by Jean Plaidy
General Weyhe did not take long to consider. He was present at several entertainments at Monplaisir and at court; and he was seen to be constantly in the company of the widowed Marie von dem Bussche.
No one was surprised when it was announced that they should marry.
It was Clara who helped Marie plan for the wedding. It should be one of the grandest weddings of the year, she decided.
‘You do not wish people to think that you are mourning because George Lewis prefers Fraulein von Schulenburg.’
‘They won’t think that. Marriage with a rich general is more rewarding than being mistress even to a Prince.’
Clara smiled complacently. She had marriage to a rich man and was the mistress of a Prince; moreover she had the satisfaction of knowing that she had made her husband rich.
‘That is a sensible way to look at things,’ she said. ‘The wedding should be celebrated at the General’s house which is so suitable for a grand occasion. The whole court shall attend and the guests of honour shall be the Crown Prince and Ermengarda von Schulenburg.’
Marie looked in astonishment at her sister. ‘And … the Crown Princess?’
Clara laughed with satisfaction. ‘Oh, I had thought of her. She must be there. But if Ermengarda is the guest of honour how can she be?’
‘But George Lewis will have to come with Sophia Dorothea.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it will be what is expected … etiquette and …’
Clara’s laugh brayed out again. ‘It is not what I expect,’ she said. ‘George Lewis is so enamoured that naturally he will be with his Ermengarda all the evening. They’ll be seated together at table; they will lead the dancing… . After all it is what George Lewis would wish.’
‘But the Princess … Why Clara, you have planned this!’
‘Of course I have planned it. On your wedding day our pretty little Sophia Dorothea who is always implying how much better they arrange everything in France will see this little French custom in Hanover. The maîtresse en titre is more important than the wife in France. At your wedding, my dear, this will be the case in Hanover. And the whole court shall know it.’
Clara’s eyes blazed with vindictive delight. Here was the opportunity at last. Revenge on the woman whose fresh young charms had called attention to her own waning ones. Sophia Dorothea would begin to learn what it meant at Hanover to humiliate the Baroness von Platen.
Sophia Dorothea was aware of George Lewis’s infatuation for Ermengarda. It was the talk of the court, and Eléonore von Knesebeck was always the first to pick up such gossip.
‘Well, he has had mistresses ever since I married him,’ said Sophia Dorothea.
‘This one is different,’ pointed out Eléonore. ‘He is different. He’s devoted to her. They go everywhere together. Everyone is talking about it.’
Sophia Dorothea shrugged her shoulders. ‘As if I cared what he does. As long as he keeps away from me that’s all I ask.’
But it was a different matter when the invitations to the wedding of Marie von dem Bussche and General Weyhe were issued. Sophia Dorothea received hers and pondered on it. Should she attend the wedding of a woman who had been her husband’s mistress – although it was before her marriage? She remembered the day when she arrived at Hanover – the frightened bride – and how she had looked up at the window and seen Marie von dem Bussche watching her with such a malevolent expression that she had felt a shiver of fear. Marie had been ordered to leave at once but obviously she had been furious that she should have to do so – as was her powerful sister, the Baroness von Platen.
‘They don’t want me at the wedding,’ she said, ‘any more than I want to go.’
‘But I suppose you will go, as all the court will be there.’
‘I suppose so,’ answered Sophia Dorothea. But she changed her mind when Eléonore von Knesebeck discovered that the guests of honour were to be George Lewis and Ermengarda von Schulenburg.
‘How dare she do this!’ cried Sophia Dorothea. ‘There has never been anything like it!’
Eléonore pointed out that in France a century ago Diane de Poitiers, the King’s mistress, had been given the place of honour frequently over Queen Catherine de’ Medici.
Sophia Dorothea was white with anger. ‘That girl is not Diane de Poitiers.’
‘But George Lewis dotes on her and everybody wants to please him particularly now he is taking over more and more from his father.’
‘I think I see what is intended here,’ said Sophia Dorothea. ‘Clara von Platen wants to insult me, and she wants to do it publicly. I am to be invited with George Lewis and his mistress and they are to be given the honours while I am treated as a guest of minor importance.’
‘What are you going to do?’
Sophia Dorothea was silent for a while and then she said: ‘Of course I cannot go to this wedding. I shall decline the invitation.’ She frowned. ‘But I cannot believe that they will dare to treat this Schulenburg girl as though she is more important than George Lewis’s wife.’
Eléonore lifted her shoulders. ‘It is what is intended. Platen has always hated you.’
Sophia Dorothea turned to her friend. ‘Eléonore, you must go. You must tell me all that happens.’
Sophia Dorothea was alone in her apartments. How desolate the palace seemed. It was because there were so few people in it, most of them being at General Weyhe’s mansion for the wedding celebrations.
She sat at the window looking out into the darkness. She could picture the scene – the splendour of a rich man’s mansion, in which he was entertaining the court. Ernest Augustus would be there. The Duchess Sophia had declined the invitation and was at Herrenhausen. Clara would have arranged everything. She could picture the elegant gowns, the glitter of jewellery; the feasting, the toasting and dancing. George Lewis, flushed, his lust written on his face for all to see and that girl whom one could not hate because she was so amiable and foolish, just smiling at him as though he were Sigmund or Sigurd or one of the great heroes of legend.
And Clara would be watching slyly, thinking of the absent guest for whose benefit this had been arranged, and although she were not there, she would be in everybody’s mind. She had denied Clara the supreme triumph, but she could not prevent her plot succeeding. At the wedding they would be talking of the Crown Princess. They would know why she had stayed away, and would understand that from now on she was of no importance at the court; for George Lewis had publicly proclaimed his preference for Fraulein von Schulenburg; and Ernest Augustus allowed this to happen.
Clearly Sophia Dorothea would be of little consequence in future at Hanover.
Peering through the window she thought of Celle and the happy days of childhood. How different it would have been had she married the man her mother had intended her to! They would have been kinder to her at Wolfenbüttel. If only she could go home and be with her mother. What bliss it would be to take the children and go right away from all this conflict. She would never be happy while Clara von Platen ruled at Hanover; she would never be happy while she was married to George Lewis.
She went to the nursery where the children were sleeping – George Augustus and Sophia Dorothea; when she was sad she could go to them and then everything that had happened seemed worth while – even marriage to George Lewis.
When the court party returned to Hanover Eléonore von Knesebeck came straight to her mistress to give her account of the wedding.
Eléonore was indignant. George Lewis had been so blatant in his fondness for Ermengarda; and as for the host and hostess they had made them the guests of the occasion, so that it was like celebrating a wedding between George Lewis and Ermengarda von Schulenburg rather than Marie von dem Bussche and General Weyhe.
Eléonore had to admit that the Big Schulenburg had looked magnificent. Her gown! Eléonore had rarely seen such a gown. Sophia Dorothea might have considered it somewhat vulgar but everyone had been commenting on it. And there were diamonds about her neck –
a present from George Lewis. ‘It is rarely he gives presents. But he had made it quite clear to everyone that there never had been a woman in his life to take his fancy as this one does. Everyone was flattering her, complimenting her. They are saying that she will be another Clara von Platen – only a more pleasant one. She just sits and simpers and looks at George Lewis as though he is some sort of god. It seemed to me that the whole purpose of this wedding was to show everyone how your husband dotes on this woman.’
‘I will not endure this humiliation.’
‘What can you do?’
‘I shall do something. I did not come here to be insulted.’
Eléonore shrugged her shoulders. ‘Others have had to accept this sort of thing. Look at the Duchess Sophia.’
‘The Duchess Sophia is an unusual woman. Although Clara von Platen rules my father-in-law the Duchess Sophia is still the first lady of the court. Perhaps it is because she is the daughter of a queen and has connections with the royal family of England. I have not these assets.’
‘You can live your own life.’
‘At Hanover! To be insulted at every turn. I shall not endure these insults. What if I were to take my children with me and run away …’
‘Run away to where?’
‘There is only one place to which I could go. Home … to Celle.’
‘But you are married now. Your home is in Hanover.’
‘Perhaps if I were tried too hard I would not stay here.’
Eléonore von Knesebeck shook her head, but her eyes were excited. Often by her love of reckless behaviour she brought home to Sophia Dorothea the wildness of a plan.
Yet, thought Sophia Dorothea, if I am tried too hard … I won’t stay. I swear it.
The weeks which followed were miserable. Sophia Dorothea stayed late in bed, brooding; she took rides in her carriage, her children accompanying her. All her pleasure was in them; she rarely saw George Lewis who was spending all his time with the Schulenburg woman and made no secret of it. What did she care? Sophia Dorothea demanded of herself and Eléonore von Knesebeck. One mercy was that she was spared his company. It was something to be grateful for! She was left to her reading and needlework; and after supper she would be with her own little court in the great hall, playing cards and occasionally dancing.
Clara watched with a pleasure which was marred by the fact that George Lewis’s fancy had not remained with her sister; but since that little scheme had failed she could congratulate herself that the simple young Schulenburg was a grateful creature who would never forget the debt she owed to her benefactress. It might even be, Clara told herself, that the silly big creature would serve her better than Marie would have done.
It was amusing to see the haughty Sophia Dorothea humiliated. Often she made excuses to absent herself from the balls and entertainments.
Clara blossomed; her gowns were more splendid; her cheeks more ruddy and no mischievous Prince would now dare to indulge in his little pea-water joke. This was what she had worked for and she had admirably succeeded.
Listlessly Sophia Dorothea talked with Eléonore von Knesebeck in her apartments. She had no wish to go to the great hall and dance. She was tired of Hanover; she longed to be home with her mother.
‘It would have been very different,’ she sighed continually, ‘if I had married into Wolfenbüttel.’
Eléonore von Knesebeck agreed that it would, but added: ‘You are the most beautiful woman at Hanover. They can say what they like about this Schulenburg. She’s a lump of pig’s bladder compared with you.’
‘Germans seem to be very fond of pig’s bladder.’
‘Oh, they have no feeling for what is dainty and elegant. But some will have. Somewhere in this place there must be people who appreciate real beauty.’
‘And what do I care!’ cried Sophia Dorothea. ‘I am tired. I want only one thing: to go home with the children and spend the rest of my life there.’
‘A fine way for a woman of twenty-one to talk!’
‘Age has nothing to do with this.’
‘It has everything to do with it. You are young. Your life is just beginning. Come let me help dress you. And we’ll go down to the hall and play a game of cards. It will cheer you.’
Sophia Dorothea sighed. ‘I am expected down there, Knesebeck. I have to do my duty. I have to smile and be gracious and pretend I do not see my husband fondling Schulenburg and Platen sniggering behind her fan. I am tired of it.’
‘There now… . Don’t, I beg of you, think of all that. Come on. The blue satin! It is most becoming; and shall I put flowers in your hair? You will look more beautiful than any of them in spite of your melancholy.’
Sophia Dorothea allowed herself to be dressed and she went down to the hall.
She had played a little cards and had a mind to dance; and as with Fraulein von Knesebeck she left the card table her brother-in-law Charles approached her accompanied by a man whose face was vaguely familiar to her.
Before she heard his name her heart began to beat faster; her listlessness was replaced by excitement; a faint colour came into her cheeks which made her dark eyes brilliant; she was indeed at the moment the fairest of them all.
‘Sophia Dorothea,’ said Charles, ‘there is someone here who asks to be presented to you. He hopes you will remember him.’
He bowed. ‘Your Highness,’ he said, ‘I hope you have not forgotten me.’
‘I knew you when I was a child,’ she said.
‘I was your devoted slave then. I hope you will allow me to serve you now.’
‘I believe that would be a pleasure.’
His eyes were as brilliant as hers; he could not take them from her glowing face. She thought: He is like some hero from the old legends – a strong blond hero. She had never seen a face so strong and yet so handsome.
‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘have you forgotten my name?’
They said it simultaneously: ‘Philip Königsmarck.’
Then they laughed and he said: ‘If I might have the honour of escorting you in the dance I should be so happy.’
She put her hand in his. ‘I should be happy too.’
They danced, and dancing Sophia Dorothea knew that a miracle was taking place.
She was happy again.
Murder in Pall Mall
COUNT PHILIP CHRISTOPHER KÖNIGSMARCK – handsome and adventurous – had come back, as he had always promised himself that he would, to see his little playmate who had made such an impression on him when he was sixteen years old. During an exciting life, when perhaps some love affair had gone wrong, some woman had disappointed him, he would remember the scent of the lime trees at Celle and an enchanting little girl who had adored him.
Rumours had reached Saxony where he had been staying of her marriage to George Lewis; the power of Clara von Platen; the devotion of George Lewis to Fraulein von Schulenburg; the indignation of Sophia Dorothea.
Königsmarck lived for adventure – the more romantic the better; so he left Saxony and came to Hanover, determined to set up house and stay there for a while. He was very rich, for since the death of his elder brother he had inherited the title of Count, and he was made welcome at any of the European courts on account of his money, reputation and charm.
The Königsmarcks were a famous, wealthy and close-knit Swedish family. Philip remembered early days in Sweden where he had lived with his two sisters Amalie Wilhemina and Marie Aurora; there was an elder brother Carl John, who impatiently awaiting the day when he would go with his father or his uncle, Count Otho William, to serve under them, would fight his mock battles in the nursery. Young Philip, learning his geography because his brother was always fighting his imaginary battles in different places over the Continent, made up his mind that when he was older he would join Carl John and go fighting and adventuring with him. He could scarcely wait for the day. In the meantime he must be content with the company of his sisters who adored him.
Their father was a great soldier – though not quite as fam
ous as uncle Otho William; but when Philip was about twelve he died. Carl John immediately joined his uncle; as for Philip he was a little young but, said Uncle Otho William, there was no reason why he should remain in Sweden. He could not begin to learn the art of soldiering soon enough, and must travel. So Philip travelled, studying and learning how to be a soldier at the same time; and this was how he came to be in Celle when he was sixteen and first met Sophia Dorothea.
Returning to Sweden he had been a little disconsolate until Carl John returned from his travels. Carl John, now the head of the family, took his duties seriously and it did not take Philip long to persuade him that something must be done.
‘Am I to stay here learning from books?’ demanded Philip.
‘Now what was it you did in Celle to be turned out?’ Carl John wanted to know; but of course he knew already and there was a twinkle in his eyes. The little Princess had been attracted by him and the Duchess of Celle had thought a mere Swedish nobleman not good enough to be a match for the daughter. ‘Well, it was no fault of yours,’ went on Carl John. ‘You merely followed the instincts of a gallant young gentleman. You must progress in the world and then one day you may be considered worthy of any Princess.’
They were good days with Carl John, who was a great talker. And what tales he had to tell. He had almost been drowned when fighting the Turks; he had visited almost every country in Europe with Uncle Otho William who worked for the French and had been a Field Marshal there, as well as Governor of Swedish Pomerania. And Carl John was as dashing an adventurer as his uncle. ‘All the Königsmarcks are the same,’ he confided to Philip. ‘Wherever we are, there is adventure.’ And Philip went on dreaming of the days when he would be free to roam the world.
In the schoolroom Carl John re-enacted the bull fight in which he had taken such a noble part when he was in Madrid. He leapt about the room teasing an imaginary bull.
‘There was the bull coming at me; I leaped aside. But he caught me. Gored through the thigh. A few more inches and it would have been farewell Carl John.’