The room fell silent. Victoria’s ladies waited to see how she would take this statement. Hill took a step back as he saw Victoria look at him, wondering how he could face his wife if he had offended the Queen.
But before he could fall to his knees and beg forgiveness for his lèse-majesté, he saw that the Queen was showing dimples in her cheeks and shaking with what seemed to be irrepressible laughter. The Queen’s mirth spread like wildfire to her ladies, to the elegant Lord Alfred, and finally to Prince Ernst, who almost exploded with the laugh that had been building up inside him.
The only people in the room who were not laughing were the footmen, the bewildered Mr Hill, and Albert, who looked at the general hilarity with incomprehension. When Victoria had recovered her composure and noticed the stern look in Albert’s eyes, she put her face close to the dog she was cradling in her arms and said, “Do you think Cousin Albert disapproves of us, Dash?”
Albert said nothing, so she lifted her head and looked at him directly. He frowned and said, meeting her gaze, “Forgive me, Cousin Victoria, I thought you were addressing your dog.”
He looked over at Hill. “I think that this gentleman has produced a remarkable invention, one that will bring great advantages to your subjects, so yes, I find nothing to laugh at, only to admire.” With this last sentence, he turned back to Victoria.
Hill, who did not know who this extremely intelligent man was, except that he was a prince, made a lavish bow in his direction. “I am honoured that you think so, sir.”
Victoria felt her cheeks becoming hot. “Thank you very much, Mr Hill, for showing me your most ingenious device. And now, if you will excuse me, I have an audience with Lord Melbourne.” With a rapid, angry step she walked out of the room without glancing at Albert. The ladies and Lord Alfred followed in her wake.
When they had gone, Ernst looked at Albert and shook his head before saying in German, “What is the matter with you?”
His brother replied in the same language. “I cannot pretend to be something I am not. She has courtiers to laugh at everything she laughs at, but I am not one of them.”
He turned to Hill, who was standing in the middle of the room, uncertain as to whether he had been dismissed. He had been told to walk backwards out of the room when the Queen indicated the audience was over. But as the Queen had left the room before him, he wondered whether it was still necessary. Would the Princes expect it of him? In truth, it was the thing that Hill dreaded most; the thought of walking backwards out of a room with the very real possibility that he might bump into something had given him nightmares ever since he had been told that it was a necessary part of court protocol. Perhaps, as they were only Princes, it would not be necessary to walk backwards all the way. He stood fixed to the spot, shifting from foot to foot.
Finally, to his great surprise and pleasure, the Prince who had praised his invention came over to him and picked up the sheet of stamps. “Can you tell me, please, how you are able to make the image so exact?”
* * *
Melbourne was waiting for Victoria in her private sitting room. He did not even have to look at her to know that she was in a temper; he could tell from the staccato footsteps and her impatient exhalation as she walked into the room.
“I am so vexed I could scream!” she said, circling the room until she was in front of Melbourne. Looking down at her, he thought that there could only be one cause for the Queen’s heightened colour, the way that her chest rose and fell.
He had observed with interest the meeting between the Queen and her cousin the night before. Albert was an awkward young man who clearly had no idea how to make himself charming to a woman, but with the heightened senses of one who loves, Melbourne saw the look that had passed between the Queen and her cousin when he had leant over the piano to turn the page of music. It was a look he had experienced a few times in his life, and knew he never would again.
Understanding all this, he said with his normal air of amused detachment, “Really, ma’am? But the latest reports say that our forces have defeated Dost Mohammed. They will be in Kabul in a matter of weeks.”
Victoria stopped pacing and collected herself with an effort. “That is good news, I must write to General Elphinstone and congratulate him.” Then she spread out her hands in front of her. Looking at them she said, “Just now, I was talking about my cousin.”
Melbourne said lightly, “And which cousin would that be? His Serene Highness Prince Ernst of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, or his brother His Serene Highness Prince Albert?”
Victoria looked up at him. “Albert, of course. He is such a…” She paused, searching for the right word, before finishing with great emphasis, “Such a prig.”
“Indeed? From my brief glimpse, I thought him rather elegant, for a German.”
“He is always so … disapproving!”
Melbourne smiled. “I think you mistake his natural reserve for disapproval, ma’am.”
Victoria shook her head vehemently. “No, I don’t think so.”
Melbourne turned to the boxes on the table, and said almost as if it were an afterthought, “You do not view him as a possible husband, then?”
“I would rather marry Robert Peel!”
Melbourne raised an eyebrow. “I wonder what Lady Peel would say to that?”
And they both laughed, enjoying the moment of easy intimacy between them and remembering how many jokes they had shared in the past. To Melbourne it felt all the more precious because it gave him back the glimmer of hope. Perhaps he had been mistaken in what he had seen at the piano. Perhaps Victoria would not after all lose her heart to Albert, and they might continue with this happy understanding between them for a little while longer.
It was a frail hope, he realised, and one that was not worthy of him. He knew, more than anyone, that what the Queen needed was a husband on whom she could pour all the passion that was brimming inside her. He reminded himself that the time had come when he must follow his duty rather than his inclination, but even so, as the Queen smiled at him, showing her small white teeth, he hoped that the hour of sacrifice was not quite yet.
“By the way, ma’am, may I compliment you on your new hairstyle. It is really most becoming.” The curls at the nape of her neck gave her face a voluptuous softness.
“I thought I would try something new.”
Melbourne nodded, unable just at that moment to speak.
* * *
Albert and Ernst walked down the steps of the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square, where one brother had spent an absorbing couple of hours admiring the fine specimens in the collection, while the other had been equally engrossed in admiring the fine array of London’s fairer sex. They walked out into the square, attended only by Lohlein.
Lehzen had put a carriage at their disposal, and Alfred Paget had asked them if they would like him to show them the sights, but Albert had refused both offers. He wanted to see London for himself, not as the Queen’s cousin, or worse still her suitor. Ernst had protested; he had an idea that Lord Alfred might be able to show him some of the attractions he would find most interesting, and as a cavalry man he could not understand Albert’s passion for walking everywhere. But he knew better than to protest when his brother had made up his mind.
They walked past a large building project in the middle of the square. It looked as if a giant finger was pointing upwards from a cluster of scaffolding. They stood and watched as a huge piece of granite was hauled up by a series of cranes and pulleys till it rested on top of the finger, bringing it even closer to the sky.
Turning into Regent Street, Albert stopped in front of a window that held a display of the new daguerreotypes. The small glass plates mounted against a length of red velvet were mostly portraits of men, although there was one picture of an old lady where it was possible to see all the lines and wrinkles on her face.
Albert gazed at the daguerreotypes intently, and turned to his brother. “It’s remarkable. A way of reproducing nature quite faithfully.”
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Ernst tore himself away from admiring the fetching redhead on the other side of the street to glance at the crone that his brother was poring over. “Look at the wart on her face. I am not sure I want to be reproduced that faithfully.”
“But don’t you want to see yourself as you appear to others?”
“I’m not sure; it depends on how much I have had to drink the night before!”
The sharp-faced young proprietor of the shop appeared in the doorway. “If you would like to step inside, sirs, I would be happy to make daguerreotypes of you both. And you don’t need to worry about having to stand still for a long period. The exposure time is now only ten minutes, and I promise you will find no more artistic photographer anywhere in the city.”
“Is that what you call yourself, a photographer?”
“Yes, sir, from the Greek—photos meaning light and graphos meaning to draw. I like to think of myself as painting with light.”
Albert’s eyes gleamed. He had heard about daguerreotypes, of course, and had even seen one or two, but he had never before met someone who was a practitioner. He was about to step into the shop when he saw that Ernst had struck up a conversation with a lady on the other side of the street. He hesitated; surely he was not always to be his brother’s keeper. Then he remembered how Ernst had left his beloved regiment to accompany him on the trip to London, and with a regretful glance at the photographer and a promise to return another time, he crossed the street to take his brother’s arm and lead him into safety.
“Ooh, this must be your brother,” said the redhead. “The likeness is unmistakable. Seeing as you are foreigners, would you two gentlemen like me to show you some of the sights? I can assure you that I know my way around.” She gave Ernst a lascivious wink.
“Thank you, miss, but that won’t be necessary. We have business to attend to,” Albert said firmly, and pulled his brother by the arm. In his eagerness to get away from the temptress, Albert turned into a narrow side street that could not have presented a greater contrast to the wide avenue of Regent Street, with its handsome shop fronts and prosperous-looking people. Here everything was darker; the light was almost blocked out by the buildings on either side, and there was a strong smell that worsened as they walked further towards a courtyard where there appeared to be some sort of pump. Children dressed in little more than rags, with nothing on their feet, chased each other round a line of women who were waiting with buckets and pails. Albert looked about him with horror; this fetid courtyard seemed to be the negative imprint of the bright prosperity he had just left. Here there were no green parasols or advertisement hoardings proclaiming the latest performance of La Sonnambula at the Italian Opera House; here there was only sooty washing hung out to dry and the rhythmic clank of the pump.
Albert felt a touch at his arm. It was Lohlein, who said in German, his face anxious, “I think we should return to the palace, Highness; this is not a good place to be.”
The unfamiliar sound of German made one of the women look up and stare at them. Her gaze made Albert uncomfortable. He had seen poverty at home, of course, but nothing had been quite so dirty; and the peasants at home had not looked so without hope. He was about to turn around when he felt something touch his knee. He shuddered, thinking it was some stray dog, and saw a little girl no more than four years old holding up a single match.
“Buy a match, sir?”
Albert looked at the little girl’s weary face and saw her thin arms. He reached into the pocket of his coat and found a coin, a half crown, which he pressed into the child’s palm. He turned away and began to walk towards the light, but before he could take three steps he felt another touch at his knee.
He looked down and saw the little girl holding up his match. Smiling, he bent down to take it from her.
As the brothers strolled back towards the palace, Albert said, “We do not have such things as photographers in Coburg, but we at least do not have children begging on our streets.”
Ernst was tipping his hat to a pretty blonde in a blue pelisse riding past in a yellow phaeton. “There are lots of things here that we don’t have in Coburg.”
“How can Victoria sit in the palace with her lapdog when all around her there is such poverty? I think London is not an honest city.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Albert.” Ernst watched the blonde disappear into the park. “If this is dishonesty then I think there is something to be said for it.”
* * *
Dinner that night was en famille, which meant that besides Leopold, the Duchess of Kent, and the two Princes, it included only the immediate members of the household, Lord Melbourne, and Dash, who liked to linger at Victoria’s feet waiting for scraps.
The conversation around the table was fitful, as the household and Leopold tried to finish their courses before the Queen. Only Ernst, who did not know that the timbale de saumon in front of him was about to be whisked away before he had even had a forkful, ventured to make conversation.
“May I compliment you on your dress, Cousin Victoria? I have seen so many fashionably dressed women today, but I think you are the finest of them all.”
Victoria looked pleased. It was a new dress made of a shot silk that shimmered like a peacock’s tail from blue to green as she moved. The neckline was just off the shoulder, revealing the length of her white neck, and the thin lines of her collarbones were traced by a diamond necklace that glittered in the candlelight. She looked like a hummingbird, iridescent and sparkling, bending down constantly to pop the choicest morsels into the mouth of the waiting Dash. She was in high spirits tonight, fizzing with the excitement or perhaps tension of sitting between her two cousins.
She turned to Ernst. “I am glad that you were able to enjoy yourself today. Lord M and I have been so busy with the army lists. Now that we are in Afghanistan there are so many military matters to attend to.” Melbourne, who had Emma Portman between him and Albert, noticed that the Queen’s eyes slid over to Albert as she said this, but the Prince was looking at his plate.
Ernst continued in the same affable tone, “It was a most educational day. Albert and I visited the National Gallery. We are quite the tourists.”
Having eaten as much of the timbale as she cared to, Victoria put down her cutlery. Like a flight of herons, the footmen swooped and took away the food. Leopold gave a deep sigh, but Albert looked up surprised as his plate was spirited away. He protested to the footman, “I have not finished!”
The footman glanced over at Victoria. “But the Queen has, Your Highness.”
Albert shook his head and looked over at Victoria, who was just at that moment dangling a tidbit she had saved for the slavering Dash. When she noticed Albert, she asked, “Did you see my portrait at the gallery? The one of me in my coronation robes. It always reminds me of that day, and how nervous I felt.” She gave a little smile, and Emma Portman murmured that although the Queen may have felt nervous, it was not visible to the audience.
Albert waited for Emma to finish and then said in his accented English, “We did not see the portrait. We went to look at the Old Masters. There is a very fine Rubens there, among many other most interesting paintings. I think it is a wonderful thing that so much beauty should be available to all for free. I believe it will create a nation of aesthetes.”
Victoria, who was cutting up her veal farci with small, precise movements, said, “I don’t care for Rubens at all. All that wobbling flesh.”
The table fell silent. Melbourne, who could not help the smile playing at his lips, addressed Prince Albert. “The National Gallery is most certainly of great benefit to the nation, but I doubt that it will do much to change the national taste. Although I believe it has become a favourite refuge for tramps, so perhaps we will have the most cultivated vagabonds in Europe.” The room echoed with the silvery peal of Victoria’s laughter.
Albert put his fork down and said, “I believe even vagabonds, as you call them, deserve to glimpse the sublime.”
Melbourne smiled in r
eply, but before Albert could say anything further, Ernst broke in. “Well, if the ladies I saw in the gallery today were vagabonds, then their taste clearly needs no education.”
Victoria caught her mother’s eye and stood up. The entire room rose to its feet, and the gentlemen escorted the ladies to the door, Albert putting out his arm for Victoria, which she brushed with the tips of her fingers without so much as looking at him.
After the ladies had withdrawn and the footmen had come in with the port, the men moved towards the end of the table where Leopold was sitting. Melbourne placed himself next to Alfred Paget and was enquiring after the health of his many siblings, when to his surprise Albert came to sit on his other side.
Without preamble, the Prince said, “You know, Lord Melbourne, that I should very much like to visit your Parliament. We have nothing like this at home.”
Albert looked so serious that Melbourne wondered whether he was capable of smiling. He could not see Victoria ever being happy with a man who had no sense of humour.
“It would be my pleasure to show you, sir. But I hope you won’t be disappointed. The peril of representative government is that it can often end up resembling a bear garden. And you might want to go incognito.”
Albert looked surprised and wary. “Why is that?”
“There are some MPs, Tories mostly,” Melbourne dismissed them with a wave of his hand, “who might not care to feel that they were being inspected by a German prince.”
As he said this, he saw the colour rise in Albert’s cheeks. “I see. And what do you think, Lord Melbourne?”
Melbourne rose from his chair. “I think,” and he gave his most polished smile, “that we should join the ladies. The Queen does not care to be left waiting.”
* * *
In the state drawing room, Victoria was playing cards with Harriet, Emma, and Lehzen. The Duchess was sitting by the fire with her embroidery. The men walked in according to precedence, first Leopold, who went to sit next to his sister, then the Princes, and finally Melbourne and Alfred Paget.
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