother. You don’t believe in it – nor does father. Mind it isn’t your downfall. It’s time you married. It’s time we both married. Father is too busy being a soldier and a lecher to remember this. But as Grandmother is neither, she does. She is talking to him now about your matrimonial prospects.’

‘You’re romancing.’

‘One has to introduce romance somehow into this dreary place. Poor Mamma! I wish I could remember her. They say she was lovely. I wonder if she still is. I saw a picture of her once. She was in a simple white gown with flowers… real flowers draped about her head. She was not wearing jewels… and she was so beautiful. How could he? How could he!’

‘I remember her at the window. She stood there with the tears falling down her face…’

Sophia Dorothea threw her arms about her brother’s neck. ‘You tried to rescue her. My dear, brave George Augustus.’

‘I was too young and silly. I didn’t plan well enough. What was the use of escaping from a hunting party and riding to Ahlden. I thought I’d capture her and ride away with her.’

‘It wasn’t so silly. You could have taken her to Wolfenbüttel. They would have helped there.’

‘It might have started a war. One doesn’t think of these things.’