The Princess of Celle: (Georgian Series) Page 15

  But when his horse was taken from him and he entered the Palace and he was aware of the Frenchified atmosphere he quailed, and his expression became more sullen than ever. He tripped over a tabouret which in his annoyance he had not seen, and cursing with a soldier’s oath he kicked it across the room.

  Fortunately it came to rest before his parents appeared. He shambled over to them, his face red from the exertion.

  How awkward he is! thought Sophia. What will they think of him when he goes to England? Charles is so graceful.

  Uncouth as ever! thought Ernest Augustus. He belongs in the camp and always will.

  ‘Welcome, my son,’ said Sophia.

  George knelt before his parents.

  Sophia was thinking: Let us get this ceremonial greeting over as soon as possible. A pity Frederick Augustus isn’t Crown Prince. He would have made a better showing. How did we get such a one as this?

  George Lewis was on his feet.

  ‘You’ll wish to go to your apartments before dinner.’

  George Lewis said he would.

  ‘Then I want to hear how the army is getting on.’

  The young man’s face brightened.

  At least, thought Ernest Augustus, he’s a good soldier.

  The Duchess Sophia followed Ernest Augustus into his apartments and shut the door, signing to the Duke’s attendants that she wished to be alone with her husband.

  ‘Well?’ said Ernest Augustus.

  ‘His manners haven’t improved.’

  ‘Do you think anything on earth would improve his manners?’

  ‘I always hoped.’

  ‘My dear, you are over-optimistic. George Lewis will always be what he is – a bore and boor.’

  ‘What can we do about it?’

  Ernest Augustus shrugged his shoulders. ‘He’ll be a good soldier. Let us be thankful for that. It’s a useful occupation when you have a principality to protect.’

  ‘How will he be in his relations with other states?’

  ‘Let us hope he has good advisers.’

  ‘At least,’ said the Duchess, ‘he is fairly safe as far as women are concerned, for no woman of culture and education would attract him. It will be serving girls for him.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure of that. He’ll be the Duke of Hanover one day. I fancy that will make up for his uncouth manners.’

  ‘What I meant is that the sort of women who will attract him will be those who are not interested in state affairs; and that is all to the good.’

  The Duke looked over his wife’s head. Was this a reference to Clara? If so, he would ignore it. Sophia knew that one thing he would not endure was interference with his affairs.

  ‘In any case,’ went on Sophia, ‘it is time he married.’

  ‘I agree with you there.’

  ‘The King of England has no legitimate heirs and I do not believe he will ever get any. That wife of his is barren, depend upon it. All this time and not one son. And when you consider how many strong sons the King has given to other women …’

  Ernest Augustus nodded in agreement.

  ‘And,’ went on Sophia, ‘what of James?’

  ‘James has children.’

  ‘Two daughters – Mary and Anne. He does not seem to be able to get a son that will live.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Mary is married to my cousin’s boy, William of Orange. And … so far, there are no sons there either.’

  ‘It’s early yet.’

  ‘Still no sons.’

  ‘What are you driving at?’

  ‘The Princess Anne is unmarried.’

  ‘You mean you want George Lewis to have her?’

  ‘It would be an excellent match. It could so easily happen that George Lewis came to the throne of England.’

  Ernest Augustus smiled at her with amusement. ‘And that,’ he said, ‘is where you would rather see him than anywhere in the world.’

  ‘Don’t forget he has English blood in his veins, through me.’

  ‘You, my dear, would never allow me to forget it.’

  ‘I want him to try for Anne.’

  ‘And you think Charles and James would have him?’

  ‘Why not. He is their kinsman.’

  ‘They might possibly look higher than a petty Duke of Hanover.’

  ‘There is no harm in trying.’

  Ernest Augustus shook his head. ‘To go over there, to be paraded like a stud bull. How do you think he would fare? Imagine Charles exercising his wit on him! I’m not so enamoured of the English.’

  ‘My dear husband, are you mad? You are not comparing the Dukedom of Hanover with the crown of England.’

  ‘You’re looking far ahead, Sophia. Charles has to die without legitimate heirs. I admit there is every possibility that he will. James has to die without a son. That is certainly not likely. And if he does he has two daughters. Mary is already married to Orange. She also has to die without heirs; then would it be Anne’s turn; and if George were her consort, I admit that he could share the crown, after all he is actually in the line of succession – though some way back.’

  ‘Through me,’ Sophia reminded him with a satisfied smile.

  ‘Through you, my dear. But have you forgotten that not so long ago these English allowed their king to be murdered?’

  ‘It was that villain Cromwell. They have since deeply regretted it. Look how they adore Charles!’

  ‘Well, Charles happens to be larger than life. He happens to have charm and wit and a seraglio which the English people find colourful – particularly after years of puritan rule. If they ever had our George Lewis they would quickly discover that he was no Charles.’

  ‘He is a good soldier. Besides, he is young yet. His manners may improve. Particularly if he went to England.’

  ‘If he went to England. Are you suggesting that he should go?’

  Sophia nodded.

  ‘You have spoken to him of this?’

  ‘Certainly I have not. He is only just come home and naturally I should speak of it to you first.’

  ‘To try for Anne …’ mused Ernest Augustus.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I am not eager.’

  ‘But why not?’

  ‘I don’t think they’d have him. He’d make a fool of himself.’

  ‘Oh, come, why shouldn’t a Prince visit a kinsman’s court?’

  Ernest Augustus was silent. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Sophia’s eyes narrowed. Discuss it with Clara, she wondered; she pictured them lying side by side in his big bed, making love and then talking politics. What Clara said would be important to him. Well, Sophia was not having that. She had no objection to his taking the woman to bed, but that should be for one purpose and it did not include deciding the future marriage of the Crown Prince who, Sophia would have him remember, was her son as well as his.

  ‘I think,’ said Sophia, ‘that until we have come to some agreement on this matter this should be a secret between us two; and even when we have decided on action we should take only one other into our confidence – and that is George Lewis.’

  Ernest Augustus looked into his wife’s face. He admired her. He was fortunate in his marriage. And she was right of course. If they decided George Lewis should go to England, and if the King of England would not accept him as his niece’s husband, they did not want the whole world laughing at the Crown Prince of Hanover.

  Moreover he had not entirely decided that George Lewis should go to England.

  ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘We will discuss this at greater length – and it shall be a matter between us two.’

  Sophia bowed her head. In the same way as Ernest Augustus was satisfied with her, so was she with him.

  George Lewis was bored with the dancing. He could never dance gracefully and had been the despair of all the dancing masters who had attempted to instruct him.

  He had eaten well; his father had questioned him about the army and that had been interesting; but there was
nothing else at court to attract him except the women; he had been eyeing a few of them and selecting those who might be his kind.

  His mother had talked as usual of England – how everything that was done there was so much better than everywhere else. He remembered how she always had talked like that. It bored him as it did quite a number of people in spite of the fact that she was supposed to be witty and very learned. That in itself of course was of no interest to him.

  Beside his father was a woman of whom he had heard – Clara von Platen. He could see that his father was more taken with her than he had ever been by any other mistress; it was understandable; she had personality. Her glittering eyes were alert as though she missed nothing and at the same time she conveyed a deep sensuality which was not lost on George Lewis.

  She was not the sort he would go for. But sitting next to her was a very pretty girl. Her gown was cleverly cut to show a seductive figure; her large eyes were soft and what George Lewis always thought of as full of promise. There was a pretty girl indeed.

  He asked who she was.

  ‘She is the Platen’s sister.’

  ‘Sister of my father’s whore?’

  ‘Yes, sir. She is married to John von dem Bussche. You remember him?’

  ‘I do. He tried to teach me languages among other things. He didn’t succeed.’

  ‘His wife, sir, might be more successful if she tried to teach you.’

  ‘She’d teach me nothing I don’t know.’

  ‘She’s aware that we’re talking of her.’

  It was true. The beautiful eyes were on them; and they stayed on George Lewis. He felt excited at once. She wasn’t clever like the sister; she was pretty; and, oh yes, he’d enjoy teaching her. Rather amusing that. He reckoned old John von dem Bussche was better in a schoolroom than in a bedchamber; and he hadn’t really had much success in the former, poor man.

  Poor man! But he had no right to marry a pretty girl like that.

  ‘Shall I tell her Your Highness wishes to speak to her?’

  ‘No,’ said George Lewis. ‘I will arrange that myself.’

  The evening had now taken on an interest. He would speak to her soon; he would let her know that he had no intention of making a lot of pretty speeches; he was a man who believed in taking the shortest cut to the bedchamber.

  They danced after the meal. It wasn’t easy for him to act secretly because everyone would be watching him, so he made no attempt to.

  ‘I don’t care for dancing,’ he said, his eyes, taking in the voluptuous curves of her young body, explaining more than words what he did care for.

  She lowered hers and said: ‘Nor I, Your Highness.’

  ‘I’ve been watching you.’

  ‘I saw you. I … I hope you were not displeased.’

  ‘Oh, I was pleased. I hope to be more pleased.’

  She giggled, understanding.

  ‘Let’s take a turn in the gardens, shall we? There are too many watching us here.’

  She agreed willingly.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, and they went out.

  Clara came to her sister’s apartments.

  ‘Well?’ she said.

  ‘All’s well,’ answered Marie.

  ‘Already?’

  ‘He’s not one to wait. I was afraid he would get impatient and go elsewhere. You said that wasn’t to happen.’

  ‘Still … But perhaps you’re right. You must see that you don’t lose your grip on him.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Clara laughed and gave her sister a little push. ‘I can trust you, I know.’

  ‘And what about John?’

  ‘Leave John to me. I’ll get Frank to speak to him. This is after all, a family affair.’

  Marie was nothing loath. She was tired of John and George Lewis the crude and forthright lover was virile enough to make up for his lack of manners; moreover, Clara was now delighted. The task of ministering to the sexual needs of the house of Hanover – which were considerable – was in the hands of the Meisenburg sisters, which was after all the reason why they had joined this court in the first place, so she might say Mission Accomplished. Only of course the important part in such an operation was not only attaining one’s goal, but holding it against all comers.

  That was the task for the future.

  Clara recognized the power of the Duchess Sophia and had no wish to challenge it. Now that Marie was firmly established as the mistress of George Lewis and she herself was even more firmly that of Ernest Augustus she was deeply concerned with holding those positions; and she realized that the most likely direction from which such a threat could come would be from the Duchess Sophia.

  She was almost modest with Sophia; as soon as she came into the Duchess’s presence she was the demure maid of honour and never betrayed by a look or a gesture the power which was hers.

  Clever woman! thought Sophia; and she respected her for it.

  Clara would go further. She would let the Duchess see that when she did use her influence with the Duke it was in his wife’s interest.

  Sophia’s admiration for England was well known; in the opposite direction was her dislike of Celle. The latter she did not speak of as she did of the former but it was none the less fierce for all that.

  Clara therefore allied herself with the Duchess in her dislike of Celle and as she was eager to show Sophia that she stood with her in this, decided to do something about it.

  Ernest Augustus’s infidelities were becoming fewer. Occasionally he discovered a pretty girl – usually among his wife’s attendants – and he would take her to bed. His old mistress Esther was not entirely forgotten. On such occasions Clara would spend half the night pacing up and down her room cursing the object of the Duke’s interest, but in the morning she greeted her lover with the same tenderness as she had always shown him.

  She knew that the least little resentment on her part would be the beginning of discord between her and Ernest Augustus, and she wanted him to think of her as a woman to whom he could come back; she wanted to be a habit with him … as a wife was. Clara was determined to consolidate her position and nothing must prevent that.

  Ernest Augustus, in fact, seemed more fond of her than ever after temporarily straying; and she was coming to believe that it was not a bad thing after all for him to try others and realize her greater worth. These little flights of his did not disturb her as much as they had once done. But she was always alert, determined never to run the risk of becoming a nuisance to him.

  For this reason she allied herself with the Duchess in the matter of Celle. Knowing the value of the spy, she had already set several in places where she thought they could be most useful; and when it was reported to her that Minister Bernstorff in Celle was dissatisfied with the influence the Duchess of Celle had over her husband and had shown on more than one occasion that he was attempting to break it, she was very interested.

  Bed was the safest place in which to discuss secret matters and it was there that, one night, Clara broached the subject.

  ‘The harmony of Celle is breaking, I hear. Trouble in paradise … so I am told.’

  ‘You are like God, Clara,’ laughed Ernest Augustus. ‘Omniscient!’

  ‘Well, I have my friends to tell me what is going on in places which are important to my lord.’

  ‘And what do they tell you?’

  Clara nuzzled up to him. ‘That Bernstorff hates the Duchess … hates the influence she has with the Duke. That everything has to be approved by her before it can be carried through. He hates her.’

  ‘He’s jealous of her.’

  ‘I believe you have a soft spot for her.’

  ‘She’s a very beautiful woman.’

  ‘Ha! And that excuses her highhandedness.’

  ‘I’ve noticed that beautiful women are often highhanded.’

  ‘In the service of their lords and masters.’

  ‘It seems to me that some would be the lord and master.’

  ‘That
is how it is with Madame of Celle. She is the ruler and it is this which Bernstorff resents.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he get out then?’

  ‘He prefers to stay and fight. Besides, where else would he go? He is making some progress, I hear. The Duke is at last beginning to ask himself whether he is not a little under the thumb of his beautiful Duchess.’

  ‘You are sure of this?’

  ‘Certainly, my lord. I have had it from several sources. The Duke is a proud man … although lazy.’

  ‘But he is deeply enamoured of that woman.’

  ‘Deeply enamoured, yes. But … at the same time he is beginning to realize that she is governing Celle in his place. He has no desire to put another woman in her place; he merely wants her to let him have his.’

  ‘It has made a rift between them?’

  ‘Not exactly. But he is showing a little firmness here and there; he does not always fall in with her wishes. Bernstorff is responsible. An ambitious man, this Bernstorff. He would be on the side of those who paid him best.’

  ‘You are sure of this?’

  ‘Almost certain. We should pay him to work for us. Then we should know everything that was going on in Celle. You realize that she is working for alliance with Wolfenbüttel. An alliance between them and Celle and they would be more powerful than Hanover. The Duchess is all for it. She doesn’t trust us. George William is soft … and lazy. He’s sentimental too. She’s a clever woman that Duchess. She’s far more clever than her husband. She wants this alliance, and she’ll get it, if we’re not careful, by marrying her precious Sophia Dorothea to Anton Ulrich’s son. The eldest died, but what does that matter? There’s another. I think we have to be watchful.’

  ‘Clara,’ he said, ‘you have your eyes open.’

  ‘In your service.’

  ‘In our service. We’re together, eh?’

  She kissed him lightly. ‘For ever and ever amen,’ she added, and although her tone was light, she meant it to be a pact between them.

  He pulled her to him and held her close. She was a wonderful woman, his Clara. She had everything to offer; and in addition to those voluptuous and intensely satisfying charms she was a politician.

  ‘What do you suggest?’