She took the letter, she read it. The King wrote affectionately that now she was of age she might wish to have a separate establishment from her mother’s and he was prepared to allow her ten thousand a year of her own.
Gleefully Victoria accepted.
* * *
Life was changing rapidly. She was becoming independent. Not that her mother would allow that without a fight; and the King was growing so ill that nothing was done immediately about her separate establishment. The Duchess wrote to the Prime Minister to the effect that ten thousand a year was too much for Victoria and she thought she should have a share of it.
But everything else was set temporarily aside because the King’s condition was so rapidly deteriorating. It was clear that he could not live long; he had lost the use of his legs and had to be wheeled wherever he went. The FitzClarence children were at Windsor, all rancour forgotten. George, Earl of Munster, had given up quarrelling with his father; his daughter Mary was constantly with him; and Augustus read the prayers every morning; but it was Adelaide who was constantly at his side and if she were not in the room he became uneasy.
He knew he was dying. It was as though he had made up his mind that he would live until Victoria was of age. Now that day had come; he had had his revenge on the Duchess and would depart in peace.
‘Any day now, it will be the end,’ said the courtiers, the ministers and the people in the streets.
But the King lingered on.
* * *
The Duke of Cumberland could not give up hope. He was excited. Surely his moment had come. The King was dying and the heiress to the throne was a girl of eighteen. Something must be done.
Surely the people would rather have a strong man at the head of affairs.
Frederica, grown philosophical, said: ‘You’re crazy, Ernest. The people want Victoria. A young girl like that … providing she’s got the ministers behind her can bring back respect to the Monarchy. I hear William said that sailors and soldiers will enjoy having a girl-Queen to fight for. It’s true, Ernest. Why can’t you be content? The day William dies you’ll be the King of Hanover.’
‘I want to be the King of England. I want England for George.’
‘Our beautiful blind boy will be content with Hanover,’ said Frederica.
But the Duke would not believe this. He had grandiose plans. The Orange Lodges had been disbanded but he would not give up.
He went to see the Duke of Wellington.
‘It’s wrong,’ he told him. ‘Why should the Salic law apply in Hanover and not in England?’
‘Because it’s not an English law,’ said Wellington. ‘You should be careful. The people are in no mood to support those who stand against Victoria.’
‘This girl … this child …’
‘The true and only heiress to the Crown,’ said the Duke. And added: ‘God bless her.’
‘If I raised an army I’d have plenty to follow me.’
‘They would follow you,’ said Wellington ironically, ‘to the Tower of London.’
Ernest gnashed his teeth. All his plans had gone wrong. He had been foiled by a simple girl who somehow had the country behind her. These people wanted a girl-Queen; they were ready to shout for Victoria and call traitor any of those who opposed her.
He went back to Frederica who smiled at him rather cynically.
‘You should have taken my advice and been content all these years. Never mind, Ernest, in a short time now people will be calling you “Your Majesty … Your Majesty of Hanover”. The second prize but very acceptable for all that.’
* * *
The King awoke one Sunday morning and said to Adelaide: ‘This is the eighteenth of June. I should like to see the sun of Waterloo set.’
‘You will, dear William,’ whispered Adelaide.
‘A great victory,’ added William. ‘Yes, I should like to live through Waterloo Day.’
His family came; he recognised them and was happy to see them. He talked a little incoherently of their childhood and Dorothy and the days at Bushy and when George arrived he wept openly, for George had brought the flag which Wellington always sent to William on Waterloo day.
William took the flag and kissed it.
‘A great and glorious day for England,’ he said.
His children did not leave him; they sat round his bed; but Adelaide must be there; he was not happy unless his hand was in hers.
When she asked if there was anything he needed, he shook his head. ‘Only to have you … and the children near me, my dear.’
And because he knew she was weeping he pretended to feel better.
The next day in fact he did revive a little. The Dukes of Cumberland and Sussex came to see him; but he was unable to talk to them.
When they left he said good-bye to his children and all the time he would not release Adelaide’s hand.
‘Don’t cry, Adelaide,’ he whispered. ‘Nothing to cry for. We were happy. Didn’t want it … but it was right … it was good … my dear, dear Queen. Bear up, my dear. Bear up.’
It seemed right that the Princess Victoria should be sent for but Adelaide would not allow this for she knew that the Duchess would not permit the Princess to come alone and her presence would greatly upset the King.
So she sat beside him as for the last week she had been sitting day and night and her only consolation was the knowledge that her presence there comforted him.
All the time he was concerned for her, anxious that she should not grieve, trying to pretend that he was going to get better … for her sake.
It was past two in the morning of the twentieth that he called her name.
She who was at his side bent over him. She put her arms about him and leaning against her he smiled.
And she knew soon afterwards that he was dead.
* * *
It was six o’clock.
‘Victoria,’ said the Duchess of Kent, ‘Wake up.’
She started up in bed. She knew of course. Some instinct told her, but then for some days now she had been expecting it.
‘The Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord Conyngham are at the Palace. They have come to see you.’
‘To see me …’
‘You had better get up. They are in your sitting-room. We will go to them at once.’
She put on her dressing-gown and she said firmly: ‘I will go … alone, Mamma.’
The Duchess was about to reply but she did not. There was something in Victoria’s manner that forbade it.
And with her hair hanging about her shoulders, her dressing-gown buttoned about her little figure, her feet thrust into slippers she went into the sitting-room.
At the sight of her, they knelt.
‘Your Majesty,’ they said.
And so she knew that she was no longer the Princess Victoria but Queen of England.
Bibliography
Albert, Harold A., Queen Victoria’s Sister: Life and Letters of Princess FeodoraArgyll, The Duke of, V.R.I., Queen Victoria, her Life and EmpireAubrey, William Hickman Smith, National and Domestic History of EnglandBenson, A. C. and Viscount Exter (edited by), Letters of Queen VictoriaBenson, E. F., Queen VictoriaCreston, Dormer, The Youthful Queen VictoriaDavey, Richard, Victoria (Queen and Empress)Doran, Dr, Memoir of Queen AdelaideEsher, Viscount, The Girlhood of Queen Victoria (A Selection of Her Majesty’s Diaries between the years 1832 and 1840)Fulford, Roger (edited by), The Greville MemoirsGreenwood, A. D., Hanoverian Queens of EnglandHasted, Jane-Eliza, Unsuccessful Ladies (An Intimate Account of the Aunts of the Late Queen Victoria)Hopkirk, Mary, Queen AdelaideHuish, Robert, Life and Reign of William IVJerrold, Claire, Early Court of Queen VictoriaLongford, Elizabeth, Victoria R.I.McCarthy, Sir Justin, History of the Four Georges and William IVMalloy, Fitzgerald, The Sailor King, William IV, His Court and SubjectsMartin, Sir Theodore, Queen Victoria as I Knew HerRedman, Alvin, The House of HanoverSandars, Mary F., The Life and Times of Queen AdelaideSitwell, Edith, Victoria of EnglandSmith, G. Barnett, Life of Queen Victori
aStephen, Sir Leslie and Sir Sydney Lee (edited by), Dictionary of National BiographyStuart, Dorothy Margaret, The Mother of VictoriaThompson, Grace E., The Patriot King (Life of William IV) Wade, John, British History
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The Captive of Kensington Palace Page 33