“Very well, ma’am.”
Victoria started to walk down the gravel path that led to the bridge, but when Emma made to follow, she turned back and said, “I think, Emma, that you might prefer to sit down in the house.” When it looked as though the older woman might protest, Victoria said with some firmness, “I believe I can manage alone.”
“If you are sure, ma’am.”
“Quite sure.”
Emma watched the small figure in the voluminous dark veil walk briskly down the hill and across the bridge to the other side.
When she turned, Hedges was standing beside her. They looked at each other, acknowledging the scene before them, and then Lady Portman reasserted herself. “I find I am thirsty after my journey. Would you order me some tea?”
“Certainly, my lady.”
* * *
Victoria saw him first, the dark green of his coat against the grey stone of the seat. He had his face turned away from her, looking at a clump of oak trees whose green fringed branches were speckled with the black forms of the rooks. He sat perfectly still, his head resting against the stone, until the rooks, sensing the approach of the Queen, began to wheel and circle in alarm, their cries echoing across the water of the lake. Melbourne stood up slowly, his shoulders expressing his reluctance at being disturbed. But as he made out the unmistakable figure walking toward him, his posture changed into something alert and wary.
He waited until she was a little closer before acknowledging her with a wave of his hand. He did not speak until Victoria stood before him and lifted her veil, whereupon he said, “It is you, then, ma’am. I couldn’t be sure.”
Victoria looked up at him. “The butler said this was a favourite spot of yours.”
Melbourne turned and gestured to the trees behind him, where the birds were screaming in protest at the intruder. “I come for the rooks, ma’am. They are sociable animals. A gathering like this is called a parliament. But they are altogether more civilised than their human equivalent.”
They stood listening to the eldritch shrieks of the birds. Victoria bit her lip and then said, “I am sorry to disturb you, Lord M, but I had to talk to you.”
Melbourne made her a little bow. “Brocket Hall is honoured by your presence, ma’am.”
“I came here with Emma Portman. Incognito, of course.”
Melbourne’s lips twitched. “Of course, ma’am. But your presence cannot be entirely disguised.”
Victoria put her hand up to fasten her veil, which was billowing behind her in the wind. The rooks answered her gesture with an eddy of cawing.
“You see, Lord M. Yesterday … yesterday I realised something.”
Melbourne’s gaze did not leave her face. He waited for her to go on, and when she hesitated he said quietly, “Yes, ma’am?”
Victoria spoke quickly, as if she must get rid of the words before they burnt a hole in her mouth. “I think perhaps that I am speaking now as a woman and not as a queen.”
She hesitated again, but Melbourne continued to look at her until she was ready to go on. “At the beginning I thought that you were the father that I never had, but now I feel”—she looked up—“I know, that you are the only companion I could ever desire.”
As she said this, a shaft of light broke through the clouds above them and shone directly onto Melbourne’s face, so that he briefly turned his face away. And then, as the sun went back behind the clouds, he faced Victoria and took one of her hands in his. Even through her white kid glove she felt the touch of his hand as if it were a red-hot coal burning into her palm.
With his other hand, but never taking his eyes off Victoria, he gestured to the birds behind him.
“Did you know, ma’am, that rooks mate for life? Every year they court each other as they build their nest, renewing those little civilities that make a marriage sparkle. We could learn so much from them.”
Victoria heard his words, but all she could feel was the hand that was holding hers tightly. Melbourne hesitated as he looked at the upturned face but then he continued, “If I had watched the rooks more closely, then perhaps my wife would have felt more attended to.”
Victoria said with indignation, “She should never have left you! I would never do such a thing.”
Melbourne swallowed and then he said with great seriousness, “No. I believe that when you give your heart it will be without hesitation.”
And then in a lower voice, “But you cannot give it to me.”
Victoria almost laughed. Did he not understand what she had come here to tell him?
“I think, Lord M, that you have it already.” She lifted her face as close to his as the difference in their heights permitted. Although she knew he would not want to take advantage of a queen, surely if she were to make it clear that she would not mind at all if he were to kiss her, then he might overcome his scruples. She closed her eyes, waiting. But instead of leaning forward, she felt him let go of her hand.
When she opened her eyes she saw lines between his nose and his mouth that she had never noticed before. He spoke with determination. “No, my dear, you must keep it intact for someone else.”
He looked back at the rooks as if they might have some message for him, then, turning back, said with awful clarity, “I have no use for it, you see.” He tried to smile. “Like a rook, I mate for life.”
It took a moment for Victoria to understand what he had said, a moment to comprehend that everything that she had thought, had hoped for, was not to be. She had been mistaken; he cared not for her, but the memory of the wife who had betrayed him.
She knew she must leave before the tears came. With a voice that was as dignified as she could make it, she said, “I see. Then I am sorry to have disturbed you, Lord Melbourne.” She pulled the veil down over her face and walked and then ran away from him as fast as she could, the cries of the rooks covering the sound of her tears.
From the drawing room of Brocket Hall, Emma Portman watched the small figure of the Queen crossing back over the bridge. From the way she was tacking diagonally across the path as if she could not see the way ahead, it was clear to Emma that the Queen was crying.
She rang the bell and asked Hedges to have the carriage brought round, as they would be leaving immediately. Hedges nodded, but before he disappeared he said with a sadness that spoke of great affection, “My master has not had the happiness he deserves, my lady.”
“No. But he has served his country well, I think.”
The butler bowed his grey head and went to call the carriage. Emma Portman waited for her Queen.
Victoria walked up the hill and got into the carriage She did not raise her veil. She saw Emma get into the carriage beside her, but could not find the words to speak. What could she say? That the only man she had ever loved, ever would love, had rejected her because he preferred the memory of his dead wife—a woman who had treated him shamefully?
Victoria felt bereft of that moment of clarity she had felt when she had leant against Melbourne at the almshouses. She had not been safe after all; he did not care for her at all, only for the wicked, adulterous Caroline—who had humiliated him, while she, Victoria, had done nothing but show him love and affection. Thinking of how much she hated Caroline and what a monster she must have been made her feel a little better. It was easier to blame the dead wife than the husband who stayed faithful to her memory. How quickly everything had gone from hope to despair. She thought of how he had smiled at her when she had lifted her veil and then the thrill of pure happiness she had felt when he had taken her hand, not as her Prime Minister, but as a lover. She thought her face would break apart from smiling so hard, but then he had started talking about rooks, and though he still held her hand like a lover, his words had pushed her away. Her only chance of happiness gone forever. She did not know how she could bear it. The sole consolation was that no one apart from the two of them would ever know what had passed between them.
In a minute, when she had regained her composure, she would say so
mething to Emma that would make it clear she had come here to consult Melbourne on a matter of state. But that made her think of the red boxes and the happy hours they had spent every morning going through her papers, the jokes they had made about rural deans, the day she had received a zebra from the Emir of Muscat. They had been such happy days, but now they were gone. She wondered if she would ever be able to face Melbourne again. How could she speak to him now as she used to? Everything was ruined. The tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she felt Emma throw her a swift glance. Victoria turned her head away. She did not want Emma to see her crying. She closed her eyes, trying to pretend that none of this was happening, and that she was still the girl she had been on the journey to Brocket Hall.
A smooth metal object was placed in her hand. “Might I suggest a sip of brandy, ma’am? I find it is very efficacious when suffering from … travel sickness.”
Victoria raised the flask to her lips and felt the fiery liquid scald her throat. She coughed at the shock of it, but as the initial burn began to mellow into a more general warmth, she raised it to her mouth again.
After her third tot, she found she could say, “Thank you, Emma, the brandy is most helpful.”
“I always keep some with me when I am travelling, just in case,” Emma lied. Hedges had pressed the flask into her hand as they were leaving.
As Victoria felt the warm tide course through her body, the initial misery began to recede, to be replaced by an overwhelming surge of fatigue. Within a minute she was asleep, her head falling onto Emma’s shoulder.
To Emma’s relief, Victoria slept all the way back to the palace. When the carriage pulled in through the Marble Arch, Emma saw Lehzen standing by the door, her face taut with worry. As the carriage stopped, Victoria woke up with a start. With a pang, Emma saw the young Queen’s face crumple as she remembered what had happened to her. She signaled to Lehzen to come and help. Before Victoria had the chance to speak, Emma said, “The Queen is most fatigued from her journey. She needs to go straight to bed. With some negus, perhaps.”
As Victoria climbed down from the carriage, she almost threw herself into Lehzen’s arms. Emma saw the governess’s face: the sympathy, but also the tiny gleam of triumph.
CHAPTER SIX
Leopold made it his business to be informed of everything that went on in the palace, so news of Victoria’s excursion to Brocket Hall reached him before dinner from his valet, who had conjured it from Brodie, the hall boy. Leopold, therefore, was not surprised and indeed rather relieved when his niece did not appear that evening. It was pleasant to have a meal where he could finish every course in peace, and he felt that Victoria’s decision to stay in her room suggested that her mission, whatever it was, had not been successful.
The next morning, he found his sister walking in the gardens. She looked worried. “Do you know where Victoria went yesterday? No one will tell me, and now she is in her room refusing to see anybody.”
Leopold looked at his sister. He decided not to tell her about Brocket Hall. If the visit had not been a successful one for Victoria, then the Duchess would no doubt say something tactless, and Leopold did not want the rift between mother and daughter to widen any further.
“Why don’t we go and see her together? I hardly think she will refuse to see both of us. It is important, I think, that we should talk to her about Albert. It is time that he came to England, I think.”
“Dear Albert, such a good boy. He reminds me so much of you at that age.”
Leopold smiled. “Yes, I believe that Albert has turned out very well. He is a true Coburg.”
They found Victoria lying down on a chaise longue in her sitting room, clutching Dash like a hot water bottle. Lehzen tried to stop them coming in, but the Duchess just pushed past her, with Leopold in her wake.
“Where did you go yesterday, Drina? No one could tell me where you were. I was so worried, I thought something had happened to you.”
Victoria did not look up at them. When she spoke her voice was flat and expressionless. “It doesn’t matter, Mama.”
Leopold walked around the chaise longue to face her. He looked at her swollen eyes and said gently, “Wherever you went, it seems it did not make you happy.”
Victoria turned her face away, but Leopold continued smoothly, “I wonder if this is a good time to talk about the visit of your Coburg cousins.”
Victoria said nothing, but Dash gave a yelp, as if he were being squeezed too tightly.
“No? In that case, I think I shall attend to my preparations for the Duchess of Richmond’s ball. I am rather pleased by my costume. Please don’t ask me what I am wearing; I want it to be a delicious surprise.”
Dash, who by now had come to associate Leopold with cruel and unusual treatment at the hands of his mistress, began to bark at the King of the Belgians, and Leopold decided to make his escape. He had a letter to write that must be sent at once.
The Duchess came round to kneel in front of Victoria and put her hand to the tearstained cheek. “Dearest Drina, why are you so melancholy? I think it is because you are alone. Please invite dear Albert to visit; he would be such a good companion for you.”
Victoria’s lower lip began to tremble, but biting it hard, she picked up a pillow and threw it across the room, where it knocked over a small harp in the corner, causing it to fall to the ground with a boom of tingling strings.
Victoria looked savagely at her mother. “I don’t want a stupid boy like Albert, Mama! Or anyone else.” She got up and went into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Her mother hovered, wondering if she should knock on the door and ask to come in, but then she saw Lehzen watching her and decided that she did not want to humiliate herself in front of the governess.
“Drina is not herself today, Baroness. She would be so much happier if she had a husband, I think, and children to love.”
Lehzen said, “I am sure you are right, ma’am, but of course you remember that I am not an expert in these matters.”
When the Duchess had left, Lehzen tapped gently on the bedroom door. “You can come out now, Majesty; they have all gone.”
There was no answer from behind the door. Only when Dash came back from chasing Leopold and started to whine and scratch to be let in was the door opened, but only the dog was admitted.
Nevertheless, Lehzen continued to stand by the door. It felt like the only action she could take that would protect her mistress. That feeling was confirmed when a few minutes later she saw Conroy walking down the corridor towards her.
When he saw her he gave her his most opaque smile. “Ah, Baroness, are you standing guard? In case your charge disappears again? I hear she went to Brocket Hall without an escort, but of course you knew that.”
Lehzen was not quick enough to disguise her surprise that Conroy should be so well informed. Victoria had not told her that she had been to Brocket Hall, but she had her suspicions. She was surprised, though, that Conroy knew. She could only assume he had paid one of the servants.
“I am no longer the Queen’s governess, Sir John.”
Conroy nodded. “Or her confidante, it seems. We are but the playthings of princes, Baroness—to be discarded at their pleasure.”
There was a note of something approaching melancholy in his voice that made Lehzen turn and look at him. “You shouldn’t worry, Sir John. I do not think the Duchess will be discarding you.”
Sir John shook his head. “I had such hopes of bringing some rigour to the monarchy. But instead ‘Queen Victoria’”—his voice dripped with disdain—“has been allowed to squander the goodwill of the country in a series of squalid episodes. And chasing after Melbourne all the way to Brocket Hall is yet another embarrassing blunder.”
The Baroness turned on Conroy. “You have no right to speak about the Queen in such a way!”
“But why not? Like you I have been watching over her since she was a little girl. I want her to be a great queen, not an embarrassment to her country.” He look
ed at the door and sighed.
“The only hope now is that she marries a man who can control her.” And with that Conroy walked off, without waiting for Lehzen’s reply.
* * *
Conroy had been seriously perturbed by the news that the Queen had visited Brocket Hall. He could only guess as to why she would abandon protocol and decorum to visit her Prime Minister incognito at his country house. Although he had observed her growing infatuation with Melbourne with dismay, it had never occurred to him that she might consider him as a potential husband. Surely even a nineteen-year-old queen could not be so foolish as to imagine that she could marry a man in his fifties, who was a confirmed roué to boot? Not to mention that he was her Prime Minister and her subject.
There could be no more unsuitable husband in Europe, a fact that was obvious to everybody, except perhaps to the Queen herself. What Victoria needed was to marry a prince like Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. The Prince was a serious young man who would listen to advice from his aunt, the Duchess, and he thought, from his aunt’s advisor. Thanks to Melbourne, it was too late to influence Victoria directly, but Conroy saw a glimmer of hope in the compliant form of Prince Albert.
First, however, she must be persuaded to marry him. That was Leopold’s object in coming here, of course, but so far all he seemed to have achieved was to drive Victoria into the arms of Lord Melbourne.
Conroy wondered how the Prime Minister had responded to the visit from the Queen. There were some men who would not have hesitated to take advantage of the situation, but much as he disliked Melbourne, Conroy did not believe him to be one of them. Conroy would have liked nothing better than to be able to look down on Melbourne, but his behaviour over the Bedchamber Crisis had shown that in extremis, he would always put his country before his personal inclination.
Still, if Victoria had proposed and he had refused, his position now would be most awkward. Indeed, the only thing to relieve the embarrassment would be for the Whig government to fall or, more likely, the Queen to marry. Conroy smiled to himself. If Melbourne were to decide that it was in the Queen’s best interests to marry, then a wedding seemed quite likely.
Victoria Page 26