The Princess of Celle: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  ‘Max is a problem,’ murmured Ernest Augustus.

  ‘He is, and I am learning quite a lot about that young man. But in the meantime I want the whole court to know that no one insults me and escapes punishment.’

  ‘What can one do with such a boy?’

  ‘Boy indeed! He is old enough to know better. But let him be treated like a child. That will wound his dignity more than anything. Shut him in his room and let him live like a prisoner on bread and water. It should help to curb his spirits.’

  Ernest Augustus as usual agreed with his irate mistress and as a result Maximilian found himself locked in his room for three days, there to brood on the folly of making public attacks on the dignity of his father’s mistress.

  His servants were fond of him and eager to show their devotion, and even at the risk of being betrayed to the Baroness von Platen they smuggled his two brothers to his room. Frederick Augustus, being the eldest, felt much more strongly than the others about being passed over in favour of George Lewis and he believed that the rest of them should band together to protest against this.

  ‘See how we are treated!’ he cried. ‘You play a small joke on our father’s mistress and you are locked in your room on bread and water. Are you a child to be treated so?’

  ‘I am not and I’ll not endure it. Tell me, what should we do?’

  ‘We should make plans,’ suggested Frederick Augustus. ‘After all I am but a year younger than George Lewis. Are we going to give up everything for that boor?’

  ‘Never!’ cried Max.

  ‘Then let us put our heads together.’

  The schemes were scarcely serious, but they discussed them zestfully, for it soothed their wounded vanity to plan. They did not know that they were being spied on; that almost every damning word they uttered was carried to Clara.

  Clara had been receiving mournful letters from Marie who had now become a widow. She was bored. Hadn’t Clara promised her that she would bring her back to court to give her an opportunity of being George Lewis’s dear friend once more?

  Clara was ruminating on the desirability of this and cursing the fact that a promise had been given to ban Marie from court at the time of Sophia Dorothea’s marriage to George Lewis, when she heard that the young men had been plotting together.

  She considered how best this could be used to advantage, and when she considered the friendship between Sophia Dorothea and her brothers-in-law, she had an idea. She could scarcely wait to see Ernest Augustus, but decided to choose the best time of all for secret conversations which were destined to end in the extraction of a favour.

  So it was at night that she talked to him.

  ‘Your sons are growing troublesome,’ she told him.

  ‘That affair of Maximilian,’ he began.

  ‘Oh that … that was a childish folly not meant to be taken seriously.’

  She put her face close to his and with a sensuous movement let her fingers stroke his back.

  ‘I fear they are banding against you.’

  ‘What … the boys!’

  ‘Well, you see why. They think George Lewis gets too much and they too little.’

  ‘He is the eldest. Don’t they understand that?’

  ‘They understand the customs but that doesn’t mean they like it.’

  ‘Their likes and dislikes are not important.’

  ‘To them they are.’

  ‘What have you discovered?’

  ‘That their plots are a little more than boyish pranks.’

  ‘They will be watched.’

  ‘You may trust me to do that. But there is someone else involved. She is very friendly with them and they are constantly in her apartments. It is there they meet to hatch their little plots. You know to whom I refer?’

  ‘Not Sophia Dorothea?’

  ‘Yes, your angelic little daughter-in-law is not averse to plotting against you.’

  ‘Oh … she is incapable of that.’

  ‘Is she? She is quite capable of luring your sons on. She’s a deep one, that little bird of ours. I have never been deluded by all the dainty charm … as you have.’

  ‘So she has been planning against me?’

  ‘She has brought a fortune to Hanover and doesn’t forget it. Perhaps she feels she should have some say in how that fortune is spent.’

  ‘My dear, you exaggerate.’

  ‘I don’t think so. She hates George Lewis but is very fond of her brothers-in-law. It would be a sort of revenge on him for being what he is – the biggest boor in Christendom – and on you for spending the money which she looks on as hers.’

  ‘I can’t believe she is vindictive.’

  ‘You have always thought so highly of her, but you’ll learn. My dear, there is one thing I want to ask of you, and I do beg of you to grant this small request.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s Marie … my sister. She is bereaved and so sad and lonely. Is it still necessary to banish her?’

  ‘It was the promise given …’

  ‘So long ago. And did not your daughter-in-law promise to be dutiful? And she has been plotting with your sons. If they were not so young and flighty that could be dangerous. Let Marie return. I ask it.’

  Ernest Augustus grunted and rolled on to his back. He was staring into the darkness thinking of his sons, growing up plotting against him. And Sophia Dorothea – the lovely girl whom he had begun to think of as his daughter – working with them! Clara exaggerated, of course, because she was jealous of Sophia Dorothea’s youth. But, by God, if the girl was ungrateful to him why should be bother to protect her from the possibility of her husband’s giving up his casual mistresses for a permanent and clever woman who would attempt to rule him?

  ‘Let her return then,’ he said. ‘She has been banished for a long time … and she is a widow now.’

  Clara exulted in the darkness. Victory! Now she could go into action against her enemy, and Ernest Augustus, piqued by her lack of affection for him, would shrug his shoulders and let his dainty daughter-in-law take care of herself.

  There was a brilliant assembly in the great hall. Clara was there, so were the Crown Prince and Princess. The Princess was seated at the card tables; and the Crown Prince, surrounded by a group of his friends, young men as crude as himself, was yawning and idly surveying the women.

  The Princess was intent on her cards and Clara noticed that Charles Philip was at her table.

  Now was the moment. She signed to a plump young woman who had come into the hall and taking her by the hand approached George Lewis.

  ‘I wonder,’ said Clara smiling gaily, ‘whether Your Highness remembers my sister, Madame von dem Bussche?’

  George Lewis looked startled.

  ‘Oh yes, I remember her.’

  Marie curtsied, leaning forward to show her half-exposed bosom to better advantage and lifted her big and beautiful eyes to his face.

  ‘I thought perhaps Your Highness would wish to know that she is back at court.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ he said.

  Clara took Marie by the hand and made her advance a few paces to stand beside George Lewis. Then she left them together.

  ‘The court has changed a little since I left.’

  ‘It’s a long time,’ mumbled George Lewis.

  ‘To me it has seemed a lifetime. But I solaced myself with memories of Hanover … and Your Highness.’

  ‘Yes,’ said George Lewis. Erotic images came and went in his mind. He had grown up since those days. His sexual education would never stand still. And here was Marie back again – the woman whom he had remembered during those first weeks of marriage when he had been sullen and angry with his wife because she was not his mistress, when he had tried to impose Marie’s physical presence on that of his wife in order to make love to her – and failed because his imagination was not strong enough to be of much use to him. But there had been many others since Marie.

  ‘I was wondering how much everything had changed. I haven’t s
een the gardens yet. They must be very pleasant. I hear that His Highness the Duke has had many changes made since your marriage enabled him to.’

  It was a mistake. George Lewis did not like references to the great affluence which Sophia Dorothea had brought to Hanover. He frowned and looked at Marie; she had grown older and she did not stir him as she once had.

  ‘I was wondering if Your Highness would be so gracious as to show me the gardens …’

  It was an invitation – a reminder of alfresco meetings.

  He hesitated; he was not quite sure whether he wanted Marie to be his partner for the night. In fact he had had his eye on another young woman and she was only waiting for the summons.

  Clumsily he agreed to escort her but the cool evening air was not conducive to passion and in his crude way George Lewis made it clear during that garden walk that he had no intention of returning to the relationship which he had once enjoyed with Marie.

  In the apartments assigned to her in the Hanover Palace Marie lay on her bed and gave way to her passionate rage.

  ‘So I have been kept away too long! Why did I ever come back? They are all laughing at me. They know what’s happened. And at the moment he’s doubtless sniggering about me with that low German whore …’

  ‘Be silent,’ said Clara. ‘It’s a bitter disappointment, I admit. I can’t see that you’ve become less attractive while you’ve been away.’

  ‘He’s changed. He’s more of a boor than ever. There’s only one thing I’m thankful for. I don’t have to submit to him and his soldier’s lust.’

  ‘Don’t be an idiot, Marie. You came here to continue as his mistress, and if you had been able to get back in favour we should have had him on leading strings. That was what we wanted, for now that he’s getting older he’s beginning to become more important in Hanover. Has it ever occurred to you what would happen if Ernest Augustus died! We should be where we were when we first came to Osnabrück. Do you remember? The poor Meisenburg girls … looking for a place?’

  ‘We should never go back to that … with all you have managed to put away.’

  ‘No, but there are many people here who would like to see me lose my power. It’s a great blow that George Lewis doesn’t want you now.’

  ‘What am I going to do? Stay here … and hope?’

  ‘It’s too undignified. I’ll have to find a worthy husband for you and you can settle down to be a virtuous wife.’

  ‘Well, providing he’s rich enough …’

  ‘He will be.’

  ‘And what of George Lewis?’

  ‘He’s a problem. Imagine if one of my enemies became his mistress. Then there would be trouble.’

  ‘It mustn’t happen.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see that it doesn’t. But it’s a blow, my dear sister. I had counted on you.’

  Clara was delighted to discover Ermengarda Melusina von Schulenburg, the daughter of a poor nobleman, who believed that it might be possible to make her way at court. She had been presented to the Baroness at Monplaisir and as soon as Clara saw the girl she was interested in her.

  She welcomed her to her house and suggested a visit, and while Ermengarda was with her Clara devoted a great deal of time to her, which was very flattering.

  Clara would give the girl tasks which brought her to the bed-chamber but she was always careful that she did not appear on those occasions when Ernest Augustus called at her house.

  It seemed to Clara, who since Marie’s failure had been desperately seeking the right girl, that she had found her. She thought a great deal about Ermengarda. In the first place she was outstandingly beautiful and just a little stupid. No, perhaps not stupid but … malleable. She was the soft clay which Clara could mould, and would therefore be the perfect tool. And she had more than the prettiness that had been Marie’s when she was nineteen. Ermengarda was a beauty – statuesque and beautifully curved, a goddess. She was entirely German – a Valkyrie without the fire and spirit – a docile Brynhild. Her hair was long, abundant and fell to her waist in rippling waves – vital strong hair; her features were large but regular, her eyes a vivid blue and enormous.

  Although she was a startling beauty she was yet retiring, though not too much so. She was even modest, and in spite of her physical perfection she would make George Lewis feel powerful. She was the perfect woman.

  But she must be trained. No quick in and out of bed for Ermengarda. She had a position to hold and Clara was determined that she should hold it – never forgetting who had groomed her for greatness, always remaining grateful to her benefactress.

  There were conversations in the bedchamber.

  ‘Ermengarda, my dear, how graceful you are! Your beauty should take you a long way.’

  ‘Oh thank you, Baroness.’

  ‘Thank rather Providence which gave you such power.’

  ‘Power, Baroness?’

  ‘There is power for you if you know how to use your beauty, my child. I knew how to use mine and you see what has happened to me.’

  ‘But you are so clever. I am rather stupid, I fear.’

  ‘Men frequently prefer stupidity to cleverness, particularly if they are rather stupid themselves. I think that if you allowed yourself to be guided …’

  ‘Guided, Baroness?’ Even the way she frequently repeated what was said had a charm of its own. It made her seem more docile, or more stupid. Clara was pleased with her.

  ‘I am fond of you. I would always help you if you came to me. Ermengarda, promise me that you will always come to me to tell me of your troubles … and of your successes. I look upon you as my child.’

  ‘How kind you are to me, Baroness, and I thought …’

  ‘That I was not kind. It is my enemies who say that and I grant you I am not kind to them. But we shall remain friends, Ermengarda. Now promise me that we shall.’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘And I know you are one who, having given your promise, would never break it. Tell me would you like to be like me … rich and powerful?’

  ‘Oh yes. Baroness.’

  Clara laughed.

  ‘Sit down, my dear. Now I will tell you something. You can be, you know.’

  ‘I would not be clever enough.’

  ‘Didn’t I say I should always be at hand to help you and didn’t you promise to bring all your troubles to me?’

  ‘Yes, but that wouldn’t make me like you, Baroness.’

  ‘Bah! Nonsense, child. How would you like to have a lover?’

  ‘I think I should like it.’

  Clara closed her eyes and whispered: ‘A great Prince … the first in the land. How would you like that?’

  ‘A Prince!’ murmured Ermengarda. Repetition of course, but ecstatic. This is my woman, thought Clara.

  ‘The Crown Prince of Hanover would adore you.’

  She waited in trepidation. George Lewis was such a boor. Was the girl going to shrink in horror?

  But now she was looking expectantly at the Baroness. Clara sat up in bed and smiled at her protégée.

  ‘I should love to see his eyes when they discover you.’

  ‘You think …’

  ‘I think he’ll want to make you his mistress.’

  ‘And, Baroness, what should I do?’

  Clara leaped out of bed and caught the girl by the wrist. ‘You, my dear child will do exactly as I tell you.’

  Everyone was talking about the beautiful Fraulein von Schulenburg whom the Baroness von Platen had brought to court. She was one of the loveliest girls seen there for a long time. Sophia Dorothea might be more beautiful in some eyes but the little Schulenburg or rather the big Schulenburg, was the typical German beauty.

  Morever there was nothing arrogant about her; she was becomingly modest, even shy; there were many men at court who would have made approaches to her but from the first it was seen that George Lewis had his eye on her.

  George Lewis was enchanted with her; and she seemed so with him, in a bewildered way as though she coul
d not believe such good fortune as to attract him could possibly be hers.

  He was at her side during the evening of dancing and card playing or listening to music, and often was seen riding with her.

  The Princess Sophia Dorothea had never interested herself in her husband’s women; her attitude towards them had been one of cool indifference which perhaps she had learned from Duchess Sophia; so she refused to see in Fraulein von Schulenburg anything different from the scores of other women who had caught her husband’s fancy temporarily.

  But George Lewis’s feeling for Ermengarda was different from that which he had felt for any other woman – even Marie von dem Bussche. Ermengarda to him was the perfect woman; since he had first met her he had scarcely been aware of any others. Although she was so beautiful she was so humble – what a perfect combination! She made no attempt to hide her pleasure in the attentions of the Crown Prince; she made no demands; she was taller than he was but as a man of slightly less than medium size he liked big women. In her company he became less clumsy, even tender.

  Clara was as delighted with her as George Lewis was; and Ermengarda remained as humble towards the Baroness as she had been in the days when she first came to Monplaisir. It could not have been better if Marie had stepped into her old place.

  Now George Lewis was provided with a mistress who had come to stay and this must necessarily mean the diminution of Sophia Dorothea’s power. But Clara wanted more than this; she wanted to humiliate Sophia Dorothea publicly – she wanted to force her to accept Ermengarda; and she set about planning to do this.

  First she must keep her promise to Marie who must have a husband found for her without delay. It was, in a way, an insult to the family to have Marie the neglected mistress even though she had been supplanted by the woman Clara had chosen.

  General Weyhe was a man of great wealth and great ambition, with a large estate a few miles from Hanover. He would know that marriage into the Meisenburg family could bring him all sorts of opportunities and as soon as Clara suggested this would be the case, he was ready to discuss terms with her. It was simple: marriage with Marie. She was a beautiful woman and sister to the Baroness Platen; all wise men knew that Clara was at the right hand of Ernest Augustus when honours were handed out at Hanover.