The Princess of Celle: (Georgian Series) (31 page)

Immediate action was necessary.

That day she ordered that Ilse, as a disreputable woman, be drummed out of Hanover, and as a result the unfortunate girl was taken from prison, marched through the streets to the sound of discordant music, right out of the town – never to return, in accordance with that custom which had persisted for many years.

Ilse could not believe this was happening to her; she was bewildered and frightened, having nowhere to go. She realized as she stumbled along what a fool she had been to incur the wrath of the Baroness von Platen.

Exhausted, disillusioned and almost wishing for death, at length she came to a farmhouse where she begged food and shelter. This was given in exchange for work; and there she stayed a while, wondering what to do next.

October had come and Dorothea waited in her apartments for
the birth of her child; it was a year and a month since that birthday when her life had changed so drastically and now, if she could have a child – a healthy child to whom she could devote herself – she would regret little.

Eléonore von Knesebeck was with her; the Duchess of Celle was on her way to Hanover; Duke Ernest Augustus had sent gifts and told her that he was awaiting the happy event with great eagerness; even the stern Duchess Sophia, riding back to Hanover from Herrenhausen, had expressed approval of such a prompt promise of the heir’s delivery.

‘Oh, Knesebeck,’ she said, ‘one grows used to Hanover.’

‘Then one can grow used to anything.’

‘My mother should be here soon.’

‘If she had her way she’d be here all the time.’

‘Except when I pay my visits to Celle. Oh, Eléonore, I am a little frightened. Is it very painful, do you think?’

‘But it’ll soon be over and imagine you … with a baby of your own.’

They laughed together and Sophia Dorothea walked to the mirror, leaning on Fraulein von Knesebeck, and they compared her present state with the sylph who had arisen on that birthday morning to learn she was to be a bride of Hanover.

It no longer seemed a tragedy and they talked of it until Sophia Dorothea thought the pains were starting and a flustered Fraulein von Knesebeck hurried to call in the women.

Sophia Dorothea lay back exhausted but she was aware of the excitement in the bedchamber.

‘A boy,’ they were saying. ‘A healthy boy.’

‘My darling!’ It was her mother at her bedside.

‘Maman, you are here then?’

‘Yes, my darling. I have been here all the time. And you have come through well and you have a lovely boy.’

‘I want to see him.’

‘And so you shall.’

Sophia Dorothea held him in her arms and the Duchess Eléonore thought she was like a child with a doll – her precious daughter, a mother. It seemed incredible and yet it made her so
happy. The match with Hanover was not so tragic after all; George William was constantly telling her so; they had become reconciled, but she would never forget his harshness to their daughter and could not completely return to the old happy ways. Her whole life now was centred round her daughter.

There were others coming into the bedchamber. Ernest Augustus was there with Duchess Sophia and of course the chief minister Platen and his wife. The stories one heard of that woman were hard to believe on occasions like this when the Baroness remained at a discreet distance from the Duchess Sophia and behaved as if she were merely her efficient lady-in-waiting. A clever woman. Eléonore would have been very disturbed if she had been the mistress of George Lewis instead of his father. But George Lewis had been behaving like a good husband. Doubtless there were minor infidelities – a serving girl here and there (they would be very much to his taste, doubtless) but at least Sophia Dorothea was not asked to submit to the indignity of seeing a woman set up over her. But George Lewis was as crude as ever; his manners were appalling and apart from his love of music – which seemed inherent in all Germans – he had no appreciation of the finer things of life. Still, he was behaving in a manner they had dared not hope for; and of course it had had its effect on Sophia Dorothea.

Ernest Augustus seemed really fond of his daughter-in-law and George Lewis was strutting with pride in his new importance.

George William was delighted with this state of affairs and his affectionate eyes constantly informed his wife: I told you so.

The christening was a splendid occasion and it seemed a happy choice that the new baby should be christened George Augustus, after George William and Ernest Augustus – his two grandfathers.

The Duchess Eléonore remained with her daughter until after the christening and, before she left, a visit to Celle had been arranged.

Ernest Augustus was surprised when one of his servants asked permission to put a paper into his hands. This was not the
channel through which documents usually reached him, and before he touched it he asked whence it had come.

‘It was given to one of the servants by a poor woman, Your Highness. She said you would remember her and help her if you knew of her plight.’

‘I’ll look at it some time.’

When he opened the letter he found that it was from a woman who had once been a servant of Clara’s. He could scarcely remember what she looked like, but his memory was faintly stirred. He had seen her in Clara’s garden at Monplaisir once and spoken to her. Yes, he had had plans for her, for she had been a pretty creature. Then Clara had come out and found them together. Very vaguely he remembered.

So Clara had dismissed the girl from her service because of this; moreover she had imprisoned her for a while and later had her drummed out of Hanover. Rather drastic treatment for a little speculative conversation. What was the matter with Clara? She had never before minded a little waywardness because she knew he was well aware that there was not another woman like her in Hanover – possibly not in the world. However, she had treated this girl rather badly. He wondered why? Was there something very special about her?

He considered the plea. She was crying for help. She was penniless; at the moment she was working as a drudge in a farmhouse. Would he give her permission to return to Hanover and perhaps find her some humble position in the palace?

He considered.

She must have been pretty or he would not have noticed her in the first place but try as he might he could not remember what she looked like. There were many attactive girls at hand – and what would Clara say if he brought this one back? There would be trouble.

He had no desire for trouble – nor for a girl whose face he couldn’t remember.

He made up his mind; she should have a small gift of money.

This he arranged to be sent to her with a warning that she would be wise not to return to Hanover.

After the birth of the baby George Lewis grew closer to his wife. The child was a bond between them; they were both so proud of him. Ernest Augustus, too, was a frequent visitor to the nursery; and when he found his daughter-in-law there he would stop and chat to her about the child’s future.

He was growing more and more fond of her. Her beauty was so appealing. His wife could rant as much as she liked about ‘that of piece of dirt’ as she called the Duchess Eléonore, but George William’s wife knew how to bring up a girl and, moreover, this one had inherited her mother’s beauty. As a connoisseur of female charms Ernest Augustus could not fail to be impressed by those of Sophia Dorothea; and the fact that his relationship to her put her out of range of amatory adventure enhanced rather than diminished his admiration.

The growing respect and affection the Duke had for his daughter-in-law was noticed – and of course Clara was aware of it.

In her daily milk baths, at her dressing table, she considered her own charms and the fear that they were diminishing did not increase her good temper; she made vicious plans for the downfall of Sophia Dorothea but was unable to put them into practice. The most infuriating aspect of the situation was not so much Ernest Augustus’s regard for the girl but George Lewis’s, and her inability to bring Marie back to court. If she could have provided George Lewis with a mistress whom she could have commanded, Sophia Dorothea could be so humiliated that she would be running back to Celle to Maman in a very short time.

But George Lewis remained the almost faithful husband whose minor infidelities were of no importance; and with each day Ernest Augustus grew more fond of his charming daughter-in-law. She had heard though that the Ilse creature had written to him and although he had given her some small gift he had advised her not to come to Hanover. A victory, though a small one. But enough to show her that Ernest Augustus still had some regard for her, and if she were careful she could continue to hold her place. But she must be careful.

She had done her best to poison the mind of Sophia Charlotte, George Lewis’s only sister, against Sophia Dorothea. It
had not been difficult, for it was as galling for a young girl as for a woman to see herself continually compared with another to her own disadvantage. Sophia Charlotte had been prepared to be quite unpleasant to her sister-in-law since she had become so jealous of her. Sophia Dorothea, who was very impulsive, Clara noted with glee, had shown quite clearly that she disliked her sister-in-law; and the animosity between them grew.

Another enemy, thought Clara. Very soon I shall bring Marie back and then we shall see. One by one they shall turn against her and then she will commit some indiscretion – for she is indiscreet. That was easy enough to see.

But then Sophia Charlotte was married to the Elector of Brandenburg – a brilliant marriage which delighted her parents more than it did Sophia Charlotte; and that meant that after the brilliant festivities she left Hanover.

One enemy the less. George Lewis went away to the army and a new pattern was set at Hanover. Sophia Dorothea spent a great deal of time with her son, living quietly, occasionally visiting Celle or receiving her parents in her home.

Ernest Augustus, who had always loved to travel, and since the marriage with Celle when he had command of Sophia Dorothea’s large fortune was able to do so, decided that he would like to visit Italy again. The Duchess Sophia was perfectly capable of governing in his absence; and she was very pleased to have the opportunity.

So Ernest Augustus left Hanover for Venice, accompanied by the Platens and other friends and a few ministers, while the Duchess Sophia remained behind at Herrenhausen to govern from there. Sophia Dorothea reigned supreme in the Alte Palais or, when she gave entertainments, in the Leine Schloss. Visits to Celle were more frequent than ever; and life was very tolerable indeed.

Sophia Dorothea was in her apartments one day writing to her mother when Eléonore von Knesebeck ran into the room to tell her that messengers from Venice had arrived.

‘Well,’ said Sophia Dorothea placidly, ‘I doubt that will concern us.’

‘I believe some high personage is among them.’

‘Who?’ asked Sophia Dorothea anxiously.

‘Not the Duke … nor the Platen woman. You can be sure one would not be here without the other.’

‘The Duchess is receiving them?’

‘Yes, but she will expect you to put in an appearance.’

At that moment there was scratching at the door and one of the pages announced that General and Madame Ilten had arrived at Hanover from Venice and the Duchess Sophia knew that the Crown Princess would wish to welcome them.

‘Well,’ said Sophia Dorothea, when the page had left, ‘now perhaps we shall have a little gaiety in the Leine Schloss or even at Herrenhausen.’

And she went down to greet the General and his lady.

When she heard what news they brought she was at first astonished and then delighted.

Duke Ernest Augustus thought that she must be feeling a little lonely at Hanover with so much of the court absent and that she must be in need of a little holiday. He wished her to prepare at once to leave Hanover in the company of the General and his wife and come to Italy where he would be most happy to see her. There was another reason why he wished her to be there: George Lewis had arrived from the army and would naturally be eager to see his wife.

She had never before been very far from Celle or Hanover, and the prospect of visiting a foreign city and one reputed to be as beautiful and romantic as Venice was exciting.

She turned and hugged Eléonore von Knesebeck. ‘What are you looking so glum about? Of course you’ll come with me!’

She threw herself into a fever of preparation. The dresses she would need! The jewels!

But after the first excitement had worn off a little she thought of the less pleasant side of this adventure. She would leave her baby in Hanover, she would be far from her mother, and there would be reunion with George Lewis; she remembered it was almost a year since she had last seen him.

Sophia Dorothea was discovering herself as well as Venice. She
was meant to be gay. How different was this city – a group of islands rising from the sea – compared with Hanover. The weather was clement; every day she awoke to see the sun bathing the buildings in a golden light – usually at midday, for she retired late after the balls and banquets which her father-in-law gave in his
palazzo
on the Grand Canal.

How excited she was by all the exotic sights! She would gaze in rapture at the marble palaces on the water’s edge, at the gondolas gliding past on the Grand Canal, at the Rialto where on more than one occasion, masked and wrapped in a concealing cloak, she and Eléonore von Knesebeck had wandered together.

Ernest Augustus was delighted with her excitement.

‘My dear,’ he said, ‘I feel I am seeing it for the first time through fresh young eyes. I did not know how jaded I had become.’

He would have her with him as much as possible – his honoured little guest.

Clara was watching carefully. She would soon have to take action against Madame Sophia Dorothea. She had been enjoying Venice until the girl had come, for Venice was a city for adventure. She had had her Venetian lovers and would have others. Each day brought new promise of excitement; and now here was this girl to delight Ernest Augustus with her naïve pleasure in foreign places!