Prince Charming in Disguise. Bronwyn Scott
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for Caroline to realise the king would not forgive her for what he saw as her stubborn and foolish decision. In his anger, Frederick was inclined to make staying in Berlin miserable. Caroline understood his disappointments but could not agree with him. He staunchly believed that princesses did what they were told, and if that meant converting, they converted. It was the axiom by which he ruled his own daughters. Princesses were to be flexible and adaptable. She had proven to be neither.
If this period of difficulty had taught her one thing, it was that she must face the prospect of marriage in the near future. There were those who claimed her a beauty; Charles of Spain had certainly thought so. He’d been ardent in his pursuit of her but he’d never truly thought of her intellect, nor had he truly believed she’d have the learning to resist the persuasions of his priest. That last assumption had upset her greatly. In theory, she’d understood at an early age the nature of political marriages, the idea that she was a prize to be won.
In practice, she’d not quite understood what that meant until recently. Perhaps she’d believed her lack of dowry would protect her from the game of royal alliances. That had proven to be a mistake. The King of Prussia’s ward would not escape notice.
Being a prize did not settle well with her. She was more than a beautiful spoil of politics. She’d been given a great gift of education at Lutzenburg where Sophia-Charlotte had allowed her to sit in on debates even at a young age. She did not harbor misguided romantic expectations about marriage, but she did hope to be a partner to her husband, to enjoy his respect and admiration. In turn, she hoped to visit the same affections on her husband.
Charles of Spain was only one prospect. She was twenty-one now, of perfectly marriageable age. There would be others and soon. She knew Sophia-Charlotte had long harboured desires of a marriage to her son Frederick William. Nothing had come of those desires yet. Caroline was not particularly fond of Frederick. It worried her that in the wake of refusing Charles, the king and queen would re-examine the potential of marrying their son. There would be no refusing another future king a second time.
Her once very certain world was now full of uncertainty.
By December, Caroline had come to the conclusion that remaining in Berlin would take the decision to marry out of her hands. With a sad farewell to Sophia-Charlotte, Caroline packed her travelling trunks and set out for her childhood home in Ansbach. At Ansbach, she’d have her doting brother’s protections. She silently vowed she would marry the first interesting Protestant man who came along.
Chapter Three
Herrenhausen Palace, Hanover, spring 1705
It was with great excitement that George answered his father’s summons on a warm spring morning. The leaves were green, the sky was blue, early flowers were blooming in a profusion of colours throughout the Herrenhausen gardens. Spring was in the air and in his veins. George could nearly feel it thrumming in his very pulse. He was acutely aware of being a man in his prime and the vigour of youth coursed through him fast, hard and hopeful, and not without reason.
With the coming of spring and the thawing of the ground had come the thawing of his matrimonial hopes, which had predictably frozen with the roads. Winter made courier runs irregular at best. At least his hopes had frozen on a high note, giving him something to sustain him through the long winter. His grandmother, the dowager electress, had put forth a name as a prospective bride and a glowing description of the young woman’s virtues. Caroline of Ansbach. George had never met her but thoughts of her lovely attributes had kept his mind and heart much occupied through the cold German nights. Now it was time to see what would become of those hopes.
His father barely waited until they were alone in the grand office of Herrenhausen Palace before he said the words George had waited the winter to hear. ‘I think it’s time to go to Ansbach.’
‘Perhaps I might take grandmother’s ring,’ George ventured hastily. He’d long imagined how this meeting might play out. This would be an honest courtship between two people. In this matter, he would represent himself. He would see her and judge her on his own. She would be able to do likewise. It would be an enormous compliment to her that he wanted her to judge him on his merits, not the merits described in letters from political dignitaries.
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