by Jean Plaidy
The relief was too intense to hide.
‘My place in the Guards …’ began Christian.
‘You don’t think I want to disband my army and lose my best men,’ said Frederick with a grin. ‘There’s a possibility that you will be heir to the throne, you know.’
‘Oh no, Your Majesty will have sons.’
‘I think that’s hardly likely. I’d have to find a wife first, wouldn’t I? As a matter of fact I’m going to marry Countess Danner.’ He laughed. ‘You look surprised. Perhaps you know her better as Mademoiselle Louise Rasmussen. I’ve just made her a Countess. But of course they’d call that a morganatic marriage, wouldn’t they, and even if we had children they wouldn’t be allowed to inherit.’ He pointed gleefully at Christian. ‘You may well be for it, my boy. So enjoy your freedom from the affairs of state while you can.’
A very undignified monarch, thought Louise. When her Christian was King – which he might well be – it would be a very different matter. She was secretly elated because her eldest son Frederick could very likely in due course follow his father and be King of Denmark.
In the meantime there was nothing to worry about. The country was no longer on the edge of revolution and the new King was even more benevolent than the old.
There was tension throughout the Yellow Palace. Fredy knew why. It was war. He whispered it to Alix in the little room which she shared with Dagmar. Funny Uncle Frederick would put on his beautiful coat with all the gold braid and buttons and the medals and march to war. Papa would go with him because he was a soldier.
‘Bang, bang,’ said Fredy. ‘Then Uncle Frederick and Papa will come home and all the bands will play and we’ll stand on the balcony and watch.’
Alix listened wide-eyed to Fredy’s account of what war meant.
In the privacy of their room Louise tried to conceal her anxiety even from her husband. Christian, with his particular buoyancy and innocent outlook on life, believed that the war would soon be over. Louise, more realistic, was not so sure.
She tried to assess what would happen to her family if Frederick was defeated. Also she feared for her husband. Christian, good soldier that he was, had no desire to go to war because it meant leaving his family. His idea of being a soldier was to report to the barracks daily and come home to teach gymnastics and bring his children up with the aid of their clever mother. To leave them now was a tragedy. His great consolation was that they would be in the capable hands of their mother.
‘It was bound to come sooner or later,’ said Louise. ‘Schleswig-Holstein has always been a source of anxiety to Denmark. It has been boiling for years.’
‘And now, of course, with Frederick’s accession, the Holsteiners have used this as an opportunity.’
Louise nodded. The position of Schleswig-Holstein, lying to the south of Denmark as a border to the German states, was in itself provocative. The trouble was that while Schleswig was content to be under Danish rule, Holstein was not. The Holsteiners preferred to consider themselves Germans, so there was friction and the Holsteiners were constantly attempting to persuade the people of Schleswig to their way of thinking.
One member of the royal family of Oldenburg, a branch of the royal family, was the Duke of Augustenburg, who had in fact a claim to the Danish throne. With German support he decided to make a bid for it. Hence the war which had broken out.
‘If the people of Holstein should win …’ began Louise.
‘That’s impossible,’ declared Christian.
‘It’s all very well for you to be loyal to your country,’ said Louise rather impatiently, ‘but what if they get help from some of the German states? Could Denmark stand up against that? And what sort of commander is Frederick going to be?’
Louise could not bear to think of the defeat of the Danish armies. If Duke Christian of Augustenburg defeated Frederick he would most certainly become at least heir to the Danish throne which would mean that Louise’s husband and her son would be passed over. She realised how dear that project had become to her since it had been suggested to her by her mother through the last King. There was a more immediate problem. If the war were lost what would become of her family? They would most certainly be turned out of the Yellow Palace and Christian would no longer have a post in the Army.
It was a gloomy prospect.
‘Let us pray,’ she said, ‘that this war will soon be over.’
The children assembled in the music room while Louise sat at the piano and they all sang hymns. The ‘God help us’ kind of hymns, said Alix to Fredy, which meant that people were frightened because they always asked God’s help then in a special sort of way.
Their father read to them from the Bible and that too was all about God’s helping them in their battles.
Fredy had made war sound rather glorious but Alix sensed that her parents’ attitude was rather different.
Shortly afterwards their father left with the Army.
‘I’ll soon be back,’ he told them.
But the war dragged on, and it was three years before it was over.
Chapter IV
A DAZZLING PROSPECT
Life had gone on much as before in the Yellow Palace. Alix and Dagmar shared an attic room which contained two narrow beds, a chest of drawers and very little room for anything else. There were lessons every day with their mother. Music played a very big part in their lives. Louise played her pianoforte with skill and feeling and she was anxious that the children should do the same. Alix was taught to make her own clothes for they were much too expensive to buy; and as soon as Dagmar was old enough she would learn too. In the meantime she was allowed to watch. Alix had developed a skill in dressmaking which was a pleasure to her mother; she could choose the most becoming colours with ease and had a natural artistic bent. She enjoyed making clothes and when they were completed would like to parade up and down before her brothers and little sister while they applauded.
When she walked out with her mother wearing the new dress or jacket which she had helped to make she would be very conscious of its cut and would compare it with clothes worn by others; on her return she would, on her mother’s orders, take it off, put on something less precious, and hang it up in her wardrobe so that it should be fresh when next required. There were the visits to Rumpenheim which still went on in spite of the war. There Alix became aware that her clothes were very simple compared with those of her female relations.
‘Never mind,’ said her mother. ‘You wear yours so much better that they look as good.’
This impressed Alix. It was true. Some of them slouched or did not stand up straight. She must remember that.
They continued with their physical exercises.
‘Papa will expect it when he comes home,’ said Louise.
And at last Papa did come home.
What rejoicing there was! It was just as Fredy had said all those years ago – it seemed an age – when the war had started. The bands played; there were marches through the streets; uniforms and general rejoicing. Uncle Frederick had won his war against the rebels of Schleswig-Holstein. Denmark was safe and the King was a hero. So was Prince Christian.
How proud they all were and how delighted the Prince was to be home with his family!
Mama played the piano and they all sang Danish songs. Songs of Triumph now. No need to ask for God’s help. They had won the war. They were safe.
Papa explained it all to them and they listened eagerly.
Schleswig-Holstein had ‘come to its senses’; it was content now to be part of Denmark; and the wicked ogre of the story, who oddly had the same name as Papa, Prince Christian, though of Augustenburg, had gone to Germany.
Papa was jubilant; he had conducted himself with honour in the war and had worked closely with King Frederick so that they had become good friends.
It was all wonderful.
Louise, however, was not so optimistic; she had qualms about the future and she often discussed these when she was alone with her husband.
‘I
t’s a temporary peace,’ she said. ‘A truce really.’
‘Why, my dear,’ remonstrated Christian, ‘we well and truly trounced them.’
‘What about Prussia? There are plots brewing there, I’m sure.’
‘You worry too much.’
But dear Christian was a little naive and none knew it better than his wife. The European powers shared Louise’s fears of the growing ambitions of Prussia and realised that a strong Denmark was essential to curb those ambitions. And as Frederick was without a son to follow him, the succession was still unsettled. A conference of the powers took place in London and one of the items discussed was a possible heir to the throne of Denmark, and now that Prince Christian of Augustenburg was in disgrace, it was decided that, in accordance with an earlier suggestion of the late King, it should be settled on Prince Christian through his wife Louise.
There was an immediate agreement to this.
Prince Christian heard the news with some misgivings, Louise with secret elation.
All would be well. When the time came she would be beside her husband to guide him.
She had made an important discovery. She was to have another child.
Uncle Frederick called at the Yellow Palace with his morganatic wife, Countess Danner. Frederick was bluff and hearty and very friendly; Countess Danner was less so. She could scarcely feel pleased that Christian and Louise should be the heirs to the throne when it was not impossible that she might have a child. Large – she and Frederick were both very fat – she sprawled on a sofa and assessed the contents of the room; very clean but also shabby. She looked at the glittering rings on her fingers and then gazed somewhat contemptuously at the bare hands of Louise crossed in her lap. It was clear that she would have liked to snub the whole family but that was more than even she dared to do. Frederick was easy-going but after all these people had become important. This was the future King and Queen while she must remain the morganatic wife to whom many people referred as the mistress.
All the children were brought in to pay their respects to the King. Dagmar stared round-eyed at the enormously fat, rather short man with the hooked nose and beaming smile.
‘What a pleasant family, eh?’ he cried. ‘You’re a lucky man, Christian.’
‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Christian. ‘I know it well.’
‘What I’ve come to say is this. The Yellow Palace should not be your sole residence now you’re heir to the throne. What would you say to Bernstorff Castle as another residence, eh?’
‘Bernstorff!’ cried Christian very loudly so that Louise would know she had not been mistaken. Louise had grown a little deaf in the last years and did not like to admit it. ‘But that would be wonderful.’
‘Why yes,’ agreed Louise. ‘It would be most wonderful to have Bernstorff as an alternative residence.’
‘Well, it’s yours.’
They overwhelmed him with gratitude.
‘Don’t forget,’ he said with a grin. ‘You’re the heir to the throne now.’
It was not to be thought, Louise explained to the children, that now they had two residences they were rich. Far from it. A palace and a castle needed a big outlay to keep them going, and although Papa would one day be the King of Denmark they were still the poor relations. They must continue to live simply, make their own dresses and not expect luxuries.
It didn’t matter. There was so much to make life exciting. Bernstorff was wonderful and it was always an adventure to be there. It was some ten miles from Copenhagen and set in a beautiful park. Here they could ride every day, and Alix loved being in the saddle; they could play all sorts of games and the entire family were very good at inventing them. There were lessons every day; Papa continued with the physical exercises and it was no unusual sight to see him with the children – including Dagmar – turning somersaults on the lawns of Bernstorff.
A new sister had arrived. She was called Thyra and for a while the whole family could talk of nothing else but this wonderful child; then Thyra ceased to be a baby and in due course she was there in the schoolroom and in the gymnasium. And the happy life continued.
There were trips to Rumpenheim to be enjoyed each year and best of all was the reunion with aunts and cousins, and relatives of all kinds.
There were picnics and dancing, riding and endless conversation; there were games of all kinds; and there was Cousin Mary of Cambridge. Each year they met and their friendship had grown. It was true that Mary was ten years older than Alix but as the years passed the difference seemed less.
As they walked through the avenues of trees and sometimes planned the next day’s excursion, Mary would talk about her home in England. She lived in Cambridge Lodge on Kew Green, that part of the world which was made famous by King George III, the mad King of England, and his severe wife Queen Charlotte from whom Mary was directly descended. Mary occasionally saw Queen Victoria, who was really very kind but could be a little forbidding; she sometimes met the Queen’s children. The eldest, Vicky, was much younger than Mary, being only four years older than Alix, and a year younger was Bertie who was reputed to be rather naughty and was the Prince of Wales. They weren’t allowed to mix with other children very much and, it was said, in the family Prince Albert was very severe. The family did not like Prince Albert very much because he was German, but the Queen thought he was perfect, which was right really since she was his wife.
There was so much to talk about. For one thing how the Queen had been shot at on Constitution Hill, which was near Buckingham Palace, and the Great Exhibition which had been set up in Hyde Park. A great Crystal Palace, said Mary. It had to be seen to be believed. And they had removed it all and set it up in a place called Sydenham.
Alix could not hear enough about England.
Then one day Mary said: ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t pay us a visit. I’ll ask Mama to invite you.’
Alix was very excited and Mary was true to her word. There came an invitation for Alix to visit the Duchess of Cambridge at Kew.
Alix had become a very important person. Her brothers and sisters were envious of her since she had been selected for a great adventure; and it was all due to the interest Cousin Mary had shown in her. She was to go and stay with them at Cambridge Lodge.
Louise said that she must have some new clothes; they would not be elaborate and she would probably meet people who were very splendidly dressed, but if she carried herself well and continued with the exercises Papa had taught her, she could make the plainest of dresses seem elegant. Alix was well aware of this. She delighted in clothes and this was obvious as soon as she put on any garment. So it was a challenge that she should have so few clothes and that none was elaborate.
The great day came when she left Denmark in the company of the Cambridges and how exciting it was to travel! The Channel was far from smooth but what seemed to cause discomfort to some people delighted Alix; and it was wonderful to stand beside Mary while she pointed out the land which was the coastline of England.
Cambridge Lodge was grand by Danish standards, but there was more splendour to come.
She and Mary rode out together in the Cambridge carriage through the village of Kew – ‘Dear little Kew’ as the family often referred to it, quoting George III and Queen Charlotte who had talked of it thus long ago. They went to London and it was all so much bigger than Copenhagen, everything seemed so grand and on a larger scale; but there was another side to it. There were more beggars than in Copenhagen; there were more street vendors, more poor people, more everything.
One day Mary was very excited because she had arranged a party and the Queen had given her permission for the Princess Royal and the Prince of Wales, Prince Alfred and Princess Alice to visit Cambridge Lodge.
Mary told her they were about her age … at least Alfred was exactly the same, Alice a year older, the Prince of Wales a little more than a year older than Alice, and Vicky, the Princess Royal, a year older than he was.
Alix felt a little nervous.
‘Oh
, you needn’t be,’ said Mary. ‘They are only children, and they haven’t played half the games that you have!’ Alix wore a white muslin dress which her mother had said would be the right thing for a special party. She supposed it was special since she was to meet these important people even if they were only children.
She reminded herself that she herself was a princess and her father was heir to the throne; so her rank was as high as these children’s.
Mary introduced them.
The Princess Royal was the important one. She came first and said in German with a very assured manner: ‘Hello, Alix. How do you like England?’
Vicky was a little terrifying; she seemed to know everything, and what was worse was fully aware that she did.
‘This is Bertie, Alice and Alfred,’ said Vicky.
Alix bowed her head; she couldn’t very well curtsey to children of her own age, although she fancied Vicky expected it.
Bertie eyed her with slight interest and Alice smiled in a friendly way. She warmed to Alice immediately. Alfred was friendly too.
‘We could play some games,’ said Mary in her role of elder cousin eager to have the children amuse themselves.
‘What games do you play in Denmark?’ asked Vicky.
‘We play hoops and with tops and letting rooms.’
‘What’s letting rooms?’ asked Vicky.
‘Well, some people have a house and the others come and look for rooms.’
‘How odd!’ said Vicky. ‘Why should they come to look for rooms?’
‘People do,’ put in Mary helpfully, ‘when they haven’t a house and want somewhere to live.’
‘Oh, the poor,’ said Vicky.
‘Sometimes we play guessing games. We are rivers going through the country and we say all the towns through which we pass. If you miss one there’s a forfeit.’
Vicky felt that she might score at that and was interested.
‘We do music too,’ said Alix; ‘and we do gymnastics. We turn somersaults.’