Here she had made the acquaintance of the Elector John George of Saxony, and both the Elector and Electress of Brandenburg had persuaded her that it was her duty to accept the proposal of marriage he would make to her.
It was for this reason that she was waiting for him now.
He was coming towards her—a young man with wild eyes, full sensuous lips, and an ungraciousness about his manner which was disturbing.
He bowed stiffly and she fancied avoided meeting her eyes.
He was thinking angrily: She's older than I thought. Already a matron and a mother of two !
"Madam," he said, "I believe you have some notion why I have asked for this ... er ... pleasure."
His voice was cold; he scarcely bothered to hide his dislike.
She looked alarmed and that angered him still further. There was no need for her to play the coy maiden. She knew very well what his purpose was; and she doubtless knew how vehemently he had had to be persuaded. He was not going to pretend to her now or at any time. He would make no secret to her or to anyone that if he was forced into this marriage it was under protest.
She inclined her head slightly, conveying that she was aware of the reason for his visit.
"I understand you are prepared to marry me."
Eleanor wanted to cry out: No! I must have time to think. I have allowed them to persuade me. I have been carried away by their arguments. She thought of herself growing older, Caroline becoming marriageable. What hope would she have of finding a suitable husband for her daughter if she were a wandering exile? But if Caroline's stepfather was the Elector of Saxony...
She said quietly: "Your Highness does me much honour."
Much honour indeed! He wondered what Magdalen would say when he returned to Dresden. Her mother would be furious because he knew that Madam von Roohlitz dearly desired her daughter to be his wife. An exciting project! He would be willing to marry Magdalen but his ministers would never agree of course, and he had to take this poor creature instead.
He looked at her with fresh distaste but reassured himself that a wife and a mistress need not interfere with each other.
"Then you will take me as your husband?"
"I ... I will, Your Highness."
"Then that matter is settled."
He bowed turned on his heel and went to the door. The natural sequence to such a question and answer should have been an embrace, a confessing of admiration, a promise of enduring affection. But he had no intention of letting her think he cared sufficiently for her to pretend to hold her in any regard. She would have to understand that this was an arranged marriage. He might have to attempt to get an heir; she had two children already so was no doubt fertile, and once she was pregnant he need not see her unless it was necessary to get another child.
Left alone Eleanor stood staring at the door. She was trembling. He had seemed so strange. He was younger than she was —in his twenties and not without good looks. Uneasily she remembered having heard a rumour that he behaved oddly at times since he had had a blow on the head. She had heard too that he was dissolute, extravagant—in fact a libertine.
What will this marriage be like? she asked herself.
It will be like many other marriages of state, she told herself. Arranged. The surprising aspect was that she should have something to offer. If he had not been infatuated with a woman who was reputed to be a spy for the Austrians would the Brandenburgs have arranged this marriage? It was scarcely likely. Her duty was to influence him when she was married; she had to keep him aware that alliance with Brandenburg was preferable to that with Austria. How could she persuade him when he seemed to regard her with such distaste?
She could have wept with humiliation and frustration. With the passing of the years tears had come with increasing ease.
It was a bitter choice—to wander from one friend's hospitality to that of another, becoming more and more of an encumbrance as the years passed; or marriage with a man of wealth and some power who could, if he were so inclined, make a good match for her daughter.
There can be no choice, she thought. Besides, it is the wish of the Brandenburgs. But how I wish it need not be, how I wish my dear John Frederick had lived. Never had the palace of the Margraves of Ansbach seemed so inviting; never before had she longed so fervently to be back in those baroque rooms with their porcelain galleries.
Trying to hold back her tears she went to find her daughter.
Caroline curtsied before the Electress Sophia Charlotte.
"Well, my dear," said the Electress. "We have some good news for you. Have you told her yet?"
"Not yet," answered Eleanor. "I thought I would consult you first."
"Come here, my child."
Sophia Charlotte stroked the auburn hair and smiled into the pink rather plump little face with the bright blue, very intelligent eyes.
"You will soon be going to a new home, my dear. I think that will please you."
"Are we coming here?" asked Caroline eagerly.
Sophia Charlotte shook her head but she looked pleased because Caroline had betrayed her desire to stay in Berlin.
"No, my dear. You are to have a father."
Caroline looked bewildered; then she saw that her mother although pretending to smile was really very frightened; but as the Electress was pleased she supposed it was a good thing.
"You will be going to live in Saxony and you will find it very agreeable to have a settled home."
"When are we going?" asked Caroline.
"You are impatient, my dear, but when you are at Dresden we must see you often. You shall visit us and we shall visit you."
"Then," said Caroline, *I am glad we are going to Dresden."
Sophia Charlotte smiled over the girl's head.
I wish, thought Eleanor, that I could feel as pleased.
It was arranged that the wedding should take place at Leipzig and neither the Brandenburgs nor John George's ministers saw any reason why it should be delayed. It was only the bride and groom who wished for that.
Both had considerable misgivings. Eleanor, who had gone back to Ansbach to make preparations, spent a great deal of the time on her knees praying for a miracle, by which she meant some occurrence which would make the marriage unnecessary. Blankly she faced the future trying hard to convince herself that it was all for the best and that marriages which were made as this had been, often turned out to be the most successful.
John George in Dresden had no such illusions. The more he thought of marriage with Eleanor the more he loathed the idea; he was beginning to hate the woman they had chosen for him.
His ministers had suggested that while he was waiting for his wedding day he should not see his mistress. It would not be considered good taste and it was impossible to keep such meetings secret. If news reached the bride-elect that her husband was spending his nights with a mistress she might decide not to marry him after all.
That made John George laugh aloud. "Then for the love of God tell her."
"Your Highness is not serious."
"Never more. Never more," he cried.
But he dared not oppose his ministers. His position was too precarious. Harried on one side by them and by Magdalen's letters on the other he was frantic and when he was frantic he was furious.
"I won't go through with it! " he declared a hundred times a day.
But his ministers assured him that he must.
Magdalen's letters were smuggled in to him every day. He had betrayed her, she wrote. He had promised her marriage. He had taken her virtue ... and so on.
He laughed reading them. All written by her mother, he knew. Magdalen was too lazy to write; all Magdalen wanted to do was make love. "Very creditable, my darling," he said fondly; and he wanted her with him, no matter if she did say what her mother had taught her to; he didn't care if the old woman was taking bribes from Austria. Magdalen was worth it. With her masses of dark hair, her willowy body which was at the same time the most voluptuous in the world, how different she was from the flaxen German women he had known before! She was a perfect animal; she cared nothing for politics; she cared nothing for anything but sensual pleasure.