And Clara would be watching slyly, thinking of the absent guest for whose benefit this had been arranged, and although she were not there, she would be in everybody’s mind. She had denied Clara the supreme triumph, but she could not prevent her plot succeeding. At the wedding they would be talking of the Crown Princess. They would know why she had stayed away, and would understand that from now on she was of no importance at the court; for George Lewis had publicly proclaimed his preference for Fraulein von Schulenburg; and Ernest Augustus allowed this to happen.
Clearly Sophia Dorothea would be of little consequence in future at Hanover.
Peering through the window she thought of Celle and the happy days of childhood. How different it would have been had she married the man her mother had intended her to! They would have been kinder to her at Wolfenbüttel. If only she could go home and be with her mother. What bliss it would be to take the children and go right away from all this conflict. She would never be happy while Clara von Platen ruled at Hanover; she would never be happy while she was married to George Lewis.
She went to the nursery where the children were sleeping – George Augustus and Sophia Dorothea; when she was sad she could go to them and then everything that had happened seemed worth while – even marriage to George Lewis.
When the court party returned to Hanover Eléonore von Knesebeck came straight to her mistress to give her account of the wedding.
Eléonore was indignant. George Lewis had been so blatant in his fondness for Ermengarda; and as for the host and hostess they had made them the guests of the occasion, so that it was like celebrating a wedding between George Lewis and Ermengarda von Schulenburg rather than Marie von dem Bussche and General Weyhe.
Eléonore had to admit that the Big Schulenburg had looked magnificent. Her gown! Eléonore had rarely seen such a gown. Sophia Dorothea might have considered it somewhat vulgar but everyone had been commenting on it. And there were diamonds about her neck – a present from George Lewis. ‘It is rarely he gives presents. But he had made it quite clear to everyone that there never had been a woman in his life to take his fancy as this one does. Everyone was flattering her, complimenting her. They are saying that she will be another Clara von Platen – only a more pleasant one. She just sits and simpers and looks at George Lewis as though he is some sort of god. It seemed to me that the whole purpose of this wedding was to show everyone how your husband dotes on this woman.’
‘I will not endure this humiliation.’
‘What can you do?’
‘I shall do something. I did not come here to be insulted.’
Eléonore shrugged her shoulders. ‘Others have had to accept this sort of thing. Look at the Duchess Sophia.’
‘The Duchess Sophia is an unusual woman. Although Clara von Platen rules my father-in-law the Duchess Sophia is still the first lady of the court. Perhaps it is because she is the daughter of a queen and has connections with the royal family of England. I have not these assets.’
‘You can live your own life.’
‘At Hanover! To be insulted at every turn. I shall not endure these insults. What if I were to take my children with me and run away …’
‘Run away to where?’
‘There is only one place to which I could go. Home … to Celle.’
‘But you are married now. Your home is in Hanover.’
‘Perhaps if I were tried too hard I would not stay here.’
Eléonore von Knesebeck shook her head, but her eyes were excited. Often by her love of reckless behaviour she brought home to Sophia Dorothea the wildness of a plan.
Yet, thought Sophia Dorothea, if I am tried too hard … I won’t stay. I swear it.
The weeks which followed were miserable. Sophia Dorothea stayed late in bed, brooding; she took rides in her carriage, her children accompanying her. All her pleasure was in them; she rarely saw George Lewis who was spending all his time with the Schulenburg woman and made no secret of it. What did she care? Sophia Dorothea demanded of herself and Eléonore von Knesebeck. One mercy was that she was spared his company. It was something to be grateful for! She was left to her reading and needlework; and after supper she would be with her own little court in the great hall, playing cards and occasionally dancing.
Clara watched with a pleasure which was marred by the fact that George Lewis’s fancy had not remained with her sister; but since that little scheme had failed she could congratulate herself that the simple young Schulenburg was a grateful creature who would never forget the debt she owed to her benefactress. It might even be, Clara told herself, that the silly big creature would serve her better than Marie would have done.
It was amusing to see the haughty Sophia Dorothea humiliated. Often she made excuses to absent herself from the balls and entertainments.
Clara blossomed; her gowns were more splendid; her cheeks more ruddy and no mischievous Prince would now dare to indulge in his little pea-water joke. This was what she had worked for and she had admirably succeeded.
Listlessly Sophia Dorothea talked with Eléonore von Knesebeck in her apartments. She had no wish to go to the great hall and dance. She was tired of Hanover; she longed to be home with her mother.
‘It would have been very different,’ she sighed continually, ‘if I had married into Wolfenbüttel.’
Eléonore von Knesebeck agreed that it would, but added: ‘You are the most beautiful woman at Hanover. They can say what they like about this Schulenburg. She’s a lump of pig’s bladder compared with you.’
‘Germans seem to be very fond of pig’s bladder.’
‘Oh, they have no feeling for what is dainty and elegant. But some will have. Somewhere in this place there must be people who appreciate real beauty.’
‘And what do I care!’ cried Sophia Dorothea. ‘I am tired. I want only one thing: to go home with the children and spend the rest of my life there.’
‘A fine way for a woman of twenty-one to talk!’
‘Age has nothing to do with this.’
‘It has everything to do with it. You are young. Your life is just beginning. Come let me help dress you. And we’ll go down to the hall and play a game of cards. It will cheer you.’
Sophia Dorothea sighed. ‘I am expected down there, Knesebeck. I have to do my duty. I have to smile and be gracious and pretend I do not see my husband fondling Schulenburg and Platen sniggering behind her fan. I am tired of it.’
‘There now… . Don’t, I beg of you, think of all that. Come on. The blue satin! It is most becoming; and shall I put flowers in your hair? You will look more beautiful than any of them in spite of your melancholy.’
Sophia Dorothea allowed herself to be dressed and she went down to the hall.
She had played a little cards and had a mind to dance; and as with Fraulein von Knesebeck she left the card table her brother-in-law Charles approached her accompanied by a man whose face was vaguely familiar to her.
Before she heard his name her heart began to beat faster; her listlessness was replaced by excitement; a faint colour came into her cheeks which made her dark eyes brilliant; she was indeed at the moment the fairest of them all.
‘Sophia Dorothea,’ said Charles, ‘there is someone here who asks to be presented to you. He hopes you will remember him.’
He bowed. ‘Your Highness,’ he said, ‘I hope you have not forgotten me.’
‘I knew you when I was a child,’ she said.