‘Postpone my dinner party! Sometimes I wonder at you. What has the confinement of this … this … woman got to do with my dinner party, pray?’
‘It is just that at such a time perhaps we should be quiet. I have heard that all is not going quite as it should.’
‘That rumour is put about merely to call attention to her. She is like her mother … that common actress. They’re like gypsies. They could have babies by the roadside.’
‘Gypsies deserve as much consideration as anyone else, Mamma.’
‘What, Victoria?’
‘I believe that the King’s physicians are rather anxious about Lady de l’Isle. Oh, I do hope all goes well. Uncle William will be so distressed; and think of her little children.’
‘You say the oddest things,’ said the Duchess coldly. ‘You should thank God that I am constantly at your elbow to remind you of what is expected of a Queen.’
I am not that yet, thought Victoria, and perhaps when I am you will not be at my elbow.
But she said nothing.
Later that day Lady de l’Isle died.
* * *
‘Certainly,’ said the Duchess, ‘I shall not cancel my dinner party. What have this woman’s affairs to do with me?’
Victoria took her usual refuge in tears. She had had Lady de l’Isle’s children in her rooms and tried to amuse them with her sketches to take their minds off what was happening.
Oh dear, she thought, Mamma cannot give a dinner party while the King’s daughter lies dead in the Palace. But apparently she could.
* * *
The King was demented.
‘My little Sophie! But what were those doctors doing? She was well enough during her pregnancy. My Sophie! Why her mother had ten children and there was never any trouble.’
He wept and there was no comforting him. He told everyone how Sophie had been born and how he had loved her. She was his eldest daughter and had been the most enchanting of little girls. He and Dorothy had been so proud of her. No, this was too cruel. He couldn’t bear it.
Melbourne thought he was going mad and wondered how he was going to control a young Queen who was not yet of age. But she would be in a few weeks’ time. He had received a letter from her mother in which she stated that Victoria wished for an extended Regency. He could scarcely approach the King on this matter yet. So the Princess felt herself inadequate to rule without her mother!
‘God help us!’ groaned Melbourne. ‘How shall we work with the Duchess of Kent!’ A young girl would be easier to advise and control and from what he had seen of Victoria he believed her to be intelligent, by which he meant that she would be wise enough to realise her lack of experience and listen to her Prime Minister. But the mother!
He would shelve the letter for a while, at least until the Queen came home. What ill luck that she should be abroad at this time when the King needed her. If she did not come home soon his sanity would desert him. Only those who lived close to William knew how much he depended on Adelaide.
He sent a despatch to the Queen urging her to return to England.
Adelaide’s mother had meanwhile died and she came home with all speed.
* * *
‘Oh, Adelaide, how glad I am! How I missed you! And this terrible terrible news about Sophie. Who would have thought it possible?’
‘Dear William, it is heart-breaking. And the children?’
‘They are still at Kensington. Young Victoria is being very good to them and they seem to be fond of her. They say they are happier with her than they would be anywhere else.’
‘Dear Victoria. She is so good. And it’s true. She will be gay with them and gaiety is what they want, poor mites.’
The King nodded. ‘My little Sophie, Adelaide … my eldest … I’ll never forget the day she was born.’
Adelaide soothed and comforted and the King’s health recovered a little. His ministers noticed and were relieved.
Adelaide, however, was really ill. Her cough had become much worse and the journey to Saxe-Meiningen on such a dismal mission had sapped her strength.
She must rest, the doctors told her. She must take great care of her health and remember how important she was to the King.
The Princess Augusta was at Windsor and she assured Adelaide that she could take over many of her duties. Adelaide’s chief one at the moment, as the doctors had told her, was to get well.
‘You see what happens to William when you’re not there, Adelaide,’ Augusta reminded her. ‘For Heaven’s sake, guard your health. William needs you.’
‘There is the Drawing-Room …’
‘But think what effect Drawing-Rooms have on you. I know you have to bandage your knees to help with the swelling.’
‘Oh, Augusta, I feel so foolishly weak and ineffectual.’
‘You are certainly not ineffectual. And if you could know what William is like when you’re away you’d be fully aware of how important you are. No, I will take your place at the Drawing-Room and you will rest.’
* * *
Sir John had persuaded the Duchess that she must attend the King’s Drawing-Room. He had expressly said that Victoria must appear at Court and that he was going to insist on her doing so. Therefore to ignore this invitation would infuriate him, and, moreover, they must remember that he was the King and had certain powers.
The Duchess was not averse. She would show them that she cared nothing for the King, that she was fully aware that very soon he would have departed this world and her daughter would be the Queen and herself Regent.
She was taking Sir John with her to let everyone see that she would have whom she chose about her. She was well aware of the King’s dislike of Sir John – he had referred more than once to her evil advisers – but that was of no importance. If she wished Sir John to accompany her he should do so.
Victoria sitting beside her mother in the carriage which was taking them to St James’s for the Drawing-Room was conscious of her mother’s truculent mood.
In a few weeks’ time I shall be eighteen, she kept telling herself. Everything will be different then.
In the Drawing-Room the Princess Augusta, deputy for the Queen, received them; and then the King came in.
The Duchess chuckled inwardly. He looked ill and was quite tottery; it was a long time since she had seen him looking so old.
He was having a word or two with a guest here and there and when he came to the Duchess he looked through her as though she did not exist. It was a deliberate insult and every one was aware of it.
Old fool, thought the Duchess. Much good that will do him. Victoria will soon be Queen and he can’t alter that. The sooner he is in his grave the better for everyone. He looks as if another step or two will take him there.
The King had seen Sir John Conroy. That fellow … among his guests! He had no invitation to appear at his Court. If that woman thought he was going to receive her paramour in his Drawing-Room she was mistaken.
He called: ‘Conyngham! Conyngham!’
The Lord Chamberlain hurried to his side.
The King’s face had grown very red and there was a deep silence throughout the room as William pointed to Sir John Conroy.
‘Turn that fellow out!’ he said. ‘I’ll not have him here.’
There was a gasp of amazement. Everyone was wondering what the King would do next as Sir John Conroy with a shrug of his shoulders and a sneer on his lips was escorted out of the King’s Drawing-Room.
* * *
William was telling Adelaide all about the incident in the Drawing-Room. Adelaide, her head aching, her cough worrying her, listened and was relieved at least that she had not been present.
‘These terrible quarrels between you and the Duchess are doing you no good, William,’ she said.
‘You aren’t suggesting I should let her have her own way.’
‘No, but perhaps it would be better to ignore her.’
‘Adelaide, that woman is a fiend. What that child of hers has suffered, I c
an’t imagine.’
‘Poor Victoria! I don’t think she had much fun as a child.’
‘I’m sure she didn’t. But she’ll be of age next month.’
‘She must have a very special celebration.’
‘The child is very musical. I’ve heard that she likes singing and playing the piano better than anything else. I shall give her a grand piano for her birthday.’
‘Oh, William, that’s a lovely idea.’
‘I knew you’d think so. And there’ll be other things, too. I’ve only got to live a few more weeks, Adelaide, and I’ll have had my wish. One thing I was determined not to do was to die and let that woman have the Regency.’
‘You’re going on living for a long time yet.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said William soothed, but he was not so sure in his heart.
He went on to talk to Adelaide about the Drawing-Room. He believed his feud with That Woman gave him a zest for living.
He had thought of something else. ‘Now that my darling Sophia is dead my daughter Mary shall go to Kensington. She’ll keep an eye on Madam Kent. By God, she’ll be appropriating the entire Palace if we don’t look out. I wonder when she’ll want to move into St James’s and Windsor?’
He was growing excited again and Adelaide talked of the grandchildren to soothe him.
Chapter XXII
AN IMPORTANT WEDNESDAY IN MAY
At the beginning of May the King’s health deteriorated rapidly. At a public luncheon he was seen to be very ill and looked as though he were about to faint. The Queen was at hand and managed to guide him through the meal and afterwards he did actually faint.
‘You must rest from all functions for a few days,’ she told him; and he was feeling so ill that he allowed himself to be persuaded.
The Duchess was delighted when she heard the news. ‘Not long now,’ she told Sir John, but Sir John, still smarting from that public rebuff, was inclined to be morbid. What Victoria would be like when she reached her majority he was not at all sure. There had been so many signs of rebellion lately. They had kept her almost a prisoner for eighteen years but in doing so they had failed to win her confidence. They should have dismissed that doting Lehzen with her stern ideas of duty and her caraway seeds. Victoria clearly regarded her as the one person in the Palace whom she could trust.
Leopold was keeping her in leading strings but they had to stretch too far across the Channel to be as effective as they might have been. Leopold was the first to realise this and as the great moment was coming nearer and nearer he decided to send Baron Stockmar to England to report on the situation there and guide Victoria.
Stockmar arrived at Kensington Palace to be warmly welcomed by Victoria because he brought letters and messages from Uncle Leopold and in these letters she read that she must love and trust Stockmar for Leopold’s sake.
This she was very ready to do. She had a new idol; she listened to everything he said; she was certain of his wisdom. If he was not Uncle Leopold he was the next best thing.
‘Baron Stockmar,’ she wrote in her Journal, ‘is one of the few people who tell plain, honest truth, don’t flatter and give wholesome and necessary advice, and strive to do good and smooth all dissensions. He is Uncle Leopold’s greatest and most confidential attaché and disinterested friend, and I hope he is the same to me, at least I feel so towards him.’
When she had written that she thought of Lehzen who would read her Journal and think of all the years that they had been together. She wanted Lehzen to know that there would never be another friend for her like her dear Baroness so she added: ‘Lehzen being of course the greatest friend I have.’
Stockmar was delighted with his pupil. Her frank acceptance of him, her innocent belief in him because Uncle Leopold had sent him, and afterwards because she sensed his great qualities, pleased him.
He wrote back to Leopold of his enthusiasm for her. She was bright and intelligent. She was above all aware of her inexperience and eager to learn.
‘England will grow great and famous under her rule,’ prophesied Stockmar.
So during those weeks which she felt to be so momentous Victoria was relieved to have Baron Stockmar close at hand.
At last came that Wednesday in May of the year 1837 which was Victoria’s eighteenth birthday.‘How old!’ she wrote in her Journal. ‘And yet I am far from being what I should be. I shall from this day take the firm resolution to study with renewed assiduity to keep my attention always fixed on whatever I am about and to strive to become every day less trifling and more fit for what, if Heaven wills, I’m some day to be.’
It was a solemn time, waking in the familiar bedroom and thinking: I am now of age. I am no longer a child. Everything will be different from now on.
But first there was a birthday – the most important of them all – to be celebrated. To her delight she suddenly heard the sound of singing beneath her window; and she recognised the voice of George Rodwell, the Musical director of Covent Garden, who had composed a special piece of music for her birthday. She leaned out of the window and clapped her applause.
Lehzen said it was a very pleasant compliment and it was time she dressed.
The presents were laid out on her table and she eagerly examined them and thanked everyone; and the gift which delighted her most perhaps, because it showed that however angry the King might be with her mother he had an affection for her, was the beautiful grand piano which was delivered with His Majesty’s affection and best wishes.
‘Oh, it is beautiful … beautiful!’ she cried; while the Duchess looked at the piano as though it were some loathsome monster.
But Victoria thought: She cannot forbid me to accept it or to play it. She cannot forbid me to do anything now!
It was an intoxicating thought. Freedom! There was no gift quite as desirable as that.
She was realising how important she was. The heiress to the throne and of age!
During the morning the City of London sent a deputation to congratulate the Princess on coming of age. Victoria received it with her mother standing by her side and when she was about to thank them, the Duchess laid a restraining hand on her arm and herself addressed them.
She told them that she, a woman without a husband, had brought up her daughter single-handed and she had never once swerved from her duty nor forgotten the great destiny which awaited the Princess. When her husband had died she had been left alone, not speaking the language, almost penniless with such a great task ahead of her. This she had not shirked …
Oh, Mamma, Victoria wanted to scream. Be silent.
In the afternoon Victoria and the Duchess, with Lehzen, drove through the streets and everywhere the flags were flying in her honour. The day had been declared a public holiday and people thronged the streets, and when her carriage passed a great cheer went up.
And later she went to St James’s for the state ball. She was terrified of how the King would behave towards her mother and she towards him; but in her heart she believed that now that she was of age everything was going to be different.
She was very sorry to learn that the King was unable to attend because he was so ill; and that the Queen was not well enough to come either. Her aunt, the Princess Augusta, received them and she consoled herself that at least there would be no unpleasantness.
She could give herself up to the pleasures of the ball. How delightful to dance to heavenly music. The first dance was with the Duke of Norfolk’s grandson and he danced with great skill and told her she looked beautiful.
There were many other dances and it was a wonderful ball; and when she entered her carriage to return to Kensington the people had come into the courtyard to cheer her.
A wonderful birthday, an amusing ball, but she knew it was more than that. It was the beginning of a new life.
Chapter XXIII
HER MAJESTY
Lord Conyngham, the Lord Chamberlain, called at Kensington Palace to be received by Sir John Conroy.
‘I have,’ said Lord
Conyngham, ‘a letter here from His Majesty to the Princess Victoria.’
Sir John held out his hand for it. There had been no reply from the letter the Duchess had sent to Lord Melbourne and he believed that it had come to the Prime Minister’s ears that the Duchess had not spoken to Victoria about an extended Regency, in which case the Prime Minister would tactfully pretend that he never received such a letter.
But a message from the King to the Princess must of course be seen first by Sir John and the Duchess.
Lord Conyngham, however, did not pass over the letter. Instead he said: ‘I have His Majesty’s instructions to put this letter into no hands but those of the Princess Victoria.’
Sir John sent one of the pages to tell the Duchess that the King’s Chamberlain was at the Palace with a message from the King.
The Duchess swept in, greeted Conyngham haughtily and held out her hand for the letter.
‘I am sorry, Your Grace, but the King’s instructions are that his letter is to be given to none but the Princess.’
The Duchess flushed angrily but could do nothing but send a message to Lehzen to bring the Princess Victoria to her drawing-room without delay.
When Victoria arrived Lord Conyngham bowed and handed her the letter.
‘It is from His Majesty, Your Highness.’
Victoria took it.
‘Are you not going to open it?’ asked the Duchess, coming to stand beside her and obviously using great restraint in not snatching the letter from her daughter.
‘I think’ said Victoria, ‘that I would prefer to read it in my own sitting-room … by myself.’
The Duchess was affronted. The Princess Victoria had never been allowed to be alone even and now she was proposing to read an important letter without sharing it with her mother.
There was a new dignity about the Princess, an assurance; she had crossed the bridge between restraint and freedom and she was safely on the other side.
The Captive of Kensington Palace Page 32