The Princess of Celle: (Georgian Series) (45 page)

To Herrenhausen she came with Sophia Dorothea. Perhaps, she thought, I could make something of the girl. She is intelligent, more so than George Lewis ever could be; and she has been brought up to have an appreciation of art. But the girl was what Sophia called hysterical, which she believed was due to her upbringing at Celle. The Duchess Eléonore of Celle might be much admired for her culture, but she had brought up her only
child in a sheltered atmosphere leading her to believe that life was much simpler than it was. Sophia Dorothea was expecting every marriage to be like that of her parents. In the days when Sophia Dorothea had lived at Celle her father had doted on her mother and there was complete accord between them. It had taken years of hard work and careful planning to smash that harmony and it was being done, but Sophia Dorothea was not there to see it and she still looked for that perfection in her own marriage which she had seen in her parents’.

The Duchess Sophia did not invite guests to Herrenhausen at this time. She wanted to talk very seriously to her daughter-in-law, to imbue her with a sense of her position not only in regard to George Lewis but as the future Electress of Hanover.

They talked as they did their needlework, for the Duchess believed in sewing for the poor and that no time should be wasted.

‘You have been very foolish,’ she told Sophia Dorothea. ‘George Lewis might have harmed you.’

‘He has already done so.’

‘Nonsense, you’ll soon recover from a few bruises.’

‘The indignity … the humiliation!’

‘Nonsense. We shall order that the incident is forgotten and so it shall be.’

‘His behaviour with Fraulein von Schulenburg will not be easily forgotten.’

‘There you are foolish. I cannot understand how wives become dissatisfied with their husbands. No amount of infidelity on the part of my husband would disturb me. It is not bad taste for a man to associate with mistresses – particularly if he be in a high position.’

Sophia Dorothea stared at her mother-in-law. ‘I have never heard such views expressed, nor did I ever expect to.’

‘That is because you have not been brought up in accordance with the rank which is now yours.’

‘I had a very happy childhood. I love my parents dearly and they love me. What could be a better upbringing than that?’

‘To be given an understanding of reality and what actually goes on in the world. Now you have been handicapped by your
home life, but you have learned your lesson. I should like you to understand that I will not tolerate your quarrelling with your husband on the trifling matter of his keeping mistresses. It shows obstinacy and bad temper and is most unbecoming.’

‘And what of George Lewis? Was his behaviour becoming?’

‘He is a man, and not to be judged by his wife. You acted foolishly and I must beg of you not to do so again.’

‘I want to go and see my parents. I believe I should quickly be well again if I could.’

‘We shall see about that. I shall ask the Duke if he will allow it.’

‘Let me go back to Hanover and speak to the Duke.’

‘There is no need for that. I will tell him of your wish and we will ask for his consent. Now I beg of you, continue with your work. These garments are taking far too long. We will beguile the time in conversation, and I will tell you what is happening in England now.’

Sophia Dorothea was thinking: Yes, that is the answer. I will go home to Celle. I will take the children with me and I will tell them everything that has taken place. Then they will not let me return. Oh, yes, I shall go home to Celle.

‘And is it not an extraordinary state of affairs,’ the Duchess was saying. ‘James fled … and William … the man to whom he married his daughter … now on the throne. Of course if Charles had had a legitimate son, this would never have happened. I knew there would be trouble when Charles died. Now, listen carefully: If William and Mary are without children and Anne is. too … do you know what that would mean to you?’

If I told dearest Maman and Papa everything they would not refuse to let me go back, Sophia Dorothea was thinking. When they know that he came near to murdering me …

‘Are you listening? Or is it too much for you to contemplate? I admit it could be quite bewildering when it is first presented to you. I am next in line of succession, for James’s boy doesn’t count. After Anne, I should be Queen of England. I can think of no greater honour. And the point is that when I die George Lewis would be King and that would make you Queen of England.’

‘Queen of England,’ repeated Sophia Dorothea, scarcely knowing what she said. That was the answer – home to Celle and once she had reached that sanctuary never to return, to stay there forever.

Ernest Augustus was sorry for his daughter-in-law. He would be sorry for anyone married to George Lewis and she was such a pretty creature. If she wanted to go home and visit her family so she should – and take the children with her.

When she heard that her daughter was coming, the Duchess of Celle made delighted preparations; but Sophia Dorothea’s attitude had betrayed her real intentions and Clara’s spies had kept her well informed, so she hastened to inform Bernstorff that he must prepare Duke William.

Clara and Bernstorff met between Hanover and Celle, and Clara explained that the haughty young Sophia Dorothea, after showing that she herself had no love for her husband, had made a disgraceful scene with him because he had taken a mistress. She was now coming home to tell Maman and Papa all about it.

‘You owe a great deal to Hanover,’ Clara reminded Bernstorff, who was ready to concede that point. He was now a landowner and could, if he wished, end his career at Celle and settle in an estate of his own. Clara had however pointed out that Ernest Augustus would frown on such an action. Bernstorff had been well paid for his part in arranging the marriage and it was his duty now to remain at his post to serve his patron for the sake of honour … and further financial reward.

So instead of living on his estates he contented himself with adding to them and making sure that Ernest Augustus’s wishes were remembered at Celle. It was Bernstorff’s task constantly to make friction between the Duke and Duchess, always to be ready to point out when the Duchess appeared to assume control. He had been successful, for George William now scarcely ever discussed state business with his wife and almost childishly insisted on having his own way even to his detriment.

Eléonore was saddened by this rift between them and turned more and more to her daughter and grandchildren whom she
saw as often as possible. But of course these visits were not frequent enough. The Duchess Sophia had never liked her and she consequently never felt welcome at the Alte Palais or Herrenhausen; and although Sophia Dorothea came to Celle with the children as often as she could, naturally her duties as Crown Princess of Hanover prevented those visits being very frequent.

‘You must tell George William that his daughter is behaving in a recklessly foolish manner,’ insisted Clara. ‘She has alienated Ernest Augustus by plotting with the younger sons – even against her own husband. She shows her dislike of her husband and then becomes hysterical because he takes a mistress. It would be as well, you might tell George William, that when his daughter pays this visit he takes her to task for
her
behaviour.’

Bernstorff assured Clara that she need have no fear. He would prepare George William; so they parted and Bernstorff rode back to Celle, planning the complaints he would lay before his master while Clara made her way back to Hanover.

The Duchess of Celle was delighted to have her daughter with her. She waited impatiently for the trumpeter on the tower to announce the arrival and before the party from Hanover had reached the drawbridge she was running out to embrace her daughter.

‘My dearest! And how are you? You look pale! Is it just the journey?’

The Duchess knew it was not just the journey and anger momentarily choked her joy – anger against those who had dared make her darling unhappy.

‘And the children!’ Tears filled the Duchess’s eyes. ‘What a little man George Augustus is! And where is my darling little Sophia Dorothea?’

She kissed the little girl. ‘So like you, my love, when you were a baby. No, Master George Augustus, I have not forgotten
you
!’

The children were well. She need not concern herself with them. It was her daughter who puzzled her. The nurses took the children to the apartment prepared for them and Eléonore
herself led Sophia Dorothea to that suite of rooms, so familiar to her, and watching her daughter sit on the bed in the alcove and look round the room, her eyes resting on the four cupids, Eléonore knew that Sophia Dorothea was wishing that this was not merely a visit.

She sat on the bed beside her daughter. ‘It is wonderful to have you back, dearest.’

Sophia Dorothea was crying quietly. ‘I was so happy here …’ she murmured. ‘Never so happy … anywhere else.’

‘My darling.’

‘Oh, Maman, if you had not been so good to me, if you had loved me less, if I had not had the perfect mother perhaps I should be able to bear all this more easily.’

‘Tell me everything.’

‘I want to come home,’ sobbed Dorothea. ‘I want never to go away but to stay with you for the rest of my life.’

While Eléonore rocked her daughter to and fro as though she were a child, she was making plans for the future.

The three of them were together in the room which used to be the schoolroom. There at the table Sophia Dorothea and Eléonore von Knesebeck had worked at their lessons; they had sat in the window looking out over the moat, ecstatically sniffing the scent of limes in flower or watching the branches dip and sway in the winter wind. The same schoolroom, everything so familiar, thought Sophia Dorothea but she was a lifetime away from those days of peace and pleasure.

There was her mother, bewildered as though she was wondering what could have brought the change, no longer omnipotent, or omniscient, a frightened woman, ready to plead for her daughter. It was her father who had changed from the benevolent figure of her childhood. His smile was guarded; the warmth had gone from his expression. Sometimes when he spoke it was as though he were repeating a lesson.

Her mother was saying: ‘But surely you have no wish that our daughter should submit to these insults… . And more than that! George Lewis might have killed her.’

‘You take these matters too seriously, my dear. Sophia Dorothea
has only to behave with dignity … take the example of her mother-in-law.’

‘Clara von Platen has never taken precedence over the Duchess Sophia,’ put in Sophia Dorothea.

‘And has this woman over you?’

‘George Lewis ignores me and is constantly with her.’

‘You are too impulsive. Keep out of their way.’

‘But,’ said the Duchess Eléonore, ‘our daughter is being insulted by George Lewis and this woman.’

‘I tell you, you are making trouble where it does not exist. And I have not heard very good reports from Hanover of your conduct, daughter. It would appear that you have been indulging in conspiracies – dangerous conspiracies – with your brothers-in-law.’

‘That is lies … made up by my enemies.’

‘Still, it is unfortunate that you should have been suspected. You must have been indiscreet.’

‘You take their side against me!’ cried Sophia Dorothea incredulously.

‘My dear child, you have been behaving rather foolishly. You cannot leave your husband just because you decide you would rather live in your own home.’

Sophia Dorothea saw the horror in her mother’s face and she thought: I am not to stay here then. It is no longer my home.

She was frightened. She needed to be taken under their protection. She could not explain to them: I am afraid … afraid of the future when Königsmarck returns. I do not know what will happen then … but if you would let me stay here … protect me from my husband’s insults … from my own folly … I can perhaps work out a life for myself. I need my mother as never before … I need you both.

‘You cannot stay here,’ went on George William. ‘This must be a short visit … nothing more. Even a long stay would result in gossip.’

Her mother had risen; there was anger in her eyes; but Sophia Dorothea caught her hand. She felt that the decision had been made. There was no going back now. Whatever was to happen in the future had been decided in this moment.

‘Do not plead for me, Maman,’ she said. ‘I should not wish to stay where I am not wanted.’

Eléonore cried: ‘George William, this is our own beloved daughter… .’

He did not look at them; he was afraid that if he did he would become weak, for he loved them, and like his daughter he would have been happy to go back to the old days of peace and contentment. But they had governed him then. He had been lazy, giving way to everything, a laughing-stock of his brother’s court and of his own. He had to play the man, the head of the house whose word was law.

‘I have told you,’ he said. ‘This is a short visit. Next week Sophia Dorothea must return to Hanover and her husband. And if he takes a mistress …’ George William shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is a common habit. And she must look to her own shortcomings and not run to Celle to complain to us.’

With that he left them.

They did not speak; they merely looked at each other. Then Sophia threw herself into her mother’s arms. Eléonore did her best to comfort her daughter. She suffered with her – the same torment and desolation.

Deserted by my own family! thought Sophia Dorothea. That was something she could never have believed possible. The familiar rooms had lost their charm. They were no longer that haven she had always believed them to be. There was a sinister atmosphere in what had once seemed so dear to her. She hated them, she told herself, even more than her apartments at Hanover. At least there she had not expected to find peace and comfort.

Her mother did her best to comfort her. She must go back to Hanover, she pointed out. She must try to be happy.

Try to be happy? How could one … married to George Lewis. Oh, it was not that her mother did not understand, only that she, like Sophia Dorothea, knew herself to be defeated.