by Jean Plaidy
‘Go,’ she repeated imperiously; and picking herself up Wilhelmina obeyed.
‘Well?’ The King advanced scowling.
The Queen picked up a heavy book which was lying on a table and laughed at him. She saw the mad mischief leap into his eyes as he approached.
‘So you think to fight me with that book. Where will you aim for?’
‘At your mad eyes,’ she answered.
‘Well, I’m waiting.’
‘It would be more sensible to talk.’
‘Sensible. You ... sensible!’
‘A little more than you, I hope, or heaven alone knows what would happen to us all.’
‘Don’t show your concern for me, Madam. I should get along very well without you and your children.’
‘Who happen to be yours.’
‘Can I be sure of that?’
‘It’s true they seem sane reasonable beings ...’
‘You are going too far, Madam.’
‘You have already gone too far. But I will talk to you. Save your quarrels for another time. The Prince of Wales wants to marry Wilhelmina without delay.’
‘I always thought he was half-witted.’
‘I happen to think him a most sensible young man. He is tired of being neglected by his family.’
‘Huh! That fool of a brother of yours. Of all the conceited young idiots....’
‘He’s not so young now. He’s a father ... a little older than you are in truth. And he has a son and a daughter ... as you have. Yes, you may call them mine, but they are yours also and it is time you remembered your duties as a father. Frederick is coming here and he wants to marry Wilhelmina.’
‘He’d have to take her without a dowry.’
‘Don’t be a fool. Of course she’ll have a dowry.’
‘By God, I’ll take my riding whip to you if you don’t control your tongue.’
‘All in good time, but before you try your stable manners on me I’d like you to think of this plan. It’s the best thing that can happen for Wilhelmina and imagine—you won’t have to feed her in future. That will be for her husband to do.’
‘I suppose in return they’ll want us to have that girl of theirs here.’
‘Amelia for Fritz. It is part of the plan.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I’ll not have her here. I’ve heard something of her. I want no haughty young woman walking about my Court with her nose in the air, making trouble. No I don’t want George Augustus’s girl here and I won’t have her.’
‘Fritz will have to marry at some time. Why not a daughter of the King of England?’
‘I tell you I won’t have that girl here. If I ever hear you or Fritz mention her name again I’ll flog you both. Fritz will marry when I say so and I’ll choose the bride.’
‘Well at least you will not say no to Wilhelmina’s taking Frederick.’
He took her by the shoulder and shook her; she knocked his hands away. He could have struck her and sent her falling to the floor but he didn’t. He didn’t want to hurt her physically. He only wanted to enjoy verbal battles with her. He’d save the floggings for his children.
‘I’ll be glad to be rid of the girl,’ he growled.
* * *
So, thought Sophia Dorothea, half of the marriage plan would be fulfilled. And when Wilhelmina was safely married the time would come for Fritz to marry the Princess Amelia. She had no doubt that she could bring that about.
She was receiving guests in her apartments and everyone noticed what good spirits she was in. Bourguait, the Envoy from the Court of St James’s, was especially graciously received, and he complimented her on her healthy looks.
‘I am in very good spirits,’ she told him. ‘And it is because of a very special piece of news.’
‘Then I am delighted.’
‘And a little curious?’
‘While not presuming to enquire the nature of Your Majesty’s good fortune I should naturally be delighted to congratulate her.’
‘Which you could do much better if you knew what it was about.’ She laughed. Sophia Dorothea was not noted for her discretion. She decided then that as the Prince of Wales was so determined and the King of Prussia would clearly put nothing in the way of the project there was no need to keep silent about it. ‘Then I shall tell you,’ she said. ‘My daughter is going to marry the Prince of Wales.’
‘Your Majesty!’
‘Oh, yes. It’s true. Frederick the Prince is so impatient he has decided to come here and claim his bride. Of course we shall welcome him. And the King will raise no objections. Between ourselves he is as eager for this marriage as I am . . . and as our dear young people are. You look startled?’
‘I ... I have to remind Your Majesty that I am the Envoy of His Majesty the King of England who is as deeply concerned in this matter as Your Majesties of Prussia. It is my duty to inform him without delay.’
‘That is surely not necessary. The Prince has made up his mind.’
‘Your Majesty, I must humbly point out that the marriage of the Prince of Wales is most decidedly the concern of his father the King, and that I should be failing in my duty if I neglected to tell him of this plan.’
‘But to do so could spoil everything!’
‘If the Prince is so determined it may be that the King will be pleased to give his consent. The Princess Wilhelmina and the Prince of Wales have been considered almost formally betrothed for some time.’
‘Of course. The King of England will be delighted that his son has shown that he can act like a man.’
‘It may well be so.’
Bourguait said no more; but as soon as he left the Queen he despatched a messenger to St James’s with the news that the Prince of Wales was planning to visit Berlin, his intention being not to wait for his father’s consent to his marriage.
* * *
George came hurrying into Caroline’s apartments, his wig askew, his eyes bulging.
‘Something is disturbing Your Majesty,’ said the Queen, rising from the table where she sat reading some of the state documents which she made a habit of perusing each day.
‘Dismiss these people. Vat a fool you are! Can’t you see that I vish to talk to you.’
That was the manner in which he addressed her since the appearance of that unfortunate verse—and always in the presence of others.
Caroline flushed slightly but showed no resentment at his rudeness; she merely nodded to her attendants who quickly retired.
As soon as they had gone the King sat down and testily waved a paper.
Caroline came to him, took it, and read it.
She caught her breath in dismay. How could Frederick be so disobedient. The idea of taking matters into his own hands, and trying to arrange his own marriage. He must be mad.
‘Vell?’ growled George.
He was looking at her almost appealingly. She must say what must be best done and then he would tell her that he had made up his mind what action to take.
‘That he could dare!’ she whispered.
‘My Got, ve shall trouble have vith this young man.’
‘Perhaps Your Majesty vill decide there is only von thing you can do now.’
He nodded, waiting.
‘They are saying he should come here. Perhaps you vill think there is no alternative but to bring him to England now, since it is clearly not safe for him to be out of Your Majesty’s control.’
‘To bring him here!’ the King said dismally.
‘Perhaps I am wrong ...’ said Caroline hastily.
‘Do ye vant him here? He vill von big trouble be.’ The King’s English always suffered when he grew agitated, and he was agitated now.
‘He vill be trouble there ... more trouble perhaps than here. Here he vill have to obey Your Majesty.’
They looked at each other dolefully.
‘I hav my mind made up,’ said the King. ‘I vill him teach to make a marriage vithout my consent.’
‘I am sure you are right,’ said the Q
ueen. She smiled. ‘As you alvays are.’
He leaned towards her and patted her shoulder. It was only when others were present that he remembered he was displeased with her.
* * *
Lamotte had returned to Hanover and Frederick was delighted with what he heard.
‘Tell me about Wilhelmina,’ he insisted.
‘She is a handsome girl, very tall and good looking.’ ‘And meek? Is she meek?’
‘Her father has seen to that.’
‘That is good. I always wanted a meek wife. And is she delighted that she is soon to have a husband?’
‘She is not a girl to betray her feelings. The Queen is overjoyed. The King is not displeased. There will be no difficulty. They will now be preparing a great welcome for you.’
‘I wish I could see my parents’ faces when they receive the news. They’ll be furious. They’ll regret leaving me alone all this time in Hanover. They’ll see too that I don’t need them. I shall take Wilhelmina to England ... without delay. What do you think of that, Lamotte ‘
‘I am not sure what kind of reception you would have.’
‘They would have to welcome the Prince and Princess of Wales.’
‘Perhaps, Your Highness. But the King is of greater importance than a Prince and I remember how your grandfather treated your father when he was Prince of Wales.’
‘It seems to be a habit in this family to quarrel. But I was on the side of my grandfather in that dispute, you know.’
‘That was because you never saw your parents and heard only his side, perhaps.’
‘I didn’t dislike Grandfather. He was always good to me. I wonder how I shall feel about my father and mother. I wonder if my mother wants to see me. By all accounts she is the one who rules, so had she wanted me presumably I should have been recalled.’
‘I think you should act very carefully, Your Highness.’
‘I intend to. But I am determined to leave within the next few days for Berlin. I think I shall give a farewell ball to all my friends in Hanover ... all those who cannot accompany me to Berlin. Don’t you think that’s an excellent idea?’
Lamotte agreed that it was.
* * *
Frederick chose Herrenhausen—that favourite of palaces—largely because it was more intimate than the Alte Palais or the Leine Schloss.
The great hall was ablaze with the lights of thousands of candles and all the nobility of Hanover were present. Frederick presided, in high spirits. It was a long time since he had been so pleased with himself.
He led the dance with his favourite mistress and comforted her, telling her that once he was in England he would send for her. She must not grieve because he would have a wife. Wives were necessities but mistresses were for pleasure.
She understood, remembering stories she had heard of Frederick’s grandfather who had been faithful to his two old mistresses until the end and had shut his wife away keeping her a prisoner for thirty years.
Frederick was gayer than any remembered his being before. He was merry with his male friends and assured them that he would send for them too.
During the evening when visitors arrived at Herrenhausen, the Prince was surprised that they should come at such a time, but he declared that on this occasion all were welcome.
The visitors proved to be from England and they were led by a man who announced himself as Colonel Lorne.
‘I must speak privately to Your Highness without delay,’ he said; and the Prince took him into a small chamber close to the ballroom.
‘You have letters for me?’ he asked.
‘From Your Highness’s father. I have them here. I have orders from His Majesty to return to England tomorrow and it is my duty to tell Your Highness that you must accompany me.’
‘Accompany you ... to England.’
‘On the orders of His Majesty your father.’
‘But . . . I am going to Berlin.’
Colonel Lorne coughed deprecatingly. ‘I am sorry to have to inform Your Highness that His Majesty’s orders are that you leave Hanover with me tomorrow, for England.’
* * *
Sophia Dorothea spent a great deal of time at the topmost tower of the palace watching the road for visitors. He would come with a small party of friends and followers. She had given orders that he must be entertained royally, and even the King had not objected.
He might pretend that it was because he wished to be rid of his daughter, but he was pleased at the prospect of this marriage. If Wilhelmina married the Prince of Wales and became Queen of England and he no longer had to feed and clothe her he would be delighted.
Sophia Dorothea laughed. The first half of the plan satisfactorily completed. Then she would busy herself with the second.
Soon she would be welcoming the Princess Amelia to Prussia and when Fritz had a wife he would be happier—and his father would not dare flog a married man.
She had thought Frederick would come before this. She had heard such stories of his eagerness.
And then one day she saw the rider. A solitary rider. That was strange. But of course he would come to announce the arrival of his master.
She would tell them they would not have to wait much longer. In the kitchens they could start preparing for the wedding feast—for wedding feast there would be in spite of the King’s objections.
Yes, the rider was in the Hanoverian livery.
She went down to greet him. She wanted to be the first to receive the announcement of the Prince’s arrival.
She took the letter he gave her. She read it. She would not believe it. She could not take it in. Not at this stage. It would be too heartbreaking.
But there were the words staring at her: The Prince of Wales had left Hanover for England on the orders of his father. He would not be coming to Berlin.
So ... there would be no marriage.
* * *
The King of Prussia stormed through the Palace. Now it seemed the one thing he had wanted was the marriage of his daughter to the Prince of Wales and it had failed.
He summoned his son and daughter with his wife to his presence.
‘You fools!’ he shouted. ‘You have ruined this between you! By God, I’ll kill the lot of you.’
He had a whip with him and he began flogging his son and daughter.
The Queen shrieked at him to stop; but he shouted back at her to take care he did not use the whip on her. Sick with rage and disappointment she fell fainting to the ground and her women carried her to her bed where she lay in a state of collapse.
The King contented himself with beating his son and daughter in such a manner that they too had to be carried to their beds and their wounds attended to by the Court physician.
He then shut himself in his room and swore at everyone who approached him; the Queen lay sick with disappointment; the Crown Prince stoically thought of the time when his father would be dead and he would be King Frederick of Prussia; and Wilhelmina thought: At least I’m still unmarried.
Meanwhile Frederick Prince of Wales was on his way to England.
Frederick’s Homecoming
IT was about seven o’clock in the evening of a dark December day when Frederick arrived by hackney coach like any private visitor at the Palace of St James’s.
He did not look in the least like a frustrated bridegroom. Indeed he was secretly pleased at the way everything had turned out. He had not wanted marriage so much as to bring home to his parents that he would no longer endure their neglect. After all, what had a young man of twenty-one, who was after all Prince of Wales, to fear from his parents?
Riding from Whitechapel he had seen a little of the city, and dark as it was, it had excited him. As he rode he was telling himself, ‘One day I shall rule this land. What have I to fear?’
The coach had drawn up and Colonel Lorne was saying: ‘This is the Friary, Your Highness. I shall now conduct you to the Queen’s backstairs and you can present yourself to her without delay.’
To his mother,
he noticed, not to his father. It was true, he supposed, that his mother was the important member of the family.
Colonel Lorne preceded him up the stairs and scratched on a door which was opened by a middle-aged woman whose appearance was charming if not striking.
‘Mrs Howard, the Queen should be informed without delay that the Prince of Wales is here.’
Mrs Howard looked startled; then she saw the Prince and swept him a deep curtsey which Frederick acknowledged with a gracious bow.
Mrs Howard disappeared and came back in a few seconds.
‘If Your Highness will come this way ...’
He followed her into the apartment and there waiting for him was his mother.
For some seconds they looked at each other, neither speaking. It was after all an important moment in their lives. This was the mother who had said such a tearful farewell to him fourteen years ago and had fought so desperately to have him brought to England for a few years—and then appeared to have become resigned to his absence and after that indifferent. This was the son whom she had lost so long ago that she had forgotten him and now saw only as an impostor come to take what she would prefer her darling William to have.
The emotion they felt was smothered in a resentment on both sides.
‘Welcome home, Frederick,’ said Caroline, extending her hand.
‘Thank you ... Mother.’ Frederick took it and kissed it.
There was nothing she could think of to say to him. She felt cold; it was scarcely possible to believe that this was the child she had borne and cherished with such love and devotion. There was no sign of her little Fritzchen in this young man. He was elegant, she noticed; he had gracious manners; and he was very like his father—at least what George Augustus had been at his age. There were the same full pouting lips, the blue eyes that were too prominent, the neat figure, shapely but too small for manliness. She wondered if he was as conscious of his low stature as his father was of his. She hoped not, for that awareness had helped to make George the difficult man he was.
