My Name is Victoria

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My Name is Victoria Page 22

by Lucy Worsley


  Silence fell. I knew at once what he meant. After the excitement of our meeting, the serious question of our future lay between us. My stomach felt like it was falling into a deep chasm. So it had come so soon, this horrible question of his marriage, Uncle Leopold’s marriage … Victoria’s marriage.

  I schooled myself.

  ‘When is the wedding to be?’ I asked in a small voice.

  Of course, she wanted to tell me all about it, to make preparations. With a heavy heart I realised that she probably wanted me to be her bridesmaid. It was sweet, so bittersweet, of her.

  ‘It’s not that,’ he said quickly, seeing my distress. ‘No, not that at all.’

  ‘But what can it be?’ I cried out. I was almost shouting in my anguish. ‘What can she have to say to me?’

  ‘Dearest,’ he said, flying over and seizing me again in his arms. ‘You are strong, stronger than anyone else I know. You must be strong now. I would tell you if I could, but I cannot. It is a matter of honour. But look at me. Look at me.’

  I raised my red, smarting eyes to his face.

  It was true that he looked happy and calm.

  ‘Something has happened,’ he said. ‘She knows I am here with you. She is happy for me to be here, happy, I tell you. Will you trust me? Will you trust me and go back to Kensington Palace to discover what awaits there?’

  I stared at him. My face must have been a picture of consternation. What could he mean?

  But then I saw the tiniest pinprick of light in the darkness that had surrounded me for many months. Albert believed in the future. It was written on his face. And if he believed, I could believe too.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I will.’

  Chapter 36

  Return to Kensington Palace

  It was some days later, and I was on my way back to the palace, alone in the carriage. I’m sure that I looked just the same as when I had travelled the other way, to Arborfield Hall: neat, discreet, tidily dressed. But then I had been in the blackest despair. Now a powerful feeling, like lightning or the crashing of waves, flowed through me. I was no longer alone; I had my two dear friends. I did not know what was happening, but I had faith in them both.

  It was now full June, and the trees and meadows were glossy with the glow of summer. Out on the streets, it seemed that the British people were also aglow with enthusiasm for the young princess. Like me, Victoria was now safely eighteen years old. There was a sense – perhaps it was indecorous – but there was a sense nonetheless that the old king could safely die. There would be no regency. My father would never rule.

  Reports from Windsor suggested that King William the Fourth believed the same thing himself. Now he was sinking fast, as if his furious venom against the duchess and my father was the only thing that had kept him going so long.

  As we passed into the high street of Kensington, I could hear the newspaper sellers shouting out: ‘King’s ’ealth! King in decline! Latest!’ and ‘Our fair young queen-to-be! All the news!’ There were ladies shopping, tradesmen’s carts delivering groceries, soldiers from the barracks walking at their leisurely, off-duty pace. They looked happy and serene in the sunshine.

  Watching their faces, I thought, You know nothing, nothing, you happy people. You don’t know what has to be done to make sure there is no dispute or regency or civil war. You don’t know what it will cost your princess to serve you.

  But then, nor did I know myself quite what was going on at the palace. I felt a little faint with nerves and the strain of thinking about what this mystery could be. I also felt shaky with plain old hunger. I had hardly been able to eat since Albert’s secret early morning departure after his night at Arborfield Hall, striding off down the misty drive and disappearing between the trees.

  Back at the palace, I went at once to the German apartment without pausing to change my travelling dress, abandoning my luggage to be dealt with later. Adams let me in, refusing to meet my eye. My heart lurched. He knows what you’re up to! yelled an insistent voice in my head. Everybody knows you have been with Albert! You are shamed!

  But a rival, more sensible voice piped up to tell me that this was just Adams’ usual polite deference. Still, I was disturbed.

  Once I was inside, Victoria herself came skipping down the great staircase to meet me.

  ‘Oh!’ she shrieked. ‘Miss V! You have been so long! Dash and I have missed you so much!’ To my surprise, she threw her arms around me and covered me with kisses until I laughed and begged for mercy.

  Then she grew grave and sat me down next to her on the stairs. ‘It’s time,’ she said very quietly. She glanced up and down the staircase, but no servants were in sight. ‘It’s time to tell you. I know you will say yes.’

  ‘Say yes to what, Victoria?’ I asked, laughing a little, for she was so happy and confident.

  ‘It’s a plan. Albert and I have formed it. Well, I formed it, and then Albert agreed it would work. So it’s not just a wild fancy.’ She saw me start at the mention of his name.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she said quickly. ‘I know all about you and Albert. Why didn’t you tell me sooner, you silly thing? Anyway, that’s what makes it all so beautiful.’

  My brain simply refused to work. ‘Victoria,’ I said almost crossly. ‘What are you talking about? What’s going on?’

  ‘Shh!’ she said, glancing up and down. It was so unlike her to be worried about making a sound that I knew for real that she was about to propose something deadly serious. ‘I think we’re safer here on the stairs,’ she explained. ‘Who knows who might be listening at the door if we go into the drawing room? At least here we can see people coming.’

  Indeed, as she spoke we heard the tramp of feet outside as the guards were changed in the courtyard. We waited until the little ceremony was over. My heart began to hammer in my chest, louder and louder, at the prospect of what she might say.

  ‘Here’s the plan,’ she said, when the sounds had at last passed away. ‘You have known for some time, I think, that I can never be queen.’

  I made a stifled little sound of disagreement, but she shushed me at once.

  ‘You try to believe in me,’ she went on, ‘I know that, and I love you for it. But I cannot take the throne. YOU must take it for me.’

  I sat there on the stairs. I could hardly take it in. Was she mad? Had she fallen into madness at last? I gazed at her, horrified.

  It must have been all too obvious what I was thinking.

  ‘Oh, no, I’ve not gone bonkers,’ she laughed. ‘Consider this. One result of the System is that no one knows exactly what I look like, although the truth is that I look like you. Or that you look like me. We’re practically identical. Everyone at Windsor Castle was deceived – you saw that, didn’t you? You will marry Albert and take my place on the throne. And you will be happy.’

  ‘Victoria,’ I said. ‘That would be selfish of me. You know I can’t do that.’

  ‘It’s not a question of selfishness,’ she said.

  She was being so quiet and grave I hardly knew her.

  ‘Everyone knows that a good queen is not selfish. That’s why you must be queen, and I must not. And indeed, it would be selfish of you to refuse. Because if you do, George Cumberland will be king, and there will be civil war. People will be killed.’

  She was right. She could see it in my face that I knew it.

  ‘You see that you have to take them both, don’t you? The throne and Albert. The two go together. It all fits.’

  ‘Wait!’ I said. ‘I need time to think.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ she said. ‘You think too much. I’ve done the thinking this time, for us both – with Albert’s help, of course. He will get you through it. My mother and your father are upstairs together now. This evening we will tell them the plan. You do agree to it, don’t you?’

  At that I faltered.

  ‘Victoria,’ I began uncertainly. I had felt brave and bold in the carriage, with the memory of Albert fresh in my mind, but now my confidence reced
ed. ‘I really cannot do this. You must take the throne. You have no need to fear. You will do the right thing, and after a time, when you get used to it, doing the job well will give you pleasure. I promise. You always know your own mind.’

  ‘I do know my own mind. I’ve thought about it, I’ve decided what’s best and I’ve made this decision myself. It’s true that, as Lehzen says …’ She paused, so that I could join in chanting the familiar phrase from years of lessons and drills: ‘It’s better to be wicked than to be weak!’ we concluded together.

  She laughed, almost clapping her hands. But then her smile faded.

  ‘Come on, Miss V,’ she said. ‘You know you will do it better than I would. You care so much about right and wrong, and you are so modest and devoted to serving other people. I … I just haven’t got it in me. And I really don’t want to give up my throne to my cousin George. I want to give it to you.’

  ‘But even if I said yes, what will you do?’ I asked, astonished that I had not really thought of this before.

  ‘Well, I shall go and live your old life,’ said Victoria, with a twinkle in her eye. ‘I shall go and taste the pleasures of country life at Arborfield Hall, and quarrel constantly with your father, and get the better of him, I’m sure. And soon Sir John Conroy’s younger daughter, who nobody knows and who nobody has seen since she was a child, will come out into society and have a gay time. Who knows where life will then take her?’

  In saying all this she grew fresh and glowing once more. I could see why she wanted to be free of the terrible burden of queenship. I could see that I could carry it, bear it, better than her.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, standing and holding out her hand.

  I paused, still seated on the steps, conscious that this was a moment of fatal decision. It was bigger than Albert, bigger than anything.

  ‘But, Victoria,’ I said, ‘what about my father? You know how … dominant he is, how powerful. He just won’t let us do this.’

  Victoria quickly knelt by my side, there on the stairs, and peered closely at my face.

  ‘Deep down, Miss V,’ she said, ‘deep, deep down inside, you do know that your father is a cruel bully. Don’t you? Don’t you? You have the upper hand over him. He can deny you nothing after what he has done to you. He has kept you a prisoner, here, in the palace, for ever so many years.’

  At this I could only hang my head and acknowledge the truth of her words.

  ‘Come on,’ she said again. ‘This is the finest thing that you can do for me, dear friend. And for my mother: she needs to be rescued. If he says a word against it, we will tell the world how he has mistreated her all these years. And your own mother, remember her as well. And – Albert. Don’t forget Albert.’

  I certainly could not forget Albert, for any moment of any hour of any day.

  And so I got to my feet, and together we began to climb the stairs.

  As we went, Victoria beside me chuckled.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘At last,’ she said with glee, ‘we’re going to beat the System!’

  Chapter 37

  A New Reign

  At five o’clock the next morning I was woken by a tapping at the door of Victoria’s old bedroom. I had not slept here since the night of the intruder, years ago. Then I was a visitor, now it was my own. The sun was already up. The tapping was meek, almost obsequious, but I sat up at once, completely awake.

  The terrible interview in the old schoolroom, late the previous evening, had drained me completely. My father’s anger, the duchess’s tears, Victoria’s cold, focused rage at the two of them, had left me feeling nothing but dread and lethargy. Ugly words had been spoken, ugly threats made.

  But then, when it was all over, I had crept through here into the bedroom and found Lehzen sitting, waiting, on the bed.

  On seeing me, she’d smiled.

  ‘Ah, Victoria,’ she said. ‘You must rest now. It seems likely that your uncle will die before morning, and it could be that tomorrow your reign will begin. May God bless you and watch over you tonight. I will be next door. You must let me know how I can best help.’

  Her words left me speechless. I remembered the conversation we had had once before in the woods near Ramsgate, and I wondered how much Lehzen had planted the seed of the plan in Victoria’s mind. How many people had been working against the System? Perhaps it was not just three of us, but four. It occurred to me that there were now only two people left who truly believed in the System: my father and the duchess.

  Perhaps even the duchess was losing confidence in it, too. My father’s rage against her at her failure to control her daughter had been truly horrible.

  Lehzen had lifted a finger to her lips, getting up from the bed. ‘No need to say anything at all, my dear,’ she said. ‘Now let me help you off with those shoes.’

  And so soothed, contrary to all my expectations, I’d drifted off to sleep.

  Now I pushed my feet back into my shoes, for I was not sure where Victoria’s bedroom slippers might be. That knock, so gentle and weak, hardly sounded like Lehzen. I was right. When I tugged open the huge, heavy door, it was the duchess. Her hair was all up in curl papers and her Chinese dressing gown gaudy in gold and red. But her eyes were red and her manner strangely subdued.

  ‘The news has come,’ she almost whispered. ‘The king is dead. God bless you, my dear, you are now the queen.’

  At that she shuffled across the room and opened up the curtains. A long finger of early sunlight found its way into the gloomy chamber, and I saw that dawn had come to the gardens below. ‘The archbishop is waiting for you downstairs,’ she said.

  I could not quite keep up the pretence.

  ‘Duchess …’ I began.

  ‘Mother!’ she said kindly. ‘You must call me “Mother”, especially when we are in public together. And I feel for you as a mother for her child. It is a great, great thing that you do for my girl.’

  After the threats and tantrums and tears of yesterday evening, I was stunned at her change of heart.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling at the consternation on my face. And I saw that this morning, as she had not yet had the chance to paint her face, there was a childlike serenity and a certain dignity to it. ‘I have thought all through the night and talked to Victoria, and I see that you are acting for the best for us all. I have had enough, my dear, of your father, Sir John, although I say it as should not. He has not served us well, and I am no longer going to be his creature. My daughter and I will survive. With your help.’

  It was the longest and calmest speech I had ever heard from her, and it did me good. I took the white dressing gown that she held out to me.

  ‘Now,’ she said, ‘put it on. The Lord Chamberlain is here. And the Archbishop of Canterbury. I tried to spare you, but they won’t see me. They insist on seeing you, and you alone.’

  Belting the white gown around myself, I left her and passed down the steep staircase, the one Victoria had never been allowed to descend without holding someone’s hand.

  It was steep and my heart was beating wildly, and I thought I might slip. But I imagined Albert’s voice in my head. ‘Victoria,’ he said, ‘you can manage this.’

  In the corridor, I paused. There was a strange footman there, in livery, standing up straight, so straight he could hardly have been breathing.

  When he saw me there in my dressing gown, he instantly bowed and gestured to the door of the little drawing room.

  ‘This way,’ he said. ‘I have put them in here, Your Majesty.’

  Your Majesty.

  I heard the words with a lurch of the heart. But I would soon be hearing them again. Many times.

  Two hours later, I had met a succession of men in black – grave and solemn – each of them eager to kiss my hand and give me their condolences upon my late uncle’s demise.

  I had to pinch myself occasionally, for I found myself beginning to believe that I was bereaved, and that the death of a strange old man had indeed had a p
rofound effect on my spirits. After my dressing-gowned meeting with the Lord Chamberlain, I had changed into a black dress obtained for Victoria in preparation for this eventuality.

  With the duchess and Lehzen, I had given orders for the removal of our things from Kensington Palace. We had decided to make a new beginning at Buckingham Palace, where none of the old servants would wonder which of two very similar girls was wearing the Crown.

  I was in the old schoolroom, pointing out to the maids which things should be packed, when yet another unfamiliar footman came in, with the announcement of yet another visitor.

  ‘Sir John Conroy!’

  I looked at Lehzen in consternation, but her face was impassive. She gave me a stately nod, as if to say: Here is the real test. I know you will pass.

  My father was bowing down low before me and kissing my hand. I wanted to snatch it back, but it seemed too undignified. I found him hateful now, his hair too slick, his manner too bold. I remembered my mother lying on the couch, and the duchess looking sad and childlike as she contemplated life free from his clutches.

  Every fibre in me rebelled against his bluff, confident front, marching into the apartment as if he owned it.

  ‘Ah, Miss V,’ he said loftily. ‘I have run up here to say that, upon mature consideration, I accept the deception. I see the necessity. And the Other Party sends her love and best wishes, and says she will spend this morning reading a novel in bed. Perhaps it is really for the best.’

  I stood silent, unwilling to acknowledge what would now be a secret between us all, and should no longer be spoken of.

  ‘However,’ he said, and here he finally appeared to notice Lehzen, and bowed to her, ‘I have come with a certain demand in return for my discretion on the matter.’

  I saw Lehzen start forward, almost as if to strike him. But she subsided and turned quickly on her heel.

  I knew that I had to fight my own battles.

  ‘There is to be no treaty between us, Sir John,’ I said clearly and boldly, gathering all my strength.

 

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