The Princess of Celle

A Mission to London

GEORGE LEWIS WAS summoned to his father’s apartments and found his mother there with the Duke. They were alone so he guessed that what they had to say to him was secret.

Both parents shuddered inwardly as he lumbered in.

What will they think of him? Sophia asked herself.

Perhaps it’s time he travelled a little, was Ernest Augustus’s inward comment.

‘Now George Lewis,’ said his father, ‘your mother and I have something to tell you. It’s time you married.’

‘I thought that was coming,’ answered George Lewis with a slow smile.

‘You understand that your wife must bring you a good dowry, and that your father and I are seeking the best possible.’

‘It is always so,’ answered George Lewis.

‘This is a matter between the three of us,’ said the Duke. ‘At present it should not go beyond this room. Your mother believes that the Princess Anne of England would be a very suitable wife.’

George Lewis whistled. In the manner of a stable boy, thought his mother with disgust.

‘It is by no means certain that you would be accepted,’ she said sternly. ‘But you understand it would be a very desirable match.’

‘A match with England,’ George Lewis replied, slyly looking at his mother. ‘Nothing in the world could be more desirable … to you.’

‘There is a possibility – if you married the Princess Anne – that you might inherit the throne of England,’ said his father.

‘There is even a possibility – remote, I admit – that even if I don’t marry her I might do that.’

‘So you are aware of it,’ put in Sophia with grim satisfaction.

‘Madame, you have told us time out of number how closely we are related to the royal family of England and you have seen that we’re scarcely likely to forget it.’

‘It is something to be proud of. When you have seen London and compared it with Hanover you will understand what I mean.’

‘When do I set out?’ asked George Lewis.

‘Wait a minute,’ cautioned Ernest Augustus. ‘As I told you in the beginning, this is not to be known outside this room. It will be announced that you are going on a tour of Europe. That is something which any young man of your birth and rank would naturally undertake and I might say this, that in your case it is more necessary than in most. The fact that you go to England as a suitor to the Princess Anne is to be a secret so far. It may well be that you are found unacceptable. In which case you do not want to be made a laughing stock. Keep this secret. You are going on a Grand Tour of Europe and naturally you will visit your kinsfolk in England. But when you reach England you will at once make yourself agreeable to the Princess Anne.’

George Lewis grunted. ‘I’ll tell no one the real reason.’

‘Then you must make your preparations.’ Sophia was smiling complacently. ‘I will have a talk with you and look over your things myself. What a pity that you did not try to make a little progress in the English tongue. They are inclined to dislike those who can’t speak their language.’

‘If I marry an English woman,’ declared George Lewis, ‘she will have to speak my tongue.’

‘That attitude,’ his mother admonished, ‘will not carry you very far with the English.’

George Lewis smiled at her. Everyone knew how she idolized that race. George Lewis had no such feeling for them.

He remembered then that he would have to leave Marie. Never mind. He’d soon find someone to take her place. He must not tell her why he was going. There was little fear of that. George Lewis rarely indulged in much conversation when they were together.

Already he was wondering what the Princess Anne was like.

Clara was rueful. No sooner had she arranged that George Lewis should be comfortably settled with Marie than he was to go away. Well, there was nothing to be done about that; and it was the custom for young men in his position to tour Europe. She only hoped that he did not get too much taste for France and Italy as his father and uncle had done.

She warned Marie that she must not sulk or annoy her lover in any way; but must make him realize that no matter where he went would he be able to find such a mistress as herself.

‘When he comes back, it must be to you,’ said Clara.

Meanwhile preparations for George Lewis’s departure went on and Sophia was gratified when she received a message from her kinsman William of Orange.

He had heard, he wrote, that George Lewis was about to set out on a tour of Europe, and as he believed he was including England, doubtless he would have to pass near Holland. William would be very disappointed if his kinsman, George Lewis, did not call on him. He hoped that George Lewis would have time for at least a week’s visit. He and his wife, the Princess Mary, were looking forward to making his acquaintance.

‘You must go,’ said Sophia. ‘You can’t have too many friends.’

So George Lewis said farewell to a regretful Marie who was not too sad to make the parting unpleasant, and promised him that she would be counting the days to his return and that she would pray he would not forget her, for she knew there was not another lover in the world to be compared with George Lewis.

George Lewis muttered that he would not forget her; and he would soon be back.

Then he left Hanover and set out on his travels.

When George Lewis arrived at The Hague he found a very warm welcome waiting for him. This was more unusual than he realized, for William of Orange was a cold man, never effusive; yet he had commanded his wife Mary to make much of the Crown Prince of Hanover and, although she had wept for days when forced to marry him, she now obeyed him absolutely in everything he commanded.

Moreover, she was very pleased to have an opportunity for gaiety. There was little enough at the court of The Hague where William set the fashion, and Mary, who had come not so very long ago from the court of her gay uncle Charles II, missed the balls and banquets and general fun-provoking occasions which had come back into fashion with the Restoration of the Monarchy.

George Lewis was pleased with his welcome. William suited him in a way. Taciturn, hunchbacked, pale-faced and far from attractive, he made George Lewis feel like a romantic hero in his presence; and since, although his manner was cold to others, he was pleasant to his guest, George Lewis was delighted with his host. As for Mary, she was quite charming. If her sister Anne were anything like her, George Lewis would be ready to begin his wooing without delay.

It was Mary’s pleasure to show him the Palace of The Hague and the gardens which William himself had planned. William was very interested in architecture, she explained. Was George Lewis? He shook his head. No, he was a soldier.

It was a very good thing to be, answered Mary, since he had a principality to protect. He would find a great deal in common with William who was a great soldier too. Doubtless George Lewis had heard of his exploits.

‘As we have of yours,’ Mary hastened to add. ‘We all remember how you conducted yourself in the Battle of the Bridge at Conz. It was the talk of the army. I believe you were only fifteen at the time.’

George turned and mumbled something unintelligible, but he was pleased.

He had done well at that battle where he had proved that he was a natural soldier.

‘Well now, of course you are here on a different mission. That’s if you have a mission at all. Or are you just doing the Grand Tour for pleasure?’

‘It is a grand tour for pleasure,’ muttered George Lewis.

‘And you are going to England. You will enjoy meeting your relations.’

‘Oh yes.’

She looked wistful. ‘England!’ she said. ‘It still seems like home to me. Does that surprise you? Do you think I should regard Holland as my home now that I am married?’

‘Well, my mother has never been to England, but she still thinks of it as her home because her mother was English.’

‘My great-aunt Elizabeth. She was so lovely, we always heard. It was very pleasant hearing tales of the family. Is it not a pity that we all have to be separated.’

‘It’s always been so.’

‘Ah, I cried when I left home … cried and cried … and my dear sister Anne was too ill to know that I had gone. If you see my sister Anne, will you tell her how I long to see her? Will you remember me to her very specially?’

‘If I see her,’ he said cautiously; but she was alert, watching him.

He shrugged his shoulders. He had respected his promise not to speak of the real object of his visit.

‘She is a charming girl,’ said Mary.

He nodded again.

‘Gay, affectionate – and pretty.’

She was watching him closely, but he congratulated himself that he betrayed nothing.

Later Mary said to her husband: ‘I talked to him and although he is so clumsy he betrayed nothing.’

‘You can depend upon it,’ said William gravely, ‘that he is being sent over on approval. If your uncle likes him he’ll have Anne. Who else is there for her?’

‘Poor Anne!’ sighed Mary; then she cast down her eyes, flushing, remembering how many people, only such a short time ago, had said Poor Mary.

‘He’s not much of a catch,’ admitted William. ‘But that mother of his is after Anne. I am certain of it. We mustn’t allow it.’

‘I don’t think Anne would care for him.’

William gave his wife a contemptuous look. As though it were a matter of Anne’s caring!

‘We must do our best to stop it,’ he said.

‘Yes, William.’

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. He was not going to explain. He had not yet tamed her and he was even a little uncertain of her. He would not forget easily – nor forgive – the spectacle she had made of herself weeping for everyone to see when he had been introduced as her future husband.

He had married her because there was a hope that she would one day be the Queen of England and although she was the elder sister, she had not yet produced an heir. This meant that if she died before him, and Anne married and had children they would come before him. Therefore he wanted to put off Anne’s marriage as long as possible; and certainly he would prefer her not to marry a man who – like himself – was in the line of succession.

First of all he had to find out whether his surmise that George was going to England as a suitor for Anne was correct; and if it were so he had to stop it.

He said coldly that he had a state matter to which he must attend and left his wife, bewildered and unhappy, as always; but he had forgotten her as soon as he left the room. He was planning how he could make George Lewis betray his secret.

Hollands Gin was the answer, for like a good German George Lewis found it irresistible.

There he sat, side by side with William, while William’s specially selected friends carried on the conversation.

They talked of England and the Princess Anne, sister to their Stadholder’s wife.

‘You can be sure that the King of England and the Duke of York are considering it is time she married.’

‘She is seventeen – and marriageable.’

‘Wasn’t there some talk about the Earl of Mulgrave?’

‘Oh yes, Mistress Anne became rather romantic about the fellow and he was sent away on a trip to Tangiers.’

‘I believe the Crown Prince could let us into a secret.’

George Lewis was pleasantly happy. He had seen one of the Princess Mary’s attendants whom he fancied, a nice, plump Dutch girl. She had seemed as though she would be willing.

Hollands Gin. Willing girls. It was a good life.

Someone was leaning forward smiling at him, implying that he was a fellow who knew how to enjoy himself. He’d have a good time before he settled down.

‘Settled down!’

‘The Princess Anne would be as good a wife as her sister the Princess Mary.’

‘I’d see to that,’ he boasted.

‘Ha, ha.’ They were laughing sycophantishly. ‘She’ll know who’s the master, you can swear on that. You’ll soon show her.’

‘I’ll show her,’ he said.

‘Does she know why you’re coming?’

‘I don’t know. My uncle or her father may have told her.’

‘Well, well. Good luck to you. Good luck to the bridegroom.’

‘Good luck,’ said George Lewis smiling fatuously and laughing into his Hollands Gin.

William looked grimly at his friend and chief adviser William Bentinck.

‘Well, do you agree now?’

‘He’s admitted it. Your Highness was right. He’s going wooing the Princess Anne.’

‘And he’ll get her unless we do something to stop it. We’ll have to get our friends working at Hanover. Did you find out who was open to bribes?’

‘There is the woman at Hanover, Clara von Platen. She could be very useful. She’s Ernest Augustus’s chief adviser under the bedclothes, and with a man like Ernest Augustus this carries more weight than the council chamber. She would work for us if adequately rewarded. Then there is Bernstorff at Celle. He is disgruntled but mostly against the Duchess. He’s already in the pay of Ernest Augustus so would most certainly be ready to be in ours.’

‘Get working on them right away.’

‘That they may help in preventing this marriage, yes.’

‘Is there someone who might be a good match for George Lewis?’

‘Well, there is a cousin. The Duke of Celle’s daughter. I imagine it would be an attractive match for both the fathers. You see, it would join up Hanover and Celle and you know how these little German princelings like to sew their lands together. It’s an old German custom.’

‘That seems a good idea.’

‘Get our agents out to Hanover and Celle at once and tell them that they are to work without delay for a marriage between Hanover and Celle. Then … we must see our people in London. We have to make sure that no pretty little romance is allowed to flourish between my fat sister-in-law and this handsome young princeling.’

Bentinck laughed. ‘It shall be done,’ he said.

George Lewis was sorry to leave the hospitable Dutch; but he guessed that his English relations would be as pleased to see him.

It was a dismal day when the boat which carried him lay off Greenwich and he was surprised that his mother’s cousin, the King of England, had sent no one to welcome him. It was very different from the arrival in Holland. His mother had warned him that the first thing he must do when he reached England was get in touch with his uncle, Prince Rupert, who would, if it were necessary, introduce him to the English Court; and since it seemed he would need some introduction George Lewis sent one of his men ashore with a letter for his uncle.

Rupert returned with the messenger. So this, thought George Lewis, was the Prince with the fabulous reputation: Rupert of the Rhine, who had fought for his uncle Charles I and his cousin Charles II and was known as one of the greatest soldiers of his day! As one soldier to another, George Lewis was impressed.

Prince Rupert, being just past sixty, was also past the days of his glory. There were the remains though of handsome looks and his garments were so elegant that George Lewis could only stare with open mouth and marvel that great soldiers should choose to deck themselves out in such a fashion. His coat was of scarlet velvet richly trimmed with silver lace – the same lace trimmed his satin breeches; but his face was gnarled with time and weather and went ill with such finery.

But he was still one of the greatest soldiers of his day and was now one of the King’s privy councillors. A man of influence and just the person needed to introduce a rather shy young man to a foreign court.

‘So …’ he said, his eyes cool and appraising. ‘You are George Lewis. Your mother has written to me much of you.’

But she hadn’t told him what a country lout he was or Rupert would have suggested teaching him a few gracious manners before sending him to England.

‘She talks of you continually … and England.’

‘It is to be expected,’ replied Rupert. ‘Well, your reputation has travelled before you. You like war and women, so we hear.’

‘Who does not?’ murmured George Lewis with a sheepish grin.

‘Most of the King’s courtiers are very partial to the second though they have little taste for the first.’

‘Why,’ said George Lewis, ‘they know not what they are missing.’

Rupert waved a hand impatiently. ‘You are fortunate to come at this time. The people of England will review your suit favourably.’

‘Oh … why?’

‘Because, my dear nephew, James, Duke of York, is making it very plain that he has embraced the Catholic religion – and one thing the people of this country will not tolerate is a Catholic King. Therefore the fact that you are a Protestant will count in your favour.’

‘Well, I have yet to see the Princess.’

What a boor! thought Prince Rupert. Clumsy manners. Clumsy speech.

‘I don’t know that I shall like her,’ went on George Lewis.

‘Not like her! Don’t be a fool, nephew. She’s the best match that could come your way.’

‘Well, we have something to offer, you know.’

A brash boy! thought Rupert. Hanover! Was that to be compared with the possibilities of the crown of England!

‘It is rumoured that Mary may never have a child. And in that case …’

‘Anne will be Queen and I the consort. But I don’t know whether it is not more gratifying to be a Duke in my own right in Hanover than a Queen’s consort in England.’

‘They might make you King, since you are in the line of succession and William and Mary have no children and your son and Anne’s might be the heir to the throne. What do you think of that?’

‘I’d like to see something of the country before giving my opinion.’

‘You are very sure of yourself, nephew.’

‘If I’m not sure of myself no one else will be.’

Arrogant! Vain! Quite unaware how uncouth he was. Charles would poke sly fun at him. The whole court would laugh at him behind his back. And he would be too stupid to know it. What chance had he of marrying Anne?

‘I think,’ said Rupert, ‘that I had better prepare the King for your arrival. Then I will take you to court. In the meantime you had better make my house in Spring Gardens your lodging.’

Thus George Lewis landed in England.

George Lewis’s plan was to look for a house in England but no sooner had the King heard of his arrival than he sent a messenger to the house in Spring Gardens to say that on no account must George Lewis look for a lodging. One was already waiting for him at Whitehall and here Charles would receive him as soon as he arrived and it was His Majesty’s wish that during his stay in England he should live at Whitehall ‘en cousin’ as he expressed it.

George Lewis was pleased to hear this, but Rupert looked on with a rather sardonic smile, for the more he saw of George Lewis, the more he wondered how he would fare at Whitehall.

So, in company with Prince Rupert, George Lewis went to Whitehall, and as soon as he arrived he was conducted to the King’s presence chamber. There surrounding the King were some of his ministers and courtiers – all bejewelled and beribboned, bewigged and befeathered. The makers of ribbons, feathers and lace must be reaping fortunes in England, thought George Lewis; also the makers of rouge patches and such aids to beauty if the appearance of the women – and some of the men – whom he had passed on his way to Court were any indication. The people of England had determined to deck themselves in fine feathers after the homespun years of puritan rule, and even after some twenty years they still seemed to delight in show.

George Lewis was aware of Rupert’s stern eyes upon him as he approached the King and looked up into the merriest pair of black eyes he had ever seen; they were set in a brown face, marked with signs of high living and laughter. The mouth was cynical yet whimsical, worldly yet kind. It was the most distinctive face George Lewis had ever seen.

‘Welcome to England,’ said Charles. ‘Now you must give me news of my cousin, the Duchess Sophia. How fares she in far off Hanover. It is most generous of her to spare you for our pleasure.’

George Lewis mumbled in French – the language in which Charles had spoken – that his mother was well and that she had given him a letter which he was to hand to the King and no other.

Charles held out a white ringed hand.

‘I shall take it to my private apartments where I may read it in solitude.’

George Lewis was staring goggle-eyed at the women. He had heard of these women. Louise de Kéroualle the French spy; the Mancini woman who was said to be the most beautiful in the world; and Nell Gwyn the saucy play-actress. All different, yet all arrestingly attractive, they made a background for this King, notorious for his love of wit and women.

The black eyes were summing up George Lewis; the King was thinking: Poor Anne. It will be sad for the child if she takes this one. He’ll be as bad in his way as William is in his. Rough as a stable boy. Crude in manners, lusty as … a King of England without his finesse, without his adoration of the opposite sex. No, I cannot allow my dear little Anne to go to this one.

‘Now you will give us news of your parents and of Hanover. We are all eager to hear.’

George Lewis began to talk of Hanover, giving a factual account of such details which could only bring yawns to the lips of his listeners until Charles said: ‘I see you are such an entertainer that you will enchant my friends all through the night if I do not stop your narrative.’ He added in English: ‘And I see too that you have deluded some of them into the belief that it is already night. Buckingham, pray suppress your snores; they are scarcely elegant.’

‘Your gracious Majesty, I have discovered a cure for sleeplessness.’

‘His Grace is complimenting you on your discourse,’ said Charles to George Lewis.

‘I do not understand the tongue you speak,’ muttered George Lewis.

Buckingham went on: ‘His Highness should talk of Hanover. ’Twould be of greater service to the sleepless world than opium.’

‘I will conduct you to the Queen,’ Charles told George Lewis. ‘She will wish to greet you.’

So in company with Charles, George Lewis strolled through the apartments of Whitehall until they came to the Queen’s; and there was the black-eyed Portuguese lady – Queen of England. Barren, thought George Lewis, which was her most interesting characteristic in his eyes because it was the reason why he found this visit so important. She was gentle and kindly and when he attempted to kiss her robe, she made a show of struggling gracefully with him as though to prevent him and gave him her hand to kiss instead. It all seemed rather foolish to George Lewis who in any case considered it undignified for a man to kiss the hem of a woman’s gown; but it seemed it was the practice here and the black-eyed King, whom he was beginning to distrust because he could not understand him, seemed to expect it.

Charles slipped his arm through that of George Lewis after the latter had attempted a little conversation with the Queen and her ladies and said that he guessed he was eager to meet the Princess Anne. But perhaps he had met enough of the family for the time being, so if he would present himself in the royal apartments the following day, his niece would be very happy to greet her kinsman.

London was attractive, thought George Lewis. He liked the glitter and excitement of the streets. He liked the women with their exposed bosoms, their faces painted and patched and their eyes welcoming. They displayed themselves at windows, while fat comfortable looking women below urged him to enter their houses as he passed by. He did not understand their language but in this sort of barter speech was unnecessary. His uncle Rupert had warned him not to get into trouble over women, because that was exactly what had happened to William of Orange when he had come over to this court. There had been quite a scandal when William – made drunk by some of the King’s mischievous friends – had broken the windows of the maids of honour’s apartments and tried to get at them. And that was William of Orange – a man not greatly enamoured of woman. What was likely to happen to the lusty stable boy from Hanover!

‘These people,’ warned Prince Rupert from his bed, for he spent much time in bed of late, he told George Lewis, since he was troubled with his legs, ‘like to play their jokes; and never so readily as on naïve young foreigners. So beware.’

George Lewis would take care. That was why the streets attracted him more than the court, particularly the fashionable Mall where the King appeared in the mornings, either showing his skill at the game of pell-mell, or walking among the people who addressed him without ceremony while the hawkers called their wares. The flower-girls, milk-maids and orange-girls strolled through the crowds; and all seemed concerned with some game of flirtation and assignation.

It was a fascinating city, George Lewis decided. The stalls with the goods for sale, which naturally included a surplus of ribbons and laces and patches for the face; the ballad sellers who sang their songs as the printed sheets fluttered in the breeze; the playhouses and the excitement always surrounding them; the coaches which trundled through the crowds with their patched and painted occupants often pulling down a window to shout to a friend or drop a handkerchief to someone in the crowd with whom an acquaintance was desired.

It was colourful, foreign, exciting – and there was nothing like it in Hanover.

All the same George Lewis was wary. He had no wish to be made a fool of as his kinsman William of Orange had been.

He was eager to see the Princess Anne for he had begun to wonder what it would be like to live in this city and fancied it would be a little to his taste.

Charles greeted him with affection.

‘Ah,’ he said, ‘now to the Princess Anne. I shall show my fondness for you by giving you leave to kiss her.’

‘To kiss her cheek?’ asked George Lewis.

The dark face was illumined by a brilliant smile. ‘Her lips. It’s an English custom. You’ll find we have some very pleasant English customs. But then doubtless you have equally pleasant ones in Hanover.’

George Lewis felt awkward, being unsure whether the King was laughing at them.

And there was the Princess Anne – plump and rosy-cheeked, with short-sighed eyes, quite pretty and yet inclined to view him with suspicion. She was remembering how they had hustled her sister into marriage and was wondering whether they intended to do the same with her. She had heard unfavourable reports of this young man who was the son of her father’s cousin Sophia. Definitely she did not care for him; she compared him with the Earl of Mulgrave for whom she had experienced very romantic feelings and who had recently been sent to Tangiers because of this.

‘Now,’ cried Charles. ‘Salute the lady.’

George Lewis saw the criticism in Anne’s eyes as he surveyed her coolly. If she did not like him, nor did he like her. She ought to know that their meeting had been arranged for political reasons.

Coldly he touched her lips with his, deeply conscious of the King’s amused glance.

‘Well met!’ said Charles. ‘Now perhaps you would care to take the Princess to the alcove there and talk to her of the virtues of Hanover.’

George looked sullenly at the Princess, who gave him a cold stare.

They sat down where indicated and he talked in French.

She answered that she was not fluent in that language and would he please speak in English.

He had no English, he replied; and she regarded him superciliously as though to say that those who could not speak the English tongue were to be greatly pitied.

The conversation was spasmodic until the King sent one of his courtiers to rescue them.

Bernstorff, Chief Minister of Celle, stared into the blazing fire in his private apartment and thought of the future.

He would be rich. Ernest Augustus had shown that he would reward him amply. Locked away in a drawer of his cabinet was a snuff box of gold and diamonds which would fetch a great price when he sold it; and he would as soon as he found the right buyer, and that was only a foretaste of what was to come, so Clara von Platen had implied; and all knew what close counsels she kept with her lover.

He would have land of his own; he would be independent of any man – his own master, making his own rules. And it would not be long, for now there were opportunities of wealth from other sources.

The emissary from Holland had made it clear to him that if he could persuade the Duke of Celle to agree to the marriage of his daughter with her cousin George Lewis, he would be very well rewarded indeed.

And why not? He would deserve the reward, considering that the Duchess loathed Hanover and everyone connected with it and she would never allow her cherished daughter, her precious ewe lamb, to be offered up as a sacrifice to the whims of others. It was a mighty task: To persuade the Duke against the Duchess and to break off the alliance with Wolfenbüttel and make another with Hanover! Most people would say he was attempting the impossible. And so he might have been – a few years ago, even a few months ago.

The Duke loved his Duchess as devotedly as ever – as a wife and a woman. Previously though he had looked upon her as a goddess. Bernstorff believed he had succeeded in modifying the Duke’s adoration. Little by little over several years he had gradually worn through that pedestal on which the Duke had set his wife. She was beautiful still; a devoted wife and mother, nothing could alter that. But was she the omniscient being the Duke had one time believed her to be? He was certainly a little resentful because of her; she was the one who dictated the policy of Celle. It was ridiculous that this state of affairs should continue – so Bernstorff had pointed out. Ridiculous was the word – for there would always be ridicule for the man who allowed a woman to rule him. By her attitude the Duchess reduced the Duke to a mere cypher; she should know that it was the Duke’s duty and privilege to rule his own state.

The Duke had come to see this. Now and then he had insisted on having his way, which was sometimes opposed to the Duchess’s wishes. Not that he necessarily desired it urgently; but it was a matter of principle, as Bernstorff pointed out; as for Bernstorff he was always ranged on the side of the Duke against the Duchess.

And now this matter of the wedding. What were his Dutch friends thinking of? Didn’t they know that George Lewis was in London for the purpose of meeting the Princess Anne? It was safe therefore to suggest the possibility of the marriage, for it was most unlikely ever to take place.

He made a few hasty calculations trying to discover how long it would be before he had enough money to become a landowner. If it were possible to bring about a marriage between Celle and Hanover that time would move considerably nearer.

Why had his Dutch friends asked for this? Had they some special knowledge of affairs? Could it be that all was not going as Sophia and Ernest Augustus had hoped when they sent their son to London?

He rose from the fire and went along to the private apartments of the Duke, where to his relief he found his master alone.

‘Come in, Bernstorff,’ said the Duke, looking up from the book he was reading. How he liked an easy comfortable life! thought his minister. That was why it had been so easy for the Duchess to dominate him. On the other hand it was why it would not be difficult for any strong-minded person to do the same.

‘You have something on your mind?’ asked the Duke.

‘I have been thinking for some time what a pity it is that there could not be an alliance between Hanover and Celle.’

‘Between Hanover and Celle! How would that be possible?’

‘If the Crown Prince married our Princess the family quarrels would be over and the two principalities joined as one, and all the Brunswick-Lüneberg estates brought together again as the family always wanted them to be.’

‘Impossible,’ smiled George William.

‘Not impossible at all … if the two young people married.’

‘You can guess why George Lewis is in England now.’

‘Hoping for the Princess Anne.’

‘Do you think Charles will agree?’

‘I hope not.’

‘What, Bernstorff?’

‘It has occurred to me that you would be glad to see an end to the strife in your house, that you would like to be on the terms you once were with your brother.’

‘Well … it’s a dream, Bernstorff.’

‘Great and blessed events often begin as dreams.’

‘You’re very romantic tonight, Bernstorff.’

‘I cannot help thinking how pleasant it would be to see the two Houses in harmony.’

‘I admit it would be pleasant, but the Duchess would never agree. She has been too humiliated by the Duchess Sophia and in such a manner as she will never forget. She is determined on an alliance with Wolfenbüttel. Anton Ulrich has always been a good friend to her. Moreover, the Princess herself is becoming accustomed to the young man and her mother will never allow her to be married where she has no inclination.’

‘She could grow to like her cousin.’

‘George Lewis is scarcely attractive. But what nonsense we are talking, Bernstorff. Soon we shall have a triumphant announcement from Sophia that her first-born is to become the husband of an English Princess. Won’t that make her happy?’

Bernstorff laughed. He could see that he had sown speculation in the Duke’s mind. George William would be pleased to see a union with Hanover, for was it not the wish of every German princeling to keep the family estates intact? And he was an easygoing man; he hated being on bad terms with his brother and would welcome an opportunity to get back to the old friendship.

‘I think, much as she loves the English, she would be equally happy to see Celle and Hanover united.’

‘Never, you don’t know Sophia. And we have been on very bad terms.’

‘Only on … account of the Duchess.’

It was daring; it was underlining a truth. The Duke frowned and Bernstorff wondered if he had gone too far.

‘The Duchess has of course suffered great provocation,’ said Bernstorff hurriedly. He laughed a little uneasily. ‘She would not be pleased with me if she knew I had made such a suggestion. I pray you will not betray me, my lord.’

George William laughed. ‘Rest easy. I shall say nothing.’

Clara waited for the secrecy of the bedchamber before she made her attack.

‘Have you heard the news from England?’ she asked.

‘News, what news?’

‘They have passed the Exclusion Bill in the Commons but it has been rejected by the Lords and the King has dissolved Parliament. No Exclusion Bill, and James to follow Charles as King of England – Catholic though he may be.’

‘Far off politics don’t concern me.’

‘With George Lewis trying his luck for the Princess Anne?’

‘What do you think this will mean?’

‘That George Lewis will be unacceptable as a husband for Anne. As a matter of fact I have heard rumours …’

‘Come, Clara, have you spies everywhere?’

‘In your service, my lord.’

‘Ah, Clara, what should I do without you? What did I do before you thrust your attentions upon me?’

‘Why concern yourself with the lamentable past? Here I am at your service and this I tell you: George Lewis has not made a favourable impression.’

‘Who expected him to? If he ever did it would be the first time in his life.’

‘They won’t have him. He’ll be sent packing with his tail between his legs.’

‘Charles wouldn’t so insult his dear cousin Sophia.’

‘Let us see that he doesn’t have a chance to.’

‘You mean we should send for him?’

Clara nodded.

‘On what pretext?’

She was silent for a while and then plunged. ‘There is one plan which is very dear to you, I know. There is one thing in your life which you greatly regret.’

‘We were talking of George Lewis.’

‘This concerns George Lewis. You deeply regret your quarrel with your brother the Duke of Celle. In fact, now that I know you so well I believe you regret that more than anything that has ever happened to you in your life.’

‘You say this, Clara, when I am telling you how much I regret not meeting you earlier.’

‘That is past and rectified, but this quarrel still exists. I should like to see an end to it; I should like to see Celle and Hanover united. I should like to see friendship where there was once enmity, and the old tradition of one ruler for one family back with us.’

‘Clara, what are you saying?’

‘That there is a Princess at Celle who will inherit vast wealth and land; and there is a Prince at Hanover who might marry her.’

‘George Lewis marry Sophia Dorothea! Clara … are you serious?’

‘Deadly serious.’

‘And you think the Duchess Sophia would agree to this?’

‘No. She has set her heart on that paradise … England. But England is not for George Lewis. That is very clear to me. We should draw him out while we can do so with dignity and this alliance between Celle and Hanover should at least be considered.’

‘It’s so … unexpected.’

‘Good plans often are.’

Ernest Augustus whistled softly under his breath.

‘Clara,’ he said, ‘you’re a brilliant woman.’

‘My brilliance is at the disposal of Your Highness,’ she answered.

‘But …’ he added.

‘But it’s a hare-brained scheme,’ she finished for him. ‘Perhaps. But at least worth brooding on. Pray you, say nothing of it to the Duchess Sophia. She would never forgive me if she thought I had suggested such a match.’

‘I will certainly say nothing. In any case she would never agree.’

‘We will talk of it together … just the two of us. We will weigh up the advantages against the disadvantages. It will at least be amusing.’

The Princess Anne sat before her mirror while one of her ladies helped her put on her gloves. This was one of the Villiers girls with whom she had been brought up, the eldest of whom had gone to Holland with Mary and, so it was said, became William’s mistress – although it was hard to believe William would ever possess one.

‘My fan?’ said the Princess.

‘Here, Your Highness.’

‘Thank you.’

‘How becoming is the blue, Your Highness.’

Anne smiled; she was always friendly with her attendants and rarely stood on ceremony.

‘Even this young man from Hanover would surely admire that.’

‘You think he does not admire … often?’

The girl looked embarrassed. ‘I … I’d rather not say, Your Highness.’

‘Why, what mystery is this?’

‘It is just a tale, like as not.’

‘I wish to hear it.’

‘It is foolish talk, Your Highness.’

Anne was suddenly authoritative. ‘I have said I wished to hear it.’

The girl bit her lip. ‘It was said Your Highness that this young oaf … forgive me, Your Highness, but his manners incense me and all your friends … it is said that he found you … repulsive and that is why he was so uncouth at the meeting.’

‘He found me repulsive!’ cried Anne, rising, her pink cheeks flushing to crimson. ‘I tell you that . I found him positively nauseating. I wouldn’t marry that man if he were the King of France.’

‘Ah, Your Highness, he could never be mistaken for the King of France who I hear is as courtly and gallant as His Majesty himself … or almost.’

‘I will go and see His Majesty. I will tell him that nothing on earth would induce me to marry this German boor. I will tell him I will die rather. I would rather leave the Palace and go and live as a seamstress … or a laundress.’

‘I am sure His Majesty will never allow you to do that, Your Highness. But I have heard that he too has no great admiration for this fellow.’ She had begun to tremble. ‘You will tell no one that it was I …’

‘Rest easy,’ said Anne. ‘I will tell no one anything but that I refuse to marry this German.’

Anne picked up her fan and went from the apartment and her attendant sat down to write a letter to her sister Elizabeth in Holland to say that she had done as she was told and she believed it had succeeded right well with the Princess.

From a window of her husband’s study Eléonore watched her daughter on horseback in the company of Eléonore von Knesebeck. They dismounted, a groom took the girls’ horses, and arm in arm they entered the castle.

‘What are you smiling at?’ asked George William, coming over to stand beside her.

‘Our daughter,’ she said. ‘I believe she grows more lovely every day.’

‘More and more like her mother,’ said George William, fondly slipping his arm through that of his wife.

‘In September she will be sixteen,’ went on Eléonore. ‘I think it is time she married.’

‘Sixteen … is it possible?’

‘Possible! It’s a fact. I think Sophia Dorothea is ready for marriage. Perhaps we have sheltered her a little but she will want to be loved. I sense that in her; and I should like to see her happily settled.’

Recalling secret conversations with Bernstorff, George William was a little uneasy. He had not dared mention to the Duchess the suggested match with Hanover.

‘Oh she is young yet,’ he parried.

‘You are like all fathers. They want to keep their daughters children for ever.’

‘No, I would not say that.’

Eléonore turned to smile at her husband. ‘But I would. I think something should be done soon, though. A definite betrothal. Anton Ulrich is getting a little impatient.’

‘Fifteen … it is young!’

‘I do not mean for an immediate marriage. We shall need several months to prepare.’

George William began: ‘Er …’ But it was too difficult. He guessed what her reaction would be. Stark horror. He loved her; he could not bear to upset her. And yet, one part of him remembered the look in Bernstorff’s eyes. Did the whole of his court and that of Hanover laugh at him behind his back for a man who was under his wife’s thumb? If this could have been the case secretly, he would not have cared. He realized he was a weak man. He had always been a pleasure-seeker; now he wanted peace and comfort. When he joined with Eléonore he had made a very happy life for himself and he wanted it to remain so.

Eléonore had turned to look at him. ‘I do not believe you are eager for this marriage.’

He plunged in then. ‘It seems wrong to me somehow. She was affianced to the brother and then he died. It seems …’

‘Oh, but she was merely promised.’

‘Yes, in a way it makes a sort of affinity.’

‘That’s absurd.’

He frowned a little. Yes, she did attempt to override him. But almost immediately his petty annoyance faded for she had put her arms about his neck and laid her face against his. ‘Oh, my dearest, we both love her too much, I sometimes think. We both want everything to be absolutely perfect for her, and that makes us over-anxious.’

He held her in a tight embrace. ‘It’s true,’ he said. Now, he told himself. Now is the time. Mention the advantages of a match with Hanover. He tried, but the words would not come.

Procrastinate! Play for time! That was his rule of life.

‘I don’t want to hurry anything,’ he heard himself saying. ‘Let’s wait awhile. Let’s wait …’ he calculated. Six months? He could do a great deal in six months. He might even talk to her, bring her round to his way of thinking. ‘Let’s wait until September,’ he said.

‘September,’ said the Duchess. ‘Her birthday. Yes, that’s a good idea. We will announce the alliance with Wolfenbüttel on her birthday.’

George William pushed aside unpleasant thoughts. September was six months away. He had always been a man to live in the present.

Bernstorff met Clara von Platen riding somewhere in the twenty miles which separated Celle and Hanover.

‘Well,’ said Clara, ‘you have news?’

‘Anton Ulrich grows impatient and the Duchess does too. She is working for a definite betrothal.’

‘And George William?’

‘He is holding it off but has not plucked up courage to speak to her.’

‘If we are not careful she will affiance the girl to Wolfenbüttel and then it will be too late.’

‘I know.’

‘Well, cannot you do something to stop it?’

‘If you knew George William you would understand my difficulties. He can’t bring himself to disagree with her when he’s face to face – although depend upon it if we could get him alone … if she would go away … then we would have the agreement.’

‘Is there no hope of her going away?’

‘They are never separated. Besides, she could not be persuaded to leave her beloved child.’

‘And you don’t think she could be persuaded? After all, a match with Hanover and a possibility – vague I’ll admit – of the girl’s becoming a Queen if ever George Lewis had the throne of England, must surely be a better proposition than a marriage with Wolfenbüttel.’

‘But the girl has quite a fondness for the Wolfenbüttel boy and that counts with the Duchess. We do not hear very good reports of George Lewis.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Coarse, crude manners and too many mistresses. Sophia Dorothea has been brought up, surrounded by affection and French manners and such like. The Duchess wants her to be treated like a precious piece of porcelain when she leaves the parental roof.’

‘The girl had better come out of her shell and live.’

‘So say I. But try saying it to the Duchess.’

‘So you think he’ll agree with this Wolfenbüttel match?’

‘He’d like to for the sake of peace. But he has a great desire to be friends with his brother as apparently they were very close to each other in their youth.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard of that. Ernest Augustus would like to take up the friendship too.’

‘And George Lewis?’

‘What of him! He’s ready to be a prize stud on occasions, provided on others he’s allowed to roam around in search of his own choice heifers. He doesn’t count. Nor does the girl.’

‘She does with her mother.’

‘You must keep us informed. If this does not come off you’ll be a great deal poorer than you might otherwise be.’

‘I know.’

‘Keep me informed of the slightest incident.’

‘I will.’

They said goodbye; and Bernstorff riding back to Celle was a very uneasy man.

Ernest Augustus came to his wife’s apartments, waving a batch of papers in his hand and frowning deeply. He signed to her attendants that he wished to be alone with the Duchess.

‘Something is wrong, I see,’ said Sophia quietly.

‘Wrong! Indeed yes. This little jaunt of our son’s to England is going to be very expensive and I have to pay for it.’

‘But if …’

Ernest Augustus held up a hand. ‘Don’t deceive yourself. I fear you miscalculated there. There’ll be no English marriage for George Lewis; and it has been a very costly matter to discover what I felt to be the truth even before he embarked on this fool’s errand.’

‘Fool’s errand! I refuse to believe it. And you thought it an excellent idea that he should go.’

‘I gave way to you, it’s true.’

‘But what has happened. He has been received at Charles’s court. He has even had lodgings at Whitehall.’

‘Yes, and I hear that the Princess Anne will have none of it. The Duke of York is back at court after his exile in Scotland; the Exclusion Bill has not been made law. There are even rumours that Charles in secret does not frown on Catholicism. He has given Mary to the Protestant Orange and he is not inclined to give Anne to a German Duke even though he is a Protestant. That is how I see it.’

‘But how can you be sure?’

‘They’ve given him a consolation prize – a Doctorate of Laws at Cambridge. And he can’t speak a word of English! It’s as though they are poking fun at him. If he had studied a little more and learned some English he could at least have given some account of himself. But he cannot. What hope has he? He must come home before he is made to look more foolish than he already does.’

‘You are telling me that you propose sending for him.’

‘I have already done so.’

Sophia’s face was flushed with anger, but Ernest Augustus thrust the papers into her hand. ‘Take a look at these. Then you will see how much this fruitless journey has cost me. Then you will see that George Lewis must come back to Hanover and find a bride nearer home.’

The Duchess Sophia stared at the figures. She could have wept with rage. To her they represented the end of a dream. She realized it now; from the time her ugly little George Lewis was a baby she had dreamed of his ascending the throne of England.

And Ernest Augustus was angry. She had involved him in unnecessary expense. He would not forget this in a hurry. If he had not listened to her, George Lewis would never have gone to England to make a hole in his father’s purse and a fool of himself.

It was good to be back in Hanover, thought George Lewis. He liked London but he could never understand the people. They laughed too much and, he believed, at him. Did they find everyone amusing who did not speak their tongue and who didn’t follow their customs?

There had been one of their customs which George Lewis could follow very well.

He saw Marie at a window of the palace as he rode towards it. She was leaning out with apparent eagerness, and behind her stood her sister the Platen woman, who was becoming more and more important to his father. She was watching him and Marie, but he had little thought to spare for her.

His father greeted him grimly; he was still calculating the cost of his journey; his mother was solemn, regarding his empty-handed return as a tragedy.

George Lewis listened half-heartedly to their greeting. His mother wanted to hear all that had happened to him at the English court; his father wanted to know how much money he had spent.

A dreary home-coming, thought George Lewis, except for the fact that Marie had made herself very visible to him and had clearly implied how eagerly she was waiting for him.

The Duchess Sophia shut herself away the better to forget the tragedy; she read a great deal and wrote letters to learned friends all over Europe. She had so counted on the marriage between her son and the English Princess and could not imagine what had happened to make plans go awry. It could only be George Lewis’s uncouth manners. How she wished that one of the others had been the eldest son!

Ernest Augustus with Clara von Platen in attendance talked to his son about the English visit.

‘Bah!’ he said. ‘Let them keep the girl. There are other fish in the sea.’

George Lewis grinned. ‘She was not exactly beautiful and was very spoilt.’

‘Yes, those two girls were spoilt. Well, William knows how to tame the elder.’

‘I would have tamed the younger.’

‘Let’s not upset ourselves over that.’

‘His Highness is right,’ said Clara. ‘He would have known how to deal with this … Anne.’

George Lewis gave her a friendly leer. He guessed Marie had been discussing his prowess with her. What he liked about Marie was her lack of prudery not only in deed but in word. He guessed her sister was the same – perhaps more so.

‘You’ll have to look near at hand for a bride,’ said Ernest Augustus.

George nodded.

‘What about your cousin over at Celle?’

George Lewis’s jaw dropped. ‘Not …?’

‘Yes,’ put in Ernest Augustus impatiently. ‘Who else could be at Celle but your cousin Sophia Dorothea?’

‘Oh no …!’

‘Why not? She’s an heiress. It would be good to end our quarrels.’

‘We already inherit from my uncle.’

‘She’s a considerable heiress in her own right. And don’t forget all the possessions her mother has managed to amass.’

‘I wouldn’t want the girl.’

‘Why not? She’s a beauty.’

‘Fancy French manners.’

‘You would soon change those,’ laughed Clara.

He gave her his slow smile, but he shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t want the girl.’

‘You have to think of Hanover, my son, not your likes and dislikes. This English jaunt has cost me more thalers than I like to think about.’

‘Sophia Dorothea!’ breathed George Lewis.

‘Yes, think about it. But one thing to remember. Don’t let your mother know anything of this. Don’t forget how set she is on an English wife for you.’

‘She’s still mourning for the Princess Anne,’ said Clara. ‘Give her a chance to recover.’

‘Sophia Dorothea!’ breathed George Lewis and slowly shook his head.