Because she was romantic and he was calculating, because she in her simplicity loved him for that ideal manhood with which she alone had endowed him, she could not truly know him. But he knew himself; and because she meant more to him than any other living person ever had, desperately he tried to live up to her ideal.

Creeping into her apartments by night, romantically scrambling from her window in the early morning … all this was romance. But he was always aware of the dangers he ran and wondered whether this or that night’s adventure would be the last. Sometimes he told himself he was a fool.

Thus it was with Königsmarck – torn between the wisdom of flight from danger and the ecstasy of living with it.

Hildebrand, Königsmarck’s secretary and confidant, was waiting for him when the Count entered the house. There was a messenger, he told his master, from Saxony.

Königsmarck said he would see the man at once and when he came to him and handed him letters he took them to his private apartments to read at once.

One of the letters was from his friend Frederick Augustus, heir to the Electorate of Saxony; but as Königsmarck read the letter he realized that his friend had come into his inheritance.

His brother George Frederick had died of smallpox and Frederick Augustus had succeeded him. He needed his friends about him and there would be a welcome for Königsmarck in Dresden.

This was unexpected. The Elector George Frederick had been in his prime – a lusty man who had at this time been ruled by his beautiful mistress the Countess von Röohlitz, an imperious young woman of twenty-one who had haughtily declared that she would not live at the same court as her lover’s wife; as a result the Electress had been asked to leave. She had seemed invincible until an enemy had confronted her whom she could not vanquish. The smallpox had killed her, and in his devotion to her, for he would not leave her side, her lover had caught the disease, and died less than a fortnight after her.

‘I should be with my friend Frederick Augustus at such a time,’ said Königsmarck.

An absence from Hanover, he believed, would give him time to decide how he should shape his life, for he could not go on for ever in this unsatisfactory state. Sophia Dorothea would be ready to elope with him, he believed, and he wanted to go away for a while to explore this exciting but highly dangerous possibility.

Within a few weeks of receiving those letters, Königsmarck was on his way to Dresden.

Sophia Dorothea missed him sadly. Life was empty without him, she told Eléonore von Knesebeck.

‘Sometimes I think he will never return,’ she said. ‘He will see the wisdom of staying away now that he has put some distance between us.’

‘He’ll come back.’

‘If you loved me you would pray he never would.’

‘When you yourself will pray that he will?’

‘Have done! I want to get away from the palace. Let us go for a walk in the gardens.’

It was pleasant walking in the gardens which, although not so tastefully arranged as they were at Celle, were more colourful.

People curtsied as she passed, and among them was one woman who had been in great poverty and to whom she had ordered that food and clothes should be sent. She recognized the woman, looking affluent now, and paused to express her pleasure. The woman dropped a deep curtsey and murmured that she would never forget the service done to her by the Princess. She was a midwife who had recently improved her fortunes when she delivered a very important child.

‘I am pleased to hear it,’ said Sophia Dorothea.

‘But,’ declared the woman, ‘I should never forget my true benefactress and if there was aught I could do for Your Highness I should first wish to serve you.’

Eléonore von Knesebeck could not allow this enigmatic remark to pass and later went to see the woman to discover what she meant. She was told that the woman had recently delivered Fraulein von Schulenburg of a daughter whose father was George Lewis. It was kept a secret, but if it was to the good of the Princess to know it, the woman had no intention of keeping it from her.

Eléonore von Knesebeck could not keep such a piece of information to herself and went back to tell the Princess what she had discovered.

Sophia Dorothea listened with a stony expression, and when she considered how she and Königsmarck had considered it wise to part while George Lewis flaunted his mistress at court and in secret she gave birth to his child, she was suddenly very angry, and without stopping to think she went to her husband’s apartments.

She found George Lewis alone and said impulsively, ‘I have just discovered that your Schulenburg friend has presented you with a daughter.’

‘It surprises you?’ he asked.

‘No, but it shocks me.’

‘You are a fool.’

‘And you are a lecher.’

George Lewis did not answer. He yawned and kept his mouth open.

‘You have the manners of a stable boy and the morals of a cockerel. You are crude, uncouth … and I cannot understand why even that foolish creature can pretend to have some affection for you. She has not, of course. She thinks it clever, I suppose, to have the whole court laughing at your antics. She likes the rewards … and of course if you pay highly enough …’

George Lewis had lumbered towards her.

‘Shut your mouth.’

‘I will speak if I have a mind to. Someone should tell you what everyone says about you behind your back. Your place is not in a court. It’s … Oh!’ He had brought up his hand and slapped her face.

She recoiled while the red mark appeared on her cheek. Then she said: ‘How like you. You cannot speak reasonably. You can only brawl. You belong in a tavern … you and your silly Schulenburg… .’

George Lewis was really angry. She could defeat him in a battle of words but physically he was the master and he would show her. He caught her by the throat; she screamed as she saw what he was about to do; she was on her knees; his hands were squeezing her throat and she was gasping for breath.

He was killing her; she saw the hatred in his bulging eyes. She tried to catch at his hands but there was nothing she could do; she was fainting. This, she thought, is the end. He is murdering me.

Somone had burst in from the ante-room. There were cries of dismay. George Lewis released her; she fell fainting to the floor and lay there unconscious.

What a scandal! A quarrel between the Crown Prince and Princess which had almost led to his murdering her!

‘She is such a violent creature!’ Clara told Ernest Augustus. ‘It is her French blood.’

‘It seems that the violence came from George Lewis,’ Ernest Augustus pointed out.

‘He happened to be the stronger, naturally. I’m afraid we brought trouble to the court when we brought that creature into it.’

Although Ernest Augustus was inclined to be lenient, the Duchess Sophia blamed Sophia Dorothea. ‘It seems that she was making a scene because of her husband’s mistress,’ said Sophia. ‘Does she not realize that this trivial matter is of no importance? She is failing in her duty as a wife when she acts so foolishly.’

Sophia Dorothea herself lay listlessly in her bedchamber where George Lewis was advised by his father to visit her, and this he did. He asked her how she was, as though he were repeating an unpleasant lesson, paid scarcely any attention to the reply and then sat in silence by her bed for ten minutes – presumably the time he was told he should – after which he leaped up with obvious relief and left.

Sophia Dorothea was weeping quietly when her mother-in-law came to her bedside.

‘Please, do be calm,’ said the Duchess Sophia. ‘We know where that other bout of temper led you. I have come to tell you that as soon as you are fit to travel – which the doctors tell me will be in a day or so – you are coming with me to Herrenhausen for a rest. I am sure that is what you need.’

Herrenhausen! And with the Duchess Sophia!

If she were not so listless that she did not much care what became of her she would have laughed with bitterness or wept with despair.

Herrenhausen – that little schloss surrounded by parkland and approached by avenues of limes – was greatly loved by the Duchess Sophia, and since there had been more money to spare she had enlarged it and beautified it to some extent, although she had by no means done all she intended to. She was happier at Herrenhausen than anywhere else; there she could lead a life which appealed to her; there she could invite men and women whom she admired for their intellectual attainments and who would have no place at Hanover where, it might be said, Clara von Platen ruled. Here she could read the literature of many countries, for she was a skilled linguist and besides German spoke Dutch, French and Italian – and of course – and best of all – English. She liked to discuss art, philosophy and literature and it was always at Herrenhausen that she had an opportunity of doing this.

To Herrenhausen she came with Sophia Dorothea. Perhaps, she thought, I could make something of the girl. She is intelligent, more so than George Lewis ever could be; and she has been brought up to have an appreciation of art. But the girl was what Sophia called hysterical, which she believed was due to her upbringing at Celle. The Duchess Eléonore of Celle might be much admired for her culture, but she had brought up her only child in a sheltered atmosphere leading her to believe that life was much simpler than it was. Sophia Dorothea was expecting every marriage to be like that of her parents. In the days when Sophia Dorothea had lived at Celle her father had doted on her mother and there was complete accord between them. It had taken years of hard work and careful planning to smash that harmony and it was being done, but Sophia Dorothea was not there to see it and she still looked for that perfection in her own marriage which she had seen in her parents’.

The Duchess Sophia did not invite guests to Herrenhausen at this time. She wanted to talk very seriously to her daughter-in-law, to imbue her with a sense of her position not only in regard to George Lewis but as the future Electress of Hanover.

They talked as they did their needlework, for the Duchess believed in sewing for the poor and that no time should be wasted.

‘You have been very foolish,’ she told Sophia Dorothea. ‘George Lewis might have harmed you.’

‘He has already done so.’

‘Nonsense, you’ll soon recover from a few bruises.’

‘The indignity … the humiliation!’

‘Nonsense. We shall order that the incident is forgotten and so it shall be.’

‘His behaviour with Fraulein von Schulenburg will not be easily forgotten.’

‘There you are foolish. I cannot understand how wives become dissatisfied with their husbands. No amount of infidelity on the part of my husband would disturb me. It is not bad taste for a man to associate with mistresses – particularly if he be in a high position.’

Sophia Dorothea stared at her mother-in-law. ‘I have never heard such views expressed, nor did I ever expect to.’

‘That is because you have not been brought up in accordance with the rank which is now yours.’

‘I had a very happy childhood. I love my parents dearly and they love me. What could be a better upbringing than that?’

‘To be given an understanding of reality and what actually goes on in the world. Now you have been handicapped by your home life, but you have learned your lesson. I should like you to understand that I will not tolerate your quarrelling with your husband on the trifling matter of his keeping mistresses. It shows obstinacy and bad temper and is most unbecoming.’

‘And what of George Lewis? Was his behaviour becoming?’

‘He is a man, and not to be judged by his wife. You acted foolishly and I must beg of you not to do so again.’

‘I want to go and see my parents. I believe I should quickly be well again if I could.’

‘We shall see about that. I shall ask the Duke if he will allow it.’

‘Let me go back to Hanover and speak to the Duke.’

‘There is no need for that. I will tell him of your wish and we will ask for his consent. Now I beg of you, continue with your work. These garments are taking far too long. We will beguile the time in conversation, and I will tell you what is happening in England now.’

Sophia Dorothea was thinking: Yes, that is the answer. I will go home to Celle. I will take the children with me and I will tell them everything that has taken place. Then they will not let me return. Oh, yes, I shall go home to Celle.