Soft coos drifted on the summer air. Henrietta stood at the centre of the maze, watching doves poke their heads through heart-shaped holes in their cote. They reminded her of her son: all wide-eyed innocence.
Shouts drifted over the hedges; ladies squealing, still lost in the labyrinth, and beyond that the gentle lap of gondolas on the moat. She sighed. If she shut her eyes and inhaled the scent of foliage, her mind transported her. She soared over the lime trees, looking down on the pike ponds where golden scales glimmered beneath the water. She flew across the roaring Channel, all the way back to Henry. How often she had dreamed of being in Herrenhausen – away from Charles, safely enclosed behind golden gates. But now she was here she could only mourn what she had left.
Behind her, a footstep crunched on the gravel. She wheeled round so fast that the birds fluttered inside, leaving her standing in a swirl of feathers.
‘Ah, Mrs Howard. We meet again.’ Caroline ambled into the heart of the maze. Henrietta froze. The princess, with her honeyed smell and sharp beauty, still filled her with a sense of unease. Her gown swept up leaves and pebbles as she walked. She stopped by the dovecote, peeled off her gloves and teased a bird onto her finger.
Giggles drifted toward them. Caroline tilted her head in unison with the dove on her hand. ‘Do you know, my ladies have been in this maze thousands of times? I mean it literally. Thousands. They do not remember the twists and turns.’ She shook her head. ‘I cannot understand the dullness of their wits.’
‘The ladies of the court lack Your Royal Highness’s skill.’
Caroline looked at her. ‘You do not. You reached the centre before me.’
Henrietta’s insides clenched, as if Caroline was viewing something deeply private. Blushing, she inclined her head.
Caroline ran her fingers through the dove’s feathers. ‘You were very nervous when I spoke to you the other day, but I believe you understand more than you reveal. That is wise. A lady must conceal any learning she has, the same way she would hide a limp or a deformity. It is only then, when men think she is a pretty little fool, that she can make them do what she wants.’
Henrietta smiled – there was some wisdom in that. ‘I do not know. I cannot make the prince pronounce Hampton Court Palace. I certainly cannot make my husband do what I want.’
A breeze whistled through the hedges and snatched a curl from her cheek. Caroline’s gaze intensified. Realisation came to Henrietta with a stab of horror: the bruise. Her hand flew to her face, but it was too late.
‘Oh.’ Caroline replaced the bird amongst its friends. ‘What a contusion you have there, Mrs Howard. I suppose . . . ’ Seeming to change her mind, she took a step toward Henrietta. Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘My dear, how long has your husband been treating you thus?’
The hedges swirled. Even in his absence, Charles had found a way to ruin her. She had an absurd impulse to fall at Caroline’s feet and sob. The burden of her secret was an intolerable weight she had carried alone for too long. But she did not have the luxury of confession. If she admitted what Charles truly was, the royal family would never employ him. With a supreme effort, she rearranged her tight face into an expression of surprise. ‘I beg your pardon? I do not have the pleasure of understanding – ’
Caroline held up a hand, making her rings glint. ‘Hush. Be truthful, child.’ She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. ‘You are not much acquainted with me, Mrs Howard, but I can tell you that my mother was married twice. Her second husband was a brutal man. He left his mark . . .’ Her plump lips quivered.
Panic rattled in Henrietta’s ribcage. Every one of Caroline’s compassionate words was a door slamming in her face. ‘I can assure you, Your Royal Highness is quite mistaken. My candle went out on the way to bed; I was foolish and thought I could manage without it, but –’
‘My mother was not the only one he beat.’
The breath mangled in her throat. She sagged into a hedge. Only its dense, scratching branches held her up; her legs were useless. Years of work undone by one stray bruise. With Charles unemployable, she would never save enough to make her way back to Henry. Nothing beckoned ahead but the cold pavements, splashed with mud and filth. Fighting with dogs over offal in the street. Her thoughts turned to the River Leine; its swirling eddies, its dark depths.
‘Is this why we never see Mr Howard? Did you run from him?’
Her throat was in a knot. She could only shake her head.
Caroline extended a knuckle and fluffed the white croup of the bird nearest to her. ‘So what was your plan? To get a place in the next queen’s household, I suppose? That would make sense. You would be safe, under our protection.’ She rested her chin on her bare palm, tapping her fingertips against her cheek. ‘But the husband . . . What did you propose doing with him?’
‘I thought he might find a post too,’ she wheezed. ‘But he would not come to court. He would not even try.’ She hung her head. ‘Not that it matters, now.’
‘Of course it matters!’ Caroline’s voice was sharp. ‘For shame, child, do you give up so easily?’
‘I . . . ’ She shook her head, utterly lost. All the fight and sense seemed to be dribbling out of her, feeding the sturdy hedge. ‘Surely I must give in, now.’
Those piercing eyes pinioned her. ‘Do you think I would tell your secret?’
‘No, madam. I trust you are too good for that.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I cannot say what you plan. All I know is that you will never employ my husband.’
‘Not I. Nor Sophia. But the Elector might.’
‘The Elector?’ Henrietta pictured the grim-faced, dour-looking Georg Ludwig. She could not imagine a man less likely to favour Charles. ‘I do not understand. What are you saying?’
‘I will speak to him.’ Caroline pulled her gloves back on. ‘He listens to me, though he pretends he does not. I will get Mr Howard a place with him.’
‘But – Your Highness . . . ’
‘Do not fret. I will ask it as a favour, for myself. All you have to do is get the scoundrel here. If he works for the Elector and you work for Sophia, you will be kept apart often. Safe.’
Henrietta couldn’t trust her senses. Her mouth hung open, trying to form words. A moment ago her dreams had capsized, but now the world had flipped again – too fast. The princess, help a wretch like her? ‘You would do that for me?’
‘Of course.’
The sun moved behind the hedges, gilding Caroline’s profile. Henrietta wanted to kiss the hem of her skirt. ‘Your Highness. . .’ There were no words.
The princess pressed a finger to Henrietta’s lips. Her glove tasted of rosewater. ‘Hush, now. I will keep you safe, Mrs Howard. Trust in me.’
Caroline sailed down the corridor, gripping her children’s hands. Little Frederick fell behind with his skinny legs. He trailed his spare fingers across the panelling, not walking like a prince at all. She sighed. What could she do for him? At least with Mrs Howard there was a clear answer.
‘Knock on the door, Anne. Let’s see if Grandpa wants to play with us.’
The door swung open, revealing a middle-aged couple sitting hunched over a table, cutting paper shapes. The man had a square, weathered face. A grey periwig rose from his scalp in twin peaks and descended to his chest. His eyes were intent on the scissors, making delicate snips.
‘Grandpa!’ The children flung away from Caroline and ran toward him with arms outstretched.
He jumped and discarded his scissors. ‘Annie! Fretzchen!’
‘Fred,’ Caroline corrected, under her breath.
Frederick clambered onto his grandfather’s lap and played with the lace at his neck. Little Anne was content merely to stand by his side and let him stroke her hair like a spoilt cat. Caroline felt a throb of resentment on her husband’s behalf. How could Georg Ludwig lavish love upon his grandchildren, yet never spare his son a kind word?
The Elector’s mistress, Melusine, smiled and cleared the table of its sharp objects. She had high, slender eyebrows and a good nose, but she was no beauty. Her stomacher lay flat against her chest and the ruffles on her sleeves gaped around skinny elbows. She looked as insubstantial as a reed, but Caroline knew better. Melusine Schulenburg was not so easy to break.
‘How pleased I am to see you, Father.’ Caroline curtsied low, giving him a tantalising glimpse of her cleavage. It never hurt to remind the old goat of her beauty. ‘May we sit with you a while?’
His smile melted into suspicion. ‘What do you want?’
‘Want?’ Caroline pressed a palm to her chest. ‘Must I want something, to sit with my own family?’
Fred squealed, forcing his grandfather to jiggle his knees and make him bounce. A familiar jealousy nagged at Caroline’s core; Fred didn’t smile like that for her. He never had.
‘Caroline, you are no fool. Do not treat me like one.’
Very well. If he wanted to speak frankly, he would find her a match for him. She turned to Melusine. ‘Madame Schulenburg, would you be good enough to play with my children for a moment? I have some business with the Elector.’
It was clear from the glint in her eye that Melusine would rather stay and listen, but she had more sense than to object. Her wiry figure wound around the table. ‘Of course.’
Caroline watched them retreat to the corner; little Anne, balanced on Melusine’s jutting hip and Fred, holding her hand. His legs were so thin in their white stockings. He stumbled – a reminder of the rickets that had blighted his infancy. Worry hovered about her for a moment, mingled with something akin to shame. Three daughters and one sickly son: a poor show. She needed another heir. Much as it scoured her to admit it, Fred might not last.
‘Do sit.’ As she did, the Elector spread his hands. ‘Well?’
‘No doubt your mother has spoken to you about The Honourable Mrs Howard, the English lady?’
He inclined his head. ‘A new pet. How charming for you both.’
‘I wish to keep her.’
Georg Ludwig shrugged. ‘What stops you? I have no objections.’
‘Ah! But I cannot keep the goose without the gander. Surely you see that.’
‘There is a Mr Howard?’
‘Naturally.’ Caroline looked him in the eye. The trick was not to ask, but demand – to speak as if she had no doubt of his compliance. ‘I want you to employ him.’
Georg Ludwig chuckled. He made a steeple out of his hands and leant his nose against it. ‘You do, do you? A man from nowhere. Someone I have never seen in the course of my life.’
‘Yes. Only a token role. I’m not asking for any honours.’
‘You are asking enough. Do you not think this Mr Howard, husband of your Freundin, would be better suited elsewhere? Say, in George’s household?’
She had him now. Caroline raised her eyebrows. ‘Quite. But George cannot afford to take on any more staff with the allowance you grant him. After all, you didn’t increase it when we married, or when the children were born . . . If I wanted him to employ Mr Howard, I would have to come here with another question . . . One I think you would rather I did not ask.’
The shutters came down on his face. Astonishing, what the mention of money could do. He would rather stretch his own resources, employ half of Hanover, than raise his son’s allowance by a crown.
Caroline smiled sweetly and fluttered her lashes. ‘Can I hope you will think upon it? It would save much . . . unpleasantness.’
He looked like he had swallowed lemon rind. ‘I will think on it,’ he said grudgingly.