Текст книги "Queen in Waiting "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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Caroline very quickly discovered that as the daughter of her
mother she shared the resentment; and this knowledge made the court of Dresden an alarming place for an eight-year-old girl.
Yet it was very beautiful. The gardens were laid out in the French fashion with fountains, statues and colonnades; they and the court throughout were an imitation of Versailles; and the Elector behaved as though he were the Sun King himself. There were lavish banquets, balls, garden fetes and entertainments in the palace. It only had to be said that this or that was done at the French court and it was done in Dresden. And everything was presided over by a dark-haired woman whom Caroline's stepfather could not bear out of his sight and whom everyone said w?^ the Electress in all but name.
At first she had been puzzled, for her mother should have borne that title. Of course she did; and on state occasions she would be dressed in her robes and stand beside the Elector; and then immediately afterwards she would go to her apartments, take off her robes, dismiss her attendants, lie on her bed and weep. Caroline knew because she had seen her do this. No one took very much notice of the child; she was expected to remain in the small apartments assigned to her, with her nurse, her governess and one or two attendants. No one was the least bit interested in her; she was merely an appendage of the woman whom nobody wanted. She was even less significant than her mother who was at least actively resented. She might have been one of the benches in the ante room, one of the flowers in the beds about the fountains. Not so useful as the bench, not so decorative as the flower—but any of them could have been removed and cause no comment.
The Electress Sophia Charlotte had talked of Dresden as though she would be very happy there. She could certainly never have been to Dresden. But since Sophia Charlotte had thought it would be so different surely it should have been if something had not gone wrong. Caroline had an enquiring nature. Passionately she wanted to understand what was going on around her—particularly when it concerned herself. Her mother's unhappiness worried her, for although she had never been a gay woman, although she had never been brilliant like Sophia Charlotte, she had never been as sad as she was now.
She had seemed older since she had come to Dresden; dark circles had appeared under her eyes; she had grown pale and thin. '
It was disturbing to be so young and so defenceless; but Caroline knew that before she could do anything to strengthen her position and that of her mother she must understand what it was all about.
She had alert eyes and sharp ears so she decided to put them to use. When servants and attendants whispered together she listened and often scraps of conversation not intended for her came her way. She was secretly amused that grown up people could deceive themselves into thinking that firstly she was deaf and secondly she was stupid; for often they would glance her way, warning each other with a look that they must watch their tongues in her presence; but the desire to talk was almost always—fortunately for Caroline—irresistible.
"They say he has never yet shared her bed."
"Not he! He can't spare the time from his Magdalen."
"Well, she can't say she didn't know before. He made that clear."
"Oh yes, she knew he had no wish to marry a widow with a couple of brats."
A couple of brats! Caroline's natural dignity was offended. She wanted to confront the gossipers and demand to know how they dared refer to a Princess of Ansbach as a brat. As for her brother, he was the heir presumptive to Ansbach, for if their stepbrother had no sons he would be Margrave one day; this was the reason why he remained at Ansbach, otherwise he would be with her to help her fight her mother's battles. And the servants dared refer to him as a brat!
She was on the point of calling to them when she hesitated. What use would that be? She knew exactly how they would act. First they would swear that she had been mistaken; then they would take great care never to say anything in her hearing again which would mean that she would be completely in the dark. So how foolish it would be just for the sake of temporarily asserting her dignity, to lose an opportunity of understanding this peculiar situation.
Meanwhile the voices went on.
"I wouldn't be in Madam's shoes for all the wealth of Germany."
*'Nor me, poor soul. Why it wouldn't surprise me what those two got up to ... with Mamma in the background."
"There's one I should want to watch. No, it certainly wouldn't surprise me either. She's capable of anything to get rid of Madam Eleanor and set up her darling little Magdalen in her place. If I were Madam Eleanor I'd be watchful ... very watchful indeed."
Caroline put her hand over her heart which had begun to leap uncomfortably. What did they mean? Her mother must be watchful. Could they mean that she was in danger? And if so, did she know it?
Caroline had already begun to realize that her mother was somewhat ineffectual and would never be capable of looking after herself. Someone then would have to do it for her. Who? Her eight-year-old daughter?
How could that be when she was only a child, when she was only vaguely aware of the meaning bcliind the intrigue which was going on about her.
How careful she would have to be! She would have to stop being a child immediately, for children could make so many mistakes. Suppose she had rushed out and protested just now, as her first impulse had directed her to do. What she would have missed! She must remember that in future. Before she did anything rash she must stop and think.
During the months which followed Caroline learned more of the state of affairs between her mother and step-father. She knew that it was a miserable marriage, undertaken with reluctance on both sides—on his because he had been forced into it for state reasons, on hers because she had been obliged to seek position and security for herself and her daughter.
In a way, thought Caroline, I am responsible; for perhaps she would never have married him but for me.
There were lessons to be done, but no one cared very much whether she did them or not. Her mother was too much engulfed in her own misery; and why should servants care
whether the little girl from Ansbach grew up an ignoramus or not. She would ride a little with her few attendants, taking care to keep well out of the way; she would walk and sit in the magnificent gardens, slinking away when she heard the approach of a party; from the window of her bedchamber she would watch the open air entertainments; she would listen to the music from the ballrooms, going as near as possible but always making sure that there was a way of escape should she need it.
She kept well out of the way of her stepfather whom she regarded as an ogre and he naturally never noticed her absence; in fact he had forgotten her existence and only remembered it when, on those rare occasions when he was in the presence of his wife, he wanted to taunt her with her useless-ness; and those occasions were growing less for she bored him so much that he found no pleasure even in quarrelling with her.
Caroline found little enjoyment in her mother's company either for Eleanor was in such a state of nervous tension that she could not pay much attention to her daughter; her mind was dominated by her own depressing situation and as she did not believe she could discuss this with her daughter had nothing to say to her.
A whole year had gone by since Caroline's arrival at Dresden, but she felt more than a year older. Nine years old but very knowledgeable in the ways of men and women. She had seen her stepfather with his mistress revelling in the gardens at some fete; she had watched their crude caresses. She had to grow up quickly for there was no one else to protect her mother from a fate which was none the less horrifying because her daughter did not fully understand it.
There was one at the Dresden Court of whom Magdalen von Roohlitz was in awe and that was her mother. She would never forget that it was her mother who had first put her in the Elector's way and who, once the liaison had started, conducted it so cleverly from the shadows that she had made what might have been a fleeting affaire into what it was at this time.
The extremely ambitious Madam von Roohlitz was the widow of a Colonel of the Guards; not a position in which she could have had high social ambitions if she had not possessed an outstandingly beautiful daughter. She had been the first to appreciate Magdalen's charms and assess their value. She had always known that Magdalen's brains did not match her beauty; but since she had a very clever mother this was not an insurmountable difficulty—in fact, it was proving an asset. Magdalen could make full use of her erotic genius while her mother planned calmly behind the scenes.
Magdalen had little to complain of so far. She was, in fact, astonished how easily she could please her lover when all she had to do was satisfy his sexual desires, and as hers were as eager for fulfilment as his, that was no hardship. Mother arranged all the tiresome details and was ver)' happy to do so. That seemed a pleasant enough arrangement to Magdalen; and she was surprised to discover that Mother was not pleased.
She had come to her daughter's apartment because it was time they had a little talk.
"You need not frown, daughter. If you will do exactly as I say it will be easy enough."
Magdalen nodded and stretched her limbs luxuriously.
What a magnificent creature she is! thought her mother. It would be churlish to reproach her for not being able to think, when she is so expert in other matters.
"That man would do a great deal for you."
"He always says so."
"Talk is one thing, actions another."
Magdalen yawned.
"You must listen to me because this is important. You are a Countess now, my dear; you are very rich, and that is as it should be. I'm delighted. But things could be so much better."
"Could they?" asked Magdalen.
"Of course. What happens when important visitors arrive? Who has to receive them? You or her? Then she is brought forward, isn't she? She is after all the Electress of Saxony and his legal wife."
"He's never with her."
"That is not my point, Magdalen. She is received. She is accepted. I wish that for you."
"Well, she's his wife."
"You should tell him how humiliated you feel."
Magdalen raised her eycorows. "How humiliated do I feel?"
"You, whom he swears he loves as he can never love another woman are snubbed, covertly insulted by visitors from other courts."
"But I'm not. Mother."
"They say, *Oh she's only his mistress.' And they pay Court to Madam Electress."
"Oh no, Mother..."
"Listen to me. You could become Electress."
"How?"
"By insisting that he marry you, of course."
"He's married already."
"You are determined to see the obstacles."
Magdalen looked puzzled. "Well, she is his wife, isn't she? They were married in Leipzig."
"Oh yes, their dear friends the Brandenburgs saw to that."
"Because you had been too busy with your dear friends the Austrians."
"Because you, my dear, were not subtle enough. I had to find money from somewhere and you betrayed the fact that we had friends in Austria who had been kind to us. But never mind. That's all behind us. Let's think of the future. How would you like to be the Electress of Saxony?"
"I shouldn't mind it. I shouldn't mind it at all."
Madam von Roohlitz gave her daughter a playful slap.
"Well, listen to me. I have an idea. Pay close attention."
"Yes, Mother."
Caroline was in her mother's bedchamber reading aloud to Eleanor who lay on her bed, her nervous fingers pulling at the coverlet; Caroline knew that she was not listening. Yet if she stopped she would realize it and ask her gently to go on.
It seemed useless and ineffectual; for Caroline was not really paying attention either.
Caroline stopped reading and said: "We were happier than this in Ansbach."
"What did you say?" asked Eleanor.
Caroline said: "Mamma, couldn't we go away somewhere for a little change?"
Eleanor looked startled. Then she said: "Where could we
go?"
"To Ansbach perhaps."
"We should not be welcome there."
"We are not welcome here."
"Caroline, what do you mean? This is our home?"
Home! thought Caroline. Where you were unhappy! Where no one wanted you! Where people whispered about vou in corners.
"Perhaps," she said, "we could go to Berlin."
"To Berlin. I doubt whether they would want us there either."
"Mamma, how can you know? The Electress Sophia Charlotte was so kind. She talked to me about lessons and things like that."
"I hope you are getting on well with your studies, Caroline." That worried look was in her eyes. She was thinking: I neglect my daughter. She is allowed to run wild. Oli what will become of us?
"I try to work at them," answered Caroline gravely. "The Electress Sophia Charlotte said I should. Do you think she will ever come here to see us?"
"Nobody ever comes here to see us."
There was no bitterness in the tone, only a sad resignation.
Nothing will ever change, thought Caroline.
But even as the thought entered her mind one of her mother's attendants came into the room. She was agitated and showed clearly that something had happened to upset her.
She did not seem to see Caroline sitting in her chair, but went straight to tiie bed, and handed a paper to Eleanor. "I couldn't believe this when I read it, Your Highness. It is ... terrible."
Eleanor took up the paper in trembling hands.
"What ... Oh, I had heard ... Oh, no."
"They are saying that it could not have been circulated without the Elector's consent. Your Highness."
**I am sure that is so."
Caroline shrank back into her chair and watched her mother intently.
She threw the paper on to the bed. **This is the end," she said wearily. **He is determined to be rid of me."
**They will never allow such a law. Your Highness."
"If he insists ..."
"No. It can't be. It's another plot of that von Roohlitz woman. Nothing can come of it."
"A great deal has come of her plans. I feel very faint."
"It's the shock. Lie still. Your Highness."
"Lie still," murmured Eleanor. "Yes, for what else can I do. Just be still and wait ... for whatever they plan against me."
Caroline sitting in her chair wanted to run to her mother, shake her and cry out: It's not the way. You shouldn't allow them to hurt you. You should fight them as they fight you.
But she sat still while the woman brought an unguent from a cupboard and rubbed into her mother's forehead.
"That's comforting," said Eleanor.
The pamphlet fluttered to the floor not far from Caroline's feet. She picked it up and read it. It was obscurely phrased but the gist was that it might be advantageous for men who could afford to support more than one wife to have another.
So the Elector thought this a good idea! The reason was plain. He was able to support another wife, he was not satisfied with the one he had, and there was someone he would like to set up in her place.
Yes, she could understand why her mother was disturbed.
Eleanor was saying in a sad tired voice: "I feel so ... alone, and I know they are determined to be rid of me by one means or another."
"Your Highness should not distress yourself."
"How can I help it? They are getting restive. They have endured me long enough."
"Your Highness, this could never be. There would be an outcry. It is against religion as well as the laws of the state."
"They're desperate," said Eleanor. "This could be a safer way ... than some."
She was aware of Caroline standing there with the pamphlet in her hand.
"Oh ... Caroline. Put that paper down. I want to rest. Go now."
Caroline laid the pamphlet on the table and went out.
They thought she understood nothing; they thought she was a child still.
Magdalen told all her friends that very soon she would be the Electress. The Elector was going to marry her. He had a wife already? Oh, but the Elector believed that in certain circumstances a man should have two wives.
Madam von Roohlitz had discreetly let it be known that anyone seeking honours should come to her. Magdalen would be able to arrange anything with the Elector she considered desirable, but as she would be very busily occupied her mother would shoulder some of her daughter's responsibilities.
Madam von Roohlitz was almost delirious with the new sense of power.
Her suggestion of another marriage had worked very well. Magdalen had learned her part adequately; she had told her lover how much she desired to be his wife and he yearned to grant her wish.
She assured herself that the plot was succeeding far better than at first she had thought possible. The fact was that the Electress was such a spineless creature that no one cared to defend her. Her only friends, the Brandenburgs, were far away; but she must impress on Magdalen the need to get this matter settled as quickly as possible.
However she was soon disappointed for although the Elector would willingly have married Magdalen, his ministers had refused to consider the question.
"It strikes at the very tenets of our Faith," they declared. "It is quite impossible."
"Nothing is impossible if I decide it shall be done," shouted John George.
*'Your Highness," he was told, **a man who has one wife in the eyes of God cannot have another until her death. That is the law of the Church and the State."
"I will be my ow^n law! " he cried.
But he knew they would not allow Magdalen to be his wife and he would remain married to that woman whom he had come to loathe ... until death parted them.
He was angry but not so deeply as Madam von Roohlitz. He still had his mistress even though he could not make her his wife. As for Madam von Roohlitz, what had become of the lucrative business she was going to build up by selling honours to those who could pay well enough for them?
She shut herself in her apartments and would see no one ... not even Magdalen.
Till death parts them! she murmured and seemed to derive a little comfort from the thought.
Someone was standing by Caroline's bed.
"Wake up your mother has sent for you."
Caroline scrambled up. It was dark and the candle threw the long shadow of her nurse on the wall.
"What is it?" she asked, her teeth beginning to chatter because she was conscious of a sense of doom.
"Your mother has been taken ill and is asking for. you."
"How... ill?"
"Don't talk so much. She's waiting."
As she was hurried into her robe she was thinking: She is going to die. She will tell me what I have to do when I am alone.
Then a feeling of desolation struck her and she knew that she had rarely been so frightened. She was so lonely. She had no friends in this alien court. Because she was her mother's daughter nobody wanted her.
"Hurry?"
"I'm ready," she said.
She was taken to her mother's bedchamber where Eleanor lay in her bed looking exhausted, her skin yellow, her eyes glassy.
The Shadow of Murder J5
"My child..." she began and Caroline ran to the bed and kneeling took her hand.
"Mamma, what has happened. You are ill."
"I have been very ill, daughter. I think I am going to die."
"No ... no ... you must not."
"I have no place in this world, child. Life has not been very kind to me. I trust it will be kinder to you."
Caroline gripped the bedclothes and thought: I will never let people treat me as ihcy have treated you! But how prevent it. There must be a way. She was sure of it and she was going to find it.
"Mamma, you are not going to die."
"If this attempt has failed, there will be others."
"Attempt ... failed ..."
"I ramble, child."
It was a lie, of course. She was not rambling. Why would they treat her as a child? It was true she was only nine years old but the last year at the Court of Saxony had taught her more than most children learn in ten. She knew how frightening marriage could be; but she thought: Had I been Manmia, I would not have allowed it to happen. What would she have done? She was not sure. But she believed she would have found some way of avoiding a position which was degrading, wretched and had now become very sinsister indeed.
"If anything should happen to me, Caroline ... are you listening?"
"Yes,'Mamma."
"You should go back to Ansbach."
"Yes, Mamma."
"You could write to the Electress of Brandenburg. She was my good friend until she persuaded me to this marriage."
Caroline spoke hotly in defence of her beloved Sophia Charlotte. "But, Mamma, you need not have married had you not wished to."
"You are a child. What do you understand? I would to God I had remained a widow ... for he will do nothing for you ... nothing for me and nothing for you. No, you had best go back to Ansbach. Your brother will help you."
"I am two years older than he is, Mamma. Perhaps I can help him."
Eleanor smiled wanly. "Go and call someone," she said. "I'm beginning to feel ill again. And don't come back till I send for you."
"Yes, Mamma."
She called the attendants and then went to sit in the ante room.
She heard her mother groaning and retching.
She thought: What will become of me when she is dead?
It was not now a question of trying to listen. Caroline could not escape the whispers.
"It was an attempt to poison the Electress Eleanor."
"By whom?"
"Come, are you serious? Surely you can guess."
"Well if there is to be a new law that a man can have two wives why bother to rid themselves of the first?"
"It'll never be a law. That's why. They know it. They will keep to the old ways. It's been used often enough and is the most successful."
"Poor lady. I wouldn't be in her shoes."
"Nor I. He'll have the Roohlitz ... never fear. He's set on it and so is her mother."
"Poor Electress Eleanor, she should watch who hands her her plate."
They were planning to poison her mother. They had tried once and failed. But they would try again.
She was frantic with anxiety, but to whom could she turn? She, a nine-year-old girl without a single friend in the palace– what could she do?
If only the Electress Sophia Charlotte were here, she could go to her, explain her fears, be listened to with attention; she would be told what to do and it would be the right thing she was sure. But Sophia Charlotte was miles away and there was no one to help her.
She went to her mother's apartments. Eleanor was in her bed, recovering from her attack and she looked exhausted.
Caroline threw herself into her arms and clung to her.
"Oh Mamma, Mamma, what shall we do?"
Her mother stroked her hair and signed to the attendants to leave them. When they were alone, she said: "What is it, my child?"
"They are trying to kill you, Mamma."
"Hush, my child, you must not say such things."
"But it's true. And what are we going to do."
"It is in God's hands," said Eleanor.
"But unless we do something. He won't help us."
"My child, what are you saying?"
"I know it sounds wicked, but I'm frightened."
"Where did you hear this?"
"They are all saying it. I overheard them."
"So ... they are talking! "
"Mamma, you don't seem to want to do anything."
Eleanor lay back on her pillows and closed her eyes. "What can I do? This is my home now ... and yours."
Caroline clenched her fists, her exasperation overcoming her fear.
"Why don't we run away?"
"Run away! To where?"
"Let us think. 1 here must be something we can do. This is a hateful home in any case. I should be glad to leave it ... and so would you."
"My place is with my husband."
With a murderer! thought Caroline and stopped herself in time from saying the words aloud.
"We could go to Berlin. Perhaps they would let us live with them ... for a while ... until we knew what to do."
"We should have to wait to be invited. You shouldn't listen to gossip, my child. It's not ... true."
Caroline sighed wearily. It was useless to try to make her mother take action. She was well aware of the danger; but it seemed that she preferred meekly to be murdered than make any effort to avoid such a fate.
"You see, Caroline," said Eleanor, "this is where we belong."
"Can we belong where they are trying to be rid of us?"
In that moment Eleanor was as frightened for her daughter
as for herself. What would become of Caroline? The child was growing up and in what an atmosphere! Her licentious stepfather made no secret of the life he led; he would sit with his friends at the banqueting table and they would discuss their conquests—not of wars but of women—in crude detail, seeking to cap each other's stories and provoke that rollicking laughter which could be heard even in the upper rooms of the palace; he could often be seen caressing the bold Countess von Rooh-litz in public; while equally publicly he insulted his wife and sought to replace her. Now he was advocating polygamy because he w^ished to discard his wife—if he could not have been said to have discarded her from the moment he married her– and set up another in her place. And because his plans were not proceeding fast enough it might be that he had tried to poison her.
All these things were talked of; and this young girl heard what was said.
I should never have brought her here, thought Eleanor. Better to have stayed at Ansbach—poor and without prospects. For what prospects have we now?
"My poor child," she whispered.
**But what are we going to do?" demanded Caroline.
"There is nothing we can do."
"So you would stay here and let them kill you?"
"That is only rumour."
"Mamma, you know it isn't. Let us go away. We mustn't stay here. It isn't safe."
Sighing, Eleanor turned her face away. "You must not listen to servants' gossip, my child. It is beneath the dignity of one in your position."
What can I do? wondered Caroline in desperation. She won't help herself!
"Go now, my dear," said Eleanor. "I want to sleep."
Caroline went away. It was no use warning her mother; it was no use planning for her. She would do nothing. Could it be that in some way she was responsible for what was happening to her? If I had a husband who was planning to murder me, I would not stay and let him do it.
What will happen to us? wondered Caroline. It seemed in-
evitable that her mother would be murdered, for although she knew the murderers were at her door she made no attempt to escape from them.
If I were older, thought Caroline, I should know what to do.
It occurred to her that she might write to the Electress Sophia Charlotte and explain what was happening. Even if it was a bold and ill-mannered thing to do, the Electress would forgive her for she was so kind.
Surely when one knew that a murder was about to be committed a breach of etiquette would be forgiven.
In any case something would have to be done. If only she were a little older, a little wiser. If only she knew what to do for the best.
She began to compose the letter in her mind. "My mother is about to be murdered. Please come and stop it "
It sounded so incredible. They would say she was a ridiculous child, a wicked one to suggest such a thing. What if her letter went astray and was taken to the Elector or that fierce Madam von Roohlitz? Doubtless they would murder her too. There were not only murderers in the palace, there were spies too. But surely they would not spy on insignificant Caroline. Yet if she attempted to foil their plans she would not be insignificant.
If only there were someone. If her brother were here he might help. But he was such a child. Two years younger than she was and living at Ansbach he would not have learned as quickly about the wickedness of the world as she had.
I don't want to be murdered before I've had a chance to live, thought Caroline.
But something must be done. Perhaps even now they were slipping the powder or the drops into her mother's food or drink.
And her mother knew this could happen; yet she lay on her bed patiently waiting. When they offered her the poison cup she would meekly sip it and tell herself it was God's will.
The will of a wicked husband and his mistress was not God's will.
But God helped those who helped themselves, so there must be something which could be done.
"What?" cried Caroline. "Please God tell me what?"
She felt so helpless, shut in by her own youth and inexperience.
That night another attempt was made to poison Eleanor. She was very ill and she knew that this time it would have been certain death if she had eaten more than a mouthful of the food which had been brought to her room.
All through her delirium she had been conscious of her daughter. She had imagined that the girl was standing at her bedside, her eyes reproachful.
"What have you done. Mamma? What have you done to me?"
"It was for your sake It was for your sake **
And the Caroline of her delirium shook her head in sorrow.
When she was a little better her thoughts clarified. Caroline was right when she had said they must go away. Perhaps if they left the Court of Dresden her husband would cease to persecute her. If she placed herself where he did not have to see her he might forget about her. Perhaps he would pass the law for which he was agitating and she would no longer be the Electress of Saxony. That would be a happy day. She would eagerly throw away the title that marriage had brought her for the sake of preserving her life. There were the children to care for. If she were dead who would care what became of them? No, she must make an attempt to fight for her life. Her little daughter had taught her that.
With a firmness which astonished her attendants she asked that her husband be brought to her.
When the message was taken to John George he was first of all surprised and then exultant. She was dying and she wanted to see him before she passed away for ever. Well, he did not object to seeing her once more since it would be the last time.
When he looked at the pallid creature in the bed his hopes
were high. She was a very sick woman. He was surprised how she clung to life, but he would soon be a widower ... though not for long. Magdalen and her mother would see to that.
"You are ill," he said, standing at the end of the bed and looking at her with distaste.
