But when George William came riding back with all speed to Celle, John Frederick had no wish to take up arms against him and agreed that such problems as theirs should be discussed round a council table; but George William must understand that if he were to be allowed to rule his little principality he could not satisfactorily delegate authority to others; he must be present himself. These long residences at foreign places must come to an end.
George William saw the wisdom of this. He must settle down. As it happened it was just what he wanted to do … with Eléonore.
If she would come to him, if they could set up house together, he would ask for nothing more but to live quietly for the rest of his days in his own land.
The brothers met. The death of Christian Lewis meant that there were prizes to be passed round; and as a result of the conference George William became Duke of Celle, John Frederick Duke of Hanover, while Ernest Augustus remained the Bishop of Osnabrück. They were all satisfied – even John Frederick.
Now, thought George William, all that remained was to go back to Breda and bring Eléonore home to Celle.
His ministers shook their heads with disapproval when he said he was returning to Breda.
‘My lord,’ it was pointed out, ‘if you left now John Frederick would claim what he did before. You would lose Celle, for although the people prefer you as their Duke your perpetual wanderings displease them. They want you to rule them, but only if you do so in person.’
‘It would be a short stay, I do assure you.’
‘It would be dangerous to leave now. You must stay at least a year before you wander abroad again.’
George William was in despair. Eléonore was still unpersuaded; and it might be that only he could do the persuading.
He wrote to her at once explaining the position. There was a short delay before her answer came back, telling him that he must forget her; for she had suffered from the smallpox and her beauty was gone. He could not love her now, and she prayed that he would put her out of his mind as she was trying to put him out of hers.
Her beauty gone! He pictured her with her dazzling complexion ruined, the soft skin pitted in that disfiguring way which ruined so many who would otherwise be beauties. He wept; he mourned; and after a day or so he knew that he wanted Eléonore whether she was beautiful or not.
He wrote and told her so.
The Princesse de Tarente wrote to him. They missed him in Breda but they had heard that his affairs at home were no longer giving him reason for anxiety. Poor Eléonore was wretchedly unhappy. ‘She loves you, my dear Duke, do not allow yourself to believe otherwise. Do not believe what she tells you, for she is trying to make it easy for you to do without her. In spite of her sadness she is as beautiful as ever. She has the loveliest complexion in Breda. It breaks my heart to see her so sad, and I am sure you do not wish to break my heart, my dear.’
He smiled when he read the letter.
So Eléonore was lying to him … for his sake … to make it easier.
He was determined on two things: to have Eléonore and Celle.
He decided on a visit to Osnabrück. After all, Ernest Augustus had always been his friend and Sophia seemed satisfied with her fate, so perhaps she did not hold the jilting against him.
He would ask their advice and help.
Sophia received him graciously. How handsome he is! she thought. Being a little drawn, a little thinner, does not detract from his charm.
He went to the nursery and saw the children. George Lewis was almost five, Frederick Augustus four – and both were healthy boys.
‘What do you think of my sons?’ asked Sophia, watching him closely for a trace of envy.
‘You are fortunate. My brother is delighted, I am sure.’
‘From what I hear you are not pleased now that you renounced your rights. Is it true that there is a lady in Breda whom you would like to marry?’
‘It is true. I want to have a good talk with you and Ernest Augustus about her. I think you can help me.’
‘Help you? You need help to persuade the lady?’ Sophia’s laugh was a little harsh. So he is in love! she was thinking. He could not contemplate marrying me. He preferred to give up his rights to escape me. And now if he is as enamoured of this French creature as rumours say, he is feeling he acted a little hastily. He is wishing he had thrown me over without bothering to find a husband for me!
She could have hated him – if he was not so handsome, so much more charming than Ernest Augustus, if she had not decided when she had heard she was to marry him, to fall in love with him.
‘You will hear what I have to suggest?’
‘The contracts stand firm,’ she replied grimly.
‘Naturally. I did not mean in that way. George Lewis is all attention.’
‘He is an intelligent child.’
‘Two intelligent children! Lucky Sophia! Lucky Ernest Augustus! I am sure you will want to help me to be happy.’
George Lewis was holding up a wooden sword.
‘Uncle,’ he said, ‘I shall be a soldier.’
George William lifted the boy in his arms. What an ugly little fellow he was, but his eyes were bright.
‘We will go to war together, nephew.’
‘I shall come too,’ piped up Frederick Augustus.
‘Of course.’
‘Come,’ said Sophia, ‘dinner will soon be served. And afterwards we shall talk together.’
They left the nursery and George William went to his apartments in the palace.
They are contented, he thought; Sophia owes me no grudge and Ernest Augustus should be very grateful to me. They will help me.
They had eaten well of sausage and red cabbage with ginger and onions – a dish to which, during his sojourns abroad, George William had grown unaccustomed.
He thought longingly of the French cooking at the table of the Princesse de Tarente. But he must not think of Breda – only as to how he could bring Eléonore out of it.
He noticed that every time he saw Ernest Augustus, his brother was changing. He was getting gross with too much good living – greasy German food, and the heavy ale they drank. He hunted frequently, travelled occasionally; and took his choice of the women of his court. A typical ruler, thought George William. How different his own life would be with Eléonore!
And Sophia? She was dignified, never forgetting her royal blood, and as long as everyone else remembered it she did not care that her husband was blatantly unfaithful. She ruled the household and would never allow any of his mistresses to attempt to dominate her. She was the woman supreme in the castle; and as long as Ernest Augustus granted her that, he could go his own way. Now of course she was hoping for more children. Two were not enough; for this reason Ernest Augustus must spend certain nights with her.
It was an amicable arrangement and Ernest Augustus was pleased with his marriage.
Sophia kept her feeling to herself, which was as well, for George William had no idea of the emotions he aroused in her, and when she said that she wanted to help him, he believed her.
When they were alone together he explained the situation to them both.
‘A pity she is a Frenchwoman,’ said Ernest Augustus. ‘I never trusted the French.’
‘Oh, come brother, we know the French have been our enemies. But that is not the fault of Mademoiselle d’Olbreuse and her family. Why, they are exiles from France. Louis has had them driven out. That should make you friendly towards them.’