The Princess of Celle

The Temptation of Königsmarck

SOPHIA DOROTHEA HAD dismissed all her attendants with the exception of Eléonore von Knesebeck. The excitement of the last weeks was now tinged with apprehension and she wanted to talk about it.

Eléonore von Knesebeck was sitting on her stool, her hands clasped about her knees, staring ecstatically before her.

‘He was so handsome tonight. He is surely the most handsome man in Hanover.’

‘And like as not he knows it,’ retorted Sophia Dorothea.

‘He would be a fool if he did not, and would you want a fool for a lover?’

‘A lover! Don’t use that word.’ Sophia Dorothea looked over her shoulder. ‘How do we know who listens?’

Eléonore blew with her lips to denote contempt for the suggestion. ‘Everyone in Hanover is too concerned with their own affairs to bother with ours.’

‘I wish I could be sure of that.’

‘And if you were … would you say yes to Königsmarck?’

‘Yes … to what?’

‘Oh, come, Your Highness is coy. He is in love with you … and you …’

‘You talk nonsense,’ said Sophia Dorothea.

‘Why should it be nonsense for you to enjoy your life when others so blatantly do all about you?’

‘I have taken my marriage vows to George Lewis.’

‘And he to you. But he does not remember them, so …’

‘Eléonore von Knesebeck! You forget to whom you speak.’

Eléonore leapt up, knelt at the feet of Sophia Dorothea, took her hand and kissed it. ‘Your Highness,’ she murmured, raising her eyes in mock supplication.

‘Get up and don’t be foolish,’ said Sophia Dorothea with a laugh. They had been children together so how could she be taken seriously if she tried to play the haughty princess now? But Knesebeck did talk too much; and she was afraid. Afraid of herself?

She sat down suddenly and said in a melancholy voice: ‘I have never been happy since my sixteenth birthday.’

Eléonore von Knesebeck nodded.

‘And now?’ she asked.

‘I am still married to George Lewis.’

‘You must enjoy life as he does. You could be happy again. Why not? Should you be expected to shut yourself away … to look on at him and that Schulenburg woman …’

‘Hush.’

‘And why? The handsomest man in Hanover is in love with you. Why should you turn from him for the sake of that …’

‘You will be in trouble one day, Eléonore von Knesebeck, if you do not guard your tongue. I am the Crown Princess of Hanover. I have a son and a daughter. He can have as many mistresses as he likes. They say that is unimportant. But if I took a lover, what a scandal there would be! They would suspect the paternity of a child who might be the heir of Hanover.’

‘You have the heir to Hanover and none can doubt his parentage.’

‘If I took a lover the parentage of all my children would be suspected. They would say, “If she sins now why not before?”’

‘They would not dare.’

‘Are you urging me to take a lover? You are a wicked woman, Knesebeck.’

‘I’m a proud one and I hate to see you treated as you have been. Do you know that since Königsmarck came to Hanover you have been different … younger … more beautiful? I wonder everyone does not notice.’

‘I must not see him. It is too dangerous. I must make him understand that there can be nothing but friendship between us.’

‘You would be denying the truth.’

Sophia Dorothea gave her friend a little push. ‘I understand you. You want to be a go-between, to carry the notes between us, to arrange the clandestine meetings, to live in danger and fear of discovery. You would enjoy that, Knesebeck. You are bored and long for excitement. Well, you are not going to have your excitement over this.’

Eléonore von Knesebeck lowered her eyes but her lips were smiling. She was not so sure.

In his lodgings Königsmarck was thinking of Sophia Dorothea, and he could not resist talking of her to his secretary Hildebrand.

‘How strange it is that she is not appreciated here, Hildebrand. When I see the Crown Prince with that stupid looking girl I wonder whether he is in fact blind. Surely he must be.’

‘He has none of your finer feelings, my lord Count.’

‘And to think that they married her to him. I knew her, Hildebrand, when she was a child … a dainty fairy of a child. I never forgot her.’

‘No, my lord.’

‘Hildebrand, you are looking worried.’

‘There would be trouble, my lord. The wife of the Crown Prince …’

‘This is different, Hildebrand. There is more to this than the act of making love.’

He was silent. He wanted to rescue her from her miserable life, make her gay, glad to be alive.

But Hildebrand was right, of course. This was no ordinary love affair to be entered into with a light heart. Carl John had always said that love to be most enjoyed should be a lighthearted affair. ‘Never become too deeply engaged, brother. Savour the joys, not the sorrows of love.’

Carl John was right. Perhaps he should go away.

He was there that night after supper to pay court to her in the great hall. She looked so radiant that surely everyone must notice the change in her; he had seen her before she had seen him, when he had first arrived. Beautiful, graceful but listless. Now the listlessness had disappeared and to the discerning that could be significant. He knew when she lifted her eyes to his that he excited her as she did him.

In such moments he was all for reckless action. He thought of riding away with her far from Hanover. To Saxony? To France? He would not look beyond the first exciting days. And would he have anything to fear from lethargic George Lewis? They were mad dreams. She had her children and when she had spoken of them he had sensed what they meant to her.

It was a foolish dream. Here in the great hall, he knew it. There could only be a clandestine love affair – notes smuggled to the Princess, secret meetings; continual fear of discovery.

They danced together and she had an opportunity of speaking to him.

‘I love you,’ he told her, ‘and would serve you with my life.’

‘I think people watch us,’ she answered.

‘What are we going to do?’

‘You must leave Hanover. Quickly … quickly… .’

She caught her breath as she said that, and he knew how deeply affected she was.

‘I cannot leave you … now.’

‘To stay would mean … disaster.’

‘If you returned a little of the devotion I would offer you I should care nothing for disaster.’

Spoken like a reckless lover! But she smiled sadly.

‘You should go away,’ she reiterated.

‘I could never leave you,’ he answered firmly.

But she shook her head. Then the dance was over and he could not hope for more private conversation.

The feelings they aroused in each other could not be kept under control. Every time she entered the great hall, every time she walked in the gardens, she looked for him. And he was never far away … always seeking the opportunity to be beside her.

Eléonore von Knesebeck told herself it could not be long now. They would be lovers and it was right that Sophia Dorothea should enjoy a little happiness, that she should repay her husband in some small measure for all the pain and indignity he had heaped upon her. Königsmarck’s friends warned caution, but what gallant lover was ever cautious?

To Königsmarck’s friends it was as though fate had decided to step in and save him from disaster when the news of the death of his uncle, Count Otho William, occurred in Italy. The presence of the young Count of Königsmarck was needed there.

He left and tension relaxed.

Without him Sophia Dorothea was desolate yet she was more conscious than any that the danger had passed.

Life was a thousand times more wretched without him. True, there was no fear of what recklessness might possess them both; but how she longed for that fear to return. Without Königsmarck life was dull, dreary and not worth living. Her only hope of happiness was in her children.

She stayed late in bed; she took rides in her carriage and often the children accompanied her. All her pleasure was in them; she read a great deal; she did fine needlework for pleasure and coarser for duty; and after supper she ignored George Lewis and his friends, Clara von Platen and hers, and was surrounded by her own little court, playing cards now and then, or dancing.

To this little court came her brothers-in-law. They had always been fond of her and as they disliked George Lewis, were jealous of him, and were in constant fear that their small inheritances would go to him when their father died, they were his natural enemies. But because he was crude and coarse, because he preferred the flaccid and plump Ermengarda von Schulenburg to the dainty and charming Sophia Dorothea, they disliked him more than ever.

Charles in particular was fond of her and showed her quite clearly that he was on her side. He was charming and gay and even the Duchess Sophia was charmed by him and secretly admitted that he was her favourite son. She was not displeased that he defended Sophia Dorothea; George Lewis was an oaf and she heartily wished that Charles had been the elder.

Charles often came to Sophia Dorothea’s apartments accompanied by one of his brothers and their friends. There they would discuss the gossip of the day and provide some diversion for Sophia Dorothea.

A few months after Königsmarck’s departure Charles came in full of excitement.

‘Such news,’ he cried. ‘A friend of mine and yours has returned to Hanover.’

‘A friend?’ said Sophia Dorothea slowly.

‘Count Königsmarck.’

Sophia Dorothea felt lightheaded; she knew there was a fixed smile on her face.

‘He arrived today. His first question was about you. Were you well? he wanted to know.’

‘It was kind of him.’ Her voice sounded far off, as though it belonged to someone else.

‘He has implored me to present him to you this evening. May I?’

She was silent.

‘Don’t say you have forgotten him?’

‘No … no. I have not forgotten him. Yes, please bring him. I … I shall be pleased to see him.’

Pleased! A strangely mild word to express her feelings. She already felt alive again. The hatred of Hanover; the disillusion of Celle seemed trivial now.

Here was a chance to feel alive again.

Why refuse it? Why should Sophia Dorothea not discover some joy in life?

On invitation from Ernest Augustus George William came to Hanover. The brothers embraced warmly; they both enjoyed their meetings. Ernest Augustus because he could congratulate himself that he, the younger, was in command; George William because he had always had a sentimental attachment to the brother who, in their youth, had adored him. They were happy together because Ernest Augustus was so deeply aware of the change in their relationship and George William either unaware or deliberately blind to it.

Ernest Augustus had arranged that they should be alone, but he thought ruefully to himself that Clara would quickly discover the reason for the encounter. She had her spies everywhere; and he himself was indiscreet where she was concerned. She had a way of worming secrets out of him when he was half asleep. Oh well, a man’s mistress of long standing must necessarily be in his confidence. This happened with the Grand Monarque himself; and as every Prince in Europe modelled himself on the master of Versailles, what could be expected?

‘Well, my dear brother, it does me good to see you.’

‘You grow more energetic with the years, Ernest Augustus.’

‘Oh you, my dear fellow, have found life too easy in your cosy castle. It’s time I prodded you to ambition. I trust your Duchess is well?’

George William’s expression was a little uneasy. ‘She is anxious about our daughter.’

‘You spoilt the child – you and your Duchess between you. A pity you only had the one. She is settling down. Soon we shall hear that there is another little one on the way, I doubt not.’

‘Poor child. I should not want to think that she is unhappy.’

‘She’ll settle, never fear. I have my eye on her. I am very fond of your daughter … my daughter now, George William. What a good thing we made that marriage. And that brings me to the point. We have to stand by the Emperor now and if we do, he will show us proper appreciation.’

George William nodded as he seated himself in the chair set for him and regarded his brother. How different now from the old days when he used to say: I am going to Italy! and Ernest Augustus used to implore to be taken with him, and listened wide-eyed to his elder brother’s adventures. Now it was George William who waited on the words of Ernest Augustus.

‘Louis has to be vanquished. The Emperor Leopold will never forgive him for invading the Palatinate and destroying Heidelberg and Mannheim.’

‘Nor should we,’ retorted George William. ‘I am sure the Duchess Sophia will never forget what they have done to her family.’

Ernest Augustus hid his impatience. George William was sentimental. Had he not learned yet that wise rulers did not go to war for the sake of sentiment but for material gain, and Ernest Augustus had decided that more could be gained by supporting the Emperor Leopold than remaining outside the conflict, and it was for this reason that he had invited his brother to Hanover.

He said: ‘The Emperor is very eager for our help.’

‘We are so small, compared with himself and the French and all the allies.’

‘Small but strategic, my dear brother. And are we even so small? Hanover and Celle combined could give a good account of themselves.’

‘So we should be together.’

‘Certainly. We are closer than ever now since my son married your daughter. Our soldiers have distinguished themselves in battle, and Leopold wants us to set an example to the other small German states. If we come in they will follow us. If we remain aloof, so will they. My wife is determined that we shall join the allies. You know why.’

‘She wants to be on the side of William of Orange. We know of her fondness for the English.’

‘She is not blind to her advantages, either. If we support William, she will ask that he does his utmost to bring in an Act of Settlement which will exclude James’s son from the throne. You know what that means.’

George William nodded. ‘But it is hardly likely that both William and Mary and Anne will have no children.’

‘It is not a very remote possibility. Sophia finds out all she can about the health of those three and it is not good. After Anne – provided William kept his promise and brought in an act to exclude the Stuart – Sophia could be Queen of England. You know what that means, George William. Your daughter – through her marriage with George Lewis – could in time be Queen of England. A little different, eh, from the Duchess of a small German state.’

George William agreed. His eyes shone with pleasure. This made everything worth while. What was a little unhappiness at the beginning when everything could turn out so gloriously. He felt more comforted than he had since that September morning.

‘Not only this, but you know how I have always wanted an Electorate for Hanover. If we provide the troops for the Emperor I can see all sorts of benefits coming to us.’

‘In any case,’ said George William, ‘it is natural for us to be on the side of the Emperor.’

Ernest Augustus smiled. George William would never really change.

‘Mind you,’ went on Ernest Augustus, ‘the Electorate will not easily be come by. There are eight already in the German Empire and the Emperor would have to exert his special prerogative to create another. He will though, providing he gets a good enough price for it. I have been in communication with him and we have stated our desires quite frankly. We could not afford to have misunderstanding on such a matter.’

‘We could not indeed.’

Good brother! It was so pleasant to hear him echoing what was expected of him.

‘We have not only to support the Emperor against Louis and the Turks in Morea, but he wants money too.’

‘How much?’

‘An annual payment of five hundred thousand thalers.’

George William whistled. Then he said: ‘Well, we can do it … between us.’

Between us? thought Ernest August. The bulk would have to come from Celle. But why not? George William had the money and it was an investment for the future prosperity of the house of Brunswick-Lüneberg.

‘He also wants a force of nine thousand men.’

‘And for these concessions?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that. I have insisted on a definite promise. The Electorate – not immediately – but definitely, and as soon as it can be conveniently bestowed. And Orange has promised to do everything in his power to place Sophia in the succession. Now brother, is that a good bargain? And are you not delighted that you married your daughter to my son.’

‘I can see,’ replied George William, ‘that she has made the best possible of all matches. And what pleases me, is that we have been brought together again.’

Ernest Augustus rose and laid his arm about his brother’s shoulder. George William was comforted.

As he had known he would, Ernest Augustus told Clara what was happening.

‘An Electorate,’ she said. ‘That will delight my lord.’

‘I have always wanted it,’ admitted Ernest Augustus. ‘I’ve been working towards it for years.’

‘That I know well. And but for your brother you would not have been so near it. I’ll warrant he is supplying most of those five hundred thousand thalers – and that a number of the soldiers will come from Celle.’

‘And why not?’

‘I agree. Let him pay. What an excellent stroke of luck that we arranged that marriage with Celle.’

‘It was a stroke of genius.’

‘I hope you remember who did so much to promote it.’

Ernest Augustus laughed. ‘I’ve never denied that the Platens played their part.’

‘You have had your reward.’

‘You are implying that they have not?’

‘Baron!’ she said. ‘It is not a very high sounding title.’

‘What about Count?’

‘Charming.’

‘And that would make you happy?’

‘Try it. I’ll swear you will be pleased with your happy Countess.’

Ernest Augustus needed brilliant commanders to lead his men and his attention was directed by his sons Charles and Maximilian to Count Königsmarck.

Ernest Augustus had already noticed the Count, who had made quite a stir in Hanover. In the first place since the death of his uncle Otho William he was reputed to be one of the richest men in Europe, and he made no secret of the fact, judging by the style in which he lived.

Apparently he intended to stay some time in Hanover for he bought himself a house not far from the Alte Palais and here he had set up an establishment of such grandeur that it was the talk of the neighbourhood. He filled it with twenty-nine indoor servants; and when he took a journey, however short, he rode in a cavalcade of fifty horses and mules. Such a large company to wait on one young man was certain to attract attention. Moreover, he was startlingly handsome and sumptuously dressed. He had brought a wardrobe with him which he had accumulated not only in Saxony but in France.

Ernest Augustus heard from his younger sons that Königsmarck was the most interesting young man at court. He therefore asked that he should be presented to him.

The young man came, resplendent; his doeskin coat embroidered with silver thread; his silk waistcoat magnificent; but even more striking than his elegance were his handsome looks. He was young, clear-eyed, clear-skinned, and, Ernest Augustus conjectured, about the same age as his own George Lewis. But what a contrast! Of course George Lewis was a good soldier, and it was soldiers who were more useful to a country than dandies; but there was in this young man’s bearing something which suggested that he was no fop. His elegant good looks had been bestowed on him by nature and he would have been a fool to ignore them.

Young Charles was clearly very impressed with him.

Ernest Augustus asked a few questions about Saxony and other European courts and he was interested to find that Count Königsmarck was as widely travelled as he was himself. Königsmarck was no fool; Ernest Augustus liked him.

‘What would you say, Count,’ he asked, ‘if I offered you a Colonelcy in my Guards?’

‘I should express grateful thanks, Your Highness, and assure you of my desire to serve you well.’

‘Then it is yours. But I must tell you this: there are no great financial rewards. Here we regard such a post as an honour.’

‘I so regard it,’ replied Königsmarck. ‘As for money … I have enough for my needs and do not concern myself with what a soldier should be paid.’

‘Then you are the man for me.’

Count Königsmarck was exultant. Now he could come and go about the palace as he pleased. No one would question a Colonel of the Duke’s Hanoverian Guard. This meant that he could see Sophia Dorothea more frequently, and would not have to wait to be conducted to her apartments by one of her brothers-in-law.

He was delighted. This brought him nearer to the woman he longed to make his mistress.

At last Sophia Dorothea was happy. Each day she saw Königsmarck and he left her in no doubt of his feelings for her. As a Colonel in the Guards he had free access to the palace, but it was impossible for them to be alone together, although sometimes when he was on duty in the gardens she would walk there and they would have the pleasure of seeing each other.

Prince Charles knew that they were in love with each other; he admired them both, and as he detested his brother he did not see why his sister-in-law and the handsome Count might not enjoy each other’s company. Whenever he called on Sophia Dorothea he asked Königsmarck to accompany him and thus there was a small intimate gathering in her apartments. Maximilian – himself a little in love with Sophia Dorothea – came also; and even the youngest of Ernest Augustus’s sons, Ernest, who was about fifteen or sixteen and who had a great admiration for Königsmarck, often joined them. Eléonore von Knesebeck was delighted with the change in her mistress, and that, with the Count’s arrival in Hanover, their lives had been lifted out of the drab pattern, so when Königsmarck intimated that he would like to send letters to Sophia Dorothea and receive them from her, it was Eléonore von Knesebeck who assured them that they could trust her to see that these notes were delivered into the right hands.

How pleasant, thought Sophia Dorothea, to know that she was loved – and by such a gallant gentleman as Königsmarck! She was content for a while to drift along in a dreamy romantic mood, into a world of sighs for the impossible and hopes which, deep in her heart, she believed could never be realized.

Königsmarck was ardent. He assured her that he loved her as he had never loved before; not only did he tell her this but he wrote it in the notes which the excited Knesebeck brought to her.

Life had new meaning for her – but her dreams could never come true.

Let that be as it may; she must live for a while in her world of make-believe.

George William brought his Duchess to Hanover when there were to be discussions with his brother as to how they were to meet the Emperor Leopold’s demands. This gave Duchess Eléonore a chance to be with her daughter and grandchildren, and although she hated visiting Hanover where she knew the Duchess Sophia at least did not welcome her, she was happy to have an opportunity to see her daughter.

She was delighted when she noticed the change in Sophia Dorothea and her fears were set at rest. Perhaps, she told herself, she had been wrong and George William right.

Sophia Dorothea greeted her warmly; the children were enchanting; and since her daughter showed no inclination to talk about George Lewis and her marriage, Eléonore asked no questions and soothed herself with the thought that the children made up for all the happiness Sophia Dorothea missed with her husband.

There was to be a grand ball and Eléonore went to her daughter’s apartments to see her women dressing her. How enchanting she looked. And how radiant. She could not look so and be really unhappy. She was to wear white satin which would so become her dark beauty.

‘And flowers, Maman,’ she explained. ‘Real flowers in my hair and no jewels at all.’

‘No jewels! Then you will surely be the only lady at the ball without them.’

‘The Countess von Platen will wear enough to make up for my lack of them,’ said Sophia Dorothea with a laugh.

When her daughter entered the great hall, Duchess Eléonore felt an immense pride; she glanced at George William and saw that his eyes were a little glazed. So he, too, was moved.

There was the Countess von Platen. How vulgarly dazzling in her rich red robes and her cheeks painted as deep a colour as the scarlet folds of her skirts; her magnificent neck and shoulders bare – her bosom half exposed and, as Sophia Dorothea had predicted, ablaze with diamonds.

From the dais on which she sat with Ernest Augustus, Duchess Sophia and their honoured guests Eléonore watched the play which was given in their honour, and then after supper in the ballroom saw her daughter open the ball with her father. George William was still handsome and Sophia Dorothea was, of course, enchanting. How wise to wear the simple white, the natural flowers – she stood apart from them all in charm and beauty.

The Duchess Sophia leaned forward and tapped Eléonore’s arm.

‘Your daughter looks well tonight.’

‘Well and happy,’ said Eléonore.

The Duchess Sophia smiled a little superiorly. She was less displeased with the girl than she had been. She was certainly beautiful and she had dignity; she would make a good Queen of England when that glorious day came, as Duchess Sophia was certain it would. She was thinking now that the Act of Settlement had been passed in England and this excluded any Catholic from ascending the throne which meant that with Anne the House of Stuart would end; providing of course neither Anne nor Mary had children – and Duchess Sophia prayed fervently each night that they would not – it would be the turn of the Hanoverians. Sophia saw herself riding into London, the city which she had never seen but which she thought of as Home; Sophia Queen of England.

That dance was over; the ball was opened. Eléonore, who did not dance, but like Ernest Augustus and the Duchess Sophia looked on, saw her daughter dancing a minuet with a very handsome man in a suit of pink satin trimmed with cloth of silver. He was tall, quite elegant, and he in his splendour and Sophia Dorothea in her simple white satin and natural flowers were the most outstanding couple in the ball-room. Clara von Platen, for all her fine gown and scintillating jewels, could not compete with them.

‘Who dances with Sophia Dorothea?’ she asked the Duchess Sophia.

‘Oh it is a young Swedish Count, recently come to court. Ernest Augustus is pleased with him and has given him a place in his Guards. Königsmarck. Count Königsmarck.’

Many eyes were on that elegant and most charming couple One who could not stop looking at them was Clara von Platen.

Königsmarck had conducted Sophia to the dais on which the royal party were seated. He pressed her hand in farewell; he wished that he could sit with her, be close to her for the whole evening. But he was more aware than she was that they were watched.

Sophia Dorothea took her seat beside her parents, and Königsmarck, bowing low to those assembled on the dais, turned away. As he did so a page touched his arm.

‘The Countess von Platen would have a word with you, my Lord Count.’

Königsmarck bowed his head in acknowledgment and even as he lifted his eyes he was aware of Clara’s brilliant eyes fixed upon him; he made his way to her.

‘I am honoured,’ he said, ‘that you, my dear Countess, wish to speak with me.’

Her sensuality was apparent to him, connoisseur that he was. He knew well that she was a dangerous woman, but he understood why Ernest Augustus could not do without her. She would be as exciting as a love potion and as difficult to throw off as a drug. As they stood there smiling, each was aware of the other’s physical potentialities. In any other circumstances Clara would have immediately decided on him as a lover and he would have told himself that here was a woman he must not pass by.

‘I wanted to compliment you on your dancing,’ said Clara. ‘You knew that everyone was watching you. They couldn’t help it.’

‘If so it was because I was fortunate to be dancing with the beautiful Princess.’

She leaned a little towards him and he smelt her overpowering scent as she tapped him lightly on the arm. ‘It was you I was watching.’

‘You are very kind, Countess.’

‘I am … to those who please me.’

There was laughter in her eyes; there was invitation. What a foolish young man, she was telling him, to occupy his time with the silly little Princess when all his efforts had come to nothing – she knew this because she had spies everywhere and they would have informed her if it had – when all the time there was an experienced woman waiting with a hundred delights of which he – experienced though she knew him to be – had not yet dreamed.

‘How can I thank you,’ he murmured.

‘You may dance with me to begin with.’

The music started, he took her hand, and as she came close to him in the dance he was aware of her voluptuous body, her great glittering eyes, her sensuous lips. He was even unaware of Sophia Dorothea as he passed the dais; he felt as though he were rushing downhill, and so great was the exhilaration that he would not have stopped if he could.

The dance was over, he left her and as soon as she was no longer beside him he laughed at himself. She was a dangerous woman, and what a sensuous one! She had disturbed him deeply; and chiefly, he told himself, by reminding him of the Princess. He loved Sophia Dorothea; he would never love anyone as he loved her; but what was a man to do? Go on in this unfulfilled way? He could not live on romantic dreams, if she could. He wanted something more tangible.

He would plead with her; he would make her understand that he must be her lover in fact. Why not? All about them people were indulging with abandon. Why must they be the only lovers at the Hanoverian court who must act with such unnatural restraint?

He must speak to Sophia Dorothea; he turned to the dais, but his arm was caught and turning he saw Prince Charles at his side.

‘You cannot dance with my sister-in-law again tonight, Count,’ said Charles.

‘But …’

‘My dear fellow – you in your pink and silver, she with those flowers in her hair … you cut such a figure. Everyone noticed. You cannot repeat that – or there will be talk. Once was well enough – but the way you looked at her was a little dangerous. No, for the sake of Sophia Dorothea’s reputation don’t go to the dais again tonight.’

He felt deflated. He was weary of the subterfuge. He left the ball early and went home to his mansion which was not far from the palace.

In his room he paced up and down thinking of the evening. It was Clara von Platen who had started these dissatisfied thoughts. She with her allure and her unspoken promises had made him realize what he was missing.

‘This can’t go on,’ he said aloud; and he was at his window for a long time looking out on the dark streets.

One of his pages was at the door.

‘A messenger from the palace, my lord Count.’

Sophia Dorothea! he thought. A letter. She felt as he did. She was begging him to come to her. It was time indeed.

‘Bring him in,’ he commanded.

When the concealing cloak was cast off it proved to be a woman.

‘You come from …’ he began.

‘My mistress wishes to speak to you. Will you come with me without delay?’

‘I am ready. Your mistress …’

‘The Countess von Platen is waiting for you.’

He caught his breath. He had not expected a summons so soon … not a summons at all. Perhaps it did not mean what he feared … what he hoped … it did. And yet …

He hesitated, for he could not banish from his mind the vision of Sophia Dorothea’s beautiful face, her dark hair adorned with flowers, her pure white dress so charming, so beautiful… .

But this was a summons from the Countess von Platen; and he could not ignore it.

He did not know quite what he had expected but afterwards it seemed inevitable.

She was in her apartments … alone; and she was wearing a scarlet robe the same colour as the dress she had worn at the ball. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, her face brilliantly painted.

‘Count Königsmarck,’ she said. ‘I knew you would come.’

‘A summons from the Countess von Platen …’

‘Could not be disobeyed,’ she added.

She held out her hands to him and as she did so the robe which had no fastenings fell apart disclosing her naked body.

She was laughing at him; he heard himself laugh too. There was no turning back now … even if he had wanted to.

It was early morning before Count Königsmarck left the apartments of the Countess von Platen.

Sophia Dorothea was constantly in the company of her parents; and Count Königsmarck in that of the Countess von Platen. The whole court was whispering together about Clara’s new liaison, but if it came to Ernest Augustus’s ears he said nothing. He was concerned chiefly with fulfilling the demands of Leopold and earning that Electorate.

Königsmarck suffered intermittent feelings of guilt and exhilaration; he had never had a mistress quite like Clara. His remorse when he considered what he was doing tormented him and often he would swear that he would never see Clara again; then she would come to him and taunt him; and these interviews always ended in the same way. She invited him to Monplaisir; she was enjoying life as she rarely had before. She was satisfying her immense sexual appetites and at the same time humiliating her enemy and enriching herself, for she saw that Königsmarck took his turn at her card tables and lost. Why not? He had a large fortune of which she would be happy to take a share. This she was doing, and after a successful evening there were satisfying nights.

If Clara had been romantic she would have told herself she was in love with Königsmarck. When he had left her in the early morning she would lie in bed asking herself what it was she enjoyed so much: His prowess as a lover? His handsome body? His insatiable sensuality which was a match for her own? Or the fact that Sophia Dorothea was in love with him. In any case it was a situation which appealed to her senses and her character; and what more could she ask than that?

Sometimes she had a twinge of fear that no other man would ever satisfy her after Königsmarck. That brought with it a sense of fear because she was aware every night of that remorse in him; she knew that even when he was in her bedchamber he was thinking of Sophia Dorothea and that each night there was a battle to be fought to make him forget his romantic attachment to that insipid little fool who wanted him as her lover and was afraid to accept him.

Rarely had life been so amusing, so interesting, so full of triumph for Clara. Then she began to be a little astonished at herself. It was true that no other man appealed to her, and her desire for Königsmarck was growing to an obsession. At all hours of the day he was in her thoughts; and those nights when he was not with her were unbearable. Two emotions began to dominate Clara’s life: her desire for Königsmarck and her jealous hatred of Sophia Dorothea.

Sophia Dorothea had, of course, learned of her lover’s disaffection. Rarely had she felt so desolate. She was the victim of a cruel marriage; and now the man whom she loved, the knight-errant had proved his worthlessness by becoming the lover of her greatest enemy.

Königsmarck was writing notes to her which she ignored. Did he think she was a complete fool? she demanded of Eléonore von Knesebeck. Did he think that he could openly deceive her and that she was so infatuated with him that she would accept such conduct?

‘I never want to see him again!’ she declared.

Fraulein von Knesebeck was like a flustered hen. It had been such fun. So exciting. So dangerous! And now it was all over. She understood Königsmarck was a man after all, and he could not be expected to be satisfied with romantic dreaming of what might be and never was. She tried to explain this to Sophia Dorothea.

‘Don’t make excuses for him!’ stormed Sophia Dorothea. ‘And of all people it had to be that woman … that vile, vulgar creature.’

Eléonore muttered that men were men and it was no use trying to change that.

She would come sighing into her mistress’s apartments. ‘I saw Königsmarck today. He looks so wretched.’

‘Doubtless jealous of his mistress. Perhaps he has discovered by now that he is not the only favoured one.’

‘He gave me a note for you.’

‘Then you were a fool to bring it and had better put it into the fire without delay.’

Eléonore von Knesebeck did no such thing. She laid it on the table and retired, knowing that as soon as she had left Sophia Dorothea would seize on it.

And at last she agreed to see him. Recklessly Eléonore von Knesebeck brought him to her apartment and as she looked at him – more appealing in his humiliation and misery than he had ever been in his arrogance and faithfulness – Sophia Dorothea wanted to forgive him everything if he would but promise to give up Clara.

But she was proud and she had been deeply wounded.

‘Why,’ she demanded, ‘do you wish to see me?’

‘To tell you how unhappy I am.’

‘Why? Has your mistress been unfaithful to you?’

‘It has been like an evil dream.’

‘Evil and irresistible!’ she cried. She had to be angry or she would burst into tears; she would be telling him how glad she was to see him, that she wanted to be back on the old terms … that she would accept anything if they might return to those.

So she whipped up her anger. ‘I am quite disgusted,’ she said. ‘So you have joined the grooms and pages who supply that woman’s nightly entertainment! And not only grooms and pages, of course. Noble Counts join her retinue of lovers.’

‘You do well to abuse me. I deserve all you say of me. But now I am with you I understand full well how much I love you. I have been unable to express my feelings. I have been frustrated … quite maddened by frustration that I have not known what I was doing. You must believe me, my Princess. I will never see the Countess von Platen again. I will be faithful to you and to you only as long as I live. In truth, it was because I believed I must be her friend to help you that I went to her in the first place.’

‘You very well showed your friendship to me!’ put in Sophia Dorothea scornfully, but she was in tears.

He embraced her. ‘My dearest … my Princess… .’

‘I believed in you,’ she sobbed. ‘I would have trusted you.’

‘You can trust me. Never again will I see that woman. I swear to you.’

The door opened and Prince Charles came into the apartment.

‘You are mad!’ he said. ‘I could hear your voices in the next apartment. Do you realize that there will be others listening?’

He looked from one to the other. ‘I know your feelings for each other, but you will have to be careful.’

‘As careful as others are … as Clara von Platen for instance?’ demanded Sophia Dorothea.

‘She is not the mother of the heir of Hanover,’ replied Prince Charles. ‘Listen to me, you are behaving foolishly, both of you. You have my sympathy, my understanding, my friendship. That is why I bid you take care. If it came to the ears of Ernest Augustus that you were lovers, you, Königsmarck, would be banished from Hanover. As for you, Sophia Dorothea, your reputation would be smirched. There would be doubts as to whether young George Augustus was your husband’s son. Don’t you understand?’

‘I have always understood that,’ declared Sophia Dorothea, ‘and I have never been unfaithful to my husband.’

Prince Charles sighed. ‘Who would believe you … overhearing what I have just overheard! And,’ he continued, ‘how can we say who has overheard it? Clara von Platen would seize every opportunity to ruin you.’

‘But not the Count,’ said Sophia Dorothea bitterly.

‘That is perhaps something for which we should be grateful. Come with me, Königsmarck. You should not be here alone with my sister-in-law.’

Königsmarck looked at Sophia Dorothea, and she could no longer hide her true feelings. He took her hands and kissed them. Charles turned his back and gazed at the door.

‘I am forgiven?’ whispered Königsmarck. ‘Say that I am and we will find a way to happiness.’

Sophia Dorothea nodded and they were both conscious of a bleak satisfaction as they parted.

Prince Charles said: ‘You are a fool, Königsmarck.’

‘I am in love with the Princess.’

‘So you go to her apartments and behave in such a manner that every little spy at every keyhole can hear what you are saying, while you conduct an affair with the most jealous and vindictive woman at court who happens to be my sister-in-law’s greatest enemy.’

‘I agree with you. I am a fool.’

‘And immediate wisdom is necessary. There is only one thing you can do at the moment, Königsmarck. Leave Hanover. Come with me to Morea.’

‘You are going to Morea!’

‘I have just received orders from my father to prepare myself. I am to lead a company against the Turks. It is part of his agreement with Emperor Leopold.’

‘But to Morea!’

‘I am asking you to leave one dangerous spot for another. You’re a soldier, Königsmarck – but I believe you are in as great danger here as you will be in Morea.

Morea! The adventure of war. It had always appealed to him. But to leave Sophia Dorothea just when he had persuaded her to forgive him!

‘Well?’ asked Charles; and when Königsmarck did not answer, he added: ‘Think about it.’

The Duchess Sophia had sent for Königsmarck.

He thought: So we were overheard. It has come to the ears of the Duchess and I am about to be banished from Hanover. He thought of the Court of France, of that of Saxony. They were far more brilliant than Hanover but he would be far from Sophia Dorothea.

Now that he had seen her again he wondered how he could have been temporarily beguiled by Clara von Platen. She was old – all of forty; she was experienced in a manner which had fiercely attracted him; but after seeing Sophia Dorothea in her fresh youth and beauty, he knew that he loved her and he cursed himself for his lapse.

Never again would he be lured to the bedchamber of that old harridan. He was going to make Sophia Dorothea happy. He did not even despair of becoming her lover in actual fact. She wanted him even as he wanted her; he had sensed that at the last meeting; and one thing the affair with Clara had done was make her aware of that.

It was going to be embarrassing if he stayed away from her much longer. Clara was not the sort to let him go easily. He was uneasy – but the immediate problem was before him. He had to face the Duchess Sophia who would very probably give him orders to leave.

He found the Duchess subdued, which was rare with her; but her greeting was almost warm.

‘My dear Count, pray be seated.’

He obeyed her and she gave him a friendly smile which put him on his guard. With a woman like the Duchess Sophia one could never be absolutely sure of her intentions.

‘You are a friend of my son Charles?’

He was taken by surprise and recovering himself assured her that he was.

‘You are older than he is, and I believe you have a fondness for him.’

‘This is so,’ Königsmarck assured her.

‘His father is sending him to Morea. I am uneasy. He is young yet, and although it is our duty to fight our battles I should like to know that he had a good friend at hand. It would give me pleasure if you would volunteer to go with him.’

Königsmarck’s heart had begun to beat a little faster. He raised his eyes to the Duchess’s face and tried to read her mind. Everyone knew that she doted on Charles and the fact that she was not by nature a doting woman emphasized the depth of her emotion for this favourite son. Yet on the other hand what did she know of the intrigues of the court? Was she aware of his liaison with Clara and that at the same time he was involved with the Princess Sophia Dorothea? Was she warning him to get out of Hanover? Yet why should she care what trouble he involved himself in? No, it was real anxiety for her son that he saw in her face.

What could he reply to her? She was a woman who expected obedience.

He was experienced enough to know that he was going to find it very difficult to evade Clara von Platen during the next weeks. How much easier if he left Hanover for a while. When he returned, doubtless she would have found a lover to absorb her as he once had.

It would be one way of easing a delicate situation.

‘Since Your Highness asks it of me, I can only have pleasure in doing as you bid me.’

‘Thank you, Count Königsmarck,’ said the Duchess Sophia.

Very shortly after that interview Prince Charles left for Morea and with him went Count Königsmarck.