Jean Plaidy - The Princess of Celle

Philip was alarmed. If Thomas Thynne had been murdered, his brother was involved. He stayed in his rooms waiting for Mr. Hanson, not daring to go out.

Where was Carl John? He had not come to his brother’s lodging last night, nor had he sent any message.

Mr. Hanson at last came breathlessly running up the stairs – but not to stay.

‘I thought I should warn you,’ he said. ‘Your brother’s two servants, Stern and Boroski, have been arrested with Captain Vratz and they have admitted to the murder they committed on the orders of your brother.’

‘And my brother?’

‘I heard he was on his way to the Continent. Whether he has reached there I don’t know. I shan’t stay. There is nothing I can do … and they’ll be coming here to ask you questions at any minute.’

Hanson left him and he was alone, bewildered and afraid. His brother’s servants prisoners! His brother in flight! What was happening to Carl John and what would they do to him if they caught him? And what could his young brother do alone in a foreign country?

Those were anxious days. Carl John, attempting to leave England, had been captured at Gravesend and was now waiting to face a charge of murder. Strange men came to Philip’s lodgings to question him. What did he know of this affair? Had his brother confided in him? To all these questions he gave discreet answers; and when he was in difficulties feigned an imperfect knowledge of the language. Fearful as he was of his brother’s safety, he could congratulate himself that he had done nothing to endanger it. Hanson was summoned to appear at the trial; and there he spoke so cleverly in Count Königsmarck’s defence that it was said he had an influence on the trial. Of the murder he knew nothing; all he knew was that Count Carl John had entrusted him with the care of his young brother’s education, for he wanted him to be brought up a good Protestant and he felt he could become this better in England than anywhere else; he wanted him to have the best military education and he believed that this could be acquired more thoroughly in England; he wanted his brother to be educated at that seat of learning, Oxford, which he believed to be the best in the world. Such admissions although they had little to do with the murder of Thomas Thynne showed Count Königsmarck to the English as a highly discerning man.

Philip went to the Old Bailey to hear the trial; he was even called upon to give evidence which he did in a firm voice, implying that it was quite impossible for his brother to be involved in such a case. He was aware of Carl John’s approval coming across the court to him. But he was frightened by the solemnity about him, by the sight of his brother – the bold adventurer standing side by side with his servants who had betrayed him.

Going back to his lodgings through those crowded streets Philip heard the name Königsmarck on many tongues.

‘Of course Königsmarck’s the real villain. Those others were only his tools.’

‘He should hang by his neck. These foreigners …’

Those merry streets became very sinister for Philip during those days.

And then … the verdict. Vratz, Stern and Boroski guilty and condemned to be hanged in chains. Königsmarck acquitted.

There was murmuring in the streets. All the men were foreigners and therefore little concern of the English, but one of them, the leader, Königsmarck, had murdered an Englishman, and the English wanted retribution.

‘Hang Königsmarck!’ cried the people in the streets.

And Philip, making his way to his lodgings, trembled for his brother.

Life could not go on in the same way after such an episode. For one thing, Carl John had to leave England before outraged public opinion caused the law to take some action against him or the mob decided to take the law into its own hands. He left for Sweden, but Philip did not go with him. Carl John really had believed that his brother could acquire in England the education which would be of most use to him, so he wished his young brother to stay on under the care of Mr. Hanson.

For a few weeks Philip studied miserably in his lodgings; but he was a Königsmarck and the people of London did not like one who bore such a name. ‘Brother to the murderer!’ they declared. ‘The murderer who got off scot free while his servants paid for his crimes.’ London was not a healthy place for a Königsmarck, and Mr. Hanson made Carl John aware of this. In a short time Philip heard that he was to travel to Sweden in the care of his tutor.

They left England on a blustery March day and after a hazardous journey reached Gothenburg.

It was pleasant to see Carl John again but it was a very restive and frustrated brother whom Philip found. He hated to be defeated, he admitted; and the English adventure had been a humiliating one. For a little while Carl John looked after his estates and taught Philip to help him; but Philip was well aware that such a state of affairs could not last. He was right. A month or so after Philip’s return, Carl John announced his intention to join Uncle Otho William and immediately plunged into preparations. Very soon, Philip was alone, dreaming of the time when he would be able to join his brother.

Carl John sent word that he did not expect his brother to remain in Sweden. Although England was barred to him, other courts were not. The most glittering court in the world was at Versailles; Carl John did not see why his young brother should not visit France; there, he was convinced that he could learn more graceful manners than he could in England.

So to Versailles went Philip, and after a pleasant stay there, he travelled to other European countries, always awaiting that call to join his brother.

He would never forget the day the long-awaited news of Carl John came to him. But it was not a call to join him; and he knew then that there would never be one. Carl John was dead – not gloriously, as one would have expected him to die, in battle, in the midst of some reckless adventure – but of pleurisy, brought on through exposure during a battle.

Philip was the new Count Königsmarck.

He grieved for his brother bitterly; but eventually he began to understand that he was rich, accomplished, handsome, and that because of these assets he would be welcomed in almost every court in Europe.

He travelled; he indulged in many a love affair; he had become as romantic a figure as the brother whom he had always tried to copy. He was the darling of his sisters; he had stepped into Carl John’s place at the head of the family. He became witty and gay and when he arrived at Saxony, the Prince Frederick Augustus became his friend and invited him to stay at his court as long as he cared to, for, Frederick Augustus told him, he would always be welcome there.

News came to Saxony of Hanover, and it was then that he heard gossip about the lecherous Ernest Augustus, the rapacious Clara von Platen, the boorish George Lewis and the sadly neglected but very beautiful Sophia Dorothea.

Sophia Dorothea! The dainty little girl he had known was it ten years ago? He had been enchanted with her, and she with him. And now, poor girl, it seemed she was being sadly treated by that uncouth husband of hers. No doubt she was in need of a little comfort. The Count Königsmarck was very capable of supplying comfort to ladies who did not find it in their married lives.

Sophia Dorothea, naturally, would be different from all the others. He knew that before he saw her again.

And when he did he was certain. On that night when he was presented to her and she stood before him in all her dainty femininity, she was the beautiful lady in distress calling on her knight-errant to rescue her.

She could rely on him; he would not fail her.

SOPHIA DOROTHEA HAD dismissed all her attendants with the exception of Eléonore von Knesebeck. The excitement of the last weeks was now tinged with apprehension and she wanted to talk about it.

Eléonore von Knesebeck was sitting on her stool, her hands clasped about her knees, staring ecstatically before her.

‘He was so handsome tonight. He is surely the most handsome man in Hanover.’

‘And like as not he knows it,’ retorted Sophia Dorothea.

‘He would be a fool if he did not, and would you want a fool for a lover?’

‘A lover! Don’t use that word.’ Sophia Dorothea looked over her shoulder. ‘How do we know who listens?’

Eléonore blew with her lips to denote contempt for the suggestion. ‘Everyone in Hanover is too concerned with their own affairs to bother with ours.’

‘I wish I could be sure of that.’

‘And if you were … would you say yes to Königsmarck?’

‘Yes … to what?’

‘Oh, come, Your Highness is coy. He is in love with you … and you …’

‘You talk nonsense,’ said Sophia Dorothea.

‘Why should it be nonsense for you to enjoy your life when others so blatantly do all about you?’

‘I have taken my marriage vows to George Lewis.’

‘And he to you. But he does not remember them, so …’

‘Eléonore von Knesebeck! You forget to whom you speak.’

Eléonore leapt up, knelt at the feet of Sophia Dorothea, took her hand and kissed it. ‘Your Highness,’ she murmured, raising her eyes in mock supplication.

‘Get up and don’t be foolish,’ said Sophia Dorothea with a laugh. They had been children together so how could she be taken seriously if she tried to play the haughty princess now? But Knesebeck did talk too much; and she was afraid. Afraid of herself?

She sat down suddenly and said in a melancholy voice: ‘I have never been happy since my sixteenth birthday.’

Eléonore von Knesebeck nodded.

‘And now?’ she asked.

‘I am still married to George Lewis.’

‘You must enjoy life as he does. You could be happy again. Why not? Should you be expected to shut yourself away … to look on at him and that Schulenburg woman …’

‘Hush.’

‘And why? The handsomest man in Hanover is in love with you. Why should you turn from him for the sake of that …’

‘You will be in trouble one day, Eléonore von Knesebeck, if you do not guard your tongue. I am the Crown Princess of Hanover. I have a son and a daughter. He can have as many mistresses as he likes. They say that is unimportant. But if I took a lover, what a scandal there would be! They would suspect the paternity of a child who might be the heir of Hanover.’

‘You have the heir to Hanover and none can doubt his parentage.’

‘If I took a lover the parentage of all my children would be suspected. They would say, “If she sins now why not before?”’

‘They would not dare.’

‘Are you urging me to take a lover? You are a wicked woman, Knesebeck.’

‘I’m a proud one and I hate to see you treated as you have been. Do you know that since Königsmarck came to Hanover you have been different … younger … more beautiful? I wonder everyone does not notice.’

‘I must not see him. It is too dangerous. I must make him understand that there can be nothing but friendship between us.’

‘You would be denying the truth.’

Sophia Dorothea gave her friend a little push. ‘I understand you. You want to be a go-between, to carry the notes between us, to arrange the clandestine meetings, to live in danger and fear of discovery. You would enjoy that, Knesebeck. You are bored and long for excitement. Well, you are not going to have your excitement over this.’

Eléonore von Knesebeck lowered her eyes but her lips were smiling. She was not so sure.

In his lodgings Königsmarck was thinking of Sophia Dorothea, and he could not resist talking of her to his secretary Hildebrand.

‘How strange it is that she is not appreciated here, Hildebrand. When I see the Crown Prince with that stupid looking girl I wonder whether he is in fact blind. Surely he must be.’

‘He has none of your finer feelings, my lord Count.’

‘And to think that they married her to him. I knew her, Hildebrand, when she was a child … a dainty fairy of a child. I never forgot her.’

‘No, my lord.’

‘Hildebrand, you are looking worried.’

‘There would be trouble, my lord. The wife of the Crown Prince …’

‘This is different, Hildebrand. There is more to this than the act of making love.’

He was silent. He wanted to rescue her from her miserable life, make her gay, glad to be alive.

But Hildebrand was right, of course. This was no ordinary love affair to be entered into with a light heart. Carl John had always said that love to be most enjoyed should be a lighthearted affair. ‘Never become too deeply engaged, brother. Savour the joys, not the sorrows of love.’