The Princess of Celle: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  ‘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 E
léonore 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.r />
  ‘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.