Sir John did; but he shared her horror. If indeed it should be true, if Adelaide produced that child and it lived … then this would be the end of all their hopes.
Victoria said to Lehzen: ‘Do you think this story is true that the Queen is going to have a child?’
‘It has been neither denied nor confirmed,’ said the judicious Lehzen.
‘Lehzen, think what it will mean! I shall not be the Queen after all.’
‘My dear Princess, will that make you very unhappy?’
Victoria was thoughtful. ‘I think I shall be very disappointed. You see, everything that has happened has been leading up to that. But I can’t help thinking of Aunt Adelaide. She is a sweet kind woman, you know, Lehzen, and I love her dearly. I know what she wants more than anything in the world is a baby of her own. Oh, she loves all the King’s grandchildren – whom I am never allowed to see – and she loves the Georges and I believe she loves me too – when Mamma allows her to see me – but she does long for her own baby. So if I lost the throne and Aunt Adelaide gained a baby … Really, Lehzen, I can’t honestly say, but I think I should feel happy for Aunt Adelaide.’
Lehzen was moved to comment. ‘You have your storms and tantrums, but I think you have great honesty and that is a very fine characteristic to have.’
Victoria smiled. ‘I can’t help thinking too that George Cambridge has a much happier time than I do. He is not told he must not do this and that; he is allowed to be alone sometimes. So perhaps I feel too that there is a great deal to be said for not being the heir to the throne.’
Lehzen said calmly: ‘I am glad you see it in this way, because if you should not be Queen you will still make a very happy life for yourself.’
The Duchess was far less philosophical.
‘This is monstrous!’ she cried. ‘That old fool could not beget a child. And who is the man who is always beside the Queen, eh? Earl Howe. She is known to have a fancy for him. If the Queen is with child, then depend upon it, Earl Howe is the father.’
The Duchess’s suspicions were of course those of the FitzClarences.
‘She is two or three months gone,’ said the Earl of Munster, that George FitzClarence whom Adelaide had nursed during her honeymoon when he had broken his leg. ‘There is going to be a big scandal over this.’
It was whispered of in the streets. A fine thing. This German ‘frow’ who had lived in a housemaid’s bedroom before she came to the Court of England was about to give birth to a bastard and foist him on to the throne of England.
At length the rumours came to Adelaide’s ears. How had they started? she wondered. Why did people make up these cruel stories about her? If it were possible for her to be pregnant, how happy she would be! But alas, it was not so. She would never be a mother now.
And how dared they say such cruel things about her relationship with Earl Howe? It was true theirs was a tender friendship; he treated her as though she were an attractive woman, something which for all his affection the King had never done. But the Earl was just a dear friend; she had been too rigorously brought up, she was too conscious of her duty for it to be otherwise.
There was nothing to do but show the King the newspapers which she knew his secretaries had been keeping from him.
He read them and threw them from him in contempt.
‘Damned stuff,’ he said.
And when the scandal was proved to be groundless it was forgotten.
The Duchess of Kent regained her serenity. ‘How could we have thought that poor creature possibly could! No, it can never happen now. The throne is safe for Victoria.’
* * *
The Duchess complained continually of her apartments in Kensington.
‘Really,’ she said to Sir John, ‘it is a scandal. We are expected to live in these rooms which are scarcely better than servants’ quarters.’
This was far from true but Sir John never contradicted his Duchess unless it was absolutely necessary to his interests to do so and the Duchess’s antagonism towards the King was never that.
‘I think I have been patient too long. Good Heavens, doesn’t that man realise that Victoria is the heiress to the throne?’
‘It can scarcely be called my dear Duchess’s fault if he does not,’ replied Sir John with one of his ironical smiles.
‘I have long thought we should have a larger apartment. Why not? There are plenty of rooms available in the Palace. Why, therefore, should we be confined to these miserable few? I have decided to write to His Majesty and tell him that I require a larger apartment. There are seventeen rooms which I could take over and no one would be the worse for it. Then I might be able to provide apartments for my daughter comparable with her rank.’
‘Why not write to the King and ask his permission to take over the rooms you have chosen?’
‘Oh, how infuriating. To have to ask the permission of that … of that …’
‘Buffoon?’ supplied Sir John; and they both laughed.
Dear Sir John! What a blessing that with all she had to put up with from her most tiresome brother-in-law, she had Sir John with whom to share a little jocularity.
‘I shall write immediately,’ she said. ‘I see no reason to delay.’
As Sir John did not either, she sat down and wrote her request to the King in her usual imperious manner.
When her letter was put before William, his eyes bulged with rage.
‘So the apartments are not good enough for Madam Kent, eh? She would like more space. She will take over seventeen more rooms and she has already chosen them. By God, that woman will go too far one of these days. Write to her. Ask her when she proposes to take over St James’s and when she would like me to vacate Windsor so that she can move in. Or perhaps that’s not grand enough for her. Seventeen rooms! No, I say. She will stay in her present apartments. And the answer to her request is No, No, No!’
* * *
When the Duchess received his reply she was so angry that she tore it up and flung it from her.
‘Ill-mannered, uncouth, vulgar …’ she stammered.
‘Buffoon,’ supplied Sir John, smiling tenderly at her.
She laughed.
‘But,’ she added, ‘I shall never allow the creature to get the better of me.’
Chapter XV
A VISIT FROM LEOPOLD
Victoria’s sixteenth birthday would soon be with them.
‘Dear me,’ said the Duchess, ‘how time is flying. Two more years and she will be of age!’
Sir John admitted this, with some gloom. ‘I hope that she will be … amenable.’
‘My dear Sir John, what do you mean? Of course she will do as she is told.’
‘There are the little tantrums. I fancy a certain resistance is growing in our Princess.’
‘It must be crushed,’ said the Duchess with the air of a general about to go into battle.
‘She has spirit. If she fancies she is being … crushed she will refuse to be. I have seen that much in her eyes. Lehzen encourages her. It was a mistake not to get rid of her with Späth.’
‘My dear Sir John, I am sure that would have been disastrous. Victoria more or less threatened to go to the King.’
‘The King is an old fool.’
‘But a stubborn one and Adelaide is not such a fool as people believe her to be.’
‘You are right. But trust me in this, my dear Duchess, do not attempt to force the Princess. Coercion, persuasion … that is what we need. And when the day comes … and it must soon … we shall be there.’
‘The King must die before the next two years are up. How I wish she were a year or two younger.’
‘But she is not. So … let us try to please her. I believe she has a notion that we wish for power for ourselves. This is alienating her. It is her birthday. Think of something she really wants and give it to her. She likes music better than anything. Why not invite some of her favourite artistes to the Palace to give a concert for her. I am sure there is nothing she would like better. S
he grows lyrical about that Grisi woman; I am sure an invitation to give a concert here would send our Princess into rhapsodies of gratitude.’
‘It is an excellent idea,’ said the Duchess, ‘and shall be carried out.’
* * *
It had been a wonderful concert, and it was the Duchess’s birthday present to her. What a truly wonderful present. She could not have had anything to please her more.
‘How very thoughtful of Mamma,’ she remarked to Lehzen.
She wrote of it in her Journal – how she had sat in the front row with the family, joined by poor Aunt Sophia and the Duchess of Cambridge – George’s mother – who was now in England because George was going to be confirmed and later with George Cumberland to receive the Order of the Garter. The singing was heavenly; and what a joy to see Grisi off the stage – so tall and pale with such a lovely mild expression; her eyes were dark and beautiful and her eyelashes long. She had definitely not been disappointed in dear Grisi. Victoria was transported with delight when she sang Tanti affetti from Donna del Lago. There were other artistes, too, for Mamma had determined to bring in all her favourites. But there was none to compare with Grisi – dear, beautiful, talented Grisi!
She found it difficult to stop writing of the concert; she described it in detail reliving it as she did so.
‘Now,’ she told Lehzen, ‘I only have to read this account of it and I shall hear it all again. Aunt Sophia loved it. Poor Aunt Sophia, she had never heard any of the singers before! But nobody was as enchanted as I was. I shall never forget it. What a wonderful, wonderful birthday present.’
* * *
‘A great success,’ said the Duchess when she read the Journal. But she was less pleased when she read the entry of a few days later.‘Sunday, 24th May. Today is my sixteenth birthday. How very old that sounds; but I feel that the two years to come till I attain my eighteenth are the most important of almost any.’
Yes, those words were ominous. Victoria was thinking of that important eighteenth birthday when she could, should the King die, become the Queen, when she could, if she wished, demand that her mother cease to control her, when she could refuse to sleep in the same bedroom, and insist that she was alone when she wished to be.
‘She is becoming too much aware of her position,’ said the Duchess. ‘We must be more watchful than ever.’
There was the usual present-giving on the birthday and Victoria was awake soon after six with the delicious anticipation which birthdays always gave her. Mamma was ready with the presents.
‘Oh, but, Mamma, you gave me the most wonderful of presents. That beautiful … beautiful concert.’
The Duchess kissed her; she was always softened at present-giving time. She had had a brooch made containing a lock of her hair.
‘I thought you would like it as it is my hair.’
‘Oh, Mamma, it is beautiful.’
There were other gifts from the Duchess, of course, including a bracelet with a lock of her hair to match the brooch, a shawl and books; Lehzen’s present was a lovely leather case containing little knives and pencils. The King sent a pair of sapphire and diamond ear-rings, and there was a Bible from a bookseller named Mr Hatchard.
All day long the presents were arriving. She wondered where she would put them all, she confided to George Cambridge who sat beside her on a sofa – closely watched by Mamma – while they looked at the drawings in the album which was his birthday present to her.
She was very happy when she went to bed – and it was only half past nine so she wrote in her diary while it was all fresh and she had all the presents about her so that she would not forget one.
‘My dear Mamma’s great present was that delicious concert,’ she wrote, ‘which I shall never forget.’
Yes, the concert was a great success. Victoria had written of her mother as dear Mamma; and that was something she rarely did.
* * *
‘Today,’ thought Victoria when she awoke on that July morning a few weeks after her sixteenth birthday, ‘is one of the most important days in my life.’
Lehzen and the Duchess had impressed upon her the importance of it. She was going to be confirmed. After today she must make a very special effort to be good; she must try to be a good daughter as well as a good Queen – when the time came. That would be necessary if she were to be a good Christian; she must comfort Mamma, and try to understand her.
She was full of good resolutions.
On the table near her bed she could see the books which Mamma had given her yesterday. A Method of Preparation for Confirmation, An Address to the Candidates for Confirmation, and An Address to the Students of Eton College who are about to Present themselves for Confirmation in 1833. She had not had time to read them yet but she would, and hereafter she would try to be a good Christian in every way.
She had done a rather good drawing yesterday and she was going to give it to Mamma with a very pretty pin in memory of this day; for Lehzen she had a ring. They were after all, the two who had prepared her for this and she must show her gratitude.
For an hour she lay thinking of this until Lehzen came in to say it was eight o’clock and to ask when she was going to get up.
‘Oh, Lehzen, I have been thinking of the importance of today.’
Lehzen agreed that it was very important and laid four prints on the bed; they were pictures of Saints and biblical subjects.
‘They are very pretty, Lehzen, and so suitable.’
Lehzen said that she thought so.
After breakfast Victoria put on the white lace dress which had been specially made for the confirmation; and there was a white crepe bonnet trimmed with white roses. Lehzen wept openly when she saw her, and Victoria threw her arms about her. ‘Dearest Lehzen, I am still the same. I shall not change. I shall still be your affectionate child even though I am a good Christian.’
Which made Lehzen break down altogether.
The carriages arrived and Victoria and the Duchess took their place in the first of them and drove off to St James’s.
In the King’s closet the Queen embraced Victoria and whispered to her that she was not to be alarmed, because it was going to be a beautiful ceremony. The King kissed her too and said she looked pretty. How kind they both were! How she wished there was not always trouble between them and Mamma; and the older she grew the more she was inclined to blame Mamma for it – which was not a very Christian thing to do when she was so close to confirmation. I shall have to curb myself, she thought.
The family had assembled in some force for this very important occasion. The kind Duke of Cambridge with his pretty Duchess was there and she told Victoria that her son George was to be confirmed very shortly too. Both the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge were very anxious for her to like their son and she told them she did very much. The Duke of Cumberland, looking very sinister with his odd wicked face, watched her intently; she asked him about poor George and he told her that Victoria’s visits to the beautiful blind boy were what he looked forward to more than anything. The Duke hoped she would spare the time to bring a little comfort into his son’s life. And Victoria felt like weeping to think of being blind and unable to see the sun and the flowers – and even the Duke of Cumberland who was not a very charming sight.
The King had taken her hand and was leading her into the Chapel where she stood at the altar rail between him and her mother. She took off her bonnet and was bareheaded for the ceremony.
The Archbishop of Canterbury was very stern and after the ceremony he read aloud a warning to Victoria. Her life he said would be burdened by the most serious responsibilities. She must fulfil a destiny which would leave little time for pleasure.
He thundered on, warming to his subject; he was, thought Victoria, like a fearsome avenging angel. She was going to face great conflicts; her spiritual as well as her temporal life would be threatened. She would find her life no bed of roses … It sounded formidable, a future of misery.
She was trembling with horror at the
prospect of it. Oh dear, she thought, if only Aunt Adelaide had had a child it would be different; I should have a pleasant happy confirmation, the sort that George Cambridge will doubtless have. As it was the future loomed before her, dark, gloomy, full of terrors. Her eyes had filled with tears and she had begun to weep.
Mamma at her side pressed her hand firmly, and she felt suddenly drawn to her and wanted to turn and fling her arms about that flamboyant figure and cry out: ‘Don’t let me be Queen. Let them choose someone else.’
Seeing the effect his address had had the Archbishop was satisfied and stopped as the King was looking impatient and was obviously about to tell him to bring his diatribe to an end.
‘Well,’ William said, ‘that’s done with.’ And he took Victoria into the closet with the Queen and the Duchess following.
He pressed her hand. ‘Priests!’ he said. ‘Don’t want to let them frighten you. Lot of stuff. You come and see what I’ve got for you. A nice present for a nice little girl.’
‘Oh, Uncle William,’ sobbed Victoria. ‘You are so kind.’
That pleased him and in the closet he took up a set of jewellery; the emeralds glittered through her tears and she cried out that they were lovely.
‘There, there, and you’ll look very pretty in them. The Queen has something for you too.’
The Queen’s present was a tiara of matching emeralds.
‘Dear kind Uncle William and Aunt Adelaide!’
Aunt Adelaide whispered that these ceremonies were very tiring and Victoria must not become too affected by them. If she was kind and good that was all she had to worry about, because everything would come right then; and she knew Victoria was kind and good, so it was not going to be so very difficult.
The Captive of Kensington Palace Page 25