It seemed as though everyone was caught up in this almost unbearable suspense.
In the Dower House Eleanor no longer thought of imminent death. In her apartments Madam von Roohlitz rallied against her ill fortune; in her bedroom Magdalen lay restless and delirious, blessedly unconscious of her plight.
John George summoned the doctors, and demanded that they tell him it was not the dreaded scourge which had attacked his mistress. They were sorry they could not obey him because there was no doubt that the Countess was suffering from smallpox. He stormed at them; he gave way to fury; then he wept. His beautiful Magdalen ravaged by the scourge which destroyed life or on those occasions when life was spared almost always destroyed beauty. This could not happen to him and his Magdalen when they had such wonderful plans for the future.
But it had happened.
"She must not die. Anything rather than that. I must see her. I must talk to her."
"Your Highness," said the doctors, "you must not go into her apartments. That would be very dangerous. You know the nature of this terrible disease."
But he would not listen to them. He went to her apartments; he took her into his arms.
"Listen to me, Magdalen," he cried. "You must get well. It will not matter if the pox disfigures you. I will not care. I want you to live. Do you understand that?"
But she only looked at him with glazed eyes; and throughout the palace they heard him shouting in his grief.
Magdalen von Roohlitz was dead.
When the news was brought to the Dower House it was like a reprieve. Those servants who had received their orders from the Elector were stunned and did not know how to act.
Eleanor's health immediately began to improve. Caroline, alert, fully aware of the situation, waited for what would happen next.
She heard that the Court of Dresden was in mourning, that the Elector was so stricken with grief for the loss of his mistress that he kept in his apartments and would see no one.
But there was more startling news to come.
John George had caught the smallpox from his mistress and was suffering from a major attack.
A few days later he was dead.
The shadow of murder was lifted from the Dower House and Eleanor was once more a widow.
There was a new Elector at Dresden. Augustus Frederick had taken his brother's place and was determined to make the Court even more notorious than before. He had no time to consider his brother's widow and as long as she and her family did not make nuisances of themselves he had no objection to their continuing to take possession of the Dower House. Though just outside Dresden, this was far enough away not to bother him, so the Dowager Electress could stay there as long as she wished.
Eleanor rose from her sick bed but the treatment she had received from her late husband had left its mark and she remained an invalid.
But it was a great joy to her and her daughter not to live in perpetual fear; and as the days passed, the nightmare receded. Life at the Dower House was uneventful and peace was something which was only fully appreciated when it had been missed.
One day Eleanor said: "Your brother should join us. It is not good for families to be separated."
So William Frederick arrived at Pretsch—a charming little boy of nine. He was affectionate and happy to be reunited with his mother and sister.
How young he is, thought Caroline. And then the experiences at the Court of her stepfather came back more vividly to her mind.
She thought: After having lived through that, I could never really be young again.
She worked hard at lessons, for it was rather boring to play truant from the schoolroom and she had a fear of being ignorant.
Life was so different now that simple matters had become important. Could she find the correct answers to mathematical problems? Had she cobbled her needlework? Did she know when to speak and when not to speak, when to bow and when to curtsey?
No one cared very much whether she was in the schoolroom or playing in the gardens of the Dower House. She could have escaped and wandered off alone into the country if she cared to. But she must not neglect her lessons, she knew. One day she would meet the Electress Sophia Charlotte once more and that lady would be very shocked to find her ignorant.
She would sit over her books. Her handwriting was bad; her spelling worse.
I must improve, she told herself. I must not disappoint the Electress Sophia Charlotte.
One day there was a letter for Eleanor from the Electress Sophia Charlotte.
Eleanor showed it to her daughter.
"How kind she is! " said Caroline.
"Her conscience troubles her. But for her and her husband I should never have married."
"She thought it best for you," cried Caroline.
"It is so easy to see what is best for others."
"They could not have married you against your will."
Eleanor sighed and gave up the discussion.
"Well, she now says we must visit her at Lutzenburg."
Caroline clasped her hands. "When?" she wanted to know.
"Who can say? This is no definite invitation."
"Then you must write and say we shall be happy to go. Ask them when we can come."
"My dear child, that could not be. What a lot you have to learn! I fear you run wild. Sometimes I sit here and worry about you children "
"Don't worry about us. Mamma," said Caroline impatiently. "I can look after myself and William Frederick. But what about Lutzenburg? She says we must visit her."
"It is merely a form of politeness. An invitation is not an invitation unless some date is given. Besides, I am too weak for the journey."
"Then, Mamma, write and tell her so, and perhaps she will come to see us."
Eleanor smiled wanly at her daughter, and because Caroline was so eager at last she agreed to do as she suggested. As a result the Elector and the Electress of Brandenburg paid a visit to the Dower House.
Caroline was rapturous. During the years of terror she had thought a great deal about Sophia Charlotte and had taken great comfort from the fact that she existed. Often when she had felt particularly lost and lonely she had promised herself: I will write to Sophia Charlotte. Or even more wildly, I will run away and go to Sophia Charlotte.
And when Sophia Charlotte arrived she was not disappointed. Her goddess was more beautiful, more dignified and more kind than she remembered. Her adoration shone in her eyes and the Electress was aware of it.
She was all the more beautiful because the Elector her husband was a little man, whose head seemed to rest on his body without a neck to support it; he was pale and small. But how different from the wicked John George, and how he doted on Sophia Charlotte, which was natural for all the world must love her.
When Sophia Charlotte embraced Caroline she told her she had often thought of her during the past and that she hoped they would always be friends.
Always be friends! Caroline would be her slave!
She said with emotion: "I should always wish to serve you. Madam."
A reply which enchanted Sophia Charlotte.
Sophia Charlotte's conscience did worry her. In the private apartments assigned to them in the Dower House she discussed this with her husband.
"Eleanor has become an invalid," she said.
"At least she's still alive," replied the Elector.
"She might so easily have been murdered and we are in a way to blame."
"My dear, you must not think like that."
"But I do. We arranged the marriage. We persuaded hex to it. And that poor child, what she must have suffered."
"And you like the child?"
"I like both children but the girl is enchanting. She attracts me because although she is only a child she has an air of wisdom. I tremble to think that before long she may be an orphan. Frederick, what will become of those children if their mother dies?"