Queen in Waiting: (Georgian Series) (19 page)

But there are other ways, thought Caroline as graciously she extended her hand to the tall woman with the raddled skin who came forward.

‘It gives me pleasure to see you here,’ she said coldly.

But the Elector was satisfied. The first hint of rebellion had been quashed.

The English were beginning to arrive at Hanover in large numbers. The passing of the Act of Succession naming the Electress Sophia as the heir to the throne should Queen Anne fail to produce a child had sent many, whose popularity at home was not great, scurrying to Hanover to ingratiate themselves with the Queen’s possible successor.

The Electress Sophia seemed to have become younger. She was an old woman, older than Queen Anne, but the latter had been sickly for years and Sophia did not believe she could outlive her now. If this were so, she would have the infinite pleasure of visiting a country which she considered the greatest in the world, and going as its Queen.

Such a prospect was rejuvenating in the extreme. She received
the visitors from England with great honour and she entertained them as lavishly as she could and did her utmost to make George Lewis do the same.

Her son, however, was not so enamoured of the English project as she was. There was no place on earth to compare with Hanover as far as he was concerned and he preferred Germans to English.

What would they think of him? Sophia asked herself. They would take home reports of this crude boor, and the English would ask themselves whether they were wise to pass over the Catholic Stuart for the sake of such a man, Protestant though he was – for Sophia had to face the fact that she was an old woman and there could not be many more years left to her; and when she died who was left to be King of England other than George Lewis?

Among those who came to Hanover was the famous Duke of Marlborough. George Lewis received him with pleasure, for although the Duke was a charming, handsome man with impeccable manners and some gallantry, the greatest interest to them both was soldiering; and they could discuss the war and future campaigns together to their mutual benefit and pleasure. Each year a Hanoverian army left for Flanders; and often George Lewis was with it. Marlborough had had a great respect for him ever since George Lewis had distinguished himself in the field when quite a young man.

George Augustus longed for military glory. He had repeatedly begged his father to allow him to go to the wars, but always he had been met with refusal.

But with the sight of Marlborough there in all his military glory and everyone talking about his successes and repeating the legend that he was unbeatable in the field, that the enemy knew it and lost heart before the battle had begun, George Augustus’s desire for equal fame was more than he could endure.

He went to his father and cried out: ‘Why… why can’t I be a soldier?’

George Lewis turned away in disgust. ‘Get a son,’ he said. ‘Then you shall go.’

Get a son. He had been married for some months and there was no sign.

He went to Caroline and told her that they must get a son because he wanted to go to war and his father would never allow him to until their son was born.

‘I hope,’ he said crossly, ‘that you are not going to be one of those women who can’t get children.’

She was serene outwardly but inwardly the anxious qualms were troubling her.

It was an unfair world where an intelligent woman must accept the supremacy and domination of her intellectual inferior simply because he was a man and she a woman.

There was always the Empress Sophia to offer her comfort. They walked in the gardens of Herrenhausen together among the statues, clumsy German replicas of French artistry, beside the waterworks which were faithful copies of those at Marley and Versailles.

‘You were wise to receive my son’s women,’ she told Caroline.

‘I confess I almost refused.’

‘It would have been a great mistake to have done so. My son would never have forgiven you and he is a vindictive man.’

‘Yes, I know that.’

Sophia shook her head. ‘When I go to England, you and George Augustus will come with me. George Lewis will have to also. We shall have a better life there, a more cultured life. I can assure you the Court of St James’s will be a little different from this of Hanover.’

‘But if the Elector is the Prince of Wales he will doubtless introduce something of Hanover into England.’

Sophia shivered. ‘I shall prevent that for I shall be the Queen.’

Caroline had never before seen her so enraptured. She was a different person from the sober, serene woman she had known, and it was clear that she could think of little else but the prospect of going to England.

‘George Augustus is eager to be a soldier.’

‘He will in time.’

‘Not until we have a son.’

Sophia turned her gaze on Caroline. ‘You are anxious about that? You must not be. It is early days yet.’

‘George Augustus seems to think I am a little tardy in giving him his heart’s desire.’

‘Poor George Augustus!’ sighed Sophia. ‘I am sorry my grandson is such a fool. But you, my dear, have intelligence enough for both. You must make good use of it. You did right about my son’s women. Don’t try to fight what can’t be fought. And don’t worry about not becoming pregnant; it’s the worst thing in the world. You are far less likely to conceive if you worry about it. I am sure you will soon be telling me you are pregnant and the joy bells will be ringing in Hanover. I shall be delighted to hear them… unless I should be in England by then.’

Oh yes, her thoughts were far away in England.

‘I want to see Sophia Dorothea settled before I leave. I do hope there will be no delay. It will be pleasant to think of her with my dearest Sophia Charlotte’s son. I’m sure she would have been delighted. It was a dream of hers that you should come here, Caroline.’

But, thought Caroline, not that I should have to subject myself to the whims of a mentally retarded boy.

‘Now I want you to come with me and talk to Mr Howe, the English Envoy. He will tell us about England. It’s a pity your English is not better my dear. You have such a German 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 feeling; 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 did not see him that night. 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 Lützenburg, 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 considerably 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.

And she would be.

It was with great joy that Caroline was able to announce that she was pregnant.

George Augustus came to her in a mood of contrition. He had been angry, he explained. Not with her, of course, but with his father. It was always his father.

‘He frustrates me, Caroline. He does everything he knows to annoy me. I shall never be happy until he’s dead.’