Victoria

by Anna Kirwan

  I gave him the picture I painted (as well as some tobacco in a very handsome tin I bought with my own pocket money). Toire and I stood there while he inspected it, and he said, “Oh, hmm, very nice, very nice indeed. Tell Westall he’s done a good job on you, Your Highness. You’ve a great deal of talent, not all little girls do.” But he didn’t say it was pretty, and Toire was let down.

  I would feel more sympathy toward her if she had not been so grumpose to me all day afterward. It was not my fault and I did make her frock blue and even put blond lace on the sleeves, which came out well.

  There is just something about O’Hum’s sensibility to gifts. Toire gave him savon bergamot, a pleasant, manly soap. Uncle Sussex recommended it, and it was a v nice choice, I would have thought. O’Hum said, “Oh, hmm, thank you, m’girl,” nary a word more.

  A great many guests came to dinner. He had to hold forth – every opinion of his own was awesome for cleverness, and no one else had information he would admit was correct, but he was entirely wise about everything, and he would explain why. It was all his especial friends and people for whom he does favours. They all drank a great deal of wine and said, “He’s a capital fellow.” Someone I overheard but did not see, for he was behind the Chinese screen – and I am glad not to know who is such a traitor – said, “If only Sir John had the management of the Throne, he’d whip it all into shape, would he not?”

  Feo, this makes me ill, remembering.

  Later

  Mamma was having a pleasant evening at first, I believe. There was pheasant and saddle of venison and crown roast of pork and a great lot of other stuff, everything O’Hum likes, and six wines. When Mrs MacLeod took Toire, and Lehzen and I went up to bed, Mamma was full of cheer and had roses on her cheeks.

  I went to sleep for quite a while, I thought, but something woke me v late at night. I’d taken a nap in the afternoon because of the party, so I was all at once v much awake, not at all sleepy. So I thought I’d write, since I have so little time for it these days. I had put my diary in the red drawing room behind the inlaid cabinet full of little ivory elephants that General Clive brought home from India, and I crept out of bed to go and get it. Lehzen must have been deep asleep, for she said nothing to me. And she does snore a bit, not loudly, but one can hear her. I was halfway down to the corner of the corridor when I heard Captain Conroy’s voice up ahead, and I saw there was a crack of light around the door into the card room. I thought at first that he’d stayed up playing whist and was arguing over the game.

  “What SHE likes, is it?” he was saying. “NEVER a woman who knew what she liked nor would shut her mouth blathering about what SHE likes, what SHE likes!”

  Then – oh, Feo, I heard Mamma’s voice, and she did not sound calm.

  “Lower your tone,” she said. “Don’t talk to me so.” But she did not sound firm. There was a different quality in her voice. I think she was distressed and agitated.

  I came close to the door, thinking I would fling it open and say they would cause me a bad dream. But as I approached, I heard some piece of furniture scraping suddenly across the floor, and Captain Conroy saying, lower, but very angrily, “Always what SHE likes, but who does the work, I ask you!” Then I heard more scraping, and a thump against the wall.

  I thought Mamma might not like me to intrude on a private quarrel, but this did not seem usual. So, although I was terrified, I stepped up to the door and peered into the room.

  Oh, Feo. He had her pushed against the wall in the corner, and was holding her there. She twisted and tried to escape him, but he held her fast against the panelling, and kept saying, “SHE wants, does she, does she? But who’s the one who does the work, eh?”

  I could tell he might harm her. I was sure of it.

  But here is the problem: I didn’t know if he meant what Mamma wants, or what I want. For they are both always looking out for my interests, they are always telling me. So I thought if I went in, he might turn on me, too, and Mamma would be worse off.

  I was such a coward. I am ashamed of it now. I am not like my Papa. I ran back down the corridor to Mamma’s antechamber. De Spaeth was there, sitting up reading, waiting for Mamma to turn in. I was trembling and weeping (I realized later) and could hardly speak sensibly, but waved my arm, pointing, and said, “He’s hurting her, stop him hurting her!” And de Spaeth leapt up from her chair and said, “An assassin, a robber?”

  “The Captain!” I told her. “Sir John!”

  But de Spaeth did not seem to understand me. At least, I thought, either she didn’t understand or she just didn’t believe me. She said, “Your Highness, you should be in bed!”

  I said, “A good thing I’m not! The Captain is attacking Mamma! Stop him!” But she seized me by the hand and brought me into my corner of the bedchamber and tucked me in (so tight I could scarcely breathe) before she went to help Mamma, and I was furious at her. She is not a good hand in an emergency! I would never have thought it of her, but she was slow, Feo! If I had been Uncle Billy, I would have been roaring at her, “Put on more canvas, by God!” Had it been an assassin, Mamma would have been murdered by that time!

  But that is only the first part of the terrible story, and now I must go to sleep. I will try to write the rest tomorrow, for the world is upside down.

  1 November

  The sadness drags on.

  I meant to stay awake until I heard Mamma come in to her end of our suite. But, abed, in the darkness, I could not tell when I drifted off.

  In the morning, Lehzen had to wake me up for breakfast. Mamma was indisposed and so was de Spaeth, I thought. The Captain had gone out to the country shooting with Count Zichy’s equerry at someone’s private park. It turned out later that, besides my Papa’s watch, Mamma had given him a weimaraner bird dog we are not to be permitted to spoil.

  Before my lessons, I went to Mamma’s door with a posy of asters and chrysanthemums I picked while Lehzen and I gave Fanny and Dash their exercise. I thought it likely she was awake, but she was not. Mrs MacLeod said she and de Spaeth sat up talking about old times until dawn and were just going to bed when she came up to supervize the maid, Lutie, who was stirring up the fires.

  Everything seemed so natural and slow, I was like to doubt it all – some sort of nightmare no one else recalled.

  Only, Lehzen seemed distracted, and excused herself from the room while Mr Westall had Toire and me sketching seashells, in the style of his father’s South Sea Islands pictures. My palm trees appear too flat, for I do not do them from life.

  Then Mamma was at luncheon but de Spaeth was not, and when I asked why, Mamma said, “I think you know.” But I did not.

  Aunt Soap made several attempts to gossip about the dinner party, but Mamma pleaded her headache and did not take up the conversation. So eventually Aunt Soap withdrew to go visit Uncle Sussex, and Mamma told me to go with her and read some Aesop. Mamma also said to send Lehzen to her while I was in the library.

  Aunt Soap said, “Go over by the globes, there’s a good child,” so she could tell Uncle Sussex what she had in a note from Aunt Adelaide. When they don’t tell me all they have heard about Aunt Adelaide and I know they are speaking of her, I always wonder if she has had another unfortunate infant. It is not fair all her children should have died, for she and Uncle Billy like having little children about. Uncle says, “Well, it keeps one young to bide with young ones whenever one can, for one can’t always, after all.”

  But Aunt waited to get into the letter until I was at the table by the globes, where I could not hear.

  I wonder if I am turning into the sort of person Toire is, eavesdropping and tattling on what I think is wrongdoing.

  Later

  It is a good thing it’s shooting season. The Captain goes out hunting, and I am free to write. Lehzen is terrified, though, and I will explain why, if I can only write a bit longer today.

  I
did not suspect what a change in our life was already coming about! How bitter, now, my self-blame!

  When I returned to the white parlour, there were Lehzen and de Spaeth, sitting, prim and correct, on the pink satin chairs, and de Spaeth said, “Your Highness, you will envy me when I tell you where I am going.”

  “Where?” I said, thinking she must mean to some performance that evening or for a weekend party at one of the pretty places we’d stayed at in our recent travels.

  “Hohenlohe,” she said then, in a very quiet and decisive voice. “To Princess Feodora. She will have use for my training when she has a baby.”

  I could not believe what I was hearing! Kensington Palace has always had dear de Spaeth here for Mamma! I looked at her more closely and could not see that she had been weeping. But she does not get little purple speckles under her eyes as Aunt Soap does from the exertion of tears, and besides, she is v deft with cosmetics when she chooses to be. But even so, I thought she had been weeping. How could she not? She has been Mamma’s lady-in-waiting since Mamma was married to your father, Feo! We are her life! I am sure she thought England had become her home! I know she will be glad to be with you, but Mamma is her best friend – or was.

  Then the horror of the situation truly struck me, for I saw that not only was the dear Baroness to go – it was not even something she would choose for herself. Surely, she has been ordered away.

  And this is why Lehzen is so nervous. If de Spaeth can be sent away, who’s been here forever, WHAT ABOUT LEHZEN?

  I must be very, very careful.

  I hope Uncle Leopold will come visit us v SOON.

  2 November

  The saddest of mornings. It is my Papa’s birthday, and dear Baroness de Spaeth has gone. She did not even oversee her own packing, and has taken only her travelling bags and trunk. Mrs MacLeod will see to the rest. It is so unkind – no, it is more than unkind. It is cruel.

  De Spaeth and I had not been alone together this whole time, so I was not able to ask her what she said to Mamma that night. I do not know if Mamma knows it was I who sent the Baroness in to the card room. I tried to speak with Mamma yesterday, and then again this morning. She is v stiff and distracted with me.

  I asked her, “Without our de Spaeth, who will take care of you?” She said that she has other ladies – as if she were saying she has other bonnets.

  I told her I would not stand for her being hurt! I looked her in the eye when I said it, so she’d know I know how Captain Conroy treats her.

  “The Baroness is not my mother, Vickelchen,” she said coldly. “After twenty-five years, she sometimes forgets that. And Lehzen is not your mamma. You obey her because you would obey me. That is all.”

  I did not like this talk. Mamma seemed to be bending away from all that has happened, erasing and rewriting so it agrees with her better – so it will agree with Captain Conroy. Everything has to agree with him. I hate him.

  However, what she was saying about Lehzen made me think twice before saying more. I gave her a very cold, hard look, though, and I did not walk away. I insisted that she should not send de Spaeth away, that it is a very, VERY bad idea.

  I thought perhaps she was reconsidering, for it was a long moment before she spoke again. But then she said, “You and everyone else will think I sent her away. Let them think it. She was very improper in a particular way she spoke to me recently. She has gone too far. I cannot tolerate such intrusion and such selfishness from one of my ladies. But I did not cast her off.”

  “Then you should stop him from doing so,” I told her.

  “Is that what you think? You are still so young,” Mamma said then, and her tone was not entirely gentle. “De Spaeth saw it was time for her to leave, and she has gone. If your father had lived through our first year here, she would have gone back to Germany before this, child. Your father would not have permitted her to be so outspoken. But I had only known him a little when we married, and I did not live in England for even a year before he died. If it had not been for Sir John, we should none of us have done well. You should remember that and learn to be grateful to those who want the best for you.”

  “I am grateful to the Baroness,” I said. “I had thought it a lesson you meant to teach me by example.”

  Then I curtsied. I did not ask to be excused, but I left her there. I was very angry, and feared if I did not go, I would say things I should be sorry for later.

  5 November

  Riding with Lehzen, Grampion, Lady Cowper. Happened to encounter Aunt Adelaide with Lord Paget and Georgie Cumberland, and Aunt’s footman, Tomthorne. We rode two and two, Aunt and Lady Cowper, Lord Paget and Lehzen, Georgie and myself, and Grampion and Tomthorne.

  Georgie says our Uncle King will die soon. They all speak of it at Windsor and do not even whisper, he says, for His Majesty does not hear or see well or much care anymore. Except that now everyone must tell him all the time how they love his glorious accomplishments.

  “And then, it’s Sailor Bill of Clarence who will be king. Aunt Adelaide will be Her Majesty the Queen, and I’ll be her favourite, because you remind her of her dead baby girl,” Georgie said.

  I was about out of my mind, he is so horrid!

  “You’d make an awful Queen, you would,” he went on, knowing none of the grown-ups were listening. “Uncle William’s sixty-four years old, he can’t last. My father’s only fifty-nine. He’ll outlast old Admiral Pineapple-head, see if he doesn’t.”

  I didn’t say that my Papa was only fifty-three, younger than the rest, and the healthiest one in the family, and he didn’t outlast them. Fate is in Our Lord’s hands, as the Reverend Mr Davys says.

  It seems to me, Georgie is the sort who will have a great number of boys wanting to knock him down for what he says. I am surprised his father doesn’t do it, he has such a violent temper.

  But our talk was ended then, for a band of schoolboys set off a string of Chinese firecrackers nearby. My poor Rosa took fright and sped right off the bridle path and across the grass there, which was still frosty in the shade under the beech trees. Rosa stayed away from the low branches and in the sun. I was glad for the gallop, only Lehzen was quite white in the face when they all caught up with me.

  When we got home and I changed out of my riding suit and boots, I found I had a bruise inside my knee where it hooks over the pommel of my side saddle.

  I told Lehzen all of what Georgie had said about Uncle King and Uncle William. She said he was quite improper to speak so. She said I should remember he is younger than I am, and a naughty boy.

  6 November

  I miss Baroness de Spaeth.

  I deplore my own Mother’s behaviour.

  I shall never trust Captain Conroy, not ever more.

  Lehzen is as nervous as a cat about my writing, and so I must be v cautious from now on, even more than before.

  Mamma is planning a brilliant dinner party for next month. Lehzen and I dressed dolls as ladies to attend. We made up names for them: Apollonia, Countess Delaville; Juno, Duchess of Durham; Rebekah, Duchess of Mountjoy; and Lady Nina Morton. It is a relief to whisper about dolls, rather than real persons. The Countess Delaville, we decided, has been married three times, and she is divinely happy this time, at last. Her husband, the Count, is a very superior individual. The match was also advantageous to her children’s prospects.

  8 December

  Mamma will have a holiday dinner party, although everyone is still so shocked about poor dear de Spaeth, travelling at such a time of year. I can only remember the last party and how terribly it turned out. My stomach churns at the thought it could happen again. If I pay attention to how things go, perhaps I can make sure it stays amusing for everyone so there’ll be no trouble.

  I wonder if Uncle Leopold will come to dinner. He has been saying little to Mamma these last few months. They are at odds about de Spaeth and about Greec
e.

  I told Toire I had a headache. It was the truth. My head ached from hearing her make a Remark about Uncle Leopold dying his hair black so he will look like the Greek god Jove to the people of Athens.

  9 December

  Mamma’s dinner was a great success. We had six Princesses, two Princes, and three Ambassadors. However, not Uncle Leopold.

  We had bisque marine with chervil and lemon, salmi of pheasant and grouse, roast beef with mustard sauce, baked apples, and brandy pudding with hard sauce. Also a lot of dishes I did not eat, for they consisted of sprouts, cabbage, kale, and all that I am not fond of. There were no caraway seeds, alas. Seeds are not the fashion.

  Captain Conroy did not drink too much, I am happy to say.

  29 December

  The close of the year. Lehzen says I should be keeping a careful record, if a record I am keeping. I think she is correct. She frequently is, because she thinks as well as listens so much of the time while others are speaking.

  Christmas dinner at Claremont, thanks be to heaven. It was so jolly. I gave everyone a good gift. I will list them later, if I have time. Here is what they gave me, and I must write letters of thanks:

  Feo and Ernest sent me baby house furniture – a whole library with globes and bookcases, a leather armchair and oak table, and a tiny Latin dictionary an inch and a half square with a brass clasp.

  Charles sent me a toy called a Thaumatrope. When it spins, you see a picture of a parrot go onto the picture of a perch, and the wig flies off a bald man’s head, or back onto his head, if you spin it backward. It has a great number of picture pairs that combine in this droll fashion.

  Uncle Leopold gave me two more pearls for my necklace, and Uncle Sussex gave me one. Uncle Sussex gave me a volume of poetry, The Parliament of Fowles by Geoffrey Chaucer. Uncle Leopold gave me a mechanistical monkey dressed as a Persian magician. The monkey’s eyes roll and he waves his wand while a music box in the base plays “Turkish Rondo”.