The Fortune Hunter

by Daisy Goodwin

  She turned to Bay. ‘There is quite a party to meet us. Are you ready, Captain Middleton?’

  Bay stood up and made a little bow. ‘Quite ready, Your Majesty.’

  There was a knot of men on the platform. The Ambassador, Count Karolyi, stepped forward to kiss the Empress’s hand. As he lifted his head his eyes flickered over to Bay, who was standing behind the Empress.

  ‘Welcome, Majesty,’ he said in German and then, turning to the man beside him, in English, ‘May I present Sir Henry Ponsonby, Her Majesty’s chamberlain.’

  Sisi nodded and waited as Karolyi introduced the rest of the party who merited introduction, ‘Countess Festetics, Her Majesty’s lady-in-waiting, Baron Nopsca, her household comptroller, and,’ with an almost imperceptible pause, ‘Captain Middleton, her pilot.’

  There were three carriages waiting outside. Sisi beckoned to Bay to join her in the first carriage with Karolyi and Ponsonby.

  The Ambassador gave Middleton his best courtier’s smile as they waited for the Empress and then Ponsonby to climb into the carriage.

  ‘Is this your first time at Windsor, Captain Middleton?’ he said.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘An exciting day for you, then, to visit your sovereign.’ Karolyi lingered over the word sovereign. ‘You are moving in exalted circles, Captain Middleton.’

  Bay looked Karolyi in the eye. ‘It is an honour to be of service to the Empress, Count.’ He gestured to Karolyi that he should follow the Empress into the carriage. The older man put one foot on the step and turned to Bay.

  ‘I have spent my life in the service of the Hapsburgs, Captain Middleton. It has been,’ he paused for a moment as if searching for the right word, and then said with emphasis, ‘the business of my life.’

  Bay was about to reply, but the Empress called from the carriage, ‘Count Karolyi, did you know that my son is to visit England?’ The Count turned his head and the moment of tension between the two men passed.

  When they were all seated in the carriage, Ponsonby began to point out the sights on the way. The streets were empty but for a few couples in their Sunday best, hurrying to church. No one stopped to look at the procession of carriages making its way towards the Castle.

  As the turrets of Windsor Castle came into view, Ponsonby said, ‘Windsor is Her Majesty’s oldest residence. The Queen always comes here at this time of year, to remember the Prince Consort. He died here on the fourteenth of December, 1861.’

  ‘So sad.’ Sisi sighed. ‘Such an enlightened man. I remember we had a long talk once about plumbing. He had a passion for hygiene. And then, poor man, he dies of typhus. I suppose the drains at Windsor are very old.’

  Ponsonby nodded. ‘Everything at Windsor is old. But with the greatest respect, Ma’am, I would hesitate to say that in the presence of the Queen.’

  The carriages drove up the avenue of trees that lined the drive to the Castle. When they arrived at the Great West Door, the Austrian party was shown into an empty drawing room, clearly one of the Queen’s private apartments as it was full of silver-framed photographs. There were group portraits of Victoria and her children and grandchildren, on lawns, steps and yachts. Franz Joseph was for ever imploring Sisi to sit for one of these dynastic pictures, so that he too could send out a family photograph that would gather dust in the royal drawing rooms of Europe. But Sisi stood firm; she had stopped sitting for photographs when she was thirty. She hated the idea of her image being pored over by strangers, royal or otherwise, examining her appearance for signs of ageing.’

  Sisi looked over at Bay; he caught her glance and smiled. She examined another photograph – this one was of the Queen mounted on a Shetland pony which was being held by a tall, rather handsome man in Highland dress. It was the only picture in the room that showed the Queen with anyone other than a member of her family.

  ‘Who is this?’ she asked Sir Henry, pointing at the photograph. The Chamberlain, who had just taken out his watch for the second time since their arrival, said with some nervousness, ‘That is John Brown, Ma’am. He is the Queen’s personal servant.’

  ‘Her servant?’ Sisi could hardly keep the surprise out of her voice. Franz Joseph might have had his picture taken with his groom, but he would never put it in a silver frame and exhibit it for public view.

  A series of clocks began to strike the hour, making Sisi aware that she was being kept waiting. She looked at Karolyi and said in German, ‘But where is the Queen? Does she know I am here?’

  The Ambassador pulled at his whiskers.

  ‘I believe, Majesty, that the Queen did not expect you so promptly. I understand that she is still in church.’

  He spoke in German but Ponsonby behind him caught the word Kirche and murmured in English, ‘The Queen always likes to have a few words with the Chaplain after the service. It’s a custom that began when the Prince Consort was alive, and the Queen does so like to carry things on.’

  Sisi felt a shiver of impatience. She had come all this way and now she was being kept waiting. Her tone was querulous as she said in English, ‘And how long do you think that these “few words” will take?’

  Ponsonby exchanged the briefest of glances with Karolyi before replying, ‘I believe just a few minutes more now, Your Majesty.’ His tone was diplomatic and neutral, avoiding any semblance of retort to her raised voice, but Sisi had caught the look he had shared with the Ambassador, a look which conveyed their common helplessness in the hands of unreasonable women.

  Sir Henry kept inviting her to sit down on one of the overstuffed sofas, but Sisi had been sitting down all morning. She began to pace up and down, her button boots making no sound on the thick carpet. It was difficult, though, to pace satisfactorily as the room, though large, was crowded with small tables covered with china models of the Queen’s dogs, glass paperweights of Alpine scenes, watercolour albums, and of course the photographs. Sisi found herself threading through the clutter, hoping that her skirts would not knock anything down. Every inch of wall was covered in paintings – some of them by painters Sisi recognised. She thought that the group portrait of the royal family must be by Winterhalter – he really was the most flattering painter; the young princes and princesses looked like angels and while Victoria looked, as ever, like a goose, she was at least in Winterhalter’s hands a handsome one. The floor was covered in a violently coloured carpet – Sisi could see patches of burgundy, mustard yellow and carmine red. She thought that it was fortunate that there was so much furniture in the room, as the carpet undiluted would give anyone a headache.

  She walked over to Bay, who was standing by a wall. ‘I thought we might look at some hunters this afternoon. Some English ones. You will help me choose them?’

  ‘With pleasure.’

  ‘We will go as soon as we are finished here.’ Sisi lowered her voice, ‘I do not intend to stay long.’

  Just then there was a cough from Ponsonby, and Sisi turned to see two liveried footmen throwing open the door for the Queen. She was small, round and dressed entirely in black apart from her white widow’s cap. Immediately behind her walked John Brown, who was almost a foot taller than his mistress. Behind him was a selection of ladies, including a young girl whose close-set blue eyes and long nose made her unmistakably one of Victoria’s daughters.

  There was a rustle as the men bowed and the women curtsied. Only Sisi did not move. She waited until Victoria was halfway across the room before she moved to kiss her on both cheeks.

  ‘Your Majesty.’

  ‘My dear Empress,’ the Queen said in her high, childish voice, ‘how delightful to see you. And on a Sunday too, such an unusual day for a visit.’ There was a glint of steel in her bulbous blue eyes. Behind her Ponsonby cleared his throat nervously.

  ‘This is my youngest daughter Beatrice.’

  Beatrice curtsied and Sisi kissed her too on both cheeks. Then she smiled and said in her gayest voice, ‘But how lovely you are, Beatrice. One day you must come and stay with me in Vienna. The archduke
s will be fighting over you, I guarantee.’

  Beatrice blushed and mumbled something about Mama needing her here. The Queen settled herself on one of the vast plaid buttoned-back sofas, and gestured to Sisi to join her.

  ‘Oh, but Beatrice would be miserable away from me. She is such a little home bird.’

  Sisi saw that Beatrice was clenching her fists; she wondered how miserable exactly the girl would be to be separated from her mother.

  ‘Oh, but it is so important to travel at that age. I so regret not seeing the world before I married.’

  Queen Victoria raised her head and her many chins wobbled. ‘How fortunate then that you are able to travel so much now. When did we last meet? I believe it was two years ago at Osborne. You had your little girl with you. Such a dear little thing. Is she travelling with you now?’

  ‘Valerie? No, I left her in Vienna with her father. He dotes upon her, and I couldn’t bear to deprive him of her.’

  ‘How is the dear Emperor? Such a shame that he is not with you.’ Queen Victoria spoke with very definite emphases as if she was underlining the words as she spoke.

  ‘My husband asked me to give you his warmest regards. He is very sorry not to be able to be here in person.’

  ‘I am surprised that you can bear to leave him behind. I know that I was always quite miserable when I was parted from Prince Albert, even if only for the night.’ The Queen gave a sigh that made her lace tippets flutter and placed one white hand to her breast. After a little pause while she collected herself, she asked, ‘Tell me, how long do you intend to stay in England?’

  ‘Till the end of the hunting season, I hope. To ride to hounds here is such a pleasure. We have nothing like it at home.’

  The Queen sighed again. ‘My dear husband always used to say that there was nothing to surpass a day out in the hunting field. If only he had been spared so that he could have enjoyed more of them. But he had so many duties here. There was no time for his own pleasure. He always put duty first.’ The Queen turned her head to gaze at the portrait of Albert at his desk that hung over the fireplace.

  Sisi caught the implied reproach. She replied in the same, slightly pious tone, ‘The Emperor is the same, diligent beyond all measure. It was very hard for me to leave him, but he insisted. Dear Franzl, he swears that the only thing that gives him real joy is to know that I am happy and healthy. The winters in Vienna always make me ill, so he was so delighted when I decided to come here.’

  There was a little pause as the Queen absorbed this speech. Sisi looked at the boulle clock on the mantelpiece. It was only fifteen minutes past the hour; she would have to stay for at least another twenty minutes. She sat up a little straighter, conscious of the Queen’s shapeless black bulk. Only Victoria’s head and the bulbous blue eyes had anything regal about them.

  ‘But the Emperor must worry about you so. Hunting is so dangerous. The Prince of Wales had such a nasty fall only the other day. Dear Alix was quite beside herself. You must promise me, dear Empress, that you will not do anything reckless. After all, we are grandmothers now.’ Queen Victoria nodded at Sisi, waving a plump white hand to indicate their similarity. Sisi smiled thinly. She did not altogether care to be called a grandmother. It made her sound so old and staid, when she was a mere thirty-eight. The Queen, on the other hand, fully deserved the grandmother label. She was only twelve or so years older than Sisi, but she looked like a contemporary of Sisi’s mother. Sisi could not understand how anyone could allow themselves to spread quite so much. And those dreadful clothes. Of course she was in mourning, but even mourning clothes did not have to be so dowdy. Sisi reflexively smoothed the green worsted skirt of her travelling dress.

  Victoria continued, ‘I have never allowed my daughters to hunt, although Louise begged me to let her. But I told her to take up archery, so graceful. Really you should consider archery, Empress, such a fetching costume Louise had made, all in green with a peaked hat with a feather. Really quite charming. I believe I shall write to the Emperor and suggest archery. I am sure that he would be very happy to know of a sport that is perfectly safe.’

  Victoria paused for breath and Sisi broke in, ‘Oh, but I am quite safe. I have my pilot, Captain Middleton, to protect me from harm.’ She gestured at Bay with her hand. ‘Earl Spencer was kind enough to recommend him.’ Bay, who had been looking at the floor during this exchange, straightened up and bowed low before the Queen.

  Victoria turned to look at Bay, making no attempt to hide her scrutiny. She clearly liked what she saw, saying with almost a regal twinkle, ‘We hope you will be very careful, young man. If anything were to happen to the Empress on English soil, it would be an unspeakable tragedy.’

  Bay bowed again. ‘You have my word, Ma’am, that no harm will come to the Empress in my care.’

  ‘We are pleased to hear it. You must be vigilant at all times. But you seem to have injured yourself? I hope it is nothing serious.’ Queen Victoria was all tender concern. There was nothing she liked more than a medical drama.

  ‘Oh it’s nothing, Ma’am. I fell from my horse and dislocated my shoulder.’

  ‘Dislocated your shoulder? How dreadful. Was it very painful?’ Victoria leant forward.

  ‘It wasn’t pleasant at the time, Ma’am, but luckily the Empress was able to set it for me right away. It’s when the arm is hanging loose that it hurts.’

  Victoria looked at Sisi and back at Bay. ‘I had no idea, Elizabeth, that you had medical training. How very fortunate that you knew what to do.’

  Sisi laughed. ‘I didn’t, but Captain Middleton is an excellent teacher.’

  Queen Victoria considered this for a moment and then she turned to John Brown. ‘I wonder if I would be as useful if anything like that were to happen to you, John?’

  ‘I have nae intention of dislocating anything, Ma’am,’ Brown said. ‘And I if I did have a mishap then I would not be asking Your Majesty for assistance. My job is to look after you.’ He did not look at Bay, but his air of superiority was impregnable.

  Queen Victoria flushed with pleasure at this manly declaration. ‘Oh, I am sure that Captain Middleton didn’t intend to hurt himself. A fall like that could happen at any time. And besides, John, there have been times when you have been a little unsteady on your feet.’

  ‘I’ve nae broken any limbs, Ma’am,’ said Brown.

  The Queen tapped him on one kilted thigh. ‘You have been lucky then.’ She turned back to Bay. ‘And which regiment are you with, Captain Middleton?’

  ‘The Eleventh Hussars, Ma’am.’

  ‘Then the Prince of Wales is your Colonel in Chief. I believe he is very fond of the uniform. But it doesn’t fit him so well these days. Too many dinners and parties. So unlike his poor dear father, who was always so careful about what he ate.’ Victoria turned to John Brown, who was standing behind her, for corroboration.

  Brown nodded. ‘The late Prince was always verra dainty with his food.’

  Sisi thought that it was a pity that the Queen did not show some of her late husband’s restraint. She must be quite as broad as she was tall.

  The Queen beckoned to her ladies. ‘Can we offer you any refreshment, Empress? You will stay to lunch, of course. And afterwards we can drive round the park. Fresh air is so important at this time of year.’

  Sisi looked at her ambassador with reproach. She had made it quite clear that this visit was to be a call and nothing more.

  ‘Oh, that would have been lovely, on another occasion I should like nothing better, but we have to go back. There is some urgent business I must attend to.’

  Queen Victoria blinked. There was a muffled gasp from the courtiers behind her. The Queen’s invitations were never refused. But Sisi did not flinch. She had kept her promise by paying this visit, but she would not ruin a whole day by staying for lunch. She continued, ‘I hope you will meet Rudolph, my son, when he comes. He is such an admirer of all things English. He wants to know everything about your engineering – bridges and tunnels are al
l he talks about. Not Viennese at all.’ She laughed and Karolyi, behind her, did his best to muster a smile. The English courtiers stood frozen, waiting to see how their mistress would react.

  Victoria gave a little nod. Her voice was high, clear and unmistakably cross.

  ‘We shall be delighted to see the Crown Prince. Let us hope he will not be so pressed for time.’

  The royal lips were set in a straight line, but Sisi only laughed. ‘I shall tell him that he must work very hard to make up for his mother’s shortcomings.’

  Queen Victoria did not smile back. Henry Ponsonby pulled at his whiskers.

  Sisi, seeing Karolyi’s pained expression, realised that she must repair the damage. She looked around her in desperation.

  ‘But this is such an interesting room. We have nothing like this in Vienna. I know Franz Joseph would admire your decorations exceedingly. So gemütlich. He ordered all the furniture for his apartments in the Hofburg from Maples of London.’ Sisi pointed at the polychrome carpet. ‘What a pity he isn’t here to see this. I know he would admire it very much.’

  Mollified, Victoria leant forward. ‘That is the royal tartan. Dear Albert designed it. He loved Scotland so much, he wanted to be reminded of it at all times. We were always so happy there.’ The Queen looked fondly at John Brown as she said this.

  ‘You really must visit Scotland, dear Kaiserin. So picturesque. I am never so carefree as when I am in Scotland. Such happy memories of my beloved Albert.’

  Sisi thought that, despite her frequent references to her late husband, the Queen looked remarkably content in the company of John Brown.

  ‘Perhaps one day you will visit Bad Ischl in the Tyrol. People say it is very like Scotland.’

  The Queen shook her head sadly. ‘I am afraid it is too late for me to visit Austria. Dear Albert was never there and I would not like to go anywhere that he had not seen. I would feel disloyal.’