Read Online The Third George: (Georgian Series) by Jean Plaidy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jean Plaidy
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unable to think, scenes from this eventful day darting in and out of her mind. She saw herself entering the brightly lighted salon; she heard again her brother’s impatient voice; she was lying on the couch; she could feel the cold touch of the Englishman’s flesh against her own.
And through it all she saw the brooding unhappy eyes of Christina.
I believe, she thought, frightened as I am of what the future may hold, I shall not be sorry to go.
*
There was one more day of ceremony and then she left Strelitz. For ever, she thought, and she knew in her heart that it would be so.
Farewell, brother, she thought, you who are so glad to see me go. Farewell Christina, my poor broken-hearted sister.
Her brother embraced her with a show of that new affection. Affection for a crown rather than a sister, she thought cynically.
‘You are going to a new country, sister. You are going to be a queen, but never forget you are a German; never forget your homeland.’
She knew what that meant. If ever she had an opportunity to bring good to Mecklenburg-Strelitz she must never neglect to do so.
‘You are the most illustrious member of the family now,’ he told her with a smile.
And goodbye Christina. Forgive me for what I have done to you … for if I had not written that letter it would have been your marriage we should have been celebrating. Of course there would not have been those thousands of candles; there would not have been the ceremonies; but you would have gone to your bridegroom so willingly and with such joy, whereas I go to mine …
But she had promised herself that she would not think of what awaited her in that remote land.
Mademoiselle von Schwellenburg’s importance was growing hourly. The Queen must have this … must do that. She seemed to proclaim constantly: I am serving the Queen. No one in the Queen’s retinue is as important as her dresser Schwellenburg; and both poor Haggerdorn and Albert seemed to agree with her.
Everyone was talking anxiously of the weather – none moreso than the Duke, who lived in terror that something would happen to delay his sister’s departure for England.
The day was overcast and inclined to be stormy when the cavalcade, consisting of thirty coaches, set out, and as they rode through the countryside the people from the villages came out to see them pass and gape in wonder, for it was a new experience to see a wedding procession and far more welcome than the soldiers to whom they were accustomed.
Charlotte took her last look at the schloss, trying to forget what she was leaving behind and to choke back the lump in her throat. She must smile all the while and speak gaily when anyone addressed her. Those were her brother’s orders. She must not offend the English by letting them think that her great good fortune in marrying their kind did not make up for all the bereavements she had suffered.
She would feel better, she told herself, when she reached Stade, for there she would meet the English party who had crossed the seas for the purpose of escorting her to her new country; once she was on the boat she would really feel that she had left the past behind.
As the party rode into Stade the wind was blowing fiercely but the bells were ringing and the cannons were firing in her honour.
Charlotte looked up at the lowering sky and said to Schwellenburg, ‘We shall never embark in weather like this.’
‘It would be most unpleasant, Your Majesty, and unsafe.’
‘So we have a little longer in Germany.’
Charlotte sighed, uncertain whether to be pleased or sorry. At one moment she longed to get on, to come face to face with her bridegroom; but the next she was hoping to be able to postpone the encounter.
They had come to rest at a small schloss where they would spend the night; and as Lord Harcourt came to help her from her carriage he told her that the party from England had arrived and were waiting to greet her.
As she stepped inside the schloss she saw them waiting
And through it all she saw the brooding unhappy eyes of Christina.
I believe, she thought, frightened as I am of what the future may hold, I shall not be sorry to go.
*
There was one more day of ceremony and then she left Strelitz. For ever, she thought, and she knew in her heart that it would be so.
Farewell, brother, she thought, you who are so glad to see me go. Farewell Christina, my poor broken-hearted sister.
Her brother embraced her with a show of that new affection. Affection for a crown rather than a sister, she thought cynically.
‘You are going to a new country, sister. You are going to be a queen, but never forget you are a German; never forget your homeland.’
She knew what that meant. If ever she had an opportunity to bring good to Mecklenburg-Strelitz she must never neglect to do so.
‘You are the most illustrious member of the family now,’ he told her with a smile.
And goodbye Christina. Forgive me for what I have done to you … for if I had not written that letter it would have been your marriage we should have been celebrating. Of course there would not have been those thousands of candles; there would not have been the ceremonies; but you would have gone to your bridegroom so willingly and with such joy, whereas I go to mine …
But she had promised herself that she would not think of what awaited her in that remote land.
Mademoiselle von Schwellenburg’s importance was growing hourly. The Queen must have this … must do that. She seemed to proclaim constantly: I am serving the Queen. No one in the Queen’s retinue is as important as her dresser Schwellenburg; and both poor Haggerdorn and Albert seemed to agree with her.
Everyone was talking anxiously of the weather – none moreso than the Duke, who lived in terror that something would happen to delay his sister’s departure for England.
The day was overcast and inclined to be stormy when the cavalcade, consisting of thirty coaches, set out, and as they rode through the countryside the people from the villages came out to see them pass and gape in wonder, for it was a new experience to see a wedding procession and far more welcome than the soldiers to whom they were accustomed.
Charlotte took her last look at the schloss, trying to forget what she was leaving behind and to choke back the lump in her throat. She must smile all the while and speak gaily when anyone addressed her. Those were her brother’s orders. She must not offend the English by letting them think that her great good fortune in marrying their kind did not make up for all the bereavements she had suffered.
She would feel better, she told herself, when she reached Stade, for there she would meet the English party who had crossed the seas for the purpose of escorting her to her new country; once she was on the boat she would really feel that she had left the past behind.
As the party rode into Stade the wind was blowing fiercely but the bells were ringing and the cannons were firing in her honour.
Charlotte looked up at the lowering sky and said to Schwellenburg, ‘We shall never embark in weather like this.’
‘It would be most unpleasant, Your Majesty, and unsafe.’
‘So we have a little longer in Germany.’
Charlotte sighed, uncertain whether to be pleased or sorry. At one moment she longed to get on, to come face to face with her bridegroom; but the next she was hoping to be able to postpone the encounter.
They had come to rest at a small schloss where they would spend the night; and as Lord Harcourt came to help her from her carriage he told her that the party from England had arrived and were waiting to greet her.
As she stepped inside the schloss she saw them waiting
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