“She is very attractive,” Fidi said thoughtfully. “And in the brief conversation I had with her, she struck me as intelligent, even witty. What is it that you so dislike about her?”
“She adores Sir John excessively and looks up to him,” I explained. “I’m certain it was his idea entirely to assign her as my chaperone. Mamma goes along with whatever he says.”
“So that has not changed,” Fidi said. “Not that I expected it would.”
“I think she’s a spy,” I added darkly.
Fidi laughed. “But what is there to spy upon?”
“Oh, Fidi! Mamma and Sir John want to get rid of dearest Daisy, and they insist on finding fault with her! The duchess of Northumberland replaced her as my governess because Sir John insisted that I need someone who is English to make sure I always use the correct fork. I don’t dislike Lady Charlotte. She’s very kind and pleasant and honest and always takes dearest Daisy’s part. But it’s a different matter with Lady Flora, who makes clear her disdain for Lehzen. ‘Why is it you are so fond of caraway seeds, my dear baroness?’ Lady Flora asked haughtily last week at lunch. ‘You sprinkle them on your meat, your vegetables, your bread and butter. I should not be surprised if you put them on gooseberry fool.’”
“Poor Daisy!” Fidi exclaimed. “What did she say?”
“She answered very mildly, ‘They are an aid to digestion. Perhaps you would also find them helpful.’ One can see that she distrusts Lady Flora, and for good reason. I’m sure they’ll send her away, just as they did Späth. I worry every night that I’ll awaken the next morning and find our dear Daisy packing her bags for Germany.”
“I must confess that it has been to my great benefit, and surely my children’s, that Späth was dismissed,” Fidi said. “She came to me straightaway, and I don’t know what I would do without her! My children adore her. But for your sake, we must do everything we can to keep Lehzen with you.”
“But what can be done?” I asked anxiously.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’ll try to think of something.” Just then Fidi happened to glance over her shoulder and observed Lady Flora and another lady trotting behind us in an open carriage and closing the gap. “Speak of the devil,” she said, “and she doth appear.”
Fidi urged her horse into a gallop, and I followed, laughing immoderately.
Soon after the arrival of my sister and her family, we all set out for Windsor to attend the Ascot races. King William and Queen Adelaide were warmly attentive to me and to Feodore. “I’ve been hearing about your precious little ones,” said dear Aunt Adelaide to Fidi. “I do so look forward to meeting them.”
Fidi assured the poor queen, whose own babies had died in the cradle, that she would bring little Carl and darling Elise to visit her. The loss of a child happened so very often, and it always brought heartbreak. Just two months earlier we had mourned the loss of the first-born of my uncle Leopold and his wife, Queen Louise. Little Louis-Philippe—his parents called him Babychou—had died in May before reaching his first birthday.
Queen Adelaide behaved graciously to Mamma, despite Mamma’s rude conduct during my cousins’ visit the previous summer. Uncle William ignored her. None of les bâtards were in evidence, and so Mamma was not encouraged to make one of her embarrassing exits.
In a caravan of nine open carriages we drove to Ascot and down the racecourse to the royal box, waving greetings to all those who craned for a look at us. King William later offered to make what he called “a friendly little wager” with me on the winner of the Gold Cup, the most important of the races. The stakes were high—one of my ponies for one of his. I had no idea which horse to bet on, but I did like the look of a stallion named Glencoe and placed my bet on him. When Glencoe took the cup, I discovered that I had won the king’s beautiful little chestnut mare, named Taglioni for the dancer. I was VERY MUCH AMUSED!
We returned to Kensington. I contrived to spend every possible moment with Fidi. She and Lehzen and I often went out riding together, and it was so much like the old days when Fidi was living here that I often felt VERY sad, missing what I no longer had.
“It’s a mistake to yearn for what is past,” Fidi warned me.
I felt my eyes filling with tears. “Is that what you did?”
“Yes, for a short time. Then I started to realize that I was married to a man who cares deeply for me. And when the children began to arrive, I realized that I care deeply for Ernst as well. And I regret nothing.” She hesitated, gazing at me thoughtfully. “Have they begun speaking about a future husband for you?” she asked. I shook my head. “No? Well, they’re certainly thinking about it, I promise you. Rumors have been flying since the day you were born. It’s a favorite topic of newspaper writers.”
“I’m not allowed to see any newspapers.”
“I know. And you’re just fifteen, so there’s still time. Of course, it’s better if you make the choice yourself, rather than having it made for you. I worry about that, for Sir John seems determined to make every decision for you. In three years you’ll be of age, and you won’t require a regent to govern for you. So now Sir John asserts that he intends be your private secretary.”
I was stunned. “Private secretary!” I cried. “That’s impossible!”
“Vicky, I learned long ago that with Sir John Conroy, nearly anything is possible, once he is determined to have his way.”
“I know,” I agreed sadly. “Sir John has everyone fooled. Only dearest Daisy sees through him, but I’m afraid he will convince Mamma to send her away. Once you’re gone, Daisy is the only person in whom I can confide!” I thought of the little wooden doll, her painted features all but worn away and her costume in rags, that I kept well hidden. “And of course, my dear sweet little Fidi doll! She has no advice for me, but she does keep a secret.”
The rain that had blotted out the sky for several days gave way to puffy white clouds eagerly identified by little Carl as tigers and elephants. Having exhausted himself with running about all day, he was already fast asleep. Now I watched with delight as Feodore bathed DEAR little Elise.
“I prefer to do it myself,” Fidi said, “rather than to delegate the task to our French nursemaid. That shocks Mamma.” She cooed at her little daughter. “And I didn’t hire wet nurses when my children were born, but don’t tell Mamma I nursed them myself! She’d be horrified.”
Together we listened to Elise recite her bedtime prayers that included blessings asked for everyone in her family and even for dear little Dashy—VERY amusing—and then we tiptoed away to a quiet alcove. Soon we would have to dress for dinner. It was a peaceful moment, but the time was slipping away, the days passing far too quickly, and I had already begun to despair of my sister’s departure. There were so many things we had not yet spoken of.
“Mamma still treats me like a child!” I burst out as soon as we had sat down. “I can’t even choose what to wear, because Mamma insists on dressing me like a little girl. I may be small, but I’m not a child! I have no friends of my own choosing. Sir John wants his daughter Victoire to be my bosom friend, but she is not. I can’t talk to her about anything of even the slightest importance, because she will immediately report every word to Sir John. With Victoire there is no such thing as a confidence.” Once I’d begun to pour my heart out to my sister, I could not seem to stop. “It’s terrible, Fidi! Would you speak to Mamma? She might listen to you.”
“She won’t listen to me, I promise you. But I shall write to Uncle Leopold. Perhaps he can help.”
“It does no good to complain to Uncle Leopold! Mamma doesn’t listen to him either. She listens only to Sir John and reminds me that I must be grateful for all he does for us.”
Fidi tutted. “Unfortunately, Mamma is completely under Sir John’s domination. I had hoped, for your sake, that the situation might have changed, but obviously it has not.” My sister jumped up, seized my hands in hers, and pulled me to my feet. “I have an idea, Vicky! Let’s go for a walk in the garden.”
I hung back. “We’re expected at dinner soon—another dull one. Daisy will be looking for me when it’s time to go down.”
“Does Lehzen still hold your hand whenever you go down the stairs?”
I had been fighting back tears, but now they flowed freely. “Yes, she does! Mamma’s orders! And if not Daisy, then Lady Flora performs that duty.”
“Then I shall perform in their stead. Come, dearest Victoria! The bonne will watch over the children. Dry your tears and come with me!”
Fidi led the way to the servants’ stairs, which I was always forbidden to use. For the first time in my life I went down a staircase without having my hand held—a taste of freedom! We escaped through a small, nondescript door opening to a kitchen garden. Beds of tender young vegetables were surrounded by potting sheds and a small glasshouse. It was close to Midsummer Night, and the sky was still as bright as midday, a glorious change from the suffocating palace.
“It’s altogether charming!” I exclaimed as we strolled among rows of lettuces, leeks, and radishes, peas and beans climbing wooden stakes, pots of herbs arranged in tiers, and trees laden with ripening fruit. The air smelled of damp earth. “I never even knew it existed!”
Fidi laughed. “Mark it well, dearest sister,” she advised. “This is where I used to have my secret trysts with Captain d’Este.”
I gaped at her, rather shocked. “Here?”
“Here, among the strawberries.” She bent down and plucked a few fat red berries that peeped from among the dense green leaves.
We sat on a rough wooden bench and shared the succulent berries. I had never eaten them directly from the garden, still warm from the sun. “Delicious,” I remarked. “I have only had them sliced in a trifle, or served with cream.”
“They’re best this way, I think,” said Fidi. “It’s one of the pure joys of not having to be a perfect princess.”
“Fidi, what am I to do?” I asked, sighing. “Do you know that Mamma still insists I sleep in her room?”
“High time that you have a room of your own!” We were quiet for a while, enjoying the companionship and nibbling the strawberries. “I know you disagree, Victoria, but I do believe Uncle Leopold is the one most likely to help you,” Fidi said. “I correspond with him rather often, and he’s aware of problems here at Kensington. But he’s far away, and his duties in Belgium take all his attention. Mamma ignores his letters, but perhaps when he comes here to visit he can convince her to pay attention.” She rose and brushed off her skirt. “Now I suppose we should sneak back inside the same way we came.”
We climbed the dimly lit stairs, startling a servant on her way down. “You must not give up, Victoria,” Fidi whispered. “Someday these difficult times will end and your life will be your own. You’ll see.”
As the final days of Fidi’s visit ticked by, I became deeply despondent. I hoped that by some miracle her visit might be extended, but it could not—two tiny children waited at home for their mamma and papa. The time inevitably came for dearest Fidi and her kind husband and ADORABLE little children to leave.
On our last day together, my sister suggested that we exchange the morning caps we always wore before we dressed each day to appear in public. I clutched Fidi’s little lace-edged cap that smelled so sweetly of her hairdressing. “I shall always treasure this reminder of you!” I promised.
I clasped her in my arms and kissed her and cried as if my heart would break. And so did she, my DEAREST SISTER. We were forced to tear ourselves from each other in the DEEPEST SORROW.
Then she was gone.
Chapter 11
KENSINGTON, 1834
I grieved for days after my sister left. Dearest Daisy understood my heartache; she missed Fidi nearly as much as I did. But Mamma paid little attention—she was busy making plans for our summer holiday in Royal Tunbridge Wells. Sir John and his family would accompany us, and Lady Flora too. The servants were ordered to begin packing.
Bessie, my maid since I was quite young, helping me dress and undress several times a day as the situation required, had left my service to care for her aged father. Her younger sister, Maggie, had taken Bessie’s place. I became quite fond of Maggie, only a year or two older than I and very clever in doing my hair. Though we were forbidden to converse on any subject other than my clothes for the day and my coiffure, Maggie and I did sometimes exchange a few whispered words. One day before we were to leave for Tunbridge Wells, we found ourselves alone when dear Daisy was indisposed and Lady Flora had not yet arrived in her place. Maggie, against all the rules, suddenly confided that she had fallen in love. Her plain round face glowed when she described the boy she loved—his fair hair, his sweet smile missing a tooth that made it all the sweeter.
“I’ll miss my Simon like anything when we go to Tunbridge Wells and he must stay behind,” she admitted, drawing a comb through my hair and parting it in the center.
“Maggie,” I begged, “tell me what it’s like to be in love! I truly have no idea of it.”
“Oh, mistress, ’tis the most wonderful feeling! When my Simon holds me in his arms and kisses me, I think I’m going to melt—just like butter,” she said rapturously, the comb in one hand, a lock of my hair in the other.
“He kisses you?” I asked. “And you’re not yet married?”
“We hope to marry someday, your highness,” she said, her cheeks growing rosy. “Once we’ve put aside a little money for our wedding.”
I was eager to hear more about her plans for the future, her feeling like melting butter. My hair was finished doing, and we were deep in conversation when Lady Flora came upon us. Her disapproving look was enough. Maggie fled. I knew that my chaperone would report the incident to Sir John, and I was correct. The next day Maggie was gone, replaced by Agnes, a doughy woman with thick, clumsy fingers.
I flew at Conroy in a tearful rage. “How could you do this? Maggie did nothing wrong!”
“You are not to speak personally to any servant, Victoria. I felt sure you understood that, but apparently you do not. It was your chaperone’s duty to report it to me.”
“I won’t do it again! Let Maggie come back!” I pleaded.
“You’re being childish,” Sir John said coldly. “As usual.”
We left for Tunbridge Wells without her. At least now she will not miss Simon, I thought glumly.
We stayed for three months, drinking several goblets of water each day from the mineral spring. It was said to be good for one’s health, but I felt neither better nor worse for drinking it. At the beginning of November we moved on to St. Leonard’s-on-Sea.
Sir John strutted about in his usual offensive manner, breathing deeply, his nostrils flared, arms thrown wide. “Nothing like it,” he declared in a loud voice. “Nothing like the sea life!”
I pretended to ignore him.
The hostility increased daily between the two women with whom I spent my time: my dearest Daisy and the sharp-tongued Lady Flora Hastings. I felt caught between them, pulled first one way and then another. The tension made me ill, and I slept poorly and ate little. I composed a letter to my dear, good uncle, but I knew it would be read by Mamma before it was sent and I could not tell him what was troubling me—my growing hatred of Sir John, my dislike and suspicion of Lady Flora, my fears that Daisy would be sent away, my aching loneliness. And so I wrote to him about things that didn’t matter at all. My journal was the same, because Mamma read every word in that as well. For her benefit I wrote that my misery was caused by the incessant roaring of the sea—a lie.
When we returned to Kensington at the end of January 1835, a surprise awaited me. My sitting room had been freshly papered and newly furnished, even down to the carpets. Mamma’s room, too, had been redecorated. My bed was placed opposite hers.
I hid my disappointment and did not say what I was thinking: Am I not yet old enough to have a bedroom of my own? I will soon be sixteen!
It would have been futile. I knew exactly what she would say: It is for your own prot
ection, Victoria. Your welfare is my chief concern. I am responsible, not only to you, but to the people of England. And to the memory of your dear father!
Suddenly I was VERY angry. If I voiced my real feelings, I would have been required to write a letter of apology. Of late my mother had begun to add a new burden. Someday, my dear Victoria, my time on this earth shall come to an end, and you will no longer have your fond mother to look out for you. But I shall die knowing I have done all that I can for you, no matter what the sacrifice of my own desires.
My mother knew well how to use guilt to control me.
“You are pleased with our rooms, are you not, Victoria?” Mamma asked.
“Oh, yes, Mamma, very pleased,” I said, forcing a smile. “It looks very nice indeed—so fresh and clean.”
I went looking for Daisy, and my anger, held back for a long time, now spilled out.
“I suppose my room is very pretty,” I said. “But could I not have been consulted? I am not fond of yellow and I do not care much for green. Everyone knows that blue is my favorite and purple is my second favorite. Yet there is nothing but green and yellow, yellow and green, on walls and floor and furniture! But the worst is that my bed is still in my mother’s bedroom. What does Mamma think could possibly happen to me if I were to sleep in a room of my own?”
I began to sob. Dearest Daisy reached for my hand. “You know that I have no influence here. Perhaps the time has come to speak of this honestly. Sir John despises me and always has, because he knows that I’m not taken in by his charming ways. Now he has brought Lady Flora into the household, and like your dear mamma she believes that he can do no wrong.”
“I hate him!” I cried, pulling away. “I shall always hate him!”
Daisy rose and put her arms round me, stroking my hair. “Lady Flora and your mamma are of one mind: They trust him completely. His every opinion is taken as gospel. I believe they’re deceived, as are so many others. I see him as he really is—a man of unfettered ambition—and I don’t trust him. He knows this, and he wishes to see the last of me. Lady Flora agrees with him.”
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