Queen in Waiting: (Georgian Series) (26 page)

George looked surprised and Bernstorff hurried on: ‘The Prince relies on her more than he realizes. She will have to follow. It will be expected. But let her come later. Don’t have the Prince and his family there when you make your entry into the capital. All attention will be for them; they are young; they have children. It will detract from Your Majesty to have your son and his family there.’

George never minded plain speaking if it seemed good sense to him. He did not want to go to England. He would delay as much as possible; but since he had to go he must do his best to make a success.

‘She shall follow later,’ he said, dismissing the matter.

Bernstorff hesitated. ‘Was Your Majesty thinking of taking Madam Schulemburg with you?’

‘I doubt she would agree to stay in Hanover if I went to England,’ said George unemotionally. Of all his mistresses he
was most fond of Ermengarda Schulemburg; she had been with him so long; she was truly fond of him as, he was shrewd enough to know, none of the others were. She was like a wife and he could not imagine life without her.

‘And Madam Kielmansegge?’

George shrugged his shoulders. It was hardly likely that if Schulemburg went with him Kielmansegge would agree to stay behind. He said so; and knowing the habit-forming ways of his master, Bernstorff agreed that it might be necessary to take these two women to England.

Bernstorff’s mouth hardened imperceptibly. The Countess von Platen was not going. He was going to have his revenge on her. She would be taught a lesson. She was a dabbler, therefore could menace his power. It was enough for Schulemburg to be as a wife to the King; Kielmansegge was content as long as she could have her lovers; but von Platen was an ambitious woman; she had secured the place of cofferer for her lover Craggs and when Bernstorff had heard about it second-hand, his fury was great. In the past those who sought favours had come to him. He would not tolerate a woman who sought to deprive him of his privileges.

‘I think the Countess von Platen should remain in Hanover, Your Majesty,’ he said. ‘Two ladies… and both of an age to have earned respectability… that is well enough. But the Countess von Platen should remain in Hanover for I think if she accompanied you, the English might feel three was too much.’

George considered this, fleetingly thinking of the beautiful countess hiding in his apartment, a robe over her naked body, coming to beg him to show her a little honour and not bestow all on those two ageing ladies. It had been a moment of rare amusement and he admired her shrewdness. She was a beautiful woman; but there would be many beautiful women in England – slightly different, as foreigners always were, but he liked a little variety now and then. Schulemburg and Kielmansegge to satisfy habit and a few new ladies to make a change.

All women were very much alike; and the Platen was inclined to meddle. He had never really liked meddlers.

So he nodded. It should be as Bernstorff suggested.

When he went to Ermengarda’s apartment he found her in tears. He was surprised, for she rarely showed any emotion except a pleasant complacency in his company.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

She tried to smile but it was no use. ‘I’m afraid of what will happen to you,’ she told him.

‘What should?’

‘You are going to England as the King. Not very long ago they beheaded one of their Kings; they drove another away. If he had stayed he might have lost his head.’

He looked at her with affection. She had even tried to learn a little history for his sake.

‘They wouldn’t dare kill me.’

‘They might try. Let us stay here in Hanover. What does it matter if you are a King or an Elector?’

She had always been concerned for him; it suddenly occurred to him that she was one of the few persons in his life who had a genuine affection for him.

‘The king-killers are on my side,’ he said with a guffaw. ‘So you see there’s nothing to fear.’

‘I shall come with you,’ she said.

‘You’re coming,’ he told her. He made a sign for her to disrobe; he never wasted time in words. She knew why he had come at this hour as he had been doing for years. He did not like habits to be broken.

Meekly she rose; her attraction had always been her meekness; she had been such a contrast to the haughty Sophia Dorothea. If Schulemburg had been his wife, he reflected briefly, they would have lived in harmony and would doubtless have a brood of children to show for their long relationship. She would ride with him in the state coach through the streets of London and the people would cheer him.

Now they would think of the wife who would have been with him if she were not a prisoner – his prisoner – in the castle of Ahlden.

Yes, Bernstorff was right. They couldn’t have George Augustus riding through the streets with Caroline and their children. But that matter was settled and Ermengarda was ready.

Caroline was eagerly awaiting departure. This was the best thing that could happen to make her forget the loss of Sophia.

She must think ahead to the future and never look back on the past. That was the advice Sophia Charlotte would have given her and how wise it was.

England! Land of promise! The Princess of Wales. It was a fine sounding title; and in time, if all went well, she would be Queen of England.

Her position would be a difficult one, for the very fact that the King’s wife would not be in England meant that she would immediately be the first lady in the land. The people would know she was their future Queen; they would seek her favour. Her task would be to control George Augustus – oh, so discreetly – and on the day when he became King of England she could be the real ruler of that country; a glorious, dazzling prospect. She could scarcely wait to leave for England.

She sent for Leibniz to come to her apartments; he was one of the few to whom she could talk frankly of her hopes. He had taken the measure of George Augustus; he was well aware of the absurd vanities of the little man; he knew that it would be clever Caroline who would in time rule; and she needed the help of clever men such as he was.

When he came to her, she said: ‘You should make ready to leave for England, for you must certainly come with us. I shall need your help in so many ways.’

Leibniz looked sad. ‘Your Highness has not heard then?’

‘Heard what?’

‘That I am to remain in Hanover.’

‘But who gave such an order?’

‘His Majesty… through Bernstorff.’

‘But you are my friend. It is not for them…’

‘To give orders, Highness? His Majesty has always given orders in Hanover. It is only when he was not interested that others were allowed to do so.’

‘But for what reason should you remain in Hanover?’

‘“To finish my task,” he says. I am here to write a history of the Princes of Brunswick and that is what I am to do.’

‘I shall speak to His Majesty myself,’ said Caroline.

Leibniz shook his head but Caroline was insistent.

She went straight to the King’s apartments.

The King was surprised to see her. He glanced at her sullenly and noticed her handsome looks. The pox had dimmed them a little, but she was still a beautiful woman; and with the colour in her face, the slight ravages were scarcely discernible. Proud, too. She would have to be watched. Bernstorff was right. She would be a meddler… given the chance. She must therefore not be given the chance.

‘I have come to speak to Your Majesty about Gottfried Leibniz.’

‘What?’

‘He is too brilliant a man to leave behind in Hanover. We shall need him in England.’

‘I do not need him.’

‘But I…’ She stopped, realizing that for the moment she had forgotten her own rule of conduct.

‘He is completing his history, so he remains.’

‘He could do more useful work.’

‘So you do not think his work here is useful?’

‘I do. But I think he should accompany me to England.’

‘No. He remains.’

‘Your Majesty, I ask you as a favour to me…’

The King shook his head. ‘He remains,’ he said.

‘But we shall be leaving very soon and I had arranged…’

‘You will not be leaving very soon.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You are not leaving with the Prince and me. You will follow later.’

This was a shattering blow, even worse than the knowledge that Leibniz would not be accompanying her.

‘But I thought…’

‘No. You will come later. You will be given instructions.’

Indignation burned in her eyes. She hated him, and all the will-power she had built up during the years was necessary at that moment to hold back her hatred.

‘You will follow us a month later. You and the little girls.’

‘But my son…’

‘He is to stay in Hanover.’

‘Oh, no!’

The King looked surprised. She was a woman indeed who would have to be watched.

He said quietly: ‘It would not be wise for the two heirs to the throne – your husband and your son – to be in England together… not until we have discovered what our reception will be. Frederick will stay behind to represent us.’

‘Little Fritzchen is only seven. Did Your Majesty remember?’

‘I remember Frederick’s age. He will stay here, and you will follow a month or so after we have arrived in England.’

It was useless to argue, useless to plead. Leibniz would not be allowed to go to England; Fritzchen would stay behind in Hanover; and she would not go to England with the King and her husband; she would wait until she was sent for.

This was indeed a frustrating discovery.

Ermengarda Schulemburg was preparing to leave for England. The King had managed to soothe her fears and since he said it was safe she accepted that it was; her great charm was that she believed he was always right.

Madam Kielmansegge was in difficulties because, learning that she was preparing to depart, her creditors – and she owed vast sums – swooped on her from all directions and demanded that she settled their bills before she went. Frantically she begged the King to settle them, but he told her he could do no such thing and she must deal with the matter herself. She was desperate, for there was no one who would help her if the King wouldn’t. Ermengarda was smugly secure; she had incurred no debts; her greatest characteristic, next to her placidity, was her avariciousness and during the years she had managed to amass a considerable fortune. She was not inclined to dip into this to help a rival. No, Kielmansegge must fend for herself. The Countess von Platen, too, was an angry woman; but any who had known the King for any length of time must be aware that once he had declined to give assistance it was useless to beg for it.

He himself was not in a happy mood, for as the time grew nearer for his departure the more he realized how deeply he
loved Hanover and how loath he was to leave it for a country of which he knew little except that he disliked it.

He had been there once before as a young man – about thirty years ago – when it had been decided he should make a bid for the hand of the Princess Anne. That had been a most unsuccessful journey; the English had hated his German speech and German manners; the Princess had shown her dislike for him and he his for her. His stay had necessarily been brief; and afterwards he had come back to Hanover to be hustled into marriage with Sophia Dorothea.

He would have liked to delay – and he had done so to a certain extent – but he knew that it would be unwise to wait longer.

It was a month after the first news of Queen Anne’s death had been brought to Hanover when George the First set out for England.

The King’s yacht lay off Gravesend in a thick fog. It had been a rough crossing and everyone aboard was regretting it had ever been necessary to leave Hanover – most of all the King.

He felt irritable. Hanover had never looked so beautiful to him as it did on the day he had left it. He knew he would have been a fool to decline the crown of England for himself and his heirs, but how he wished it had never been necessary to claim it.

The sight of George Augustus added to his discontent. There he was, enjoying himself, rehearsing how he would show himself off to the English; he had already uttered the most flowery eulogies on his new country, and the English, although sensible enough in some respects, were not shrewd enough to recognize the gross flattery. Before they had set foot in England George Augustus was trying to rival his father, trying to turn any devotion they might feel towards him to his son.

It was a bitter thing when there was strife between families. His own father had taught him that, and by God it was true.

The
Peregrine
had been a fine sight when it had set out from The Hague with its escort of twenty ships. It was a little less splendid certainly after the rough storm they had encountered – and now, here at Gravesend was this accursed fog.

When shall I return to Hanover? wondered the King.

The mist was already lifting and they could go ashore. The
sun broke through and it promised to be a glorious day.

The bells were chiming; the guns had begun to boom a welcome. The people of England wanted to show him that although they might not be glad he had come, they preferred him to Catholic James.

It was the eighteenth day of September in the year 1714. Hanover had come to England and this was the end of the House of Stuart. At least, it was to be hoped this was so, for who could say what the man whom many called James III was preparing to do even now? George wondered how many of these men who were bowing before him, welcoming him to their island, swearing allegiance to him, would if the Stuart were victorious, turn to
him
with the same loyal greetings.

George had few illusions.

There was Marlborough, all smiles and friendliness: a great soldier but a dangerous politician. George was well aware that Marlborough, like the majority of these men, was not to be trusted.

He received them noncommittally – Marlborough, Ormonde, Oxford, Harcourt. They would discover that he was not a man to be led by the nose. He might not speak their language, but they should soon become acquainted with his desires for all that.