Rebel Princess Read Online Free Page B

Anhalt was not surprised at the tears and hysterics that followed, for she was far from ignorant of the character of the Grand Duke; but ambition had long since destroyed any squeamishness or sympathy, and her reaction to Augusta’s misery was swift and brutal.
    Gripping her daughter by the shoulders she shook her violently. “Stop it … stop it at once. How dare you cry and complain? What did you expect besides a crown, a handsome lover? Control yourself, you little fool, or I shall beat you. This is no time to waste on tears and weakness. The Empress has sent for us! Take off your cloak and furs. Go wash your face and cease that wailing!”
    Still sobbing, Augusta got up and did as she was told. Then Johanna surveyed her appearance with hard eyes. “Very well, now come,” she ordered.
    With dragging steps she followed her mother from the room. Now it was the mighty Empress herself that she had to face. God knew what that would mean.…

Chapter 2
    A member of the Grand Duke’s household, the Prince of Homburg, escorted Augusta on her second journey, while none other than Peter himself appeared to offer an unwilling arm to her mother. He neither spoke to, nor looked at, his future bride.
    For most of their progress Augusta walked with her eyes on the floor, nodding absently to the polite comments of her companion, whose shrewd glances perceived very quickly that the young Princess of Anhalt had already been in tears. Wisely he guided her along the remainder of the route to Elizabeth’s apartments in diplomatic silence so that she had time to recover herself, for a weeping bride would scarcely find favor with the Empress, and it was vital to the plans of the whole Prussian faction at court that Frederick’s protégée should make a good impression.
    At length he turned to her and smiled.
    â€œHis Majesty King Frederick bade me deliver this message to you on your arrival. He sends his most cordial wishes to you and reminds you, in all earnestness, that the way to the Empress’s heart lies through meekness!”
    Augusta looked up at him with wretched eyes. As they approached the carved portals of Elizabeth’s state bedchamber, the Prince of Homburg added his last word:
    â€œRemember our King’s advice, Highness, if you would one day sit upon the throne of Russia!”
    With that injunction still sounding in her ears, Augusta made her deepest curtsy on the threshold of the Empress’s chamber.
    Johanna’s miniature had not lied; the woman who sat upon the raised scarlet and gold throne was far lovelier than her image, for no painter’s brush could capture the delicacy of feature, the brilliance of coloring, or the indefinable touch of the Oriental that marked Elizabeth apart as a beauty at once fragile and voluptuous.
    Diamonds glittered on her throat and arms and winked from the folds of her enormous hooped gown. A single magnificent jewel fastened a sweeping black ostrich feather to her powdered head.
    At that moment the majesty and wealth of a Russian Empress ceased to be a symbol as Augusta advanced towards the throne; they became a fierce reality and a burning desire. One day the obscure princess from Zerbst would share that power, and somehow even Peter seemed to be worth enduring for such a prize.
    Elizabeth’s reception was typical of her emotionally unstable nature, and she greeted Johanna and Augusta with extravagant embraces and tears of sentimental joy. The two German princesses were overwhelmed with her graciousness, and the Empress expressed herself delighted with the looks and demeanor of her nephew’s future bride. Augusta blushed under such unaccustomed praise, and her shyness melted in a genuine glow of warmth towards Elizabeth. Surely there was no need for all the hinted warnings of her father, and the Prince of Homburg’s cautionary words?
    As she stepped back from the throne, her eyes saw a remembered figure, conspicuously