They laughed and feigned their disbelief in such arts as people do, while at the same time, they find them irresistible. The gypsy took his hand and told him he was going to marry shortly and that he would be the father of a great queen.
This amazed him, for if she had read his thoughts and was trying to give him what he wanted, it would have been a king.
He said, “No. A king.”
But the gypsy shook her head. “A queen,” she insisted.
He was much impressed. So much so that his mind was made up. He must recognize his duty to the family and the State; he must marry Victoria and make sure that Madame St. Laurent was well looked after.
There was no Salic law in England and the gypsy had said a great queen.
Well, that was the prophecy, and, as I believe first and foremost in honesty, I will say that it came as near true as any prophecy can.
The year 1819 dawned. It was the year of royal babies. In March the Clarences had a little girl who did not survive. The Cambridges had a boy. May saw two more babies. The Cumberlands’ George was born on the 27th, but before that, on the 19th, I made my appearance.
My father was exultant. He was sure then that the gypsy’s prophecy was coming true.
I LIKED TO imagine my nursery. There was such rejoicing. It would have been pleasant to know what an important baby I was. But perhaps that would not have been good for me and I should have been even more wilful and petulant than I actually was in those early years.
Louise Lehzen, who was to have charge of me, had brought her pupil, the Princess Feodore, my half-sister, over to England to live with us. It was from her and from Feodore—and I came to love both dearly—that I learned so much of those early days.
There I was, a healthy baby—“plump as a partridge,” some said. “Determined right at the start,” said Lehzen, with a twitch of her lips and a nod of her head, “to have your own way.”
Feodore said that I was the most adorable baby that ever was. I daresay when she had her own she changed her mind about that! And I did wonder how many babies she had been acquainted with—but no matter. That she should think so was a sign of her love. Not only was there excitement in Kensington but in Saxe-Coburg too. The Coburg relations always stuck together and rejoiced in the advancement of the family; they were very different from my English relations who were always in conflict with each other.
My maternal grandmother, the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, referred to me as the May Blossom, which I thought rather charming when I heard it. “The English like queens,” she added, “and the niece—and also the first cousin—of the ever-lamented and beloved Charlotte will be most dear to them.” It was true that the English had liked queens ever since the reign of Elizabeth. How the people had revered that one! The greatest monarch ever to sit on the throne, some said—and a woman! Yes, after Elizabeth, the English must like queens.
There was a great deal of controversy about my name and that ended with a scene in the Cupola Room.
My uncle, the Regent, had taken a great dislike to my mother—so had Uncle William. Feodore told me that our mother said it was because she was young and healthy, and they, poor things, were decrepit old gentlemen who had no hope of getting healthy children. The Regent even hated the way my mother dressed. She loved feathers and rustling silks and lots of flounces, which the Regent said was Bad Taste. He was known throughout the kingdom, in spite of all his failings, as the arbiter of Good Taste. I have never known much about that, noticing that people are apt to believe that what they like is good taste and that all those who have different opinions have bad. However, that dislike was there and my mother—such a forceful lady—would always feel that there was something very wrong with those who criticized her.
There had, so Feodore told me, been a great deal of trouble about choosing my names. My father was so sure that I was going to be a queen that it was imperative that I should have a name suitable for one. After a great deal of thought it was decided that my first name should be Georgiana. There had been three Georges and likely to be a fourth, so that seemed the best choice. This was to be followed by Charlotte (after the Princess who had made this possible), Augusta Alexandrina (after the Tsar), and Victoria after my mother.
Etiquette, of course, demanded that the names be submitted to the Regent for his approval. My mother had argued, so said Feodore. “Why all this fuss about a name?” One might have asked the same of her. Of course my name was important and I have no doubt that the Regent regarded me with suspicion. After all, when one holds a position, it is not the most pleasant thing in the world to view one’s successor. There is a feeling of being edged toward the grave. All monarchs feel it at some time—and particularly when one is obese, overcome with gout and other ailments, desperately trying to appear young and handsome as one has been in one’s youth.
My parents knew that there would be trouble because on the very evening before the ceremony he sent a brief note saying that the name of Georgiana could not be placed before that of the Emperor of Russia; and he could not allow it to follow.
I am sorry that I cannot recall that scene from personal experience—although I was at the center of it. The Cupola Room must have looked very grand with the golden font that had been brought from the Tower and the crimson velvet curtains that had come from the chapel in St. James’s. I had three distinguished sponsors, the most important of these being Alexander the First, the Tsar of Russia; the second was my Aunt Charlotte, the Queen of Württemberg (who had been the Princess Royal of England); and the third my maternal grandmother, the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld. These illustrious sponsors were not present in person, of course, but were represented by my uncle, the Duke of York, and my aunts, the Princess Augusta and the Duchess of Gloucester.
The Prince Regent at length arrived and from that moment there was trouble. I can imagine the animosity that must have flashed between him and my mother. There we were assembled in that splendid room before the golden font, my mother preparing for battle. Many times have I seen her in the mood she must have been in on that occasion.
The Archbishop held me in his arms waiting. He asked the Regent to announce my first name.
“Alexandrina,” he said, and then he paused.
The Archbishop was waiting.
“Charlotte,” whispered my father.
But the Regent shook his head reproachfully to show definite disapproval.
“Augusta?”
“Indeed not,” said the Regent. “Let her be named after her mother. Alexandrina Victoria.”
So, to the fury of my mother and the consternation of my father, I, who was to have emerged from the Cupola Room enriched by so many grand names suited to a future queen, came out with only two.
The Regent had shown his disapproval of what he called my parents’ presumption. He was not dead yet, and he clearly hoped that one of his other brothers would provide the heir to the throne, for his animosity toward my frilled and feathered mother—as I believe he called her—was great.
And there I was—“plump as a partridge”—full of lusty health and ready to start my life—a possible heir to the throne.
* * *
Read Jean Plaidy’s Queens of England series in historical order:
* * *
* * *
The Courts of Love
The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine
AVAILABLE NOW FROM
THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
The Queen’s Secret
The Story of Queen Katherine
AVAILABLE NOW FROM
THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
The Reluctant Queen
The Story of Anne of York
AVAILABLE NOW FROM
THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
The Lady in the Tower
The Story of Anne Boleyn
AVAILABLE NOW FROM
THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
The Rose Without a Thorn
The Story of Katherine Howard
AVAILABLE NOW FROM
THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
In the Shadow of the Crown
The Story of Mary Tudor
AVAILABLE NOW FROM
THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
Queen of This Realm
Memoir of Elizabeth I
AVAILABLE NOW FROM
THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
Loyal in Love
Henrietta Maria, Wife of Charles I
previously published as Myself My Enemy
AVAILABLE NOW FROM
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* * *
* * *
The Merry Monarch’s Wife
The Story of Catherine of Braganza
previously published as The Pleasures of Love
AVAILABLE NOW FROM
THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
The Queen’s Devotion
The Story of Queen Mary II
previously published as William’s Wife
AVAILABLE NOW FROM
THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
* * *
Victoria Victorious
The Story of Queen Victoria
AVAILABLE NOW FROM
THREE RIVERS PRESS
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 1992 by Jean Plaidy
Reader’s Group Guide copyright © 2008 by Three Rivers Press, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Three Rivers Press, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.crownpublishing.com
Three Rivers Press and the Tugboat design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Crown Reads colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Originally published as William’s Wife in hardcover in slightly different form in Great Britain by Robert Hale Limited, London, in 1992, and in the United States by G.P. Putnam’s Sons, New York, in 1993.
Excerpt from Victoria Victorious copyright © 1985 by Jean Plaidy.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Plaidy, Jean.
William’s wife / Jean Plaidy.—1st American ed.
p. cm. — (Queens of England series)
1. Mary II, Queen of England. 1662–1694—Fiction. 2. Great Britain—History—William and Mary, 1689–1702—Fiction. I. Title. II. Series: Plaidy, Jean.
Queens of England series.
PR6015.I3W53 1993 92-32588 CIP
823’.914—dc20
eISBN: 978-0-307-40922-5
v3.0
Jean Plaidy - [Queens of England 10] Page 32