Young Charles was clearly very impressed with him.
Ernest Augustus asked a few questions about Saxony and other European courts and he was interested to find that Count Königsmarck was as widely travelled as he was himself. Königsmarck was no fool; Ernest Augustus liked him.
‘What would you say, Count,’ he asked, ‘if I offered you a Colonelcy in my Guards?’
‘I should express grateful thanks, Your Highness, and assure you of my desire to serve you well.’
‘Then it is yours. But I must tell you this: there are no great financial rewards. Here we regard such a post as an honour.’
‘I so regard it,’ replied Königsmarck. ‘As for money … I have enough for my needs and do not concern myself with what a soldier should be paid.’
‘Then you are the man for me.’
Count Königsmarck was exultant. Now he could come and go about the palace as he pleased. No one would question a Colonel of the Duke’s Hanoverian Guard. This meant that he could see Sophia Dorothea more frequently, and would not have to wait to be conducted to her apartments by one of her brothers-in-law.
He was delighted. This brought him nearer to the woman he longed to make his mistress.
At last Sophia Dorothea was happy. Each day she saw Königsmarck and he left her in no doubt of his feelings for her. As a Colonel in the Guards he had free access to the palace, but it was impossible for them to be alone together, although sometimes when he was on duty in the gardens she would walk there and they would have the pleasure of seeing each other.
Prince Charles knew that they were in love with each other; he admired them both, and as he detested his brother he did not see why his sister-in-law and the handsome Count might not enjoy each other’s company. Whenever he called on Sophia Dorothea he asked Königsmarck to accompany him and thus there was a small intimate gathering in her apartments. Maximilian – himself a little in love with Sophia Dorothea – came also; and even the youngest of Ernest Augustus’s sons, Ernest, who was about fifteen or sixteen and who had a great admiration for Königsmarck, often joined them. Eléonore von Knesebeck was delighted with the change in her mistress, and that, with the Count’s arrival in Hanover, their lives had been lifted out of the drab pattern, so when Königsmarck intimated that he would like to send letters to Sophia Dorothea and receive them from her, it was Eléonore von Knesebeck who assured them that they could trust her to see that these notes were delivered into the right hands.
How pleasant, thought Sophia Dorothea, to know that she was loved – and by such a gallant gentleman as Königsmarck! She was content for a while to drift along in a dreamy romantic mood, into a world of sighs for the impossible and hopes which, deep in her heart, she believed could never be realized.
Königsmarck was ardent. He assured her that he loved her as he had never loved before; not only did he tell her this but he wrote it in the notes which the excited Knesebeck brought to her.
Life had new meaning for her – but her dreams could never come true.
Let that be as it may; she must live for a while in her world of make-believe.
George William brought his Duchess to Hanover when there were to be discussions with his brother as to how they were to meet the Emperor Leopold’s demands. This gave Duchess Eléonore a chance to be with her daughter and grandchildren, and although she hated visiting Hanover where she knew the Duchess Sophia at least did not welcome her, she was happy to have an opportunity to see her daughter.
She was delighted when she noticed the change in Sophia Dorothea and her fears were set at rest. Perhaps, she told herself, she had been wrong and George William right.
Sophia Dorothea greeted her warmly; the children were enchanting; and since her daughter showed no inclination to talk about George Lewis and her marriage, Eléonore asked no questions and soothed herself with the thought that the children made up for all the happiness Sophia Dorothea missed with her husband.
There was to be a grand ball and Eléonore went to her daughter’s apartments to see her women dressing her. How enchanting she looked. And how radiant. She could not look so and be really unhappy. She was to wear white satin which would so become her dark beauty.
‘And flowers, Maman,’ she explained. ‘Real flowers in my hair and no jewels at all.’
‘No jewels! Then you will surely be the only lady at the ball without them.’
‘The Countess von Platen will wear enough to make up for my lack of them,’ said Sophia Dorothea with a laugh.
When her daughter entered the great hall, Duchess Eléonore felt an immense pride; she glanced at George William and saw that his eyes were a little glazed. So he, too, was moved.
There was the Countess von Platen. How vulgarly dazzling in her rich red robes and her cheeks painted as deep a colour as the scarlet folds of her skirts; her magnificent neck and shoulders bare – her bosom half exposed and, as Sophia Dorothea had predicted, ablaze with diamonds.
From the dais on which she sat with Ernest Augustus, Duchess Sophia and their honoured guests Eléonore watched the play which was given in their honour, and then after supper in the ballroom saw her daughter open the ball with her father. George William was still handsome and Sophia Dorothea was, of course, enchanting. How wise to wear the simple white, the natural flowers – she stood apart from them all in charm and beauty.
The Duchess Sophia leaned forward and tapped Eléonore’s arm.
‘Your daughter looks well tonight.’
‘Well and happy,’ said Eléonore.
The Duchess Sophia smiled a little superiorly. She was less displeased with the girl than she had been. She was certainly beautiful and she had dignity; she would make a good Queen of England when that glorious day came, as Duchess Sophia was certain it would. She was thinking now that the Act of Settlement had been passed in England and this excluded any Catholic from ascending the throne which meant that with Anne the House of Stuart would end; providing of course neither Anne nor Mary had children – and Duchess Sophia prayed fervently each night that they would not – it would be the turn of the Hanoverians. Sophia saw herself riding into London, the city which she had never seen but which she thought of as Home; Sophia Queen of England.
That dance was over; the ball was opened. Eléonore, who did not dance, but like Ernest Augustus and the Duchess Sophia looked on, saw her daughter dancing a minuet with a very handsome man in a suit of pink satin trimmed with cloth of silver. He was tall, quite elegant, and he in his splendour and Sophia Dorothea in her simple white satin and natural flowers were the most outstanding couple in the ball-room. Clara von Platen, for all her fine gown and scintillating jewels, could not compete with them.
‘Who dances with Sophia Dorothea?’ she asked the Duchess Sophia.
‘Oh it is a young Swedish Count, recently come to court. Ernest Augustus is pleased with him and has given him a place in his Guards. Königsmarck. Count Königsmarck.’
Many eyes were on that elegant and most charming couple One who could not stop looking at them was Clara von Platen.
Königsmarck had conducted Sophia to the dais on which the royal party were seated. He pressed her hand in farewell; he wished that he could sit with her, be close to her for the whole evening. But he was more aware than she was that they were watched.
Sophia Dorothea took her seat beside her parents, and Königsmarck, bowing low to those assembled on the dais, turned away. As he did so a page touched his arm.
‘The Countess von Platen would have a word with you, my Lord Count.’
Königsmarck bowed his head in acknowledgment and even as he lifted his eyes he was aware of Clara’s brilliant eyes fixed upon him; he made his way to her.
‘I am honoured,’ he said, ‘that you, my dear Countess, wish to speak with me.’