‘There is Ernest Augustus to consider,’ pointed out George William.
‘But if it was the Emperor’s wish and he was to lose nothing by the marriage, I do not see how he can object.’
‘We could try,’ suggested Eléonore.
‘And,’ said Duke Anton Ulrich, ‘if I added my pleas to yours, and explained the circumstances to him, I do not think he would deny us what we want.’
‘And my brother …’ began George William uneasily.
‘Well, we might try the Emperor first; and if we get his consent, then we can begin to consider where your brother comes into this.’
‘Let us try it,’ cried Eléonore with shining eyes.
Duke Anton Ulrich turned to her; he respected her drive and determination far more than he did her husband’s. George William, he decided, had grown soft over the years. He was more enamoured of peace and quiet than perhaps it was good for a man to be.
Anton Ulrich’s suggestion proved a good one. The Emperor had no desire to put anything in the way of the marriage, providing the two brothers could work out an amicable solution.
Ernest Augustus sat long with his lawyers. It was difficult to oppose the marriage since the Emperor was agreeable; but he was going to see that his interests were well looked after.
Messengers went back and forth between Osnabrück and Celle, and at last a document was drawn up in which Ernest Augustus agreed that George William should be joined in holy matrimony with Eléonore von Harburg, the Countess of Wilhelmsburg; and that their daughter should bear the arms of a Princess of Brunswick-Lüneberg.
But there was uneasiness at Osnabrück as great as there were rejoicings at Celle, where the most elaborate arrangements were made for the celebrating of the wedding.
And there in the church at Celle amidst glittering ceremony George William led Eléonore to the altar; and they were solemnly married.
Duke Anton Ulrich, with an important following from his own court, was present; so was the rather bewildered Sophia Dorothea, who was enjoying an experience denied to many – being present at her parents’ marriage.
Everyone was happy and Eléonore radiant; she had achieved success at last. Her daughter a Princess; herself a legitimate wife.
When she saw the children together – her beloved daughter and Anton Ulrich’s son – she exulted. Anton Ulrich had proved himself to be a good friend to her and when the houses of Celle and Wolfenbüttel were joined they would be far more powerful than the court at Osnabrück.
Even on such a day she must recall her enemies and when she thought of them it was not Ernest Augustus whom she dreaded but Sophia.
But this was a day for rejoicing. A day of triumph and perfect happiness.
Her triumph was even greater when the Emperor Leopold came to the neighbourhood and Eléonore was presented to him. He was charmed by her; he was delighted with her success; and he bestowed upon her the title of Duchess of Celle.
Now she had everything. There was nothing more to fear. She was invulnerable; no one would dare cast slights at her again.
But the Duchess Sophia was going to lose no opportunity of keeping the newly created Duchess of Celle where she, Sophia, considered she belonged.
Clara Triumphant
CLARA VON PLATEN was awaiting her opportunity; she had no doubt that when it came she would step right into the place she had chosen for herself even before she had come to Osnabrück. Having married Platen she was committed to Osnabrück; there could now be no packing of bags and going on to seek her fortune. Why should she? Although she had had to wait longer than she had first thought, she was very near now to her dream’s fulfilment.
The court at Osnabrück was suited to her taste. It seemed that every petty Duke and Princeling imagined himself to be a Grand Monarque. Louis had a great deal to answer for! Everywhere there were attempts to turn German castles into palaces of Versailles, and the glitter and allure of the French Court – albeit that Louis was an enemy – was slavishly imitated. There were fireworks displays, masques, banquets, plays in the gardens and the great halls. When news seeped through that this and that had been done at Versailles, sure enough there would be an attempt to produce it at Osnabrück or Hanover where Duke John Frederick, the third brother, now reigned. In fact, John Frederick was the biggest Frankophile of them all. He had even become a Catholic, had put up statues in the gardens of the Palace at Hanover, commanded that Mass be sung in the churches and invited French singers and dancers to be his guests.
Ernest Augustus did not go so far as that, but he had his love of ostentation. He could not afford to spend as lavishly as John Frederick because he had a large family of six sons and one daughter, whereas John Frederick had no son and of his four daughters only two were living. George William was the only brother who did not set out to make a small Versailles of his castle; and this was strange considering he had a French wife. All was good taste and charm at Celle in contrast to the often vulgar displays of Osnabrück and Hanover.
But Clara was pleased with the manner in which the Osnabrück court was conducted. She herself loved display; and she did not forget that it was due to the fact that she and her sister had recently come from France that they had been given an opportunity to display their talents.
Now as waiting woman to the Duchess Sophia she had an occasional opportunity to study her quarry. Ernest Augustus pleased her. He was a man of lusty appetites and she would know how to satisfy them. Her sensuality was second only to her ambition; and she did not see why she should not indulge the former while serving the latter. Once Ernest Augustus had tried her, her fortune would be made; for she would make sure that he should discover her to be unique. The experience must be such as he had never enjoyed before. But how make sure of that? If his eyes rested on her lightly as they had done on the unfortunate Esther – unfortunate because Clara had decided that her reign would soon be over – he would make up his mind that here was another of his light o’ loves and that would be all she could ever hope to be. A man had to be made aware that he was getting something special before he would believe he was.
‘How?’ she asked herself.
She would wear some entirely French and exciting garment. Yes, that – but clothes were not enough. She had to seduce his mind before she seduced his body.
For this purpose during those first weeks in the service of the Duchess Sophia, she actually kept out of Ernest Augustus’s way; and instead ingratiated herself with Duchess Sophia.
An intelligent woman, thought Sophia. Discreet and oddly modest. She complimented Platen on his marriage; and remarked to Ernest Augustus that George Lewis’s governor was cleverer than she had thought.
Ernest Augustus while commenting that he had not made such a good job of George Lewis, fairly admitted that he doubted whether anyone could. He was glad that she had a high opinion of Platen because he was thinking of making a minister of him. A quiet efficient fellow – those were the sort he liked to have about him.
This was triumph, Clara decided, as well as a sign for her to go forward, and when Platen received his promotion she insisted on hearing everything that took place. She was astute, shrewd and single-minded; and she was working to one end, to attract Ernest Augustus and to set up in Osnabrück that institution which was so much a part of the admired Court of France, the maîtresse en titre. Clara was yearning for that role – the woman who by wit, charm, brains and beauty, ruled the King and therefore ruled the country.
It was naturally simpler here than it would have been at Versailles. There were no rivals for one thing. Silly little girls who giggled together about what had happened to them in the Bishop’s bedchamber were welcome to their brief triumph.