I’ll destroy her! thought Clara. If I have to destroy them both.
Clara sent for her sister Marie. Plump, voluptuous Marie was content in her marriage to General Weyhe who did not make too many demands, was very rich, and delighted to be connected by marriage with the most influential woman at court. When Clara sent for Marie she knew she must not disobey.
What now? thought Marie. Surely Clara did not want her to try once more for George Lewis? That was quite impossible. Everyone knew that he was extraordinarily devoted to Ermengarda von Schulenburg. However, she was soon to find out.
‘You’re looking blooming,’ commented Clara.
Marie smiled, thinking it was more than she could say for Clara who looked raddled beneath the layers of colour on her cheeks. Clara was uneasy, and when Clara was uneasy the rest of her family should be, for their affairs were all bound up in each other.
‘I am pleased,’ went on Clara. ‘You are very friendly with Prince Maximilian.’
Marie laughed. ‘Oh, he is a very gallant young man.’
‘I could wish you had such success with, his brother.’
‘George Lewis behaves like a husband to the Schulenburg. What has the woman that I haven’t?’
Clara looked in exasperation at her sister. She, Clara, much less beautiful than Marie, had managed to keep a firm grip on Ernest Augustus all these years and she was certain that if Marie had used a little more tact, a little more care, she would have held George Lewis. How much easier it would have been to bring Sophia Dorothea to disaster if Marie could have whispered the slander in his ear!
‘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 surprised 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.
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