Victoria Confesses (9781442422469)

by Meyer, Carolyn

  I vowed that I would not speak to the foolish old duke EVER AGAIN, and when I heard that he had fallen ill, I refused to visit him or even send a message.

  “I beg you to reconsider, your majesty,” said Lord Melbourne. “You must not be disrespectful to the duke, Tory or not. Wellington is considered a national hero. I suggest that you immediately send him a note to wish him well.”

  Reluctantly, I scribbled the note and dispatched it, telling Lord Melbourne, “I have done this as you requested, but I will not invite him to my wedding. It is my marriage, and I will have only those who are sympathetic to me and to Albert.”

  My contempt for the Tories deepened further over the matter of precedence for dearest Albert. I wanted to have him named king consort, but if that were not immediately possible, then certainly he should be given precedence over everyone except myself—meaning that, in any state procession, Albert should walk ahead of the royal dukes, my uncles.

  When the Tories objected, I flew into a fury. “What monsters! They are scoundrels, capable of every villainy!” I raged while Lord Melbourne stood by, waiting for my anger to burn itself out. “Poor dear Albert, how cruelly they are ill-using him. Those Tories shall be punished! I shall have my revenge!”

  Lord Melbourne, trying to calm me, managed to put his foot in his mouth in every way possible. He suggested that foreigners had always been a source of difficulties, and that remark made me crosser than ever.

  Then, to my great surprise, the duke of Wellington reversed himself. Deciding that I had a perfect right to grant my husband whatever precedence I pleased, he persuaded others to concur. I got over my temper and decided that Wellington should receive an invitation to the wedding after all. But not to the wedding breakfast—that was simply asking too much.

  Unsurprisingly, Mamma behaved badly too, complaining to any who would listen that her ungrateful daughter was threatening to order her out of her apartments in Buckingham Palace. Perhaps I should have had that conversation with her when I told her of my marriage. The matter might well have been settled.

  These were trying times, but I had certainly not expected dearest Albert to make matters worse. Imagine, then, my chagrin when I received a letter from that very best of men stating that he wished to appoint the members of his household to include some Germans. And there was more to come.

  “Also,” he wrote, “it is very necessary that members of my household should be chosen from both sides, an equal number of Whigs and Tories.” It was wrong, he said, for the Crown to favor one party over the other, and he planned to demonstrate that he favored neither.

  I was shocked nearly speechless. Dear Daisy happened by as I was reading dearest Albert’s letter for the second time. “I cannot imagine where he gets these ideas!” I sputtered, and waved the letter at her. “Read it and you will see why I am so upset!”

  Daisy took the letter from me, read it slowly, and returned it. “How do you intend to respond, Victoria?” she asked.

  “With great firmness,” I said. “I do not intend to let my future husband and consort harbor the notion that he can simply do as he pleases when what he pleases is directly contrary to my wishes.”

  “Quite right,” Daisy replied. “You must make that very clear to him from the start. You are the queen.”

  “That’s right,” I agreed. “I am the queen.”

  I wrote back immediately.

  That will not do at all, my dear Albert. You may entirely rely upon me that the people around you will be of high standing and good character. Lord Melbourne has already mentioned several to me who are very suitable.

  I believed that I had put my case reasonably enough, and I considered the matter settled. To my consternation, dearest Albert did NOT agree. In fact, he disagreed quite forcefully.

  I am very sorry that you have not been able to grant my first request, which I know was not an unfair one. Think of my position, dear Victoria: I am leaving my home and my friends and going to a country where everything is new and strange to me. I have no one to confide in but you. Can you not concede to me that the two or three persons in charge of my private affairs should be those I already know and trust?

  I called for Daisy and showed her the latest letter on the subject. “What a stubborn man!” I exclaimed. “I had not expected to be challenged!”

  Daisy smiled. “I have known you for a very long time, Victoria,” she said. “I have complete confidence that you have an equal measure of stubbornness in your character.”

  “But I am right!” I insisted. “It has nothing to do with stubbornness. It has to do with the simple fact that I am right and Albert is wrong.”

  I sent off my reply.

  My dearest and most excellent Albert, I fear you do not like it, but I am insisting upon this for your own good.

  Then Uncle Leopold interfered, taking Albert’s part, which I refused to accept.

  Back and forth our letters flew. I had expected letters expressing Albert’s love and devotion, and though I received those as well and treasured them, I was stunned at his show of obstinacy. Why could Albert not see that Lord Melbourne and I knew best in this situation? I did yield to a small degree and allow the appointment of one German to a minor post, but I felt I was doing absolutely the correct thing when I prevailed upon dearest Albert to accept Lord Melbourne’s private secretary, George Anson, as his own. At first Albert resisted—more of that German stubbornness! Finally he yielded, on the condition that Anson first resign his position with Lord Melbourne, and at last that matter was settled.

  The days passed slowly, tediously—Christmas, the New Year, then the bleak days of January. I tried to hold on to the happiness that had once filled my heart to bursting but now felt cold and shriveled. I love him, I told myself. My dearest Albert loves me. All will be well, all will be perfect.

  But in the meantime I was feeling quite unwell. My head throbbed, and again I suffered from sleeplessness. I wept to dearest Daisy, “Oh, my dear Albert is so unbending! He does not see that I know best in these matters. My advice must be taken, or he will be perceived as a foreigner, another German bringing his German friends with him, just as Lord Melbourne warned me.”

  “Ah, yes,” Daisy said sympathetically. “I understand how Prince Albert feels. I have felt myself to be a foreigner here as well, and it is a difficult thing. But you are right, dear Victoria, you do know best, and you have Lord Melbourne to guide you. The prince must be grateful for that.”

  “But what if he’s not?” I cried. “What if he’s simply resentful?”

  “Then he must get over it,” Daisy said forcefully, “and you must remain firm.”

  Chapter 32

  WEDDING, 1840

  It was SUCH a trying time! On the one hand I was caught up in the delightful duty of preparing for my wedding, enduring the final fitting of my gown, deciding on the dresses to be worn by my maids of honor, choosing the dishes to be served at the wedding breakfast. With Skerrett’s help I ordered a number of new dresses and bonnets and gloves and riding clothes, in addition to silk stockings and underthings and the nightgown I would wear on my wedding night. It was all VERY time-consuming and would have been amusing as well if I had not begun to harbor many misgivings about marriage in general. Perhaps Queen Elizabeth had been right. How would she have handled a bridegroom who insisted on having his own way? No differently, I was certain. Elizabeth was never weak.

  But what about dearest Albert? Who is this man I am about to marry?

  On the seventh of February I received word that my dearest Albert and his family had arrived at Dover and that all of them, but Albert especially, were suffering the ill effects of a rough crossing. Our wedding was to take place in three days, scarcely giving us time to become reacquainted, and my nerves were on edge.

  Lord Melbourne, in our last private meeting before my marriage, tried to reassure me. “It’s right to marry, it’s most natural. Difficulties may arise, but they arise from everything.”

  And what if those di
fficulties cannot be overcome?

  The next day at four o’clock, I waited anxiously at the door of Buckingham Palace to welcome my future husband. The moment I saw my beloved Albert’s dear, dear face, all my doubts and worries were immediately put to rest. We embraced again and again, and as soon as dearest Albert had settled into his rooms, we began to talk over the particulars of our wedding day.

  We also argued just a little, but very lovingly, about his insistence that the mothers of my trainbearers must be of impeccable character. Not just the girls themselves—that went without saying—but their mothers as well! This seemed to me to be overly strict. “I think one ought always to be indulgent toward other people,” I told him. “If we hadn’t been well brought up, we might also have gone astray.”

  Then we kissed, and kissed again, and joyfully counted the hours that remained until we would become man and wife in the eyes of God. Oh, I was so very, VERY happy!

  Sunday evening was my last as an unmarried woman. Mamma did not think it proper to have an engaged couple stay the night in the same dwelling, but I reminded her that my “dwelling” had 750 rooms, and besides, the rule was foolish nonsense. Beloved Albert and I went over the marriage ceremony together and tried on the ring to be sure it fit. And he gave me a magnificent sapphire brooch as a wedding present.

  When I lay down on my bed that night after some VERY long and heartfelt prayers, I thought, For the very last time I shall sleep alone. Tomorrow my dearest, most beloved Albert will sleep by my side, and drifted off to sleep.

  I awoke in fine spirits on my wedding day, Monday, the tenth of February, to find that we had been blessed with thoroughly unpleasant weather—cold wind and lashing rain. While still in my dressing gown I dashed off a note to dear Albert: “Send word when you, my dearest loved bridegroom, will be ready.”

  Mamma came to my apartments with a lovely posy of orange blossoms, and we breakfasted together for the last time. I was not in the least unhappy about that, but Mamma seemed a bit tearful. Our conversation concerned, as always, only the most trivial of subjects—if the rain would stop before the ceremony, whether the trainbearers’ dresses were sufficiently modest. Then abruptly my mother leaned close and took my hand. “My dear Victoria,” she whispered, avoiding my eyes, “perhaps we should discuss what you may expect on your wedding night.”

  “Not at all necessary, Mamma,” I told her briskly. “I have already spoken to the duchess of Sutherland on the subject, and she has told me exactly what to expect.”

  Mamma got the injured look she wore so often and said, “I would have thought that conversation might best be had between mother and daughter.”

  “Lady Harriet has borne seven children, Mamma. I think you may be assured that I have been correctly informed.”

  Lady Harriet had shown no reluctance whatsoever in her discussion of the subject. “I shall tell you what I plan to tell my own daughters when they are about to marry,” she’d said, and proceeded to describe the differences between male and female anatomy, the function of these specific parts, and precisely how the joining of these parts was best facilitated.

  “You may rest assured,” Lady Harriet had continued, “that Baron Stockmar has instructed Prince Albert more than adequately. Stockmar was educated as a physician. You have nothing whatever to fear. But perhaps you have questions? You may speak freely and openly to me.”

  I hesitated. I did not tell Lady Harriet that I wasn’t in the least fearful and in fact looked forward EAGERLY to the hour when my body would be joined with Albert’s as passionately and as rapturously as our hearts, but I was fearful of the results of that passion: the possibility of conceiving a child. I thought of every horror I had ever heard of a young woman dying in childbirth, as Uncle Leopold’s first wife, Princess Charlotte, had, and of the many babies born who had died very young, as Queen Adelaide’s had, and Aunt Louise’s too.

  “I do have a question,” I told Lady Harriet, who leaned forward eagerly. Shyly and with several false starts I asked, “Is there a way to prevent conceiving a child?”

  Lady Harriet drew back, shocked and frowning. “My dear Victoria, please banish such thoughts from your mind,” she ordered sternly. “People of quality do not resort to such measures, which most Christians regard as sinful and in violation of God’s will. And you must remember that it is your duty to provide the nation with an heir.”

  My face grew hot with shame. “I only meant to delay conception for a time. A year at most.”

  “Impossible,” she said and rose abruptly. “I beg your pardon, your majesty,” she said, refusing to look me in the eye. “I fear that I can be of no further help to you.” She fairly fled from my presence.

  I sighed. There was no one else to ask—certainly not Mamma. Perhaps dearest Albert had raised the subject with Baron Stockmar. I did hope it was something we could discuss.

  After my mother had gone, Maggie began doing my hair, brushing it smooth and looping it over my ears. When she had finished, I simply could not resist running to Albert’s room to see him for the last time alone, as my bridegroom and not yet my husband. He seemed rather shocked to find that I had once again broken with tradition, but nevertheless was SO HAPPY to see me. We embraced and kissed and could scarcely bear to be parted, even for a little while.

  Back in my dressing room, Skerrett and the maids were ready to begin: the corset laced up the back over my embroidered chemise, the white silk stockings fastened above the knee with garters, the layers of petticoats, and finally the rich white satin wedding gown with a very deep flounce of lace. A white wedding gown was not the custom, but I remembered that Mamma had always dressed me in white for my public appearances as a child. Though I disliked many of the habits my mother inflicted on me when I was too young to protest, I had grown to believe that a white gown set me apart as queen. Maggie checked my hair, fastened on the wreath of orange blossoms, and arranged the lace veil. Dearest Daisy carefully added the diamond necklace and earrings and the sapphire and diamond brooch, the deep blue stone the only note of color.

  The wind had stopped, the rain had ceased, and the sun was peeping hopefully through a scattering of fleecy clouds when I climbed into my carriage shortly after noon. With me were Mamma and Lady Harriet, who said she would not have missed this for the world but still avoided my eye. We were driven to St. James’s. I had not been granted my wish to have the wedding at Buckingham Palace. Lord Melbourne had persuaded me that the chapel royal was more appropriate, shrewdly guessing that I had wanted a smaller chamber only in order to accommodate fewer guests—nearly all of them Whigs.

  Crowds had turned out for my wedding day, though perhaps not so many as had jammed the streets around the palace for my coronation. I waved and smiled and they rewarded me with cheers.

  My twelve young trainbearers, dressed in white with white roses and looking very pretty, waited nervously in the Queen’s Closet. There was a flourish of trumpets, and then the organ began to play as my procession entered the chapel. Three hundred people (only the merest handful of them Tories!) were gathered to wish me well.

  Lord Melbourne carried the Sword of State—he handled it much more deftly than he had at my coronation—and Uncle Sussex escorted me to the altar. All proceeded without mishap, except for the trainbearers who were continually tripping over their own feet. Dearest Albert waited at the altar. Dressed in the uniform of a British field marshal with scarlet jacket and white breeches and stockings, he looked SO handsome, SO dashing! Though I was trembling when I first entered, I now felt very calm and spoke my vows in a clear voice.

  As I left the chapel on dearest Albert’s arm, I did notice that Mamma looked disconsolate and distressed. Could she not manage to look happy for me on this, the most glorious day of my life? I shook her hand, but I stopped to kiss the powdery cheek of my dear aunt Adelaide before we proceeded to my carriage for the short journey to Buckingham Palace.

  Dearest Albert and I had only half an hour to be alone together before we were to appear a
t our wedding breakfast. We were very quiet, simply gazing at each other, our hearts and minds at ease. I gave my darling a wedding ring, slipping it on his finger, whispering yet again my deep love for him.

  “Victoria, my dearest wife, let us pledge today that there will never be a secret we do not share,” Albert said in a voice rough with emotion, and I agreed, and we kissed and kissed until my husband had to remind me, “Dearest love, we really must go down to join our guests.”

  We celebrated our marriage with the most elegant breakfast my cooks could devise. The centerpiece was a magnificent wedding cake that measured three yards around and required four men to carry. I was content with a few bites of cake and a small glass of wine. My desire was not for food or drink—it was to be alone without interruption with my beloved Albert.

  After the breakfast I changed into my traveling dress, white silk trimmed with swansdown, and Albert came up to fetch me downstairs. We took leave of Mamma, this time with an embrace that was perhaps warmer than either my mother or I had expected, and at four o’clock we drove off. Albert and I alone, and SO delightful! We did not have a grand new coach but a rather plain one, with just three other coaches and a few post horses following. Darkness had already fallen, but the crowds that turned out along the roads to cheer for us were so great that we did not reach Windsor until eight o’clock.

  We changed our clothes again—dearest Albert dressed in his Windsor uniform—and had a simple dinner in our sitting room. The servants were VERY discreet and disappeared until dearest Albert rang for them. I was nearly ill with a headache, no doubt the result of the strains of the past few days, and could eat nothing but had to lie down on the sofa after the meal had been cleared away. I NEVER, NEVER spent such an evening! MY DEAREST DEAREST Albert sat on a footstool by my side, and his excessive devotion and affection gave me feelings of love and happiness I had never even hoped to have. He clasped me in his arms, and we kissed each other again and again. His beauty, his sweetness and gentleness—really, how can I ever be thankful enough to have such a husband? To be called by names of such tenderness I had never heard before was bliss beyond belief. Oh, this was the happiest day of my life!