Upstairs in the drawing-room Ernest was telling his cousin Victoria that he would be eighteen in a month.
‘My seventeenth birthday is only a few days away,’ Victoria replied.
‘Then Albert is the youngest for he will not be seventeen until August.’
Victoria smiled at Albert. She rather enjoyed the idea of being a little older than he was.
Uncle Ernest said he had a present for Victoria and the Duchess ordered that it be brought into the drawing-room. It turned out to be a lory which was so tame that she was able to hold it in her hand.
‘You may put your finger in its mouth and it will not bite you,’ Albert told her.
She promptly did so, laughing with delight.
‘Such glorious colours,’ she cried. ‘Purple and brown, red, blue and yellow. I shall sketch and paint him afterwards. Oh, I love him already. He is bigger than your grey parrot, Mamma.’
The Duchess agreed that he was, and they all went to see the grey parrot and Victoria told the cousins how Mamma had bought him from a man on the roadside when they were taking one of their walks.
‘You must not forget,’ said the Duchess to Victoria, ‘that you are dining with the Archbishop of York.’
Victoria looked so downhearted that everyone laughed.
‘It appears to me,’ said the Duchess in a pleased voice, ‘that you would prefer the company of your uncle and cousins.’
‘It’s true,’ admitted Victoria.
‘So soon,’ asked Albert who, she noticed, was never at a loss.
‘Yes, so soon,’ she replied.
The Duchess thought: A good beginning. Leopold will be pleased.
* * *
What a happy visit! What a pleasure to wake up every morning and think: My cousins are here. What shall we do today? I can go riding with them. I can sketch with them. They could both draw well – particularly Albert. They loved music and could play the piano. This they did charmingly. Particularly Albert.
How they laughed together! They were so easily amused and yet they could be so grown up.
They were the most fascinating cousins anyone could have.
Her seventeenth birthday came. But there was little time for writing in the Journal now. She did record it though.
‘I awoke at seven. Today I completed my seventeenth year; a very old person I am indeed.’
A very old person! One more year and she would be quite grown up. She was really looking forward to that very much.
Then she began to wonder what life would be like when the cousins had gone. How desolate! Not to walk with dear Albert … and Ernest; not to listen to their merry jokes and marvel at the way they suddenly became very solemn and grown up and talked about serious matters!
I shall be far more sad than when Ferdinand and Augustus went, she thought.
* * *
‘I’ll not have those damned Coburgs at Windsor,’ said the King.
‘Perhaps a brief visit,’ suggested Adelaide.
‘Just a brief one,’ Lady de l’Isle backed her up.
The King growled and supposed he’d have to receive them. He had to entertain the Oranges in any case.
‘But they’ll not get a ball,’ he insisted.
Never mind. He received them and there was no friction during their brief stay at Court.
They and Victoria were glad to be back in Kensington where the Duchess gave a ball for them and Victoria had the pleasure of dancing with her cousins.
Albert secretly found it all rather tiring. He was not fond of the social life and he thought the rooms overheated. He would have liked to be in his room reading – perhaps to Victoria – but not dancing which he found rather fatiguing.
He tried not to give any indication of this; he was aware that Uncle Leopold – that oracle of wisdom – wished him to like Victoria and her to like him, and he was determined to do his duty. Apart from the physical exertion required this was no hardship, for Victoria was an enchanting girl; she was so eager to please. He liked the times better when they talked or played the piano or sang and sketched together. The manner in which he was expected to stand at levees tired him considerably. He did not like the late hours which so delighted Victoria; he longed for his bed. Stockmar had said that he was growing too fast and that was why he was so drowsy early in the evenings. Once he grew so pale and looked so ready to faint that Victoria noticed. She was ‘all concern and there was that sweet anxious voice beside him. Dear Albert, are you sure you feel quite well?’
He assured her that he did and that it was merely the heat of the rooms which had overwhelmed him. He did not tell her that he was fighting off the desire to go to sleep all the time.
After that he saw his cousin regarding him anxiously. But he could always make her laugh with his quick wit, and even the way he played with Dash amused her. He wished that she did not enjoy dancing so obviously. What a pleasant companion she would have been if she only cared for the less demanding pleasures of life. But she was charming and he could not help being eager to please her.
* * *
At last the day came for the departure. When the last farewells had been said Victoria wept bitterly. Her only comfort was her Journal.‘At nine we all breakfasted for the last time together. It was our last happy, happy breakfast with this dear uncle and those dearest cousins whom I do love so very very dearly; much more dearly than any other cousins in the world. Dearly as I loved Ferdinand and also good Augustus, I love Ernest and Albert more than them. Oh yes, much more. Augustus was like a good affectionate child, quite unacquainted with the world, phlegmatic, and talking very little; but dearest Ernest and dearest Albert are so grown up in their manners, so gentle, so kind, so amiable, so agreeable, so very sensible and reasonable and so really and truly good and kind-hearted … Albert is the more reflecting of the two. They like talking about serious and instructive things …‘At eleven dear Uncle and my dearest beloved cousins left us … I embraced both my dearest cousins most warmly, also my dear Uncle. I cried bitterly.’
She had written to dear Uncle Leopold. She knew that he would be eagerly awaiting for her verdict on the cousins and particularly on Albert; and that very soon he would be seeing her uncle and cousins and asking them their opinion of England and her.
So before they left she had given Uncle Ernest the letter and asked him to hand it to Uncle Leopold when they met.‘I must thank you, my beloved Uncle,’ she wrote, ‘for the prospect of great happiness you have contributed to give me in the person of dear Albert …‘He possesses every quality that could be desired to make me perfectly happy. He is so sensible, so kind, so good and so amiable too. He has, besides, the most pleasing exterior and appearance you can possibly see. I have only now to beg you, dearest uncle, to take care of the health of one so dear to me and to take him under your special protection …’
When he received her letter Leopold smiled complacently. He had known he could rely on Victoria.
Chapter XX
THE KING’S DISCOVERY
When the cousins had left the Duchess decided that they would go and stay for a while at Claremont. Victoria was delighted. She loved Claremont – the home of dear Uncle Leopold where he had once been so happy with Princess Charlotte; and she could enjoy it even better now because Uncle Leopold was happily married to Aunt Louise – and even Charlotte, Victoria decided, could not have been more charming. So now there need be no sad thoughts at Claremont.
She had tried to adjust herself to the daily routine after the departure of the cousins and found herself talking of them constantly to Lehzen, of how Albert had done this and that and how very sensible he was.
‘Darling Dashy misses him. Oh, Lehzen, wasn’t he funny when he played with Dash?’
Lehzen thought: She has too much affection. She is ready to believe the best of everyone and love them. She is inclined to think that all people are as honest as she is, as kind and eager to be good.
What a credit the Princess was to her, for Lehzen believed in her hea
rt that the Princess’s excellent qualities were the result of her upbringing rather than the Duchess’s. Charming, young, with such a defined sense of duty – what a Queen she would make!
The Princess’s face was flushed with pleasure now because a singing lesson was due. She wished, she had said, that she had singing lessons every day. She admired her singing master with all the fervour of her nature. He was the great operatic singer Luigi Lablache and when he sang Victoria laughed and wept with delight.
She would talk of him endlessly if Lehzen permitted it.
‘He is such a patient master, Lehzen. So good-humoured, pleasing and I’m sure he’s so honest. It is such a pleasure to hear his fine voice and to sing with him is a privilege. Throughout my life I shall remember my lessons with him. How the time flies when we are together. How active he is for his size. I feel so very small beside him, I love the way he comes in and gives that wonderful dignified bow.’
‘You are too ready to admire people,’ chided Lehzen.
‘Oh, Lehzen,’ cried Victoria mischievously, ‘is that why I admire you?’
Victoria was laughing as she went off for her session with dear Lablache.
And now to Claremont where dear Louisa Lewis would be so excited because she was coming. She could curtsy in that slow dignified way which was different from the way other people curtsied; and then when Victoria had made her quite sure that she was still the same girl who had sat and watched her eat her breakfast in her own room at Claremont, the barriers would be broken down and Louisa in her white morning dress looking so neat and clean would tell stories of Charlotte as she always did; and she would somehow imply that Victoria now had the place in her heart which had once belonged to Charlotte.
Dear Claremont!
* * *
The King’s health had deteriorated in the last months and Adelaide was constantly urging him to rest.
‘A fine one to talk,’ he said indulgently. ‘That cough of yours doesn’t get any better. I’m a good few years older than you and I have a right to be ill at my time of life.’
‘I only want you to take care.’
‘I know. I know. You’ve been a good wife to me, Adelaide. In the beginning I didn’t want you … I didn’t want you at all. But then I grew to love you.’
Tears fillxed his eyes and she smiled at him.
‘We have done well together, William.’
‘And we’ll go on, eh? I’m not finished yet. Don’t you think it. I’ve got to live till Victoria’s of age. I’ll refuse to go until that woman hasn’t a chance of the Regency.’
‘That’ll be next year. You must go on long after that.’
Sometimes he wondered, but he mustn’t worry Adelaide.
‘I will, you see,’ he assured. He added to change the disagreeable subject: ‘It’ll be your birthday on the thirteenth. We’ll celebrate it with a ball and we’ll let the celebrations go on until mine as the twenty-first is so close.’
‘We should ask Victoria.’
‘Oh dear, that means that woman.’
‘I can’t see how she could possibly be left out.’
‘For two pins I would leave her out.’
‘It would be impossible. We must ask her; and I hope that she will behave well.’
‘That’s where you’re asking the impossible, my dear.’
Adelaide sighed.
‘The Coburg visit went off all right.’
‘And don’t think I don’t know how hard you worked to make that happen. You’re too good, Adelaide. I’ve told you so before.’
‘It’s just that I hate quarrels and I think they do the family harm.’
‘The greatest harm the family ever did to itself was to bring that woman into it. The pity is that she is the mother of Victoria.’
‘Perhaps she would have been more bearable if she had not been. In any case I will write to her and invite her to the Castle and pray that during her stay all goes well.’
* * *
When the Duchess received Adelaide’s invitation she laughed.
‘So,’ she said to Conroy. ‘I am graciously asked to go to Windsor to celebrate Adelaide’s birthday. She forgets mine is on the seventeenth. Mine is, I suppose, of no importance. I shall go, of course, to the King’s because that is an occasion at which the heiress to the throne should be present.’
‘You will refuse an invitation from the Queen?’
‘My dear Sir John, do you doubt it?’
‘Of course I don’t.’
‘You will see.’
She sat down at her desk and wrote to the Queen.
She could not come to Windsor at the date the Queen suggested because she wished to celebrate her birthday at Claremont. She would, however, come on the twentieth, which date would not conflict with any of her arrangements.
When she had written it she showed it to Sir John.
‘Well?’
‘It might be the Sovereign writing to one of her subjects.’
‘I shall soon be the mother of the young Sovereign.’
‘And Adelaide is, of course, only the wife of the old one.’
They laughed together; it was so gratifying to know that however rudely she behaved William and Adelaide could do nothing to oust her from her position.
* * *
The King was in a bad temper. He had to come up from Windsor to prorogue Parliament. He was finding breathing difficult and was feeling irascible as he always was when he was not well.
That Woman again, he thought.
Adelaide would have kept the letter from him if she could have done so; she always wanted to save him irritation. But of course he had to know that she had declined the invitation to celebrate Adelaide’s birthday. It wasn’t that they couldn’t do without her. They could – most happily. It was the effrontery, the impertinence. He had demanded to see the letter and when he had read it his face had grown scarlet; the veins in his temples had stood out, and he had almost choked with rage.
She wanted to celebrate her birthday. No mention of Adelaide’s! That was what maddened him. It was an insult to Adelaide. When he came to think of it that was why she angered him so. It was because she was continually insulting Adelaide. He wouldn’t have Adelaide insulted. She was a good woman, the best wife in the world, and people must pay proper respect to her or answer to him.
The ceremony was boring and tiring. He complained of everything to Lord Melbourne. He was scathing in his comments on this fellow and that minister. Melbourne wondered what had happened to him.
William was glad when the ceremony was over and he was on his way back to Windsor. Passing Kensington Palace he remembered the Duchess and his anger returned. She was staying at Claremont now from where she would deign to come over to Windsor. He ordered the coachman to stop. He would call at Kensington Palace; he would inspect the Duchess’s apartments. She would not be there, but she would hear of his visit and it would let her know that the apartments she used belonged to him, and that if he had much more impertinence from her he would turn her out.
That woman needs a good lesson, he thought.
There was consternation among the servants. A royal visit. And they had had no notice of it.
He was amused to see their dismay.
‘I’ve come to see the apartments I allow the Duchess of Kent to use,’ he said in his free and easy way. ‘No, no need to take me – I know the way.’ He went to those which he had allotted to her.
To his amazement they were empty. He called: ‘Here. Come here. You, fellow. Where are the apartments of the Duchess and the Princess Victoria?’
‘If Your Majesty will come this way …’
If he would go that way! He would! And as he went he knew what had happened.
These were the rooms she had asked for and he had denied her. She had made alterations in his Palace. How many rooms had she taken? He was going to count for himself. Seventeen. The number for which she had asked; and she had turned the gallery into three rooms – without consulting him
, going against his orders.
How dared she!
He went through the entire set of apartments … the bedrooms, the sitting-rooms, the dressing-rooms and the receiving-rooms. Trust her to make the place fit for a Queen.
He could not speak; he thought his anger would choke him.
He got into his carriage and growled the order: ‘To Windsor.’
* * *
The journey to Windsor seemed longer than usual. It was nearly ten o’clock when he arrived. The house party was assembled in one of the drawing-rooms and he went straight to it.
When Adelaide saw him she knew that something terrible had happened. He greeted her and his eyes went round the room until they rested on the Duchess of Kent who was standing with her daughter waiting to be greeted first because of her rank.
The King ignored her and held out his hand to Victoria.
‘My dear child,’ he said, ‘I am very glad to see you here. I am sorry I do not see you more often.’
Victoria was smiling her open affectionate smile and returning her uncle’s kiss warmly; she had not noticed that he was seething with rage.
He turned to the Duchess and bowed coldly.
Then he said in a voice which every person in the drawing-room could hear: ‘A great liberty has been taken with one of my palaces. I have just been to Kensington Palace where apartments have been taken against my express commands. I do not understand such conduct.’ He glared into the Duchess’s flushed face. ‘Nor will I endure it, for it is quite disrespectful to me.’
He then turned to Victoria who was trembling. So they had no right to those beautiful rooms! She had thought that her mother had asked for them and that the King had granted her request. How dreadful to think that Mamma had taken them against the King’s wishes. It was like stealing.
The Captive of Kensington Palace Page 30