The Princess of Celle: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  George William was sad to see the change in his brother. When he called to tell him of his wishes, he reminded him of the old days when they had wandered about Europe together.

  ‘Why, brother,’ he said, ‘then you would have done anything in the world for me.’

  ‘Then,’ replied Ernest Augustus, ‘we hadn’t a care in the world. And if I have changed, then so have you. You used to be adventurous, ready for anything … now you have been a quiet old married man.’

  ‘Well, I have responsibilities.’

  ‘And so, brother, have I.’

  ‘I did not think you would ever be so hard.’

  ‘I did not think you would ever be so sedate.’

  ‘It but shows what circumstances will do to us. Now this matter of Wilhemsburg …’

  ‘You propose to buy the island so that you can leave it to Madam von Harburg.’

  ‘That is my idea.’

  ‘It is a very rich and fertile island.’

  ‘That is why I wish to acquire it.’

  ‘If this deal goes through I should need a little … commission. I am making a great concession in agreeing to the purchase … and I have a big family to keep, George William.’

  George William sighed.

  Yes. Ernest Augustus had certainly changed.

  Having acquired the island George William then set about making a pedigree for his Eléonore. He sent for a French genealogist and offered him a high price if he could prove that Eléonore was descended from the Kings of France. This was expertly done and made public.

  When Sophia saw it she burst into loud laughter and immediately sent a copy to the Duchess of Orléans, who saw that the matter became a great joke at the French Court. The Duchess thereupon set about drawing up a genealogical tree for her cook to prove, she said, that she had descended from Charles the Bold. Eléonore realized that she and George William had been rather foolish over this matter, but the rift between the Osnabrück and Celle courts was wider than ever.

  Eléonore and Sophia ceased to meet unless it was absolutely necessary, and then their demeanour towards each other was glacial.

  Time passed after Sophia Dorothea’s informal betrothal to Anton Ulrich’s son, but Eléonore did not waver.

  Eventually she was going to win the Emperor’s consent to legitimizing her marriage and the birth of her daughter.

  To make sure of this George William himself took a troop of his men to fight under the Emperor when it was made clear that this was the wish of Leopold.

  Eléonore endured the loneliness without him; even this, she thought, is worthwhile for the sake of Sophia Dorothea.

  The Adventuress

  IN THE COACH which was trundling along the road to Osnabrück sat two young women and a man who was clearly their father. The elder of the girls was about twenty-three years old, the younger sixteen. They were handsome, and the elder in particular had an air of alertness; her large eyes were watchful as now and then she glanced out of the window at the passing countryside.

  ‘You will find this a change after Paris,’ said her father.

  ‘Doubtless,’ answered the elder.

  ‘I loved Paris,’ said the younger.

  ‘But Paris, my dear Marie,’ her sister caustically reminded her, ‘did not love you.’

  ‘How I should have loved to have been at court! I don’t think there could be another place this side of Heaven to compare with it. You thought so too, Clara. Admit it.’

  ‘Heaven for me would be where I was treated as an angel.’

  ‘And you were told rather plainly that you weren’t wanted. I’m surprised, Clara, that you did not stay and fight.’

  ‘My silly little Marie, do you think I wouldn’t if we had had a chance. Papa had it from Montespan’s agents themselves that we had better get out or it would be the worse for us.’

  Their father sighed. ‘It was no use going against them,’ he agreed. ‘I had hoped to get you both settled in France. I saw a brilliant future for you … but it did not come about.’

  ‘And quite rightly,’ said Clara, who obviously ruled the family. ‘We should never have been allowed to go near the King. French etiquette is the most rigorous in the world. It will be different in Osnabrück.’

  ‘Clara’s right,’ agreed Count Carl Philip von Meisenburg. ‘Heaven knows what they would have trumped up against us. Men and women can be quickly eliminated in France. A lettre de cachet … and a man is whisked away and never heard of again. I saw that we had to get out … and quickly.’

  ‘And all because,’ added Clara, ‘you have two beautiful daughters!’

  ‘Beautiful girls are not such a rarity at the Court of France, my dear. I happened to have a daughter who was both beautiful and clever. That would be regarded as a threat … and was.’

  ‘Well, to hell with Paris. To hell with the Roi Soleil. We’ll try our luck in Osnabrück.’

  ‘Osnabrück!’ sighed Marie. ‘Who has ever heard of Osnabrück.’

  ‘We shall see that people hear of it,’ Clara reminded her.

  ‘Oh, Clara, I really believe you will.’

  ‘You must always listen to your sister, Marie,’ said their father. ‘She will know what is best to be done.’

  ‘I was rather attracted by Osnabrück when I heard about the Prince Bishop,’ admitted Clara.

  ‘Ernest Augustus – Prince Bishop of Osnabrück,’ murmured Count Carl Philip.

  ‘A man,’ went on Clara, ‘who seeks to set himself up as a Grand Monarque.’

  ‘He hates the French,’ put in the Count. ‘His great enemy is Louis. And yet …’

  ‘And yet,’ finished Clara, ‘he would be like Louis in every way. I heard he tries to make a miniature Versailles at Osnabrück, that he keeps his mistresses and tries to deceive himself that they are as glorious as Madame de Montespan. I am sure he will be interested in two young ladies recently come from Paris … wearing the latest Paris clothes, looking like court ladies … and ladies of Louis’ Court at that … clever, beautiful, shining with French gloss.’

  Count Carl Philip slapped his thigh.

  ‘You’ll do well for yourself, daughter. You’ll settle the family’s fortunes, I’ll vow.’

  ‘His wife is ageing; she has borne many children; and although she has her own way in some matters she is tolerant about others. One need not fear her.’

  ‘The Duchess Sophia accepts the fact that men – rulers that is – must have their mistresses.’

  ‘She is a wise wife. I long to make the acquaintance of Ernest Augustus.’

  Clara lay back against the upholstery of the coach and closed her eyes.

  She was excited. The thought of adventure always stimulated her. It had been disconcerting – more than that, humiliating – to be turned out of Paris as they had been; and yet in a way it was flattering. Why had they been ordered to leave? Because those sycophants who surrounded the King of France had been afraid of them, afraid that she, Clara Elizabeth von Meisenburg, might attract the King’s attention and acquire too much influence over him. Beautiful women attracted the King’s attention, but it was those who possessed brains as well as beauty who were feared.

  They saw in her the makings of a King’s mistress – not the sort of woman with whom he amused himself for a few weeks but a King’s mistress who could become the most important woman in the country; and everyone knew that it was the woman who became the King’s chief mistress who ruled the King and therefore the country.

  Clara knew she possessed all the qualifications to rule. It was humiliating therefore to be turned from the glittering Court of France to try her talents in a smaller one.

  Yet they were wise to come. There had been too many enemies in France. At Osnabrück they would not be recognized for what they were until the field was won.

  She had already decided that she would take Ernest Augustus; and for Marie – there was the son, the Crown Prince, who was as yet a boy, and said to be sullen. Probably he was inexperienced. With herself ad
vising the Prince Bishop and Marie having his eldest son in thrall, it would mean that the Meisenburg girls were ruling as they were surely meant to.

  The coach was coming into Osnabrück, and the entire family were eagerly looking about them.

  ‘It is not like Paris,’ complained Marie.

  ‘Fool!’ snapped Clara. ‘Did you expect it to be?’

  ‘Now girls,’ murmured the Count, ‘no quarrelling. Remember, the family must stand together.’

  The coach came to rest before an inn which looked small and mean to the girls.

  ‘Our lodgings,’ said the Count, ‘until we can find a better.’

  They alighted and the host came out to greet them.

  Visitors from Paris! This was an important occasion. The best rooms available? Most certainly!

  Clara stood looking about her disdainfully; the smell of sauerkraut floated out from the kitchens.

  ‘Ugh!’ she murmured. ‘One realizes one is not in Paris.’

  It was not so easy to conquer Osnabrück as the Meisenburgs had fancied. The Duchess Sophia kept a sharp eye on who was admitted to the castle; and she saw no reason why Count von Meisenburg and his daughters should be welcomed there. They came from France, and she was not enamoured of the French. Now had they come from England she might have received them very kindly. They were not rich and were forced to take a humble lodging, and it seemed during that first year of their residence at Osnabrück that this fortress was as difficult to storm as that of Paris. In Paris they had at least been considered dangerous; here they were ignored.

  Clara would pace up and down the bedroom which the girls were obliged to share and clench her fists in rage. ‘We’re wasting time, I tell you. Precious time.’

  Clara was indeed, thought Marie, rejoicing in her seventeen years which was very different from twenty-four.

  ‘All we get is news of the court; all we see is the Prince Bishop passing by.’

  ‘He did look at the window and smile as though he liked you,’ ventured Marie.

  ‘As though he liked me!’ cried Clara. ‘If only I could get a post as maid of honour to the Duchess!’

  But there seemed to be no hope. The Count did his best, but the Duchess Sophia had no desire to add to her household.

  The sisters saw the departure of the Crown Prince and his brother for the Grand Tour with their governors Platen and Bussche.

  ‘The younger brother is the more handsome,’ commented Marie.

  ‘But it is the elder one who is more interesting to us.’

  ‘I should not care to go to bed with him!’

  ‘Then you are a fool. You should at this moment be planning how you can.’

  ‘Clara! Those wild plans! Do you think there is ever going to be any chance of carrying them out?’

  ‘I tell you I am not going to sit at windows watching processions all my life. I am going to be part of them … and right in the centre.’

  Marie sighed. There had been a time when she believed that Clara would get everything she set out for. Only now was she beginning to doubt.

  Life was dull in Osnabrück. Why had they ever come here? Clara asked her father twenty times a day. He was asking himself the same question. They had very little money. Who, he asked in return, would have believed that in a place like Osnabrück it would have been so difficult for three talented people to get a hearing?

  The fact was, pointed out Clara, that they were too talented. People were suspicious of them.

  Their French manners were noticed as they passed through the narrow streets; their French clothes sniggered at publicly and admired in secret.

  There came the day when the Princes returned from the Grand Tour and there was to be a fête at the castle to welcome them.

  As they had travelled abroad it would be amusing to show them something foreign – something similar to what they had probably seen on their travels. It would prove that Osnabrück had something to offer which was not very different from that which they had seen abroad.

  A visitor from the castle called on the Count von Meisenburg. He had been in France, had he not? He had two daughters – very attractive young ladies by all accounts. If they would care to join in the fête they might do so. Perhaps they could sing some songs in French which would amuse the young Princes.

  Would they!

  Clara was almost wild with joy.

  When the visitor had left she cried: ‘This is the opportunity for which we have been waiting. Now … if we don’t go on from here, it will be our own faults.’

  There was great activity in the Meisenburg lodgings. Silks and laces were strewn across the floor. They had to make their own gowns for they could afford no dressmaker; and, as Clara had said, what they wore should be a secret. They wanted no one copying them.

  Did Marie realize the importance of this occasion?

  Marie assured her forceful sister that she did.

  ‘You are going to be dressed in this lilac silk. See. It does become you. You look so pretty … prettier than any of the girls here. You must. And make sure that you smile at the young Prince. He has to admire you so much that he is determined to make you his mistress.’

  ‘He is so young and … very ugly.’

  ‘Be grateful that he is. It should be all the easier for you.’

  Marie grimaced, but one did not disobey Clara.

  Clara, losing no opportunity, called at the castle and sought an interview with those who were arranging the fête. She pointed out that she wanted to know how much time was to be allotted to her and whether she and her sister were to perform before the Duke and the Duchess.

  While she was explaining her reasons for coming, Frank Ernest von Platen, the Princes’ governor, looked in, and as he appeared to be treated with some respect Clara made herself gracious and asked if he could help her.

  ‘If I could be of any assistance to you it would give me great pleasure,’ said Platen gallantly.

  Clara lowered her bold and beautiful eyes. ‘I am sure you can. My sister and I are recently come from France and we have been summoned to perform at the fête.’

  ‘You must be the daughter of the Count von Meisenburg.’

  ‘How clever of you to guess! Because we have come from France we have been summoned to perform in the French manner for the Princes’ entertainment.’

  ‘I can see that we are all going to be very fortunate.’

  ‘You are kind to say so, but my sister and I are a little disturbed because we are not quite sure what is expected of us.’

  ‘I am sure you will only have to appear to enchant.’

  ‘Everyone, alas, is not so kind as you … er …’

  ‘Platen. Frank Ernest von Platen, Governor to the Crown Prince and his brothers.’

  ‘Oh!’ Clara’s eyes were sparkling. ‘You can help me then. Are we expected to perform before the Duke and Duchess?’

  Platen was thoughtful. ‘Well … er …’

  Clara’s spirits began to sink but she rallied them. ‘I will be frank with you. We are not very rich. You know what it is to be of noble birth and poor. We came here to seek places at court and so far have been unable to get even a hearing there.’

  ‘The Duchess Sophia keeps a stern grip on the affairs of the household.’

  ‘Yet I feel that if I could get some opportunity of showing her that I would not disgrace her household … I and my sister that is. My sister is beautiful.’

  ‘I can believe that – if she resembles you.’

  ‘She is very like me … but younger.’

  ‘I am sure your years – although I refuse to believe they are many – have added to your charm.’

  ‘What pleasant compliments you pay! I did not know it was a German habit. It makes me happy though for I know that you will help me.’

  ‘All I can.’

  ‘I want to make sure that my sister and I have an opportunity of showing our talents to the Duchess … and the Duke.’

  ‘Then you should perform early in the e
ntertainment, for the Duke may grow tired of it and retire early.’

  ‘Could this be arranged?’

  ‘I might arrange it.’

  ‘And shall we perform in the hall of the castle?’

  ‘If it is warm and sunny it will be out of doors. What will be the title of your performance?’

  ‘Pastorale.’

  ‘Fräulein von Meisenburg presents Pastorale …’

  ‘No … no. Pastorale Ordonnée par Mesdemoiselles von Meisenburg. You see the point is that we have just arrived from France and it is for this reason that we are given the opportunity.’

  ‘I shall see that you have every opportunity, Mademoiselle von Meisenburg.’

  She flashed her brilliant smile at him.

  ‘We shall meet again,’ he said.

  ‘I hope that we shall,’ she answered.

  When she left the castle she was elated. At last she had a friend inside – and an important once since he was the Governor of the Crown Prince.

  As she stitched at her blue silk gown she thought a great deal about Frank Ernest von Platen. There was something about him that appealed to her. The weakness of his mouth perhaps. He would be malleable.

  In the castle grounds the shepherdesses in their elegant French style costumes held the attention of the assembled court. The smaller of the two was very pretty indeed; her hair, piled high on her head, with a curl falling on one shoulder, was adorned with flowers; her cheeks had been delicately and expertly tinted; her eyes were very slightly blackened to make them look bigger than they actually were.

  Her sister, equally elegant – perhaps more so – yet lacked Marie’s dainty charm. Her enormous dark eyes flashed brilliantly but anxiously over the assembled company.

  She was thinking: We must make our mark!

  While she danced – as they had been taught in Paris – while she sang in French she was aware of the impression Marie was making on the Crown Prince, who goggled at her, his mouth slightly open, his eyes lascivious. Poor Marie! thought Clara, yet rejoicing. But he was such a boy – he couldn’t be much more than thirteen. Ready to experiment, of course. But a boy of thirteen was of little use.