Before they could get him to his bed he had died.
‘So,’ said the Duchess Sophia, ‘John Frederick is dead. At least he died like a good German – with a glass in his hand. And because he is dead, Hanover is ours.’
It was true. John Frederick had left no male heirs and because George William had signed away his birthright, Hanover with all its riches fell to Ernest Augustus.
Sophia was delighted. There was no point now in staying in little Osnabrück. The court moved into the Hanover Palace with as little loss of time as possible.
‘Hanover is yours,’ said Clara, lightly running her fingers over her lover’s body. ‘Now you will have a setting worthy of your state.’
‘I’ll admit,’ Ernest Augustus told her, ‘that it is going to suit us better than Osnabrück.’
‘The Duke of Hanover!’ cooed Clara. ‘I fancy you will like that title better than Bishop of Osnabrück.’
‘I was never meant to be a Bishop.’
‘So, my dear, it would seem.’
‘Nonsense, the Popes had their ladies.’
‘They were wise men.’
‘And self indulgent.’
‘Aren’t we all?’
He was silent for a while savouring her caresses. He was becoming more and more devoted to Clara. She was different from any other woman he had known.
‘George Lewis will have to leave the army now,’ said Ernest Augustus.
‘Oh yes, he must certainly be present when you are crowned Duke of Hanover.’
‘He is growing up. Scarce a boy any longer.’
‘In a year he’ll be twenty-one.’ Clara was thoughtful. When George Lewis came home he would be a power in the land.
When Clara called at her sister’s apartments, Marie greeted her warmly; her husband was receiving many favours due to the fact that Clara had become Ernest Augustus’s mistress; and Marie who had always obeyed her sister, knew that she must do so even more zealously than ever.
‘I see all is well with you,’ said Clara, ‘and that you are enjoying the married state.’
Marie nodded, and Clara regarded her complacently. She was very pretty. Far prettier, thought Clara, than I could ever be. But I have something more useful. Brains, the ability to see ahead and grasp the advantage before it is too late and someone else has seen it and taken it.
‘John is a good husband?’ asked Clara.
‘Very good. We were lucky to go to the fête as we did and meet our husbands …’ Marie stopped, wondering what the relationship between Clara and hers could be at this time, for everyone knew she was Ernest Augustus’s mistress.
‘Very lucky,’ agreed Clara. ‘But luck is seizing opportunities, and it doesn’t stay with you because you are special favourites. Oh no. You have to work for it.’
‘You have worked very hard, Clara.’
‘There must be no complacency. Every day Ernest Augustus relies more and more on me.’
‘And Frank?’
‘Frank! Don’t be so absurd. He gets as much out of this as anyone, so of course he is content.’
Marie opened her blue eyes very wide. After all the years we were together and I tried to instil a little sense in her, thought Clara in exasperation, she is still an innocent.
‘It is your turn, now dear,’ went on Clara.
‘Mine?’
‘That’s what I said. The Crown Prince is coming to Hanover for the coronation.’
‘I expected he would.’
‘You can depend upon it that some clever woman at the court will know how to get her talons into him.’
‘He likes women, so …’
‘Yes, that’s a good point. He’ll be important. He is nearly twenty-one; and that means that he will have a say in government. He’ll be brought up to rule. Now will be the time. He must be with us. I wouldn’t want someone working against me in Hanover.’
‘You think he will?’
‘No, because he’ll be stopped.’
‘You’ll stop him?’
‘Don’t be obtuse. How can I when Ernest Augustus is my affair. George Lewis will be yours.’
‘Mine! I don’t understand.’
‘Don’t be so childish. You’re very pretty so it’ll present no difficulties … He’ll be willing enough. And it isn’t to be the affair of a night or two either. You must see to that.’
‘But Clara …!’
‘Don’t play the innocent. You knew that we came to Osnabrück to make ourselves agreeable.’
‘But there is John …’
‘He will understand as Frank does. Believe me, Frank thought he should protest at first. I soon silenced him and he saw where his own advantages lay. I’ll deal with your John if you can’t yourself. But not a word until it is a certainty. Now when the Crown Prince comes to Hanover you must be ready. You must give him no chance to stray elsewhere. He is young and therefore may be impressionable. Be prepared.’
‘Clara …’
Clara took her sister by the wrist and twisted her arm quite gently, but it was a reminder of punishments inflicted when Marie was a child, and meant that she must go on obeying Clara as she always had, for to disobey could bring unpleasant consequences.
Marie was weak and without morals. Such an adventure as was being suggested had its interest, and if she need not worry about her husband’s reactions, and if she could enjoy an intrigue and feel that she was helping her family, she was not really averse to the idea.
George Lewis was riding sullenly towards Hanover. He had no wish to return there. He knew that he would dislike court life and the court of Hanover would necessarily be so much more grand than that of Osnabrück. Dancing, mincing in and out of levies, playing the courtier!
George Lewis uttered a coarse expletive. Being so much with the army had made him coarse. But he was at home with his soldiers and popular enough with them for he was at his best in camp where men had come to respect him; he was intrepid and never asked of his soldiers what he would not do himself; in fact he was always one to take the first and biggest risk. He could be relied on, although he was so young, and he was known to be just. That was the life for him. Even his father had complimented him when he had fought at Consarbrück. And Maestricht and Charleroy were battles with which he was remembered.
On the battlefield he was a leader of men; he knew it and they knew it; and his vanity was gratified. It was only when he was at court, with people who fought each other with words, that he was at a loss and the brave soldier became an uncouth boor.
To hell with their clever phrases, their tricky jokes. He wanted none of that. He liked to sit on a bank surrounded by men, eating sausages and black bread and talking about the battle: how it had been fought, how it might have been fought; where they had shown cunning; where they had faltered; talking too of the women they would have. That was a man’s life. No dancing in the French fashion; no titillating conversation, no hiding behind fans, showing shocked surprise as though it were not known towards what end everything was leading. A waste of time, thought George Lewis. Why indulge in that? There was the woman and the man. They both knew for what purpose they were together. Therefore get on with it without preamble. He had no doubts of his abilities in actual performance; it was all the stupid gyrations, all the overtures and innuendoes, all the advancing and retreating, all the pretty manners, in which he failed.
And why worry about that, for of what use were they? They were all directed towards the same end and if it could be reached without bother, why go through them like performing animals?
That was what George Lewis told himself when he rode to Hanover. There would be plenty of women and that was all that mattered.
But when his horse was taken from him and he entered the Palace and he was aware of the Frenchified atmosphere he quailed, and his expression became more sullen than ever. He tripped over a tabouret which in his annoyance he had not seen, and cursing with a soldier’s oath he kicked it across the room.