Victoria

by Daisy Goodwin

  Victoria’s voice rose on this last remark and she saw a woman in the crowd give her a curious glance.

  “He is not, I am thinking, quite reliable. You must know that last year he was accused of a criminal conversation with a married woman.”

  “Of course! And I also know that he was acquitted.”

  The Duchess rolled her eyes. “Even an English jury will not find their prime minister guilty, Drina.”

  “Is it impossible for you to imagine that he might have been acquitted because he was innocent, Mama?”

  The Duchess laughed. “Oh, Drina, your Lord Melbourne may be many things, but he is not innocent.”

  Mother and daughter made the rest of the journey back to the palace in silence, and Victoria thought she might manage to escape without another lecture from her mother. But as they walked through the Marble Arch and into the courtyard of the palace, her mother turned to her again. This time the Duchess leant towards her and her face was soft. Victoria caught a whiff of lavender and felt for a moment such regret that things between them could not be easier.

  “Dearest Drina, I think perhaps that I have failed you as a mother. I have been leaving you together too much with Baroness Lehzen, who is not really understanding the ways of the world.”

  The Duchess put her hand to Victoria’s cheek and stroked it tenderly. “I want to tell you something, mein Liebe. Something I think that only a mother can be saying.” She opened her eyes wide.

  “You must be careful with Lord Melbourne. You are a young girl, and he, well he is a Herzenräuber. A stealer of hearts. You should take care, Drina, that he does not steal yours.”

  “Really, Mama, there is no danger of that. You forget I am the Queen and he is my Prime Minister.”

  “I am sure that is what you are believing, Drina, and maybe it is true. But I am seeing the way your cheeks are making a rose every time you see him.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Dinner was not a convivial meal that evening, as the Queen appeared to have lost her appetite. Since she was only picking at her food, it meant the other diners were not really able to enjoy their fricassée of oysters, or veal ravigote engelée, as the moment Victoria put down her fork all the plates were whisked away by the footmen standing behind every chair. No one, of course, could continue eating when the Queen had finished. This had a dampening effect on the conversation, as every diner was anxious to partake of as much food as possible before the sovereign stopped eating.

  Although she would not admit it, even to herself, Victoria’s loss of appetite had everything to do with her mother’s warning. Was Lord M really a Herzenrauber? She had felt that he alone, of all the men who surrounded her at court, liked her for herself, not just for her position. But perhaps, as her mother said, he liked all women. She looked down the table to where he was laughing with Emma Portman and felt a pang of something she did not quite recognise. Did he laugh so merrily when he was with her, she wondered. She put down her spoon and got to her feet. The rest of the table did likewise, the ladies following Victoria as she led the way to the drawing room, the gentlemen escorting them as far as the dining room door.

  The gentlemen did not linger after the Queen and her ladies had gone to the drawing room. Although Melbourne was partial to the palace port, he had no desire to drink it in the company of Conroy. As he got up from the table, he found to his displeasure Conroy accompanying him to the door.

  “The Duchess was wondering, Melbourne, about the seating arrangements for the coronation.”

  Melbourne was irked by the way that Conroy had addressed him as an equal. But as ever, his politeness in replying was in inverse proportion to his annoyance. “Indeed, Sir John. Is there something in particular that the Duchess wishes to know?”

  “Her Royal Highness wants to know if her brother King Leopold will be attending, and her nephews, Albert and Ernst? She is concerned that the Queen might have forgotten the Coburg side of the family.”

  Melbourne gave Conroy his most engaging smile. “Oh, I think that would be most unlikely. The Queen, as you know, has the most astonishing grasp of detail. But sadly protocol forbids the presence of another monarch at the coronation, which would preclude the attendance of King Leopold. I think that their Serene Highnesses Prince Albert and Prince Ernst would hardly like to attend without him.”

  Conroy bowed his head. “You have the advantage of me, Melbourne, when it comes to protocol. I shall explain that to the Duchess. But I think, or rather the Duchess thinks, it would be wise if the Queen were to invite her cousins to visit in the near future.”

  “Indeed? Then I suggest that you, or rather the Duchess, should make that suggestion to the Queen herself. She alone issues invitations to the palace, a freedom that she rather enjoys, as I believe it is the first time she has been at liberty to choose her companions.”

  Melbourne walked out of the dining room without looking back.

  In the drawing room, Victoria looked up at once as he walked in. “Ah, Lord M, we were just about to play piquet. Would you care to join us?”

  Melbourne felt Emma looking at him from one corner of the room, and Conroy from the other. He knew that every exchange of his with the Queen, however innocent, was being scrutinized.

  “Will you forgive me, ma’am, if I decline? There are some government matters I must attend to.”

  Victoria frowned. “I think I can excuse you, but I shall expect you in the park tomorrow for our ride. I don’t enjoy it without you.”

  Melbourne smiled. His efforts at discretion were no match for the Queen’s guilelessness. “In that case, ma’am, I shall be there.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I think I will wear the red habit today, Jenkins.”

  Victoria put up her arms, and Mrs Jenkins pulled the riding costume over her head. It was made of scarlet gabardine with gold lace on the facings and braid on the skirts, secured by a row of gold buttons that Mrs Jenkins was fastening with a buttonhook.

  She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. The door opened, and Lehzen came in through the door behind her and curtseyed to her reflection.

  “Don’t you think my new habit is perfectly splendid?” Victoria said. “I wish I could wear it all the time. I feel so happy without my stays.”

  Lehzen looked mildly scandalized, and Jenkins repressed a smile.

  Victoria noticed. “Oh, Lehzen, surely I can say that I don’t like wearing a corset! It’s so nice to be able to bend over and move my arms around. It’s so boring to be trussed up in a corset all the time, like a chicken.”

  “It is part of being a woman, Majesty.”

  “Not just women, Lehzen. Lord M told me that my uncle George was so fat that he used to wear stays in order to keep his waistcoat buttoned.”

  “Lord Melbourne is so well informed.”

  Victoria put on the high-crowned riding hat and turned around in front of the looking glass to admire herself. “If only I could wear this to the Coronation Ball, then I could dance all night in perfect comfort.”

  “You are the Queen, Majesty. There is no one to stop you.”

  “True. I shall ask Lord M. But I am afraid he will think I have lost my wits.”

  “I doubt that, Majesty.”

  * * *

  Hyde Park was still shrouded in mist when Victoria rode into Rotten Row accompanied by her groom and Lord Alfred Paget, her equerry. Melbourne was waiting for her, as always, by the gates to Apsley House.

  When he saw her, he smiled. “How charming you look today, ma’am. I believe that is a new riding habit.”

  They cantered along at quite a pace, dust flying before them, until they reached the northern limit of the park. Victoria reined in her horse, and they turned down along the Serpentine.

  “I think our rides in the morning are quite my favourite part of the day, Lord M. If I didn’t have the park to look forward to, I don’t think I would ever get out of bed.”

  As they crossed the bridge spanning the Serpentine, Victoria tur
ned to him, and said in a rush of words, “We talk about everything on our rides, but you never talk about your past, Lord M.”

  “My past, ma’am? I am afraid that is neither edifying nor entertaining.”

  Victoria looked out across the water. “I wonder that you have never married again.”

  Melbourne paused, and then said, “Caro was not a model wife by any means. But she suited me well enough, and I have never found anyone to replace her.”

  “But didn’t you mind when she ran away with Lord Byron?”

  “Mind?” Melbourne gripped the reins of his horse. “Yes, I minded.”

  “And yet you took her back afterwards. I don’t think I could do such a thing.”

  “Perhaps, ma’am, you are too young to understand.”

  Victoria kicked her heels into her horse’s side and rode off. Melbourne hesitated briefly and then followed her. When he was alongside she turned and said, “I am old enough to be Queen, Lord Melbourne.”

  “I meant no disrespect, ma’am. But in my experience the young cannot always understand the compromises of age.”

  Victoria bit her lower lip. “I think she, your wife, I mean, behaved very badly.”

  “I agree, ma’am, that is how it must look, but Caro was not like other women. I found it easier to forgive her than to turn her away.”

  “I could not do it.”

  “I very much hope you will never have to, ma’am.”

  Victoria felt her cheeks burning. She did not understand why he was being so short with her. She had meant no offence by asking about his wife. As they reached Apsley House she turned her horse’s head in the direction of the palace.

  “I shall go in now. I think I will look over the army lists before the next Privy Council.”

  “I think that would be wise, ma’am.”

  “Yes,” said Victoria. “I think perhaps I have been neglecting my duties of late. I don’t think I will ride out tomorrow, but go through my boxes instead. I have had so many charitable requests, I really must attend to them. The Baroness will help me, I am sure.”

  “The country is fortunate to have such a diligent queen, ma’am,” said Melbourne as he turned his horse towards Park Lane. And they went their separate ways, both riders thinking of the words they wished they had said.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The smell was so strong that Victoria had to put her handkerchief in front of her face.

  “Is it always like this in the city, Lehzen?”

  “That is Billingsgate on your left, Majesty. The fish market.”

  Victoria looked out of the window and saw a small boy pushing a trolley loaded with fish heads and bones along the side of the road.

  “Look at that. What do you think he could want with all those fish heads?”

  “Probably he is collecting them to sell for soup, ma’am.”

  “Oh.”

  Victoria was relieved when they left the fish market behind. Through the window she could see the white towers that were her destination.

  The carriage clattered across the cobbles and came to the drawbridge, which was guarded by two beefeaters, who saluted as they approached.

  Victoria looked up at the ancient stone arch and saw that the underside was covered in dark green moss. She shivered.

  “I keep thinking of Anne Boleyn.”

  “She was a foolish woman, I believe,” said Lehzen.

  “But to have her head cut off! I think it was somewhere here. Oh, I wish Lord M were here. He would be able to tell us everything and make a story out of it.”

  Lehzen drew her lips together in a thin line.

  The carriage circled the white tower and drew up outside a building on the left of the outer wall. The footman pulled out the carriage steps and Victoria walked into the Jewel House.

  “If you will allow me to lead the way, Your Majesty.” The keeper of the Queen’s jewels was sweating, even though the air inside the thick stone walls was dank.

  He produced a large key and made a great show of unlocking the vault. The doors opened reluctantly.

  The interior of the vault was dark and musty. Victoria coughed. The keeper looked around in dismay.

  “I apologise, ma’am, for not having aired the chamber. I should have made preparation, but we have never had a woman, I mean a queen, visit here before.”

  Victoria inclined her head. “I wanted to see the crown before the coronation.”

  “If you would like to sit down here, ma’am, I shall bring over the casket.” The keeper put a studded leather case on the table and opened it with a click.

  Victoria gasped as a ray of light hit one of the stones in the crown, throwing up a skein of dancing pinpoints that skittered around the gloom of the vault.

  She stood up to take the crown out of its case. It was heavy; she guessed it weighed as much as Dash, perhaps even more. Lehzen stepped forward to help her, but Victoria shook her head. “I think I must do this myself.”

  Reaching up, she placed the crown on her head. It was, as she had suspected, far too big. When she let it go, it settled right down over her forehead, listing over her right eye.

  “I have a looking glass here, ma’am, if you would like to see the effect.”

  He brought out a silver hand mirror with a monogram on the back. When Victoria looked at it curiously, the keeper muttered apologetically, “It belongs to my wife, ma’am. She thought you might need it.”

  “Your wife is very thoughtful. I am indebted to her.”

  Victoria picked up the mirror. She thought that the tinsel crown she had made for doll No. 123 was a much better fit. She tried tilting the crown so that it perched on the back of her head, but it looked even more precarious. If she put it on straight, the headband rested halfway down her nose, and all she could see was a diamond-filtered blur. She put it down on the table with a thud.

  “This will not do.”

  “No, ma’am.” The keeper’s voice throbbed with apology. “Perhaps you would like to try this.”

  He produced a coronet from another case. This was an airy knot of diamonds with clusters of sapphires round the headband.

  It was a perfect fit. Victoria turned her head from side to side and admired the way in which it caught the light in her eyes.

  “This is much better.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is the Queen Consort’s crown.”

  Victoria took off the diadem.

  “Unfortunately, I am not a Queen Consort, but a Queen Regnant. The state crown must be altered to fit my head. I cannot walk down the aisle in Westminster Abbey with a crown that is too big for me.”

  “But the coronation is on Thursday, ma’am!”

  “Then it is a good thing that I had the foresight to try it on.”

  “But I worry, ma’am, that it will always be too heavy for you. There are so many stones.”

  “I am not concerned about the weight, merely the circumference.” She turned to Lehzen.

  “Do you have a ribbon or some such so that I can leave the keeper with an accurate measurement?”

  Lehzen pulled a lace from her pocket and wrapped it round the Queen’s head, tying a knot where the ends met over her forehead. She handed it to the keeper. “Now there can be no excuse for it not fitting.”

  Victoria heard the keeper give a deep sigh as she left the room.

  Back in the safety of the carriage, Victoria allowed herself to laugh. “The keeper’s expression when I tried on the crown. I was trying so hard not to laugh. But really he should have checked it before.”

  Lehzen gave her a sidelong glance. “I am surprised that Lord Melbourne did not attend to it, Majesty. He is always so anxious to be of service.”

  Victoria’s smile faded. She sat up a little straighter in her seat. “Lord Melbourne is the Prime Minister. He cannot attend to every single detail. The size of my crown is hardly an affair of state, Lehzen.”

  “No? But what could be more important, Majesty?”

  Victoria turned to look out of th
e window. She had asked Melbourne if he would come with her to the Tower, but he claimed that he was very busy at the moment, preparing for the coronation. As Lehzen pointed out, however, what could be more important really than a crown that fitted? Victoria congratulated herself on insisting that she try it on. Everything, all the trappings of state, had been designed for men; large, portly ones. She could barely lift the gold forks or the chased crystal goblets that her uncles had used. Even the knives and forks in the state cutlery service were enormous.

  She had resolved not to show any discomfort after her mother had once said to her, at a state banquet at Windsor while the King had been alive, “What tiny hands you have, Drina. Perhaps we should get a special place setting made, more suitable for someone of your size.”

  Conroy had been smiling by her side. “Do you think that’s wise, Duchess? Your daughter has a little tendency to plumpness. We do not want to encourage her to overeat.” It was an exchange she had never forgotten. But now she decided that even if her mother had not meant it kindly, she was quite right. Her hands were small, and there was no reason at all why the Queen of the greatest country in the world should not have cutlery that was the right size, or indeed a crown that fitted.

  It was a thought that normally she would have shared with Lord Melbourne. He was always such an attentive listener. She never felt with him that he was simply waiting for her to finish so that he could make his own, superior point. She could tell Lehzen, of course, but the Baroness was not the same as Lord M.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The orchestra had already started playing, and the music was drifting up from the ballroom to the Queen’s bedroom. Victoria could not help tapping her foot as they started to play one of her favourite polkas. There was a muttered exclamation from Monsieur Philippe, the hairdresser who was brought in on special occasions. He was doing something very complicated with curling tongs, and Victoria’s sudden movement had made him burn his fingers.

  “I am sorry, Monsieur Philippe, but it’s hard not to move when you hear music. Are you nearly finished?”