Виктория Холт - Queen in waiting

Caroline thought a good deal about Sophia Dorothea and compared her with her own mother, for they had both found great tragedy in marriage. It was alarming to consider that one day—not far distant—she would be grown up and marriageable. Then she would doubtless be obliged to embark on this perilous adventure.

Because she was so curious she ventured to speak of the matter to Sophia Charlotte when they walked together one day in the gardens. She was puzzled; she would like to understand more.

"Who is wrong," she asked. "George Lewis or Sophia Dorothea?"

"So you have heard of this scandal?"

"They talk of it all the time. Not to me, of course. They whisper when they see me near. And that, of course, makes me all the more curious to know."

"Naturally, it would. Tell me what you know."

She told and Sophia Charlotte smiled.

"I see," she said, "that you are by no means ignorant of the ways of the world. From what I have heard George Lewis is a brutal young man, Sophia Dorothea a frivolous and foolish woman. Who then would you say was to blame if disaster overtakes them."

"Both of them?"

"You are wise, Caroline. I am sure both of them is the answer. Although we must remember that even though the blame is shared, the punishment is not."

"She will suffer more than he will."

"She is less powerful, poor creature."

"Could she have avoided this ... trouble?"

"We could by certain actions avoid all our troubles."

Caroline considered this. Yes, even her mother. She need not have married the Elector of Saxony. Perhaps if she had wept less and fought more for her rights ... In any case Sophia Charlotte thought so, and she must be right.

"I daresay you have heard a garbled story," said Sophia Charlotte. "It would be better for you to know the truth. After all, though you are only eleven years old you are much older in wisdom, I know."

Caroline glowed with happiness and taking Sophia Charlotte's hand kissed it.

"My dearest child," murmured Sophia Charlotte deeply moved. "Well," she continued briskly. "George Lewis is a man ... not unlike your late stepfather. There are many like him. It is a pattern of our times. He turned from his wife to other women. She found that intolerable and took a lover. The result—the mysterious disappearance of the lover and punishment for the poor Princess."

"It seems so unfair when he began it and she only did what he did."

"Life is unfair, my dear. More so for women than for men. He took his mistresses as a natural right. Such is the custom. But when she took a lover she dangered the succession. You see what I mean. But of course you do. That is the answer."

"So she was more to blame."

"It is not for us to blame. She was foolish, poor soul; and folly often pays a higher price than greater sins."

"What should she have done when he took his mistresses? Should she have accepted them. My mother ..."

"Your mother was not a proud woman like this Princess. Your mother accepted the position . . . and you see here she is alive and living in peace while her husband and his mistress are dead."

"But that was by accident."

"Life is made up of accidents, luck if you like—good and bad—but often our own actions can decide the course our lives will take. If Sophia Dorothea had accepted her husband's mistresses, if she had not quarrelled with him ..." Sophia Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows what would have happened."

"So one should accept?"

"One should try to discover what is the wisest way for one's own advantage."

"I see," said Caroline.

Sophia Charlotte covered the girl's hand with her own.

"I believe you do," she said.

Even while the Brandenburgs were visiting her Eleanor had to take to her bed. The Dresden interlude had undermined her health and it could not be expected that even though the threat to her life was removed she would easily recover.

Sophia Charlotte visited her in her bedchamber and sent away her servants.

"I have become deeply attached to Caroline," she said.

"That pleases me more than anything else could."

"I know you are anxious for her future. Your son will doubtless be secure in Ansbach but it is little Caroline who worries you."

Eleanor nodded. "I sometimes feel so weak, that I know I have not long to live."

"Nonsense, here you will recover. But..."

"But?" asked Eleanor eagerly.

"If anything should happen to you, you need not fear for Caroline. You know I love the child as my own daughter. My husband and I would be her guardians and she would have a home with us."

"Oh ... how can I thank you! "

"You shouldn't. I love your daughter. It would give me the utmost pleasure to have her with me, to educate her, to launch her in life. And ... I don't forget, Eleanor, that you met John George in Berlin ... that we persuaded you to the match."

"It is all over now "

"It must have been ... a nightmare."

Eleanor stretched out a thin veined hand. "It is over and if you will make yourselves Caroline's guardians I shall die contented.''

"Then it is done."

"And the Elector?"

"He is with me in this."

Eleanor lay back on her pillows. Now, she thought, I can die in peace.

Eleanor lingered for two years in peaceful retirement at Pretsch; and on her death her eleven year old son went to Ansbach to live with his stepbrother, the Margrave, and thirteen year old Caroline to her joy was sent to Berlin to live at the Court of Sophia Charlotte and her husband.

There followed the happy years. Life at Lutzenburg offered even more than Caroline had dared hope for; here were pleasures which she had not known existed. There was luxury to compare with that of the Dresden court but here it went hand in hand with good taste and the adventures were those of the mind.

Sophia Charlotte had attracted to Lutzenburg some of the most interesting men of the age. Her wit and charm, her unusual intelligence, and her power over the man who was one of the most important Electors in Germany sent them flocking to her court.

Her love of everything beautiful was evident in the castle. She had collected together pictures and exquisite furniture, some of the latter inlaid with porcelain, crystal, ivory and ebony. Everything in the castle was rare and beautiful; but in spite of its grandeur ostentation was avoided.

There was no other castle in Germany where so many interesting people gathered; and the reason was due to the mistress of Lutzenburg. Here came men of diverse religious opinions—Catholics, Protestant, and Freethinkers. There was nothing Sophia Charlotte enjoyed more than to bring these men together, encourage them to discuss their views, and herself join in the discourse. Philosophers, historians, artists, literary men, all came to her salons, wandered in her gardens, talked learnedly with each other; and it was Sophia Charlotte's hope that one day because they had been able to meet at her home they would discover some way of welding the various versions of Christianity together and make a more tolerant society in which men and women could discuss their ideas freely without fear.

The coming of Caroline to Lutzenburg had been a great joy to her. She had been drawn to the girl from the first since she had always wanted a daughter and she had been distressed when she had heard rumours of what was happening in Saxony; she had blamed herself for having encouraged the marriage and by making herself Caroline's guardian she had hoped to salve her conscience. But what had begun as a duty had become a joy, and when Caroline had been with her a few months she wondered how she could ever endure to be parted from her. However that should not be until she had found a suitable husband for her and secretly she hoped to avoid separation by marrying her ward to her own son Frederick William. Her husband, indulgent as he was, would no doubt oppose that match, for Frederick William was one of the most desirable matches in Germany whereas Caroline had nothing to offer but her beauty, her charm and that alert mind which Sophia Charlotte determined should have all the advantages she could give it.

Neither Sophia Charlotte nor Caroline made any attempt to hide the attraction they felt for each other. The love which had sprung up between them was too deep to be denied. For Sophia Charlotte, Caroline was the perfect companion, intelligent, enquiring, loving learning for its own sake and not only because she wished to please Sophia Charlotte by her grasp of it. And for Caroline, the goddess she had worshipped from the distance was now a loving friend and guardian who had lost none of her perfections through intimacy.

They were constantly together; Sophia Charlotte supervised Caroline's education which was not only a matter of schoolroom lessons. They would walk together in those magnificent gardens made by Le Notre in the manner of Versailles; they would sit in arbours and talk with Sophia Charlotte's visitors who knew that if they would please her they must take seriously the young girl on whom she doted.

This was not difficult for the young Princess Caroline had much to contribute and in the warmth of discussion her youth was forgotten.

When Caroline had been at Lutzenburg a year Saxony had become like an uneasy nightmare, something that is only remembered now and then. This was her real life, surrounded by beauty, culture and above all love—the love of the person she loved best in the world—and with it that feeling of protection and security, which, but for fears of the past she could not have known was so precious.

She was not so fond of her official guardian who was, naturally, Sophia Charlotte's husband, the Elector of Brandenburg; she found his appearance repulsive and he had no interest in those matters which seemed so vital to her and Sophia Charlotte. He was exclusively concerned with statescraft; he would rise at four o'clock in the morning and retire early which was in complete opposition to the habits of his wife, who liked to S{>end the morning in bed because, for her, the day did not begin until the evening.

He cared for all that seemed empty to his wife. He enjoyed colourful ceremonies and never lost an opportunity of indulging in them. Often it was necessary for Sophia Charlotte to appear with him and this she did, but it was with reluctance that she put on the robes of state, the glittering jewels which so delighted her husband, and took her place beside him; and as soon as possible she would discard them and put on some loose flowing garment, in Caroline's eyes so much more tasteful and beautiful than flamboyant purples and gold, and instead of glorifying the power of the Electorate, talk of art or literature, philosophy or music.

Caroline, while having no affection for the Elector often marvelled at his tolerance towards his wife. He would look at her wistfully and long for her to interest herself in his affairs and yet he never showed displeasure that she did not do so; only sadness. Whereas Sophia Charlotte had no desire to draw him into her life and was quite content for him to go his own way.

It was only natural that he should resent the girl who had so easily won the love of his wife in a manner which he had been unable to, in spite of everything he had done for her—particularly as, with the coming of Caroline, his wife had grown even further from him.

There were occasions when, on his way to bed, he would look in at her gatherings which were just beginning .He would stay awhile to listen to the music of a young boy named Handel whom she had discovered and was encouraging—for she was constantly discovering and encouraging someone; or exchange a word with one of her Huguenots or Catholics or perhaps Leibniz who was one of the most eminent philosophers of the day. He would not stay; he would be too weary to do anything but yawn at their learned discourse; and in any case he felt unwanted.

Caroline, very much aware of him, always relieved when he left, often felt that their happy home would have been nearer perfection if the Elector had not been there.

But growing in wisdom as she was, she knew that those moments when she and Sophia Charlotte were together could not have been quite so rapturously wonderful if there had been perpetual contentment.

For Sophia Charlotte there were the petty displays of pomp for which she had no feeling; there was the fact that she was married to a man whom she could not love; there were anxieties about the wild nature of her only son—but from all these she had her escape, and she and Caroline were together every day.