There never was a family so deep in scandal, thought Sophia.
And how strange that she should have had her share of it!
Perhaps her son would come today, by way of the back stairs. ‘Madam, a gentleman to see you.’ And they talked of course, for they knew. It was impossible to keep royal scandals secret.
My boy … my very own boy, she thought. At least I did something.
And if the boy perhaps did not come someone else would – perhaps that tall commanding gentleman whom she admired so much and was so charming and so courteous to her that he reminded her of the days when Colonel Garth had loved her so devotedly.
There was no doubt that Sir John Conroy was a very charming man. The Duchess of Kent realised this. Of course she was younger than Sophia; and beautiful too in a flamboyant way. Dear George did not think her attractive, but then he had his own views of beauty. She secretly believed he compared all women with Maria Fitzherbert. No, the Duchess was too showy and she was not of course of the same rank as a daughter of the King of England.
So it was rather pleasant sitting by the fire, dreaming of the past. I wouldn’t have had it different, she thought.
Perhaps he’ll come to see me today. And if he doesn’t, perhaps Sir John will look in.
It was comforting to have something to look forward to.
* * *
In the nursery the Princess Victoria was whispering to her dolls.
‘Darling Feodora will soon be leaving us. She is going away … to Germany to be exact and although she says we shall see each other often, I believe she says it only to comfort me.’ She shook the doll with the ruff impatiently. ‘You are not listening. You would not. You are more interested in your own affairs, I daresay.’
The wooden face stared back, as Victoria clicked her tongue and smoothed down the farthingale. This was the most glittering of the dolls and the one singled out for abuse. It was amusing to slap Queen Elizabeth now and then. ‘You may have been a good Queen,’ said Victoria now, ‘but I do not think you were a very good person.’ And dear Amy Robsart with her satin gown and ribbons was picked up and hugged to Victoria’s plump person.
‘Feodora is going to be married,’ she went on, ‘and my only hope is that Ernest Hohenlohe-Langenburg will make her a good husband.’ Then Victoria began to realise what it would be like in the nursery without Feodora and tears filled her eyes.
Baroness Lehzen rose from her chair in the window and came over.
I am never allowed to be alone for a minute! thought Victoria resentfully. They watch me all the time.
The Baroness could never quite control her features when she looked at her charge. The words might be stern, the rule rigid, but the devotion was always obvious – and to none more than Victoria herself. Dear Louise Lehzen – so recently Fräulein and now awarded with a Hanoverian title in accordance with the dignity of her role in life. Lehzen – and of course Mamma, the Duchess of Kent – ruled Victoria’s days as they had Feodora’s, but now the bonds which bound Victoria’s half-sister were slackening. Feodora was going to be married.
‘Talking to the dolls again?’ enquired Lehzen.
‘I was telling them about poor Feodora.’
‘Poor Feodora! When she is going to marry the man your dear Mamma has chosen for her!’
‘I think she would rather stay with me.’
‘Nonsense!’ said the Baroness. ‘And what have you been doing to Queen Elizabeth’s ruff?’
Lehzen loved the dolls as much as Victoria did; in fact she had made some of them. And because many of them represented figures of history it was decided that they were a frivolity with some educational advantages.
Lehzen adjusted the ruff. She sighed to herself. Marriages were disturbing. She was fond of Feodora but the little Victoria was her life; and when she had been selected to become her governess she had entered into the task with the dedication of a nun taking her vows. Victoria was no ordinary child. If all went as the Duchess of Kent and Lehzen nightly prayed it would, this plump lively child could be the Queen of England. But what a torment it was to contemplate that all might not go as they wished. There were obstacles. At the moment only William, Duke of Clarence, stood between her and the throne; but William had a youngish wife, Adelaide, and although she had had several miscarriages she had at least proved that she could conceive – and there was no doubt that this was her main object in life – and if a child of hers should live … away would go Victoria’s chance of mounting the throne.
It was unbearable! It was unthinkable. Neither the Duchess nor the faithful Lehzen would allow themselves to believe for a moment that it would really happen; but there was always the lurking fear that it might.
In the meantime dear little Victoria must be guarded at every moment of the day, because not only did William stand before her but there was her wicked uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, who the two watchdogs – as Cumberland had called the Duchess and the Baroness – knew was capable of any unscrupulous action to remove Victoria from his path. The old King was still living between melancholy solitude in his Gothic cottage in Windsor Park and oriental splendour at Carlton House and the Pavilion. He was on the point of death – but then, for the last ten years he had been in that situation – so depressing for him but so exciting for others, as the Duchess had remarked to Lehzen. And the fact remained that it was for those two women – so united in their dedicated cause – to keep Victoria safe for the throne.
The Duke of Cumberland was a constant bogy; he and his Duchess had unsavoury reputations; both may well have been guilty of murder; the Duke was once in a very awkward position over the death of his valet who had been discovered dead in his master’s blood-spattered apartments; and the Duke had been wounded too. As the Duke’s reputation with women was well known and the valet had an exceptionally pretty wife, certain conclusions were drawn – although not proved. For how could a royal Duke be expected, or allowed, to stand in the dock of a court of law? With the Duchess it was a question of husbands. Two who had become a trial to her had died mysteriously.
The Duchess of Kent often whispered of these matters to the faithful Baronesses Lehzen and Späth (both German members of her household and therefore to be trusted) and asked: ‘If they were capable of murdering a jealous valet and unwanted husbands might not they be capable of acting similarly towards one who stood in the way of their path to the throne ?’
Lehzen, shivering, agreed; and in consequence the Princess Victoria was never allowed to be alone. Some trustworthy person must always be in attendance – her mother, one of the Baronesses, her sister Feodora or one of her tutors.
In the past it had been easier but now that Victoria was growing up – and showing a certain imperiousness it must be admitted, for how difficult it was to keep the knowledge of her importance from her – it was becoming something of a problem to keep her under constant supervision.
But the Duchess was certainly mistress in her own household. A woman who was capable of conducting a feud with the reigning King was undoubtedly equipped to rule her own circle. Victoria was made well aware that in all circumstances she must obey Mamma. But Victoria was wayward. Only the other day her music master had reported evidence of this to the Duchess – for all the tutors knew that the Duchess wished every little incident concerning her daughter to be reported to her. The Princess Victoria was very fond of music and had on occasion been known to attempt to cajole her tutors, that there might be music instead of some less interesting lesson. But even in music she did not always work as she should and on this occasion her tutor had seen fit to reprove her.
‘There is no royal road to music, Princess,’ he had said. ‘You must practise like everyone else.’
Whereupon Victoria had assumed her most imperious expression and had promptly shut the piano, locked it and put the key in her pocket. Rising haughtily and with the air of the Queen her mother and Lehzen longed for her to be, said: ‘There now. You see there is no must about it.’
A
rrogance which must be punished, had been the Duchess’s verdict. ‘And yet,’ the doting Lehzen reminded her, ‘a certain queenliness, does not Your Grace agree? A royal determination not to be dictated to?’
The Duchess nodded; but they agreed that such waywardness must not go unchecked.
The child was truthful; one of the finest traits in her character was her frankness and her inability to tell a lie even to extricate herself from an awkward situation. She was subject to sudden outbreaks of temper. These ‘storms’ were regrettable and must be controlled. Only recently when the Duchess had come into the nursery where Victoria was with Lehzen she had asked of Lehzen how Victoria had behaved that morning.
Victoria had in fact been rather more ‘wayward’ than usual and on two occasions had shown temper. The Baroness, not wishing to complain overmuch about her darling but realising that Victoria must always be shown examples of truthfulness, admitted that Victoria had once been a little naughty.
‘No, Lehzen,’ said Victoria. ‘You have forgotten. It was twice.’
And when her mother told her that when she was naughty she made not only her dear mother unhappy but herself also, Victoria considered this and said: ‘No, Mamma, I only make you unhappy.’
They could not be displeased with such a child. In any case she was the centre of their lives. Once Feodora had told her mother that she loved Victoria far more than she loved her, to which the Duchess had sternly replied that a good mother always loved her children equally and was Feodora suggesting that she was not a good mother?
Feodora had merely been wistful, for she loved Victoria dearly; and now knowing that her little half-sister was in the nursery and that at this hour of the day she would not be at her lessons but in the charge of Baroness Lehzen she came to see her so that she might explain to Victoria about her coming wedding.
Victoria cried out in pleasure when she saw her sister; she immediately left the dolls and ran to her.
‘Darling dearest Feodora!’ Victoria put her arms about Feodora’s neck and swung her feet off the floor. Lehzen looked on critically. Scarcely the manner in which a young lady – old enough for marriage – should greet her young sister who was destined to be a Queen; but perhaps as they would soon be parted such a boisterous greeting would be permitted this once.
‘I’ve been telling the dolls that you are going to leave us, darling Feddy, and they do not like it at all.’
Too much fantasy, thought Lehzen. It is time she grew out of the dolls. But the stern Lehzen had to admit that she herself could not grow out of them, so what was to be expected of an eight-year-old girl?
‘Feodora, let us walk in the gardens. May I, Lehzen?’
The Baroness conceded that they might. ‘But put on your fur-trimmed coat and bonnet. The wind is cold.’
Feodora knew the rule: Victoria was never to be left alone; and if the two girls did not stray too far from the Palace a little saunter in the gardens would be permitted. Victoria must not forget that the Reverend Davys would be waiting to give her a lesson in exactly half an hour’s time.
‘We shan’t forget, Lehzen,’ said Feodora holding out her hand. ‘Come, Vicky.’
Such a beautiful girl, Feodora! thought Lehzen. It was well that she was marrying. A reasonably good match but was it good enough for the sister of the future Queen of England? Would Victoria ever be as lovely as Feodora? Perhaps not. She took after her father’s family so much, which was as well, as it would be from that side that the Crown would come to her. But Victoria was Victoria – beauty would not be of such importance to her. There could not be a Prince in Europe who would not be excited at the prospect of marrying Victoria – and perhaps even now in all the Courts of Europe ambitious parents with sons of eight, nine, ten … or older had their eyes on the little jewel of Kensington Palace.
Hand in hand the sisters had come into the gardens.
‘Oh, Sissy,’ Victoria said, ‘it is going to be dreadful when we’re parted.’
‘Dreadful,’ agreed Feodora.
‘You will write to me?’
‘Such long letters that you will tire of reading them.’
‘How can you say that when you know it is not true.’
‘Vicky darling, I know. But I’m so frightened. I’m going to lose you all and have a new husband and I don’t really know him very well. But the worst thing of all is saying good-bye to you.’
Victoria wept openly. She displayed her emotions too readily, said Lehzen; but the Duchess was of the opinion that it showed a tender heart and the people would like it.
‘What is your Ernest like, Feddy?’ asked Victoria. ‘Is he handsome?’
‘Y … yes, I think he is.’
‘As handsome as Augustus d’Este?’
Feodora sighed. Victoria had reminded her of that passionate attachment which had not been allowed to continue.
‘It used to be such fun,’ said Victoria. ‘And Augustus was after all our cousin.’
‘But … he was not accepted as such by the family,’ Feodora reminded her.
‘It is all so complicated,’ complained Victoria. ‘I do wish people would tell me things. Why should Augustus be my cousin and yet not be regarded as such? You know how he always called us “cousins” when we went over into Uncle Augustus’s garden.’
Feodora nodded, recalling those days when she was quite a child, being just past eighteen – she was now a mature twenty-one – and she had been put in charge of Victoria and told not to let her out of her sight. There had been no harm in it. Uncle Augustus, the Duke of Sussex, had a garden among those of the Palace and Victoria had loved to water his plants. And how she used to get her feet wet in the operation and had to be smuggled in before Mamma or Lehzen or Späth saw and feared she would die of the effects. In the garden Augustus would often stroll. He was the son of Uncle Augustus and in truth their cousin, but not accepted as such because the ‘family’ did not regard his father’s marriage to his mother as a true marriage, although Uncle Augustus had been married to her both abroad and in London. It was something to do with that tiresome Marriage Act which said that the sons of the King could not marry without his consent. Well, Uncle Augustus had married without his father’s consent and as his father was King George III who had brought in the Act, the case of Uncle Augustus’s marriage was taken to court and the court gave the verdict that it was not legal. But Augustus the younger believed that it was and that he had every right to court his cousin.
They were happy days, with little Vicky wielding the watering-can and pretty seventeen-year-old Feodora sitting under the tree fanning herself and Augustus coming out as if by accident to talk to her and tell her she was beautiful. How exciting this was after the stern rules laid down in the Duchess of Kent’s apartments in Kensington Palace.
Sometimes the Baroness Späth was with them. Dear old Späth was not nearly such a dragon as Lehzen, and very romantic, thinking how charming it was with Victoria tending the flowers and Augustus and Feodora falling in love.
Victoria had been aware of the intrigue although she was not quite six at the time. In any case it was pleasant to get away from the strict observance of Mamma and Lehzen, for she was allowed deliberately to pour the water over her feet and no one said anything, Feodora being so wrapped up in Augustus’s conversation and Späth being so intent on watching Feodora and her cousin Augustus.
Cousin Augustus was old but very handsome, particularly in his Dragoons’ uniform. As for Feodora she had grown prettier than ever; she had been constantly receiving letters and the Baroness Späth was always tripping from their apartments in Kensington Palace to those of the Duke of Sussex carrying notes from Feodora to Augustus and from Augustus to Feodora.
Once when Victoria had walked in the gardens with Feodora, her sister had whispered that she was going to marry Cousin Augustus and showed Victoria the gold ring he had given her.
‘Then, Feodora, they will be your flowers I shall water.’
‘Yes, dear Vicky.’
&nbs
p; ‘I shall water them even more carefully because they are yours. And I shall come often to visit you, shall I not ?’
Feodora said solemnly that if Mamma permitted it Vicky should be her very first visitor.
Victoria went back to the nursery and told the dolls the exciting news; but shortly afterwards there was trouble in Kensington Palace. This was when Feodora had told Mamma that Cousin Augustus wished to marry her, at which Mamma was ‘Painly Surprised’, ‘Disagreeably Shocked’ and ‘Very Angry’. It was nonsense it seemed to imagine Cousin Augustus could marry Feodora because Cousin Augustus was not considered to be legitimate and Feodora was the daughter of the Duchess of Kent and although the Duke of Kent had not been her father – for her father had been the Prince of Leiningen, Mamma’s first husband – she was after all connected by her mother’s second marriage with the royal family and was half-sister to Victoria.
Poor darling Feddy! That had been a bad time. Victoria had done her best to comfort her sister. Poor Späth had been talked to very severely by Mamma and had gone about with averted eyes for days afterwards; Lehzen had clicked her tongue every time she saw her, and Victoria was not allowed to water the flowers in Uncle Sussex’s garden because he was in disgrace too.
It was all very sad and poor Feodora had wept and confided to Victoria that her heart was broken.
Victoria presumed it had mended again because Feodora soon began to look almost as she had before those afternoons – though never quite so gay as when she had sat under the trees in Uncle Sussex’s garden; and when not so long ago Uncle King – the most important of all the uncles – had expressed a desire to see his important little niece, Feodora had accompanied Victoria and Mamma to Windsor. Uncle King had been the most impressive man Victoria had ever seen. He was very very old and even fatter than he was old; and when she was lifted on to his lap to kiss him she had seen the rouge on his cheeks. Very strange, but she had liked him – better than Uncle William or Uncle Sussex – and most certainly better than Uncle Cumberland. Uncle Cambridge she did not remember seeing. He was abroad looking after Hanover. But the point was that while Uncle King liked his little niece Victoria very much and took her driving and smiled benignly on her, he could not take his eyes from Feodora and made her sit beside him and kept patting her knee and showing in several ways that he thought her very pretty.
The Captive of Kensington Palace Page 2