Struensee's power had grown rapidly; he had undermined the Government; and all the time he was working towards that goal which was to rule Denmark. The King was almost as much under his spell as Caroline Matilda was; this was evident when Count von Hoick fell from favour. Who else but Struensee could have brought that about? The man fascinated the royal pair equally. He became Master of Requests and later a Cabinet Minister; and following on that his rise was so rapid that it was said that an order from him carried more weight than one from the King. He took the title of Count; he filled the cabinet with his own creatures; he had climbed where he wished to, but his political ambition would never be entirely satisfied until he was to all intents and purposes the ruler of Denmark.
He had not taken into consideration the people's reaction. Who was this adventurer? they had asked. What right had he to set himself up? A doctor who had pleased the King and because the King was a near imbecile and the Queen a wanton he would rule the land!
We should have seen the disaster, thought Caroline Matilda. The writing on the wall was very plain. Had Christian seen it? One could never tell what penetrated his clouded mind. But he had been kinder to her since Struensee had become her lover. He showed no objection to their intimacy; in fact at times she had believed he encouraged it. He had told her that they should have another child and this was true. So she had sacrificed herself, stayed away from her lover, been a wife to Christian until she became pregnant again.
It was after this that she noticed the change in Struensee. His caresses were mechanical. He was concerned with power, not with a woman. Naturally everyone was suspicious at the birth of little Louisa Augusta.
"The King's?" asked the people openly. "Or Struensee's?”
During those first months after the child's birth she had not cared so deeply that Struensee was no longer her ardent lover. She had her baby, and the child, with little Frederick, absorbed her. She had begun to think that with her children she could be happiest and she was beginning to suspect that Struensee's deep feelings had been more for the Queen than the woman.
She should have been prepared. Riots in the streets. Lewd placards about the Queen and her lover.
And in the Court plots to remove Struensee. He was more long-sighted than she was, and saw the danger coming. She remembered the occasion when he came to her and told her that he believed he should leave the country.
"Why ?" she had demanded. "Would you desert me?”
That brought forth protestations of devotion. He would never leave her while she needed him, but... "Then you will stay here," she told him coolly.
"There are wild rumours," he replied. "They are saying that you and I intend to put the King away, to set up a Regency and take control together.”
"Well," she had replied, 'are they wrong?”
He could not understand her. She was no longer his devoted mistress. She had remembered, since the birth of her child, that she was a queen. He was responsible for the change in their relationship, she told herself. Had he never shown during that period when he thought he could do without her that love for her had its roots in the power she could bring to him, she would not have changed.
It was hardly likely that Juliana Maria would stand by and do nothing. She had her own son Frederick to consider. Some time before she had gone to Fredensborg from where she watched events at Court with great concentration. She was surrounded by supporters; and there she had plotted.
In the Christiansberg Palace a masked ball was being held. Caroline Matilda and Struensee were dancing together when the conspirators entered. Conspirators! They would call themselves the patriots. Their schemes had matured in the apartments of Juliana Maria; and the people were with them. Struensee was arrested. She saw him carried off under her eyes; but she had not believed that they would dare touch her.
She had cried: "I am the Queen. Take your hands from me.”
But they took no heed of her orders and struggling she was carried away and no one in the great hall attempted to prevent this outrage. Her first thoughts were for her children. She begged not to be parted from them. They had become more important to her than anything else. The guards considered and at length her little daughter was brought to her. Her son Frederick was not allowed to see her; he was the Crown Prince and belonged to the state. But at least she had Louisa. And so they had brought her to the prison on the Sound and the days of captivity had begun.
What was happening in Copenhagen, in Frederiksberg, in London? she wondered; and her thoughts dwelt on London. George would hear what was happening to her and he would never allow these people to treat a sister of his in this way.
She had wanted to scream at them: "Do you realize that I am the sister of the King of England?”
But she had remained silent. She would get messages to him; and he would never desert her.
People might laugh at George, say he was simple, respectably bourgeois, but he was kind and he would never desert his sister.
What frightening days she endured in prison when she had heard news of Struensee's trial; when they tortured him and under torture he confessed to his intrigue with her all the details, the private intimate details; and she knew that they did not wish to incriminate him only, but her. They wanted to take her out of this prison to her execution. They wanted to humiliate her, to kill her.
And they had brought to her her lover's confession. Is this true? they demanded. And she regarded them silently. It was true. She had loved this man; there had been a time when nothing in the world had been important to her but him; and now they had him under restraint; the penalty for his sins was horrible death.
She had cried: "The fault is mine. I take the blame." And that had pleased them; that was what they had wanted her to say. So they had brought their case against her; she was to be divorced from the King; her lover was to die ... barbarously. And herself? What of herself?
She had waited for news of her lover's death. There was no news; and one April day she was overcome by a terrible melancholy; and she said to herself : "This is the day.”
Later she heard that she was right. She shuddered to think of the torturing of that once handsome body; she could not shut out of her mind the thought of his corpse. And herself. What of herself?
Her only hope lay with George.
**** George paced up and down his mother's apartment.
"What do you think they will do to her, eh, what? Are they planning to execute her as they did Struensee?”
"We cannot allow it," said the Princess Dowager.
"No, we will not allow it. Caroline Matilda." George's eyes grew soft. His little sister who was so bright and pretty. Something must be done to save her.
"I will speak to North," he said. "We must delay no longer. Who knows what these Danes will do next. We must prove to them the might of England, eh?”
"How I wish this marriage had never taken place.”
"And I" agreed George. "But what can we do? Can we leave our women unmarried ... spinsters, eh? What? Not a good prospect for them. And so few Protestant sovereigns in Europe.”
"None could be worse than this Christian. A lunatic, George. Nothing more. My poor, poor daughter.”
The Princess Dowager had become a little more sentimental since she felt so ill. Now she was thinking of Caroline Matilda, her youngest, the posthumous child of the Prince of Wales. She remembered so well those months when she had awaited the child's birth and dear Lord Bute had been waiting too. When Caroline Matilda had come into the world, the Princess Dowager had ceased to mourn for her husband; then she had turned happily to Lord Bute. This had happened all those years ago; and now this daughter of hers was in great trouble; and she felt too ill to listen, to care as she should have done.