The Princess of Celle: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  ‘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 surpri
sed 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.

  A Pinch of Snuff

  WHILE SOPHIA DOROTHEA and Königsmarck were oblivious of everything else but each other, Maximilian was growing more and more restive. He missed the restraining influence of Charles; he could no longer play the gallant with Sophia Dorothea; he was constantly in the company of young men as reckless as himself; and they planned how they could force Ernest Augustus to see their point of view. To Maximilian and his friends this was an amusing game to prevent boredom; but it was dangerous; they were young and high spirited and they tried to outdo each other by their recklessness. Their enemies were Ernest Augustus and George Lewis and they talked boldly in secret.

  One of the chief conspirators was Count Mölcke, Ernest Augustus’s Master of the Hunt; and the young Duke of Wolfenbüttel was in communication with them.

  Clara, who had been an enemy of Maximilian since the affair of the pea water, had her spies about the group, and she was always hoping to prove to Ernest Augustus that their conspiracy was not merely the mischievous but childish game he thought it. Ernest Augustus was inclined to laugh at his son’s antics; he was well aware of Clara’s fury over the pea water, and as for the Duchess Sophia, her one weakness was for her sons – other than George Lewis – and she too was apt to be lenient.

  This was infuriating for Clara, who saw herself not only baulked of her revenge on mischievous Max, but robbed of the man whom she was now convinced was the only one to satisfy her. Above all she hated Sophia Dorothea and she determined to destroy her; and it occurred to her that if she could prove Maximilian to be plotting against his father and elder brother, she might at the same time involve Sophia Dorothea.

  One evening when Ernest Augustus was playing cards, with Clara beside him, he asked for his snuff box, and as it was the duty of Count Mölcke to carry this, the young man immediately produced it. Ernest Augustus was about to take a pinch of snuff when Clara laid a hand on his arm; for a few seconds Ernest Augustus looked into her terrified eyes.

  In view of her concern he could not but be warned; holding the snuff between his fingers he did not immediately put it to his nose. He said: ‘Mölcke, take my hand, will you.’

  The Count took the cards and Ernest Augustus rose and went into an ante-room, Clara following him. In the ante-room he turned to her and said: ‘What does it mean?’

  She did not answer him but called to the spaniel who was lying there.

  ‘Give the snuff to him and you will see,’ she said.

  Ernest Augustus did so. ‘You’re not suggesting …’

  ‘If you won’t look after yourself, I must do it for you. Let me tell you, I have friends everywhere in the place … everywhere. It helps me to uncover plots and intrigues … in high places … and low.’

  ‘Clara, this is …’

  She pointed to the dog who had already begun to foam at the mouth. Ernest Augustus stared in horror as it fell to its side, its legs twitching.

  As Ernest Augustus looked on in horror, the dog’s movements ceased.

  ‘It’s dead, poor creature,’ said Clara. ‘Well, at least he has taught you to listen to me.’

  “But it’s … monstrous!’

  ‘It’s black treachery,’ declared Clara. ‘Mölcke should be arrested before he escapes.’

  ‘He looked so innocent when he gave me the box!’

  ‘What use would he be to his friends if he betrayed his black guilt? Have him arrested at once. Then you will learn that you have been too confiding.’

  Ernest Augustus called in the guard.

  ‘Wait at the foot of the staircase,’ he said, ‘and when Count Mölcke appears,
arrest him on a charge of treason.’

  Then Ernest Augustus went back to the card table. ‘Someone is waiting outside to see you, Count,’ he said.

  The Count rose and walked out to the guard.

  How easy it was to build up a case against a group of careless young conspirators! There were servants who had overheard their rash words. It was true enough that Maximilian was jealous of his brother; he was very friendly with his cousin the young Duke of Wolfenbüttel; and the manner in which the house of Wolfenbüttel had been treated at the time of the marriage of Sophia Dorothea and George Lewis was certain to have made bad blood. The Duchess Sophia was very anxious; she disliked her eldest son and loved the younger ones; she would have been delighted to have been able to share the inheritance instead of allowing it all to go to George Lewis.

  In his heart Ernest Augustus did not believe for a moment that his son would be concerned in a plot to poison him; nor did he think the lighthearted Count Mölcke capable of such an action. But it was true that there was disaffection in the family and that was something he had tolerated long enough. Knowing Clara, an idea of how the snuff came to be poisoned entered his mind. Maximilian had insulted her and Clara was never one to forgive insults. However, he would not explore that possibility and it had to be made known that such conduct could not be tolerated.

  There had to be a scapegoat and Mölcke being the obvious one, he was sentenced to death. Maximilian was banished from Hanover; and as soon as he had gone Ernest Augustus realized the folly of this action, for he immediately went to Wolfenbüttel where he was received with the utmost hospitality.

  Clara was delighted with Maximilian’s banishment but to punish him was not as important as to destroy Sophia Dorothea.

  When Mölcke had been questioned he had been urged to implicate the Princess but this he refused to do.