Fritz suffered most from the King. Why the boy didn’t turn on his father astonished her. He could have put up a good fight, but he meekly accepted abuse and violence and longed for escape. Perhaps it was because this fearsome husband of hers was the King that they were afraid of him—all, of course, except Sophia Dorothea.

She smiled, remembering those occasions when he had come at her, arms uplifted, eyes ablaze with rage; and she would defy him, or perhaps pick up whatever object was nearest preparing to throw it at him—on one occasion there had been a knife. He had laughed at her, spat at her, kicked her stool across the room, and shouted: ‘You ... you with your puny strength! So you would fight me!’ Then he would laugh as though the idea was too ludicrous to be treated seriously, and stride out of the room.

One thing she knew; he would never harm her. She was too important to him. In his way he loved her, odd as that might seem. And she—well at least she would find life dull without him.

He supplied the excitement in her life; but to her children she was tender and loving; and because they had such a father, they turned to her and were devoted to her.

She was contented; she had her wild mad husband who, she knew, could no more do without her than she could without him; and her two beloved children. There was no fear of the King’s encroaching on the affection they gave her. They loathed him. As for him he didn’t want love from them, only fear. He spoke of them to their mother with contempt. ‘Your daughter, Madam. Your Fritz.’ As thought he had had no part in producing them.

Dear to her heart was her double marriage plan and she believed this would have come to fruition by now if her father had lived. But when George I died, the plan had been shelved, although he had promised that when he next came to Berlin his grandson Frederick should be betrothed to Wilhelmina and Fritz to Amelia. It would have been perfect. The cousins would have been well matched. She would have welcomed Amelia to Berlin; and she was sure that Caroline and George would have welcomed Wilhelmina to England.

And then unexpectedly her father had died, and of course the King of Prussia and the King of England hated each other.

Her brother—strange to think of George Augustus as the King of England—had always been a conceited little popinjay; and he could have his violent moments too. She laughed, remembering how he used to kick his wig round the room in moments of rage. But she did not remember his ever attacking anyone, so perhaps Caroline and his children were safe in that respect. And by all accounts Caroline knew how to manage him. She had always known Caroline was a clever woman from the days when she had first come to Hanover as her brother’s bride. They had liked each other then, but their acquaintance had been brief because very soon after the marriage of George Augustus and Caroline, she herself had married and come to Berlin.

In England Wilhelmina would be happier than in Berlin, for she could trust her daughter with Caroline, and Frederick by all accounts was a young man rather like his father had been. If Wilhelmina was clever she would manage Frederick as Caroline managed George Augustus.

Therefore the Queen gave immediate audience to Lamotte and when he stated his case she told him that nothing could please her more than to further this match; she would see her daughter at once and point out to her her good fortune.


* * *

‘Wilhelmina, my child.’

The Queen came quietly into her daughter’s apartment.

‘Oh, Mother!’ Wilhelmina rose and embraced the Queen. She was a tall girl, not beautiful, yet by no means plain; she had a bright intelligent face and at the moment it was softened by the tenderness she always showed towards her mother.

‘You are excited,’ said Wilhelmina, looking into her mother’s face. ‘What has happened?’

‘Such news! I am delighted. Oh, my poor sweet child, how it has grieved me to see you suffer.’

‘Oh ... father?’ said Wilhelmina with a shrug. ‘That is nothing new.’

‘I am always afraid that one day he will kill either you or Fritz.’

‘I don’t think so, Mother. We are after all good bargaining counters. I think he would remember that in time.’

The Queen shuddered. ‘His rages are terrible. It would not surprise me if you are longing for the day you will escape from them.’

‘Escape?’

‘Well, my darling, you will marry one day.’

‘I suppose so.’

The Queen smiled. ‘And perhaps that day is not far distant. There is one young man who is most impatient.’ ‘Who, Mother?’

‘Your cousin Frederick, of course.’

‘I ... I was afraid you were going to say that.’

‘Afraid?’

‘I know there was once a plan and that when my grandfather came here it was discussed.’

‘If he hadn’t died you would be married by now. I’ll swear.’

‘I don’t know, Mother. Sometimes I think even grandfather wasn’t eager for the marriages.’

‘My dear, he was just bargaining with your father. He wanted a bigger dowry for you.’

Wilhelmina looked relieved. ‘That is something he will never get from father.’

‘Your father will have to do his duty.’

‘I didn’t know that he ever did that. He does what he wants not what is his duty.’

‘Your father!’ Sophia Dorothea raised her hands in an expression of incomprehension.

‘Since he grudges me my food it is scarcely likely that he will provide me with a dowry. And if I shall not be accepted without ...’

‘You despair too easily, my dear.’

‘I don’t know that I would call it despair. I do not wish to leave you, Mother.’

‘My dearest! But Princesses cannot stay forever with their mothers. You will have to marry in time and your cousin Frederick is a very impatient young man. He declares he is in love with you and refuses to wait any longer.’

‘Since he has never seen me, the first seems unlikely; and as he is not in a position to decide whether or not he will marry the second seems equally so.’

‘I have not explained. He has sent a messenger to tell me he proposes to come to Berlin and if your father will not consent, to carry you off.’

‘It sounds as though he is a very foolish young man.’ ‘He is a romantic young man who is in love.’

‘With a woman he has never seen?’

‘With his cousin of whom he will have heard a great deal. Wilhelmina, this is your chance. You will one day be Queen of England. Think of that.’

‘And never see you again?’

‘I shall visit you there.’

‘Papa will never allow the expense.’

‘And you shall visit us here.’

‘That would cost money too.’

‘Don’t be so glum, child. This is a wonderful opportunity. You will marry. You will leave this place. Oh, my dear, when I see the way your father treats you I could long for the day ... much as I shall hate parting with you. But you will have a good life. You will manage Frederick as Caroline manages your uncle. All you have to allow him to do is have his mistresses. He’ll ask nothing more. And you will go to your Aunt Caroline who is a sensible woman. I know that. I liked her when we were at Hanover together. She will tell you how to manage Frederick as she manages your uncle.’

‘It is not my idea of marriage, Mother.’

‘Oh, romantic notions! I should have thought life here would have long stifled those.’

‘Rather they have encouraged them. All marriages can’t be like yours and father’s.’

‘And you want one which is not like ours?’

‘As unlike as possible.’

The Queen sighed. ‘My darling, you are wise in so many ways; it is only experience you lack. I tell you this: I am delighted with the prospect. And the fact that Frederick is impatient for the marriage pleases me more than anything else. Wilhelmina, I am so delighted. I shall at last see you settled and happy and at the same time see all my wishes realized. What greater joy could I ask. Why, you are crying.’

‘It is the thought of leaving you, Mother.’

They embraced and Wilhelmina tried to hide the misgivings she felt. She tried to set aside her doubts as she listened to her mother’s explanations of what a glorious prospect lay before her.

This was such a cherished dream of Sophia Dorothea’s, and Wilhelmina longed to please her mother.


* * *

The King came in while they were talking together.

He looked at them through his little bloodshot eyes and cried out: ‘What plot’s this, eh? You look sly. Out with it. Your girl had better tell me what she has been up to, woman, or by God I’ll flay her till there’s no breath left in that slothful body of hers.’

‘We were merely discussing a little project.’ retorted Sophia Dorothea, always pert with him because to have showed fear would have put her into the position her son and daughter were in. ‘And I fancy even your high and mightiness might not be displeased with this one.’

‘Do you think she would ever please me? She sits about this place eating my food, drinking my wine. By God, when I think of what she costs me I wonder I keep her. Come here, girl.’

Wilhelmina stood up. She was defiant, her mother noticed and that was better than cringing.

Her father seized her by her hair and shook her to and fro. Wilhelmina’s face was scarlet but she kept her eyes lowered.

‘Don’t be impudent you slut, you whore, you lily livered spawn of a ...’

He looked at his wife.

‘Of a madman,’ said Sophia Dorothea to turn his attention from her daughter to herself.

It succeeded; he released Wilhelmina, throwing her from him so that she fell to the floor. Sophia Dorothea saw that she was unharmed. She and her brother had had long practice in falling where their father threw them. Sophia Dorothea said quickly: ‘Go to your own apartments.’ The girl hesitated. Why would both she and Fritz think they had to protect her from their father. Didn’t they know yet that she could manage him.