shouting in his grief.
Magdalen von Röohlitz was dead.
When the news was brought to the Dower House it was like a reprieve. Those servants who had received their orders from the Elector were stunned and did not know how to act.
Eleanor’s health immediately began to improve. Caroline, alert, fully aware of the situation, waited for what would happen next.
She heard that the Court of Dresden was in mourning, that the Elector was so stricken with grief for the loss of his mistress that he kept in his apartments and would see no one.
But there was more startling news to come.
John George had caught the smallpox from his mistress and was suffering from a major attack.
A few days later he was dead.
The shadow of murder was lifted from the Dower House and Eleanor was once more a widow.
There was a new Elector at Dresden. Augustus Frederick had taken his brother’s place and was determined to make the court even more notorious than before. He had no time to consider his brother’s widow and as long as she and her family did not make nuisances of themselves he had no objection to their continuing to take possession of the Dower House. Though just outside Dresden, this was far enough away not to bother him, so the Dowager Electress could stay there as long as she wished.
Eleanor rose from her sick bed, but the treatment she had received from her late husband had left its mark and she remained an invalid.
But it was a great joy to her and her daughter not to live in perpetual fear; and as the days passed, the nightmare receded. Life at the Dower House was uneventful and peace was something which was only fully appreciated when it had been missed.
One day Eleanor said: ‘Your brother should join us. It is not good for families to be separated.’
So William Frederick arrived at Pretsch – a charming little boy of nine. He was affectionate and happy to be reunited with his mother and sister.
How young he is, thought Caroline. And then the experiences at the court of her stepfather came back more vividly to her mind.
She thought: After having lived through that, I could never really be young again.
She worked hard at lessons, for it was rather boring to play truant from the schoolroom and she had a fear of being ignorant.
Life was so different now that simple matters had become important. Could she find the correct answers to mathematical problems? Had she cobbled her needlework? Did she know when to speak and when not to speak, when to bow and when to curtsy?
No one cared very much whether she was in the schoolroom or playing in the gardens of the Dower House. She could have escaped and wandered off alone into the country if she cared to. But she must not neglect her lessons, she knew. One day she would meet the Electress Sophia Charlotte once more and that lady would be very shocked to find her ignorant.
She would sit over her books. Her handwriting was bad; her spelling worse.
I must improve, she told herself. I must not disappoint the Electress Sophia Charlotte.
One day there was a letter for Eleanor from the Electress Sophia Charlotte.
Eleanor showed it to her daughter.
‘How kind she is!’ said Caroline.
‘Her conscience troubles her. But for her and her husband I should never have married.’
‘She thought it best for you,’ said Caroline.
‘It is so easy to see what is best for others.’
‘They could not have married you against your will.’
Eleanor sighed and gave up the discussion.
‘Well, she now says we must visit her at Lützenburg.’
Caroline clasped her hands. ‘When?’ she wanted to know.
‘Who can say? This is no definite invitation.’
‘Then you must write and say we shall be happy to go. Ask them when we can come.’
‘My dear child, that could not be. What a lot you have tolearn! I fear you run wild. Sometimes I sit here and worry about you children…’
‘Don’t worry about us, Mamma,’ said Caroline impatiently. ‘I can look after myself and William