The Three Crowns epub (26 page)

“Should I try to be more gay then, Mother?”

“Oh no, no, William. You must not over-excite yourself. But I think the company of Elizabeth Charlotte will be good for you.”

William was inclined to distrust that which was supposed to be good for him and was already thinking of his cousin with suspicion.

When she arrived, however, he could not help but be excited by her. She was a tomboy; she was pretty and she was determined on mischief.

“Of course,” she told him, when they were alone together, “you know why I am here?”

It was because they believed he should have a companion who would be “good” for him, he answered.

Elizabeth Charlotte laughed aloud and gave him a push which made him stagger. “They are planning to marry us. Depend upon it.”

“But they have said nothing to me.”

Elizabeth Charlotte put her hands on her hips. “And tell me, do you expect them to? No, we are children. We do as we’re told. And now they are putting us together that we may become accustomed to each other. Sooner or later it will be announced. The betrothal between William Prince of Orange, and his cousin Elizabeth Charlotte.”

“How can you know this?”

The little girl put her fingers to the tips of each ear, which she pulled out as far as it would go. “Oh,” she said lightly, “I use these. It’s what they’re meant for, Cousin William.”

William studied her intently, asking himself whether he wanted her for a wife. It would depend, of course, on what she had to bring him; but he supposed his mother would have thought of that.

“Have you seen my mother?” he asked.

She shook her head.
“I
am only a child, cousin. I am not presented to the Princess of Orange. I am in the care of my aunt Sophia who must do as she is told. She has brought me here to present me to the Princess of Orange.”

“Why must your aunt do as she is told?”

“William, how little you know! I can see I shall have a great deal to do if I am going to prepare you to be
my
husband. Aunt Sophia married for love—which it seems is a very silly thing to do. They have little money or position—her husband being one of the
young
princes of the House of Hanover. Poor Aunt Sophia! She is poor, and grandmamma, who is Queen of Bohemia, tells her what she must do. This is her latest duty to bring me here and to present me to the Princess of Orange.”

“And to see that you and I become good friends.”

“That
is not important. Whether we are friends or not, they will marry us … unless you or I get a better offer before we reach the right age. But in case we do have to marry, we may as well get to
like
each other, do you not agree? After all, no harm will be done. We can always be good friends and then if I am somebody else’s Queen and you are Prince of Holland, we can help each other. Send men and arms to help fight our enemies. Do you not think that is an
excellent
idea, William?”

He said slowly that he had heard one could not have too many friends.

“Then we will begin … without delay … being friends.”

This was his first meeting with his cousin Elizabeth Charlotte.

He found her
entertaining, but he doubted whether she would make a good wife. She would wish to have everything done as she wanted it; and when he married he would want to be the master. That was one thing of which he was absolutely certain. It was all the more necessary because he was slight and delicate. He must show everybody that bodily weakness was more than made up for by mental ability and strength.

Elizabeth Charlotte was an amusing companion but she would not, he believed, make a good wife for a man such as he was.

She had an imperious habit of instructing him.

“Now, William,” she would say, “you must be more gallant. You must look pleased even when you do not win a game. You should really be pleased that I have won because after all if I am to be your wife, you will have to love me beyond all else … even beyond yourself—so you may as well start getting used to it.”

“And what of you? Will you not be obliged to love
me
better than anything else …”

But Elizabeth Charlotte had already dismissed that subject and was thinking of something else.

“I am to be presented to the Princess of Orange,” she said. “Aunt Sophia has warned me that I have to be very careful and remember to speak only when spoken to.”

“That,” said William, “will put a great tax on your memory.”

She agreed that it would.

“Well, I do not see why it should be such an ordeal. After all she is my own kinswoman. Perhaps she will be as pleased to see me as I’m supposed to be to see her. She is English they tell me.”

“I am too, because she is my mother.”

“But you are half Dutch, William. You are the Prince of Orange, which is why of course they want you to marry me.”

She was incorrigible
and it was impossible to suppress her.

Sophia, who had herself been suppressed since her marriage to a minor prince, despaired of instilling the necessary good manners into the child.

“Elizabeth Charlotte,” she said severely, “I am depending on you not to disgrace me.”

Elizabeth Charlotte threw her arms about the aunt for whom she was sorry.

“I never will,” she declared.

“You must behave very discreetly when you pay your homage to the Princess of Orange. Remember that she is not only the Princess of Orange but the daughter of a King of England.”

“Oh, him,” said Elizabeth Charlotte. “They chopped off his head.”

“Hush, my child. Where do you learn such things?”

“Well, you see, Aunt Sophia, it’s history and you know how they are always telling me I must learn my history. Those are the things I can learn best.”

“Elizabeth Charlotte, you must try to be more serene. You should be more like William.”

“Like William! And not be able to breathe properly. And I don’t think, Aunt Sophia, that he stands up very straight. I shall be taller than he is, I am sure; and that is not a very good thing for a wife to be. Should I stoop? Should I wheeze to be a little more like William?”

“You are deliberately mischievous. I implore you not to be. You must be William’s good friend. If you are and come to love him while you are young, it will be so much easier when you are grown up. But who has told you you are to marry him?”

“Something in here …” She tapped her heart with a dramatic gesture. “Something in here tells me.”

“You imagine too much, my dear. And you have imagined this. You should be thinking of how you will conduct yourself before the Princess of Orange instead of dreaming of marriage plans which exist only in your imagination.”

“I am pleased. I do not think I want to marry William. I want to have a love match like yours. I think they are the best really.”

“Hush, child, hush. Go now to your room; your maids will prepare you. Remember all I have said.”

“I will remember, dear Aunt Sophia.”

From the Palace
in the Wood to The Hague. Elizabeth Charlotte riding beside Aunt Sophia and her grandmother the Queen of Bohemia.

Elizabeth Charlotte sat upright. This was a very solemn occasion because of the presence of her grandmother—the Queen of Bohemia—who had once been so beautiful and was the sister of that poor King Charles I who had had his head chopped off.

Dreamily watching her, Elizabeth Charlotte was thinking of that King: and how the wicked Oliver Cromwell had not only killed him but driven his family out of their country. They were wandering about on the Continent, she had heard, being entertained by any Court that would have them. She imagined them as gypsies—barefooted, dark-skinned, singing a song or two and for their trouble being given the scraps that were left after the banquet.

“You must curtsy deeply to the Princess of Orange when you are presented,” Aunt Sophia was reminding her.

“Yes, dear Aunt.”

“And when the Queen of Bohemia leaves the Palace you must be ready to leave with her. Do not go off and hide with William, who will be there.”

“No, dear Aunt.”

Grandmother, Queen of Bohemia, nodded at her absently, and Elizabeth Charlotte imagined she was thinking of her poor brother having his head cut off.

When they arrived at the Palace she saw William and immediately called to him. The Queen of Bohemia and her daughter Sophia smiled at each other with gratification; it pleased them to see the friendship between the children.

“William wishes to show me the gardens,” said Elizabeth Charlotte. “May I go with him?”

When the children went off together William said: “But I did not wish to show you the gardens.”

“William,” chided Elizabeth Charlotte, “you will have to be sharper when you are my husband. I wanted to get away. Do you not see?”

“I see,” said William, a little sullenly, “that you wish everyone to dance to your tune.”

Elizabeth Charlotte pretended to play a pipe and called: “Dance, William, dance.”

He was annoyed and went into the palace; she followed him.

“Now,” she said, “we will play hide-and-seek. I shall hide and you shall seek.”

“You have come here to pay homage to the Princess of Orange. Have you forgotten?”

Elizabeth Charlotte clapped her fingers over her mouth.

“No. But they did give us permission …”

“Only to look at the gardens. Come along. I will take you to the reception chamber.”

Elizabeth Charlotte followed him. The reception chamber was an exciting place. The decorations were magnificent and there were so many people, and one woman with a very long nose who fascinated her. She tried not to stare but could not prevent herself.

That must be one of the longest noses in the world, she told herself. I wonder whose it is? I must know.

“Who is that woman?” she whispered to a man who was standing nearby. He did not seem to have heard for he took no notice.

Then she saw William, who had moved some little distance away from her.