‘If only I had not been such a fool …’ sighed George William, sitting on the bed and staring at the tips of his boots.

Eléonore sat beside him and slipped her arm through his. How often had she heard him say those words! He meant them sincerely; but this situation demanded more than words.

‘There is one who, would he but give his word, could make it possible for us to marry.’

‘You mean …’

‘Your brother Ernest Augustus.’

‘But …’

‘We would take nothing from him. We might even pay for his consent. That should attract him. If he would release you from your promise not to marry, that is all we would ask – and if he did release you, then nothing would stand in our way. We could marry, Sophia Dorothea would be legitimized … and that is all we would ask.’

‘You think he would?’

‘Not easily. He would have to be heavily bribed, I doubt not. But your brother the Bishop is very … bribable.’

‘Do you propose that I should go and talk to him? My dearest, I have hinted it a thousand times.’

‘No, let us send Chancellor Schütz. He is a loyal minister and will make a good ambassador. Let him sound your brother, and if we fail …’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘if we fail … oh, my love, how could I have been such a fool!’

‘You were not a fool. How much worse it would have been if you had married Sophia.’

‘God forbid.’

‘How much more difficult our position would have been then. No, do not reproach yourself, my love. What is done is done. It is the future with which we have to concern ourselves. And if this fails then we will try something else. If I have to plead with the Emperor himself, I intend to have my daughter recognized as legitimately yours.’

‘You will succeed, my love. Do you not always?’

Eléonore was determined to, and soon after Anton Ulrich rode away from Celle, assured that Sophia Dorothea would be legitimized by the time she was of marriageable age, and that George William’s wealth which was increasing year by year, would be hers, Schütz left too, and his destination was Osnabrück.

Sophia was seated with her six maids of honour embroidering an altar cloth, for she had never approved of idleness. One of the maids read aloud as they worked, for, decreed Sophia, although the fingers were busy the mind should also be occupied.

In actual fact she was paying little attention to what was read, for her thoughts darted from one thing to another. Was the allowance of one hundred thalers given to these maids of honour too much? The household accounts which she examined herself were always a shock to her. The tirewomen, the chambermaids and the maids of honour … to think of a few, were so costly. And then, more so than ever, the gentlemen of the household. That was Ernest Augustus’s affair, but this was one characteristic they shared; they both deplored the high cost of the household. But since George had returned to Celle and set up his elegant Frenchified court there, the court at Osnabrück must have some standing.

It was perfectly easy to see, Sophia had pointed out to Ernest Augustus, that George William wanted visitors to go to his castle and think of him as the head of the house. And since they would find Celle so much grander than Osnabrück, they would begin to get it into their heads that Celle was the leading court of the house of Brunswick. Hence, Osnabrück must vie with Celle – and a costly business it was. Cupbearers, chamberlains, gentlemen-in-waiting – and the thalers mounting up.

In addition there were the nursery expenses. Over the last years the inhabitants of this important part of the household had increased. George Lewis, now eleven years old, and Frederick Augustus aged ten, had been joined by Maximilian William, now five, Sophia Charlotte, three, and Charles Philip, two. They must have their governors, tutors, fencing masters, dancing masters and pages as well as their attendants.

Thalers, thalers, whichever way one looked, thought Sophia.

She sighed and said: ‘That’s enough.’

The maid of honour who had been reading, promptly closed the book and Sophia, setting aside her needlework and signing to another of the maids of honour to put it away, left them and went to the nursery.

She was rather anxious about that eldest son of hers. He was intelligent enough, but so unattractive. His brother Frederick Augustus was charming in comparison and Sophia secretly wished that he had been the elder.

She found George Lewis, instead of sitting at his lesson books, directing a campaign across the schoolroom table – his brother Frederick Augustus in the role of opposing general. Little Max William and Sophia Charlotte had evidently been assigned other rôles in the campaign and, poor little mites, they did not appear to be enjoying them.

Frederick Augustus sprang to his feet when his mother entered and made the courtly bow which he had been taught; but Sophia’s eyes were on George Lewis, whose brown face had flushed a little as he lumbered awkwardly towards her, and clumsily made his acknowledgment.

Sophia made a note: I must speak to Platen about him.

‘Where is your Governor Platen?’ she asked.

George Lewis shook his head implying that he did not know.

‘Do not shake your head at me, sir. Have you no tongue?’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘Have what?’ demanded Sophia.

‘A tongue.’

‘Should you not give me some title when you address me?’

‘Yes … Madam.’

‘I am glad you deign to do so. I never saw such manners. And what is this game you are playing?’

‘I am a general,’ piped up Frederick Augustus. ‘You see, Mother, my men are facing those of George Lewis but I fear he has manoeuvred his forces into the better position.’

‘It is a pity he cannot manoeuvre his manners a little more expertly.’ Sophia gave a loud laugh. ‘I want to see Platen. You go and find him and take him to the antechamber. I will be there shortly.’

Frederick Augustus went off and Sophia gazed in dismay at her eldest son who continued to stare down at his feet. ‘George Lewis,’ she said impatiently, ‘why do you stand there? Why don’t you say something?’

‘What do you want me to say?’ he mumbled.

Sophia Charlotte had toddled up to her mother pulling Charles Philip with her; and Max William was waiting hopefully for his share of her attention.

‘I want you to say something which will tell us that you are not the complete oaf and boor you seem to be.’

She turned to Sophia Charlotte.

‘Mamma …’ said Sophia, her pretty face flushed with excitement. Sophia picked her up. How pretty she was! and Charles Philip was pulling at her gown too.

Sophia sat down and took the young ones on her lap while Max William sidled up.

‘Well, my son,’ said Sophia, ‘what were you doing in the campaign?’

‘I was a general … a little one.’

‘And you have left the battle?’

He rubbed his finger on the soft material of her skirt and smiled up at her shyly.

‘Perhaps that is because you were only a little general, my son.’

Max William lifted his shoulders and laughed childishly. Sophia laughed with him; and the little ones joined in.

They were delightful, these children of hers … all except George Lewis who had no manners, no grace; he had now gone back to the table and was moving the toy soldiers there with a concentration that meant to imply he found them more interesting than anything else in the room.

He should be whipped, thought Sophia indignantly. He was a boor. How had it happened? His tutors and governors were to blame. But were they? She had told Ernest Augustus that she was beginning to suspect no one could make anything of George Lewis.

When he had been a baby she used to say she loved him because he was so ugly. It was amusing perhaps for a baby to be ugly, but when the baby grew up and became an uncouth, ill-mannered boy that was another matter.

Frederick Augustus came back and said that their governor was awaiting the Duchess’s instructions and was in the antechamber when she wished to see him. So Sophia took leave of the children and went to join their governor.

Baron Frank Ernest von Platen was a mild man, but an ambitious one, determined to raise himself in the royal household. He saw an opportunity of doing this when he was appointed to the post of governor to the children of the reigning house. Being cautious he had become wealthy, and Ernest Augustus was inclined to favour him.

‘Ah,’ said Sophia, ‘so here you are.’

‘At your service, madam.’

‘I want to talk to you very seriously about George Lewis.’

Platen looked grave.

‘You may well look as you do. I find his progress most unsatisfactory.’

‘He is not as bad as he seems, Madam.’

‘I hope not, for then I should despair; but it is necessary for a Prince to appear better than he is … not worse. Don’t you agree?’

‘I am in complete agreement.’

‘And yet this pupil of yours is a boor without the grace to behave with ordinary good manners.’

‘Madam, he is George Lewis. If he makes up his mind to act in a certain way then he will do it. Let me say this, that his knowledge of military history is good; that I am sure he has great courage. But there are some subjects in which he has no interest. And he refuses to try to excel in light conversation.’

‘He is eleven years old. I should not have thought it was for him to lay down rules as to what he should and should not do.’

‘He is a Prince, Madam. Already he knows his mind.’

‘Then he will have to learn, will he not, that it is not his place to make decisions?’