The Princess of Celle: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  William of Orange and his wife Mary were freely discussed and Frederick Augustus was helpless with laughter at the thought of William’s intrigue with Elizabeth Villiers. Having known William it was difficult to imagine him as the lover, and why he should indulge in such an affair gave rise to much ribald speculation, particularly as his interest in male friends was well known. They discussed the possibility of Elizabeth Villiers being a blind for other activities.

  It was very entertaining to laugh at the great soldier who, in the battlefield, had proved himself to be more skilful than they could ever be. Then the conversation turned to Hanover.

  Königsmarck felt suddenly sad. He had been drinking more than was usual and felt a longing to be back in Hanover with Sophia Dorothea. He knew in that moment that he loved her, that he wanted a chance to live in retirement with her for the rest of his life.

  ‘My friend is becoming melancholy,’ murmured Frederick Augustus.

  ‘I am thinking of Hanover,’ Königsmarck sighed.

  ‘A fair lady in Hanover?’

  ‘The fairest lady in Hanover is the Princess Sophia Dorothea,’ cried Königsmarck. ‘It is a shame and a scandal the way George Lewis treats her. I could murder him with my bare hands.’

  ‘Our friend has always been known for his chivalry towards ladies in distress,’ said Frederick Augustus with a smile. ‘Tell us more about the beautiful Princess and her ogre of a husband.’

  Königsmarck talked. He did not realize how freely; it was like thinking aloud. She should not be left to her misery; someone should rescue her, carry her away to where she could live happily ever after.

  It was clear to the company that Königsmarck felt romantically towards the Princess of Hanover, but this maudlin sentiment was not as amusing as the more scandalous tales of George Lewis and his mistress and the Countess von Platen and her lovers.

  It soothed his melancholy to be the focus of their interest. He had information which they sought; the stories he could tell could hold the company’s interest and amuse; Königsmarck, a born raconteur, could not resist the temptation.

  His glass was filled; his spirits rose; he heard the laughter as he gave an imitation of George Lewis’s attempts at tenderness towards Fraulein von Schulenburg; but it was Clara who provided his greatest success. Were the stories that were being circulated about that woman true? Was she in fact sexually insatiable? How often did she deceive Ernest Augustus? Was it true that she took lovers indiscriminately – high born and low?

  ‘She is an amazing woman,’ said Königsmarck. ‘I know from personal experience.’

  They must know all he had to tell about this remarkable woman. So Königsmarck, excited and elated by potent wine and flattering attention told the intimate details of his relationship with Clara von Platen.

  News travelled back to Hanover. Clara’s spies seized on it and carried it to her. She was being laughed at all over Europe. Her intimate secrets were secrets no longer. By God, she thought, I’ll be revenged for this.

  And the enemy was Königsmarck, the man she loved, the man she hated, the man she desired and the man she wanted to see ruined. Because her feelings were mixed, her rage was all the more intense.

  Sooner or later the fact that the scandals of his court were being discussed throughout Europe would reach the ears of Ernest Augustus; and Clara wanted to be there first.

  He was lying on his bed tired after the day’s business when she went to him. He was often tired now; he was growing old and this meant that he was easier to manage; and the best time to get what she wanted was when he was exhausted. Then she could soothe him with her gentle attentions and couch her request so that he would grant it in order to have done with an unpleasant matter.

  She soaked a handkerchief in a cooling perfume and bathed his forehead.

  ‘That fool Königsmarck is talking too much in Dresden,’ she said softly.

  ‘Everywhere people are talking too much.’

  ‘It’s true. He has taken a post in the Saxon army. He seems to have forgotten you made him a Colonel of your guards.’

  ‘He’s a slippery adventurer. I like the fellow, but don’t forget he’s a Swede, and if he likes to serve Saxony instead of Hanover he can.’

  ‘You are too lenient.’

  Ernest Augustus closed his eyes as though to imply he was weary of the subject.

  ‘The fellow has uttered some insults about George Lewis,’ she said.

  ‘No doubt he deserved them.’

  ‘Even so he is the Crown Prince of Hanover and to insult him is to insult Hanover.’

  ‘George Lewis will take care of it.’

  ‘He has insulted me and Fraulein von Schulenburg. George Lewis is angry about this.’

  Ernest Augustus shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘You like the fellow,’ Clara accused him.

  ‘You like him too,’ retaliated Ernest Augustus and Clara was silent. ‘Why,’ he went on, ‘he’s handsome, romantic. Of course you like him.’

  ‘So it seems does Sophia Dorothea. If he is her lover … if there is anything in the rumours then … that is dangerous.’

  Ernest Augustus was obviously more alert.

  ‘I don’t believe it to be so. She has too keen a sense of duty.’

  ‘But if it were so it could be disastrous. The son of the Princess – who in certain circumstances could be the heir – not begotten by the Crown Prince but by a Swedish adventurer!’

  ‘She would never …’

  ‘If she did, if it could be proved … then you would take action against him … against her.’

  ‘Action would then of course be necessary,’ said Ernest Augustus.

  Clara sat by his bed exulting.

  I’ll be revenged, she promised herself. I’ll be revenged on them both.

  Tragedy in the Leine Schloss

  KÖNIGSMARCK WAS BACK in Hanover. His stay in Dresden had forced him to a decision. He was tired of the gay life; he wanted only to be with Sophia Dorothea. He was certain of it now. There was no happiness for him apart from her.

  He was going to be bold and reckless and carry her right away from Hanover to where they could be happy together living the simple life.

  He was not received with enthusiasm at court. The news of his gossip at Dresden was one reason; it had incensed the Crown Prince and his mistress and those who wanted to please them had to pretend to be disgusted too. He had accepted a commission in the army of Saxony when he had one in Hanover. Some explanation would eventually be expected of him.

  When Clara saw him her desire for him made her forget her hatred. If he would come back to her, be her lover again, she would forgive him everything. As for Sophia Dorothea, the loss of Königsmarck would be her punishment. That was enough for any woman, Clara decided. How she would enjoy flaunting her enjoyment of the man in Sophia Dorothea’s face; she would visit her and discuss his perfections with her as he had discussed her with his friends in Dresden.

  ‘She waylaid him and cornered him on the day of his return. Brilliantly painted, seductively gowned, she barred his way in one of the ante-rooms of the palace.

  ‘So you are back.’ She stood close to him, her hand on his arm. ‘I am pleased to see you.’

  Königsmarck looked over her head. ‘I am honoured.’ His voice was cold.

  ‘You should visit me at Monplaisir.’

  ‘I fear I have no time for such a visit.’

  Angry lights shot up in Clara’s eyes.

  ‘You will be too busily engaged elsewhere?’

  ‘I hope to be,’ he answered.

  ‘And if I were to promise you …’

  ‘Nothing you could promise me would make me change my mind.’

  Why was she standing here accepting insults? Clara asked herself. Why did she not abuse him, call him traitor, gossip – and the worst of scandalmongers who betrays the confidences of the bedchamber?

  She hated him and yet her desire for him was a raging torment.

  He bowed coldl
y and passed on.

  This was the end of Königsmarck, Clara decided. She could no longer tolerate his presence in Hanover. He had made it clear that he would never be her lover again.

  And if, said Clara to herself, he will not be my lover he shall be no one else’s.

  She saw herself every night thinking of him wherever he was with other women – Sophia Dorothea in all probability. How could she endure that? And to think that he should prefer Sophia Dorothea, that pretty little creature without character, without experience! It was not to be borne.

  In the heat of passion she sat down and wrote a letter. She knew Sophia Dorothea’s handwriting and she could easily do a draft which could be mistaken for it even by one who had received many letters from her. It was addressed to Königsmarck, telling him he must visit her that night at the Leine Schloss. It was imperative.

  She then sent for one of her spies in Sophia Dorothea’s household and told her that the letter must be given to Königsmarck with the information that the Princess had asked her to deliver it.

  It was getting late. Ernest Augustus would soon be retiring for the night. Clara said: ‘I must see you alone.’

  Then she told him that she feared what could happen unless prompt action were taken.

  ‘You are too tolerant of rogues,’ she told him. ‘Königsmarck has shown that he is no friend to Hanover in the last months. Now I have proof to offer you. He is planning to elope with Sophia Dorothea.’

  ‘Impossible.’

  ‘Is it? He is visiting her tonight. He’ll spend the night with her making love and plans. They are going to leave Hanover and seek refuge in Wolfenbüttel.’

  Wolfenbüttel! The mention of that name was enough to arouse Ernest Augustus’s anger.

  ‘What a scandal! What do you think they will say of us at Hanover? They’ll be rising against us soon. And all because you have refused to believe what is going on under your nose. I should have thought the Mölcke affair would have been a warning but you refused to believe ill of your beautiful daughter-in-law. She could do no wrong. No! Only receive her lover at night, only plot her elopement, only plot against you who have shown her nothing but kindness.’

  ‘Are you sure she is receiving Königsmarck tonight?’

  ‘Absolutely sure. There is only one thing to do – arrest him when he is leaving her apartment. Then you will see that what I have told you is true.’

  ‘Yes, arrest him.’

  ‘Leave this to me,’ said Clara. ‘We do not want a scandal. I will instruct the guards who are to arrest him. We will do it as quietly as possible. We do not want the whole of Europe to know that the Crown Princess receives a lover in her bedchamber. There’ll be doubt of the parentage of her children if it becomes common knowledge. Will you trust me with this arrest?’

  Ernest Augustus nodded. ‘I know why you want to have charge of this, Clara. He’s a very handsome man. You want him treated gently.’

  ‘I want to make sure that I do the best for you.’

  In the small room in the Leine Schloss Clara threw off her cloak and confronted the four halberdiers whom she had summoned there.

  The light of candles threw their flickering glow on a flagon of wine set on the table.

  Clara produced the document to which Ernest Augustus had put his signature.

  ‘You will wait in the corridor close to the apartments of the Princess of Hanover,’ said Clara, ‘until you see a man emerge. He will have to pass along the corridor and you will wait for him. The Elector’s orders are that he should be taken … dead or alive.’

  ‘Dead or alive!’ repeated the leader of the men.

  ‘Fortify yourselves,’ said Clara, pointing to the flagon. ‘He may try to defend himself. He’ll be a desperate man.’

  ‘We will carry out the Elector’s orders, Countess,’ was the answer. ‘We’ll get him … dead or alive.’

  Clara left them and went to wait in a small room close by. Pictures came unbidden to her mind; she tried to chase them away and could not. Sophia Dorothea and Königsmarck together now… .

  Disguised in an old jacket and a rough brown cloak Königsmarck made his way into the Leine Schloss. In his pocket he carried the note which he believed had come from Sophia Dorothea. Something extraordinary must have happened for her to take this risk; but he could not be concerned with that. He was going to be with her again; and now that he was here it seemed to him that nothing on earth mattered but that. He loved Sophia Dorothea, He was a different man from the careless adventurer of the past. He had been weak and foolish, even after loving her, but he was going to break away from the old meaningless life; he could not do it at one stroke. But now he knew he would in time because nothing else in the world mattered but their happiness. Tonight he would persuade her to leave everything and run away with him.

  He entered the castle and made his way to the wing in which he knew the Princess had her apartments. He quickly passed through the rittersaal – the knights’ hall – to a smaller hall close by; now he could see the door which led to the Princesses’s apartments.

  Swiftly he went to it and lightly scratched. It was opened by Eléonore von Knesebeck, who looked startled.

  ‘My lord Count …’

  ‘Take me to the Princess.’

  ‘Yes, yes. Come in quickly… . Oh this is dangerous … at such a time.’

  ‘I came in answer to her summons.’

  Eléonore looked even more surprised. Then she said: ‘Follow me.’

  Sophia Dorothea was in her bed and she gave a cry of joy when she saw her lover and they were in each other’s arms.

  Eléonore von Knesebeck stood at the door, watching.

  ‘Keep guard,’ said Sophia Dorothea.

  Eléonore nodded, asking herself why she had not been told that Königsmarck had been summoned. Usually she shared the confidences.

  Quietly she shut the door and went to her own apartment. She heard the key turn in the lock as she did so.

  Sophia Dorothea was saying: ‘This is dangerous.’

  ‘You don’t imagine I wouldn’t come if you sent for me?’

  ‘Sent for you! But I would not allow you to do anything so dangerous.’

  He took the letter from his pocket and Sophia Dorothea frowned over it.

  ‘I did not write it.’

  ‘Then who …’

  Danger, their minds warned them. Who had lured Königsmarck to the Leine Schloss tonight and for what purpose? But they were together and they did not want to entertain any fears of what this might mean. There had been long dreary months without each other. They were both convinced that their only chance of happiness was together.

  ‘I am here … with you … what matters aught else?’ demanded Königsmarck.

  ‘Oh, how I have longed for you!’

  They made ecstatic love; and afterwards they made plans.

  Life could not go on as it had been. They were both certain. Everything that had happened before was past and done with. The future was theirs. It did not matter where they were as long as they were together.

  They would fly to Wolfenbüttel where they could be sure of shelter. She would bring the children with her for she could not bear to be parted from them. They were determined on flight.

  ‘When?’ cried Sophia Dorothea. ‘It cannot be too soon.’

  ‘It must be soon,’ said Königsmarck. ‘We dare not delay. There are too many spies about. I cannot hide my love for you. It must be tomorrow.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘I shall let it be known that I am returning to Dresden. My reception here has been rather cold and it will seem natural. My coach will be waiting outside my house and the coachmen will be given instruction that they are to go to Dresden. You and Knesebeck will leave the palace quietly dressed so as to attract no attention. You will slip into the coach where I shall be waiting. When we are outside the town I will give the instructions to make for Wolfenbüttel instead of Dresden. And then … we shall be well on the way before it is not
iced.’

  ‘And the children?’

  ‘We must send for them later. To take them with us would certainly result in failure.’

  ‘I could not bear to lose them.’

  ‘You shall not. I promise you, you shall not. You know I could not fail you.’ She was sure he could not fail her. She lay shuddering in his arms and yet she was gloriously happy. To escape from the misery of Hanover. To be happy with her lover. That was what she wanted; that was what she needed if she were not to die of melancholy.

  There was a gentle scratching at the door.

  ‘I’ll go and see who is there. Hide yourself.’

  Sophia Dorothea went to the door. It was only Eléonore von Knesebeck, alarmed by the length of the visit, for she guessed the lovers had not noticed the passing of time.

  ‘If he remains much longer it will be dawn,’ she whispered.

  Königsmarck came forward. ‘Our Confidante is right,’ he said. ‘I must leave now.’

  There was a last embrace.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ whispered Königsmarck.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ echoed Sophia Dorothea.

  Then the door shut on him leaving a bewildered Eléonore von Knesebeck with an exultant Sophia Dorothea.

  Königsmarck crossed the rittersaal, walked to the door which he had left unlocked that he might easily slip away and turned the handle. It was locked.

  He was alert. Someone had locked the door. Why? Because they knew he would want to leave by it.

  He turned, and at that moment he saw the gleam of halberds, while simultaneously he was seized from behind.

  There were four of them – four figures, armed, determined on his destruction.

  He drew his sword and struck out in the dimness; then he felt the violent blow on his head; he swayed and as he saw the cold steel at his heart he cried out: ‘The Princess is innocent… . Do not harm her!’ Then bleeding profusely he fell half swooning to the floor.