The Princess of Celle

The Stolen Glove

ALL THROUGH THE winter, while Königsmarck was in Morea, Sophia Dorothea’s spirits were kept up by the letters which he sent her. It was bitterly cold and enormous fires burned in the grates; the wind whistled about the Alte Palais and in the streets the people grumbled. Many of the men were away at the war – a war which had little meaning for them and for which they had to pay through the taxes.

Ernest Augustus anxiously awaited news from Morea and Sophia was constantly reproaching him for sending her dearest son so far from home to fight the Turk. It would have been different fighting in Flanders with George Lewis, she complained. Ernest Augustus tried to soothe her, but he too was uneasy. He was paying a big price for his Electorate.

Clara was at hand to amuse him, holding brilliant courts in the palace and at her own mansion Monplaisir. She was restless, eager for news from Morea, for, she said, she was as anxious for that Electorate as he was, knowing that he had set his heart on it. In truth she was thinking of Königsmarck and longing for his return. She did not lack lovers, but they failed to satisfy her. There was, she regretfully admitted, for her only one Königsmarck.

Eléonore von Knesebeck was in her element; it was her great task to see that the letters Königsmarck sent to Sophia Dorothea reached her and that those of Sophia Dorothea reached Königsmarck. She enjoyed threading her way through Clara’s network of spies, and she congratulated herself that the Countess had no notion that her one-time lover was now writing the most passionate letters to her rival, assuring her that to her and her only could he give his heart.

One day Sophia Dorothea was in the act of writing a letter to Königsmarck when messengers arrived from Morea. A hush had fallen on the palace; it was Eléonore von Knesebeck who came hurrying in to tell her news.

‘What is it?’ cried Sophia Dorothea. ‘You look … stricken.’

Eléonore could not speak for a few seconds; her teeth had begun to chatter.

‘It’s … Charles,’ she said. ‘He’s been killed in Morea.’

Sophia Dorothea clasped her hands together to steady herself. ‘Charles,’ she whispered.

‘It’s been a terrible disaster and …’

‘And … Königsmarck?’

‘I don’t know. I …’

Sophia Dorothea had run to her and was shaking her frantically. ‘You know … you know and you won’t tell me.’

‘I don’t know. I swear it. Only Charles. They found his body on the battlefield … his men were with him … all dead!’

‘Königsmarck?’

‘They did not say Königsmarck.’

‘Then what of him …?’

‘I don’t know. I swear I don’t know.’

Sophia Dorothea pushed Eléonore von Knesebeck aside and hurried down to the great hall.

The court of Hanover was in mourning for Prince Charles. Ernest Augustus shut himself into his apartments and brooded, but the Duchess Sophia was so heartbroken that she collapsed and had to take to her bed; the doctors were called but could not diagnose her illness; yet because she had lost all zest for life they feared she might die; and those about her knew how deeply she loved this son.

From Celle came George William and Duchess Eléonore to offer condolences. Celle was in mourning too, said George William, for everyone had loved Prince Charles.

Gloom settled in the palace. Not only had they lost Prince Charles but there had been utter defeat at Morea. The Duke of Wolfenbüttel had suffered terrible losses in the contingent he had sent; and it was agreed that it would have been better if the expedition had never been undertaken.

The Duchess Eléonore spent a great deal of time with her daughter who mourned Charles sincerely for he had always been a good friend to her; and in the days following that when the grim news had been brought to Hanover she had thought she would die of grief, for then the fate of Königsmarck had not been known. She had endured terrible anxiety each hour expecting to hear bad news.

Only to Eléonore von Knesebeck could she confide her grief.

‘I never surrendered to him,’ she said. ‘I denied him myself. He wanted to be my lover more than anything on Earth, Knesebeck, and I denied him that. If only he would come back … I would deny him nothing, nothing …’

Eléonore von Knesebeck tried to comfort her. ‘One should not brood on the past; one must hope for the future; after all hope did remain.’

Yes, hope remained.

It was a bright April day when Königsmarck came back to Hanover bringing with him a fraction of the troops he had taken with him to Morea.

Königsmarck is back! thought Clara. In fact she thought of nothing else. He was more gaunt than when he had gone away; he seemed a little older, but none the less attractive thought Clara. There’ll never be another man like him for me. How did I put up with the others? Never mind. Now he is back.

Königsmarck! thought Sophia Dorothea. He has changed. He has suffered hardship. He is more serious; and when his eyes met hers in the great hall, she knew that he was even more ardent.

He would tell her now that life was short; that was a fact which had been brought home to him in Morea. She had seen the young and handsome Charles go forth to war, but she had not seen him lying on the battlefield his body shattered by a Turkish lance. If she had she would understand that life was a precious gift which could be lost at any time. Who would have thought Charles’s end would come so soon, he who had been full of health and life? They must enjoy living; there must be an end to dreams.

It was not easy to meet alone, for there was danger in secret meetings, but Eléonore von Knesebeck was at hand to scheme, and with her help they could be together … alone for an hour or so.

He came to her apartment and Eléonore was there to take him to her, to guard them while they were together. They could trust their confidante Knesebeck, they assured each other.

Sophia Dorothea threw herself into his arms. ‘I feared I should never see you again,’ she cried. ‘I could not have gone on living without you.’

‘All the time I was thinking of you. I came back for you. I fought for my life as I never have before … because it was for you.’

‘I am afraid …’

‘The little Knesebeck is guarding. We can trust her.’

‘Oh, yes, we can trust her. And I swore that if you came back to me …’

He kissed her. He understood. He had been spared for her; now there would be no holding back.

Clara waited for him in her apartment. Naked beneath her robe – scarlet because the first time it had been scarlet and that would remind him. Her face was freshly painted and in the candlelight she looked as radiant as a young girl. She put down the candle, which she had held close to the mirror, and let the robe fall open while she let her hands caress her body. It was firm and no one would guess she had borne children; she wondered anxiously whether that last trouble had changed her. Königsmarck, the rogue, had been responsible for that. She would tell him so. It had made her really ill at the time and no one believed the story she had put out as to the cause of her illness. She would have been pleased to have had a little Königsmarck, but the time would have been awkward. At least the others could have been Platens by Ernest Augustus, and the truth was that Ernest Augustus was not the man he had been; and because he had been away from the court the child could not have been assigned to him either.

She knew that it was a little Königsmarck; and there had only been one course open to her. Dangerous! Humiliating! She had hated it. But as she had meant to tell him, a small price to pay for all the fun they had together.

Her skin was as soft and white as ever; the daily milk baths looked after that.

Oh, Königsmarck! she thought. It was worth while.

Anticipation excited her. She wrapped her robe tightly about her and trembled.

‘Königsmarck! Königsmarck. Hurry, Königsmarck!’

How hard it was to wait! Up and down the room she paced; taking a candle she went to the window and idly looked out, but she saw nothing except her own face reflected in the glass. Fresh and young like the face of a young girl. So it would seem to him.

But how long he was in coming!

It was some time later when she realized that he would not come at all.

Clara was angry but she masked her feelings. Why did he not come? Had he not understood her invitation. Didn’t he know that she was the one who decided when an affair should be terminated?

Was it possible that he had a mistress at court? She knew that he had a romantic attachment to Sophia Dorothea, but that was nothing. Just kiss my hand and dream of what can never be. Königsmarck was too much of a man to be satisfied with that. It was just an airy-fairy game he played to pass the time.

Now, he had a mistress and Clara was going to find out who; and when she did she was going to see that that little affair did not progress.

He would soon be back with her.

George Lewis had gone to Flanders with his men and the atmosphere of the palace was always easier for Sophia Dorothea when he was absent.

She had been living excitingly since Königsmarck’s return. They wrote letters constantly to each other; there was another who was in their secret and that was Aurora Königsmarck, Königsmarck’s sister, who had come to live in his mansion for a while. Aurora adored her brother, approved of his romantic adventure with the Princess, and being ready to act with Eléonore von Knesebeck as go-between, made the affair so much easier to conduct.

‘For the first time since my sixteenth birthday I am happy!’ Sophia Dorothea told Eléonore von Knesebeck, whom she and her dear Philip had nicknamed affectionately the Confidante.

Eléonore was delighted; she was constantly visiting Aurora Königsmarck with whom she had appeared to strike up a friendship. Back and forth went the letters. Sophia Dorothea read them and reread them and tied them up with ribbons that she might keep them constantly with her.

Occasionally there were meetings and it was the delight of Confidante Knesebeck at the palace and Aurora Königsmarck in her brother’s mansion to put their heads together and arrange trysts for the lovers.

Sophia Dorothea spent her time between her children and her lover and it was true that never had she been so happy. Her beauty blossomed and Eléonore von Knesebeck declared that her very looks would betray her if she did not take care.

Life had become gay, colourful, touched with delicious intrigue.

The fact that meetings were so difficult to arrange made them all the more exciting when they took place. Königsmarck congratulated himself on having a place in the Guards which meant that he was often in the gardens on duty. How simple for Sophia Dorothea out for a walk with Eléonore or with the children to pass by. Then they could feast their eyes on each other and even though she could do no more than smile and he salute her, their day was made.

The children looked for him; they would point him out to her and he made a special point of saluting them. Young George Augustus would salute in return, standing very straight like a soldier, and little Sophia Dorothea would attempt to do the same.

Sophia Dorothea was walking in the gardens one day with her little daughter, Sophia Dorothea on the alert for a glimpse of her lover and had not realized how far they had walked, when the child began to whimper that she was tired and couldn’t climb all the steps to the apartment in the palace.

Sophia Dorothea laughed and caught the little girl up in her arms.

There were attendants who could have carried the child, but Sophia Dorothea did not ask them to do so; and as she was about to mount the stairs a shadow fell across the sunlight and a hand was laid on her arm.

‘The child is too heavy for Your Highness.’

The sound of that voice thrilled her; she turned, a radiant smile on her lips.

Their hands touched as he took the child, who gazed at him in wonder and attempted to make the salute.

Königsmarck carried the little Princess up the stairs with her mother leading the way, as though, her attendants told each other afterwards, they were an ordinary couple returning home together. It was an extraordinary way to behave and a complete flouting of etiquette; but then the Crown Princess had never had much respect for the Hanoverian customs, having been brought up in free and easy Celle.

Königsmarck was putting the child down when Clara on her way to the gardens where she knew he would be on duty came into sight.

She saw in a moment what was happening. Königsmarck carrying the child from the gardens; Sophia Dorothea flushed and excited; she heard her say: ‘But that was good of you, my dear Count.’ My dear Count! So that was it. Could it possibly be that she had dared to become his mistress!

Clara was beside them. She bowed coolly to Sophia Dorothea who, with something like insolence – thought Clara – acknowledged the greeting. Königsmarck bowed low to her and Clara passed on; under her rouge she was white with rage. So this was why he did not come to her now. It was for Sophia Dorothea that he had abandoned her.

Clara came into Ernest Augustus’s aparment where he was resting. He was growing old, thought Clara; and although his gout was improved a little he was not the man he had been.

She was fortunate to have kept her hold on him; and this she had done partly by her forceful and magnetic personality, partly by seeing that her husband had risen in importance so that they were a team who could not easily be dismissed; she had also been wise in keeping her hold on political affairs, for instance the matter of Bernstorff who was so useful to them in Celle. Foreign envoys knew that they had to placate Clara von Platen if they wished to be well received at Hanover. Yes, she had been wise, but she must not cease to be; she knew Ernest Augustus well and that if he decided to push her aside, he would do so however important she had become.

At this moment she forgot to be cautious. Her feelings for Königsmarck made her forget everything else. She cried: ‘Your daughter-in-law conducts herself in a very unseemly way.’

‘Do you think so? I have always found her gracious. Those French manners of hers are welcome at Hanover. It does us good to remind us now and then that we are not always as courteous as we should be.’

‘Gracious! I wish you could have seen her romping with one of your guards.’

‘Romping with a guard! Impossible.’

‘Not impossible … the guard is young and handsome enough.’

‘Sophia Dorothea! She’s a model of virtue, though sometimes I wonder why, poor girl. That reminds me, George Lewis will soon be home from Flanders.’

‘And not before he was needed here. Your daughter-in-law takes advantage of his absence …’

‘Who wouldn’t? And when he comes back he’ll be with Schulenburg, I’ll swear. Poor Sophia Dorothea, hers is not a very happy existence.’

‘You are foolish about that girl.’

Ernest Augustus looked at her coldly. There were times when Clara went too far. She saw it, and going to him laid a hand on his shoulder and put her face against his cheek.

‘You are too kind to women,’ she added indulgently.

‘Are you complaining?’

She laughed aloud. ‘When have you heard me complain?’

She was thinking quickly: ‘It is no use talking to him. He will do nothing. And if I protest he’ll think I’m jealous, jealous on account of Königsmarck. There will have been gossip and if he were to discover, who knows …? Well, there have been others and he knows, but one could never be sure. People could become jealous suddenly. Königsmarck was young and handsome, everything a man should be. It might be that Ernest Augustus might be jealous – not of Clara – but of another man’s youth and vigour.

Caution. Sophia Dorothea must be humiliated, separated from Königsmarck – but at the same time Königsmarck must not be banished.

She must take great care.

George Lewis returned from Flanders and for a while Sophia Dorothea was terrified that he might wish to resume married life with her. She need not have feared. He turned at once to Ermengarda von Schulenburg who had been patiently waiting for him. He seemed to delight in her more than ever; she was ideally suited to him – placid, voluptuous, undemanding, adoring. With such a woman he was in no mood to make demands on Sophia Dorothea.

Clara had hoped that with his return he would put an end to the intrigue – if intrigue there was – between Königsmarck and Sophia Dorothea. She had set her agents to spy on them but they had discovered nothing, for the two watch-dogs – Eléonore von Knesebeck and Aurora Königsmarck – did their work well.

But Clara was growing more and more obsessed by Königsmarck. The fact that he was at Hanover and she was unable to make love with him infuriated her. She hated Sophia Dorothea; she was not sure whether she did not hate Königsmarck. There were times when her feelings wavered between a passionate desire to caress him and an equally fierce one to kill him.

Every day she had to keep herself in check, while she watched and tried to plan.

Ernest Augustus left for The Hague – and Königsmarck accompanied him – to meet William of Orange who was now King of England and one of the leaders of the war in Europe. There was a gathering of the allies that the policy of the war might be discussed. George William of Celle had hoped to go with his brother but illness prevented him, and Sophia Dorothea took an opportunity to go to Celle with her children.

The conference was not a success in spite of all the dignitaries assembled and the brilliant entertainment which had been devised for them, for during it Louis took Mons, which was such a shattering blow that the conference was disbanded at once. While William of Orange returned to England, Ernest Augustus, the Duke of Wolfenbüttel and those who had been making merry while they made plans at The Hague returned somewhat discomfited to their various estates.

Louis was quick to seize an advantage, and knowing how the Duke of Hanover loved money sent an envoy to his court to see if he could be bribed to abandon William and become the ally of France. Clara was kept busy, for naturally the French ambassador had had his orders to approach Ernest Augustus through Clara von Platen. She entertained the Frenchman at Monplaisir and graciously agreed to accept his presents.

When the Duchess of Sophia heard that the French were trying to turn Hanover against England she was angry; she immediately promised the English ambassador her aid and no bribes were needed for her. She would support England no matter what happened; and she thought Ernest Augustus a fool to forget that the English throne could easily be lost for the sake of a French bribe.

Sophia Dorothea found herself drawn into the intrigue. She was naturally attracted by the French at Hanover, because she was able to talk to them in their own language and she liked their manners. George Lewis on the other hand had a great admiration for William of Orange.

Thus there were divided opinions at Hanover and Ernest Augustus wavered. If the Emperor Leopold had presented him with the promised Electorate it would have made all the difference; but it still seemed as far away as ever; this was his real grievance.

Königsmarck had not returned with Ernest Augustus and each day Sophia Dorothea looked for him. It was Eléonore von Knesebeck who learned what was happening and when she did she was so stunned that she did not know how to break the news to her mistress. But Sophia Dorothea, who knew her Confidante well, guessed that something was wrong and fearing that it concerned her lover demanded to know what she had discovered.

‘He will come back,’ cried Knesebeck. ‘I know he will.’

‘Please tell immediately what you know.’

‘William of Orange took a fancy to him and has offered him a high command in his army.’

‘You mean … he is not coming back …’ stammered Sophia Dorothea.

‘The King of England is very powerful; he needs good soldiers like the Count. You must remember that he is a soldier – and what good can come of this? One day you will be discovered and then what would happen do you think? It would be terrible …’

‘Be silent, Knesebeck!’ cried Sophia Dorothea and she ran from the room to her bedchamber where she shut herself in and refused to see anyone.

There was a scratching at the door. Sophia Dorothea did not answer, so Eléonore von Knesebeck came in.

‘Hurry,’ she cried. ‘How dishevelled you are! Here, let me comb your hair. There is someone to see you.’

Sophia Dorothea looked at her maid’s face with incredulous hope. Eléonore von Knesebeck was dimpling, her eyes shining. ‘Quickly! Quickly! There’s no time to lose. He’s outside. I see you don’t believe me. He must come in quickly before he is seen. Come in, my lord Count.’

Königsmarck strode into the room and Eléonore von Knesebeck stood aside smiling at the long embrace.

‘They said you had gone away with the King of England,’ murmured Sophia Dorothea.

‘Did you really think I would leave you?’

‘I feared … oh how I feared!’

‘No need to fear. I shall never leave you.’

‘Never … never …’ sobbed Sophia Dorothea.

Eléonore von Knesebeck tiptoed out and left them together.

‘Königsmarck is back!’ said Ernest Augustus with a laugh. ‘He didn’t want to leave us after all.’

‘The man’s a fool. He’d have more opportunities with the English army.’ Clara’s lips were tight. When she had heard he was not coming back she had been almost glad. It was one way of ridding herself of him. Now here he was, and every time she saw him he seemed more attractive, more desirable; and the desire which was torment, if unsatisfied, was stronger than ever.

‘Well he toyed with the idea. He’ll have his reasons for rejecting William’s offers I don’t doubt. And to celebrate his return he is giving a grand ball. We must attend, Clara. It is only gracious. He has chosen us in place of Orange; we should at least show our gratitude for that.’

‘The Crown Prince and Princess have accepted?’

‘I am sure they have; if not I shall tell them that they must.’

‘I don’t think they will need much persuasion,’ retorted Clara.

A ball, she was thinking; a masked ball doubtless; and there would be opportunities for a little dalliance in the gardens between the host and his principal guest – at least the principal guest in his eyes.

I’ll destroy her! thought Clara. If I have to destroy them both.

Clara sent for her sister Marie. Plump, voluptuous Marie was content in her marriage to General Weyhe who did not make too many demands, was very rich, and delighted to be connected by marriage with the most influential woman at court. When Clara sent for Marie she knew she must not disobey.

What now? thought Marie. Surely Clara did not want her to try once more for George Lewis? That was quite impossible. Everyone knew that he was extraordinarily devoted to Ermengarda von Schulenburg. However, she was soon to find out.

‘You’re looking blooming,’ commented Clara.

Marie smiled, thinking it was more than she could say for Clara who looked raddled beneath the layers of colour on her cheeks. Clara was uneasy, and when Clara was uneasy the rest of her family should be, for their affairs were all bound up in each other.

‘I am pleased,’ went on Clara. ‘You are very friendly with Prince Maximilian.’

Marie laughed. ‘Oh, he is a very gallant young man.’

‘I could wish you had such success with, his brother.’

‘George Lewis behaves like a husband to the Schulenburg. What has the woman that I haven’t?’

Clara looked in exasperation at her sister. She, Clara, much less beautiful than Marie, had managed to keep a firm grip on Ernest Augustus all these years and she was certain that if Marie had used a little more tact, a little more care, she would have held George Lewis. How much easier it would have been to bring Sophia Dorothea to disaster if Marie could have whispered the slander in his ear!

‘I have been thinking of Max,’ said Clara. ‘He is very friendly with the Crown Princess.’

‘He imagines himself in love with her – in a light-hearted way, of course.’

Another of them! With her fairy ways and her graceful French manners she inspired these men with that sort of devotion. It was irritating; but on this occasion Max’s devotion might be turned to advantage.

‘He dreams of her and frolics with those who are less inaccessible – such as you, my dear sister. It is a very small thing I want to ask of you and of him. I admired very much the embroidered gloves George Lewis brought back from Flanders and want to have the embroidery copied.’

‘She would lend you one, I am sure.’

‘My dear sister, we are not great friends and I do not wish her to have the satisfaction of knowing I want to copy her gloves. No, Max must steal one of them when he is in her apartments. It won’t be difficult. Then he must give it to you and you will bring it to me.’

Marie smiled; she was wondering what mischief Clara was brewing. But it was not for her to question Clara’s methods – only to obey.

Königsmarck’s ball was brilliant and the fact that the guests were masked and in fancy dress added to the enchantment of the occasion.

Clara’s spies had told her what costume Sophia Dorothea was wearing and she had one made exactly like it, and before the ball she sent a note to Königsmarck telling him that she wished to see him and she thought that the ball was an excellent opportunity for them to talk together.

When Königsmarck received her letter he was uneasy, but he realized at once that he must listen to what Clara had to say.

He was in love with Sophia Dorothea but he was not the hero she believed him to be and he was well aware of this. Often he longed to be all that she thought he was; but he knew himself to be only human. She insisted on regarding him as a god. He was afraid of Clara, afraid that when they were together she would overcome his scruples and he would fall into temptation again. Sophia Dorothea would not understand how easily this could happen, nor the overwhelming sensuality of a woman like Clara von Platen which to a man of his nature was an almost irresistible challenge. Königsmarck was like thousands of other young men – vain, a little arrogant, something of an opportunist; he had not let Sophia Dorothea know how seriously he had considered accepting the very tempting offer William of Orange had made to him. He had, it was true, returned to Hanover for the sake of Sophia Dorothea; and when he was with her, he was sure that he loved her devotedly, that his happiness depended on her. Yet, he was no fool, and often he asked himself where all this could end. What could theirs ever be but a clandestine affair; and if they were exposed, who knew what dangerous situation they might find themselves in?

He had to see Clara. He knew that she still wanted him as a lover and he could not help it if while this knowledge alarmed him yet it exhilarated him.

When he was receiving his guests he recognized her at once in spite of her mask. She looked, he noticed, not unlike Sophia Dorothea; she pressed his hand as he greeted her – a reminder that she expected him to keep their tryst.

There was the joy of dancing with Sophia Dorothea, of whispering endearments together. Could they be alone during the evening? It was dangerous for George Lewis was among the guests. He would be with Ermengarda von Schulenburg – but his wife was expected to be a model of decorum.

‘If the opportunity should arise …’ whispered Königsmarck, but he was thinking of Clara. He must see Clara. He dared not fail for he was afraid of that woman.

She was at his side, suggesting a walk in the gardens. It was summer and the moonlight was enchanting. Now, thought Clara, the stage was set. He was thinking she was going to make advances and that that was the object of this meeting. It was true that she might make advances, but the main object was not for that.

‘So, my lord Count, you ignore me now.’

‘Madam, no one could ignore you. You are the leading light of the court of Hanover and …’

‘Have done with that!’ cried Clara hoarsely. ‘I have invited you to come to me in a hundred ways and each you turn aside. You are never at Monplaisir …’

‘My duties, Countess …’

‘Now listen to me, Count Königsmarck. Ours has been no ordinary acquaintance, has it?’

‘Being your … friend … could only be a most exhilarating experience and one a man could never forget.’

‘I can tell you you left me something to remember. Do you know that I could have lost my life putting myself in order after you had gone away?’

‘I regret …’

‘So did I, Count. I regretted when I found your ardent ways had left me pregnant. And my husband away … and the Duke away… . A pleasant scandal there might have been, but I well nigh killed myself to avoid that.’

‘I humbly beg your pardon and I am sure that after such an experience you will never wish to see me again.’

She came closer to him; he was aware of her voluptuous body, her insinuations. ‘About that I have not yet made up my mind,’ she whispered.

‘I shall shortly be leaving with the army,’ he said. ‘A soldier’s life …’

‘You need not go if you do not wish.’

‘My duty …’

He was telling her he did not want her and she felt an inclination to slap his face. But that was not part of the plan. I hate him! she thought. He is refusing me for the sake of that woman, that foolish simpering Frenchwoman. Well, we shall see whether he is able to continue his secret tos and fros from her bedchamber. If he won’t come to mine he shall not go to hers.

‘My headdress is slipping. Let us go into this pavilion that I may adjust it.’

He looked uneasily at the pavilion. It was not exactly the spot lovers would choose, being a little exposed and anyone inside it would be seen from outside.

Clara put her hands to her headdress. At any moment now Platen should be coming up the path with George Lewis – that was if Platen did his part. But she could trust him to do what he was told; the point was had he been able to get George Lewis away from Schulenburg?

Königsmarck was relieved that there did seem to appear to be something wrong with the headdress; at first he had thought she was going to suggest an embrace in the pavilion; she was capable of such a suggestion he well knew.

‘Can I help?’ he asked.

‘I think not. Your duties in a lady’s bedchamber have not usually been concerned with fixing headdresses.’

She could never resist the coarse allusion. How different from Sophia Dorothea. If only it were possible for them to go away together, to marry! He believed he would be happy to change his mode of living. He was certain he would be ready to do anything for Sophia Dorothea.

‘Listen! Footsteps! Someone is coming this way. Look, we’ll go out of that door and we shall not meet them.’

Clara stood in the moonlight, her back to the men who were coming along the path to the pavilion. She was quick enough to see that it was her husband and George Lewis.

They would recognize Königsmarck and the figure in the dress which was exactly like that worn by Sophia Dorothea.

It is working to plan, thought Clara; and her pleasure in the success of her little plot made up for her chagrin at Königsmarck’s indifference.

‘A glove, Your Highness,’ said Platen, stopping and picking up the embroidered glove which Clara had dropped.

‘Clearly it belongs to the woman who left in a hurry just as we came along.’ George Lewis looked at the glove and recognized it as one he had himself brought from Flanders. He remembered being impressed by the excellent workmanship. ‘That is my wife’s glove,’ he said. ‘Who was the man with her?’

‘It was Count Königsmarck, Your Highness.’

‘It was. I saw him clearly.’

George Lewis continued to look at the glove.

The following day he made a rare call at his wife’s apartments.

Sophia Dorothea was surprised and disturbed to see him; but she made a pretence of indifference.

‘I come to look at the embroidered gloves I brought you from Flanders. I was talking of the fine work they do there.’

‘The gloves!’ cried Sophia Dorothea, embarrassed. ‘I … I have lost one of them.’

George Lewis regarded her sullenly. ‘Last night?’ he asked.

‘No, some days ago. I will ask Fraulein von Knesebeck.’

Eléonore came running to her mistress’s summons and Sophia Dorothea asked her when the glove had first been missed.

‘It was several days ago,’ said Eléonore. ‘I remember remarking on it.’

George Lewis regarded them sullenly and at that moment the Count von Platen asked to be admitted. He bowed to the Princess and offered her the embroidered glove.

‘It was found, Your Highness, in the pavilion at the Count Königsmarck’s ball last night.’

‘But … I do not understand… .’

George Lewis took the glove from Platen and threw it on to a table.

‘That is enough,’ he said; and with Platen left the apartment.

Sophia Dorothea and Eléonore von Knesebeck looked at each other in horror. What did this mean?

Each day Sophia Dorothea waited for George Lewis to act but he said nothing; and in fact after a few weeks had passed he appeared to have forgotten the affair of the glove. He was deeply concerned with Ermengarda and they were seen everywhere together. She could put George Lewis into good spirits and he seemed less uncouth consequently.

Königsmarck, who had heard of the affair of the glove from Sophia Dorothea, knew very well what had happened, but he did not wish to tell her that he had been in the pavilion with Clara. He was ashamed of himself for his duplicity and as a result became more reckless than usual, anxious to tell the world how much he loved and respected Sophia Dorothea.

At the card table in the great hall one night, when there was a lull in the game, when he was talking of Saxony, he mentioned how the Elector was dominated by his mistress, how his wife was of no account; he then went on to speak of the court of Dresden – the magnificence of the balls and banquets. They exceeded, he told his listeners, anything they had ever known at Hanover.

George Lewis, who was sitting at the table with Ermengarda, glowered at him, for Königsmarck represented everything that George Lewis disliked – elegance and eloquence, all the characteristics of a legendary romantic hero.

He growled unexpectedly: ‘If you like Saxony so much why did you leave it for Hanover?’

Königsmarck flashed him a look of distaste. ‘Because,’ he said, ‘I did not care to see a beautiful wife distressed by the conduct of a husband who neglected her for the sake of a mistress who was both impudent and worthless.’

There was a gasp. Ermengarda tittered nervously while George Lewis seemed as though he were about to speak but changed his mind.

Silence followed until the cards were dealt.

Clara, who heard of the incident, waited for George Lewis to act. First the glove incident and now Königsmarck’s outburst! The fool, thought Clara. Doesn’t he know George Lewis is the most vindictive man at Hanover? The fact that he allowed the insolence to pass does not mean he has forgotten it. It will be remembered against you, my handsome gallant, for ever and ever!

She discussed the matter with Platen who was of the opinion that George Lewis simply did not care whether his wife was having a love affair with Königsmarck.

But, he agreed with Clara that he would put the matter at the back of his mind, to be remembered later.

The lovers reassured each other that there would be no outcome of the glove incident. Meetings were arranged; they made love; they talked of their dangers and in a weak moment when he felt he wished to have no secrets from Sophia Dorothea, Königsmarck told her how Clara had insisted on walking with him in the gardens and had led him to the pavilion where the glove had been found.

This aroused Sophia Dorothea’s jealousy which had to be appeased; but he knew he was right to have told her because they must both be on their guard as never before against Clara.

‘She is a dangerous woman,’ said Königsmarck. ‘Never let us forget that.’

They thought of the disaster she could set in motion; but the fear and uncertainty made their meetings the more precious.

Feverishly they planned to meet and meet again.