And now another link with Rosenau was about to be broken. His father was going.
The carriage was at the door. He had said his final farewell. He stood watching it ride away with the tears in his eyes.
Then he turned and went slowly into the palace.
Victoria was waiting for him at the top of the staircase.
‘My poor dear Albert …’
She barred his way, her own blue eyes filled with tears.
‘I understand how you are feeling …’
He cried: ‘You don’t … you don’t …’ and dashed past her into his sitting-room. He could not bear to talk to her then. He feared that if he did he would tell her that he wanted to go home, burst into tears and cry like any baby. He could hear her calling his name as she had run after him; swiftly he turned the key in the lock.
‘Albert,’ she cried. ‘Albert, I am here.’
‘I … I wish to be alone.’
‘You can’t … not from me.’
‘Victoria, please go away. I am too upset.’
‘No, no,’ she said. ‘I am going to comfort you. Open the door. Open it at once.’
He obeyed and she was ready to throw herself into his arms, but he stood silent, unresponsive.
‘Albert,’ she cried, aghast, ‘I want to comfort you. I know how you feel. Your father has gone away.’
‘How can you know?’ he cried. ‘You have never known a father.’
‘No, but I understand.’
‘And you don’t love your mother, so you can’t understand.’
He turned away from her coldly, but she put her arms round him and held him tightly against her; she began to cry.
‘Albert, my dearest, but I can’t bear to see you unhappy. I love you, Albert.’
He turned to her then and they wept together.
He had been unkind, he said.
No, no, not unkind. It was all so natural. He must share his troubles. She must make him understand that.
They kissed and she was immediately wildly happy.
‘God knows how great my wish is to make you happy and contented. I would do anything … anything …’
How could he help but be touched and moved by such devotion?
But later he thought: Yes, she would do anything for me … except let me share her throne.
* * *
Albert was deeply shocked. He would not have believed it of Ernest, although his brother had always laughed at him and called him a prude. But that Ernest should have had adventures which could produce such a result was a terrible blow and indeed a great lesson. Ernest had been looking unwell for some weeks.
‘It is this strange country,’ said Albert. ‘You’ll feel better when you leave.’
Ernest had let that rest for a while; but later – so he told Albert – he had become alarmed and seen a doctor.
‘It was a woman in Berlin,’ he said.
‘A woman!’ cried Albert. ‘Good God, Ernest! You can’t be serious.’
‘Albert, for Heaven’s sake do be a little more worldly. These things happen now and then, you know.’
‘And those to whom they happen have to abide by the consequences,’ said Albert severely.
‘You’re right there, my dear brother. I hope you never get into this sort of mess.’ Albert was even more horrified which at least made Ernest laugh. ‘As if you would.’
‘Should one joke about such a serious matter? Ernest, I am glad our father doesn’t know about this.’
‘He knows, Albert. He understood. He is not immune from the temptations of the flesh as you are.’
‘Should we say that I have taught myself to overcome them.’
‘Well, I make a guess that dear little Vic keeps you busy.’
Albert was horrified. ‘Ernest, what has happened to you?’
‘A fate, alas, that catches up with many of us – except the virtuous like you, Albert. That is if there are any more like you … which I very much doubt.’
Albert’s affection for this brother overcame his shock. ‘You must get the best possible treatment.’
‘That’s what I am doing.’
‘And then, Ernest, marry. But not until you are completely well. You must not risk getting a sick heir.’
‘You may trust me.’
‘I shall tell Victoria. We have said we shall not have secrets from each other.’
‘I understand,’ said Ernest.
‘I shall hate telling her but I think it is an unpleasant duty.’
‘Don’t worry. It’ll only make her realise all the more that in taking you she got the better bargain.’
* * *
In hushed and solemn tones he explained the situation to Victoria, who flushed scarlet with embarrassment and horror when she heard.
‘My dear Albert, but this is so terrible.’
‘It’s the reward of sin,’ said Albert.
‘Of course Ernest is very gay.’
‘Too gay.’
‘But he is your brother and therefore very dear to us both. Everything must be done to cure him. Can he be cured, Albert?’
‘Oh, yes. I gather he is only lightly infected. I have been talking to him of the benefits of married life.’
Victoria smiled radiantly. ‘Oh, but we are so fortunate. Everyone cannot be as happy as we are.’
Albert pressed her hand in agreement and added: ‘Ernest is a man who needs marriage if he is to lead a decent and honourable life.’
Victoria nodded gravely and then with one of her impulsive gestures she threw her arms about his neck and said: ‘Oh, Albert, how very fortunate we are. I knew as soon as I saw you that you would be pure and faithful.’ She looked at him in horror. ‘Suppose I had chosen Ernest.’
‘Then one person would have been most unhappy,’ said Albert. ‘Myself.’
‘And I too, Albert. Oh, how wise I was! But then as soon as I set eyes on you, I knew.’
They were very content in each other for the rest of that day and night.
* * *
Victoria herself began to be worried. She had been married for about six weeks. It really could not be, she assured herself. It was far too early.
The only person she could talk to about it was the Baroness.
‘Dear Daisy, can it be … so soon?’
‘Well, it certainly could,’ said the Baroness.
Victoria began to shiver. ‘I must confess, Daisy, that it makes me a little uneasy.’
‘My darling, I’d be there all the time to look after you.’
‘I know. Old Louie was there to look after my Cousin Charlotte but she died.’
‘You mustn’t compare yourself with the Princess Charlotte.’
‘Why not? According to Uncle Leopold she was a healthy girl. That she should die having her baby was most unexpected.’
‘Look, this is not the way to talk or think. My opinion is it’s a little soon and you may be mistaken.’
‘I hope so.’
‘But you want a baby.’
‘Not yet. I want to wait a while. Besides …’ She shivered. ‘Ever since Lady John Russell died having hers …’
‘Oh, that was different. She was old compared with you.’
‘I am perhaps too small to bear children.’
‘It makes no difference. Think of all the fun we’ll have getting ready. All the lovely things. You must let me make some myself. Will you?’
‘Darling Daisy, you shall do exactly as you want.’
‘It’ll be like dressing the dolls.’
‘Oh, my darling dolls! What fun we had with them! I believe you’re already planning the baby’s layette.’
‘Well, of course,’ said Lehzen. ‘We shall have to furnish the nursery afresh.’
‘You make me feel almost excited.’
‘You’ll be excited, my love. You see.’
‘I shall have my moments of fear. Do you know how many women die in childbed, Lehzen?’
‘They are poor. It’s different for a queen.
You’ll have all the best doctors. This will be the heir to the throne, remember. And I’ll be there.’
‘I’ve already started to think about names.’
‘If it’s a girl it must be Victoria.’
‘How will you know which of us is which?’
‘I will know,’ said Lehzen. ‘Never fear, I shall be in no danger of confusing the Queen and the Princess Royal.’
‘But it should be a boy.’
‘Then it will have a king’s name.’
‘Whatever you say, Lehzen, it is a terrible ordeal. It frightens me. I just cannot get Lady John out of my mind. She was so well just before and then …’
Tears began to fall down the Queen’s cheeks; she had been very fond of Lady John and her dear children. She always invited them to come when their stepmother visited her; and she and they used to race up and down the corridors of Buckingham Palace with Dash, Islay or one of the other dogs at their heels.
Albert came in. He had been riding with Ernest and looked very handsome in his habit. Lehzen gave him a rather perfunctory curtsey which angered him because there was, he fancied, a trace of insolence in it. She did not retire as of course she should; and what was more irritating was that Victoria did not command her to.
‘You have enjoyed the ride, Albert?’ asked the Queen.
‘Very much.’
‘And Ernest is looking better, I think.’
‘He is much better.’
‘I am so glad of that.’
Lehzen was putting the Queen’s wrap away with elaborate care, a task for one of her ladies of the bedchamber. What position in the household did Lehzen hold? he wondered in irritation. She behaved as though she were a member of the family.
Albert implied that he wished to speak to Victoria alone and she with perfect ease said: ‘I will see you at six, Daisy.’
Lehzen, who had been so insolent with him, showed her respect for the Queen by her immediate acknowledgement of the order.
When they were alone Albert said: ‘I see you have been crying. What has happened to upset you?’
She hesitated. Then: ‘Well, Albert, I am not quite sure … but I have fears … I mean hopes … that …’
Albert’s face was illuminated by his joy.
‘My dear little wife! But this is wonderful news.’
A momentary irritation crossed her face. It was all very well for him. He did not have to face the terrifying ordeal; he did not have to risk his life.
‘Of course,’ she said, ‘it is too soon to be absolutely sure yet.’
‘If it is … oh, Victoria, if it is …’
‘I confess I shall be a little frightened.’
‘The first time is a little frightening I believe.’
‘I am glad to hear that as a man you are aware of that.’
‘But it will be a great blessing … so soon. It is a good sign that we may have many children.’
She shivered.
‘There will be great rejoicing … everywhere,’ he went on.
‘I wish I were not so small. That might make difficulties.’
‘I have never heard this is so.’
‘Nor has Lehzen. But I believe it may have some effect and it is I who have to endure it, you know.’
‘Lehzen! So you have already discussed this with her.’
‘We were talking of it as you came in.’
He was silent. Now was the time to tell her that he resented the Baroness. The fact that this important matter – their secret – could be discussed with Lehzen was hurtful enough, but that she should have spoken of it to the woman before she did to him appalled him.
‘I am sure,’ he said, with sarcasm, ‘that the Baroness, being an unmarried woman, knows a great deal about such matters.’
‘Lehzen always makes it her affair to know all she can about anything that might happen to me.’ Even her voice softened when she spoke of the woman.
He determined in that moment that he was going to be rid of her because he could never really hope to be master in his house while she was there.
* * *
Albert decided to confide in Baron Stockmar. To him he could speak in German and he knew that as a confidant of Uncle Leopold it was in his interest to help the marriage to succeed and that it was Uncle Leopold’s wish – and therefore Stockmar’s – that Albert should have a hand in the government of the country.
‘I find my position becoming more and more intolerable,’ he told the Baron. ‘I am never allowed to know the smallest thing about the politics of this country. The Queen treats me as a pet to be fondled and to receive extravagant compliments; Lord Melbourne behaves towards me as though I am a child. They are both determined to exclude me.’
Stockmar nodded gravely. He, the expert observer, was fully aware of the situation.
‘It is quite intolerable,’ went on Albert, ‘particularly as the Queen confides fully in the Baroness Lehzen. I have seen her reading state papers in the presence of the Queen. She has complete charge of the household. I am allowed no say in anything. I am occasionally permitted to blot her signature when she signs the papers. That is the limit of my usefulness. I sometimes wish that I had never come here. I might have had a small house of my own but at least I should have been master of it.’
The Baron said: ‘You are too impatient. This matter needs very thoughtful action. In time you will succeed. I have no doubt whatsoever of the Queen’s devotion to you personally. You have succeeded in your most important duty and that is to charm the Queen. She is as deeply in love with you as any young woman could be. That is your strength. Indeed if this state of affairs can be retained, you will be invincible. But what you have most need of at this time is patience.’
‘I certainly need a great deal of that,’ said Albert grimly.
‘You are not sufficiently interested in politics.’
‘How can I be when I am not allowed to know what is going on?’
‘An unworthy observation for a man of Your Highness’s intelligence,’ said the Baron. ‘You are excluded from secret documents of state, but there is no reason why you should not make yourself fully conversant with the press. A cross-section of Whig and Tory writers will give you an insight into current opinions. You do not read the papers as you should. It is of equal importance that you should know the mood of the country, the position of the two parties and how public opinion stands. This will be a great compensation for the lack of access to private papers.’
The Prince was thoughtful; he knew this was sound advice.
‘I will do this,’ he said. ‘But I can never discuss affairs of state with the Queen. Whenever I attempt to, she changes the subject and talks of something quite frivolous. Yet she can be closeted for an hour at a time with Lord Melbourne. There seems to be a conspiracy between them to keep me out.’
‘The Queen’s relationship with Lord Melbourne is an unusual one. Her Majesty came to the throne at the age of eighteen – a young impressionable girl with a determination to be a good queen. Her Prime Minister was Lord Melbourne – a man of social grace and great charm – worldly in the extreme. The Queen was immediately impressed by him. In her eyes he could do no wrong. Indeed, at one time some people thought she might marry Lord Melbourne.’
The Prince was startled and looked alarmed.
‘Ah,’ went on Stockmar. ‘I see I am right and you have not made yourself cognizant of affairs in this country. You should not feel jealous of Lord Melbourne. He has a subtle mind and he understands the position perfectly. He knew there was never any question of marriage between them and so did the Queen. She never knew her father, and consequently looked for a father in other men. Her relationship with your Uncle Leopold was one of the most passionate devotion on both sides and adoration as well on hers. When your Uncle Leopold was no longer there she turned to Lord Melbourne. But these were the father figures. You are the husband. All that passionate devotion will be yours in due course providing you know how to divert it in your direction. At the mome
nt the Queen loves you devotedly. Everyone realises that she is madly in love with her husband. But in the same way as Lord Melbourne weaned her from Leopold so you will wean her from Melbourne. Everything is on your side and if you behave in the right manner you will be more whole-heartedly loved than ever Leopold or Melbourne were.’
‘I know she has a loving nature.’
‘She is overflowing with affection. She is good. You have in fact a wonderful wife but she is also a queen. She has been brought up with this knowledge and she has a sacred dedication to her duty. You are the most fortunate of young men to have such a wife and to be the husband of such a queen. But there are difficulties ahead which you will overcome. Your appearance is in your favour. It enchants the Queen, who is susceptible to good-looking people. Your calm and cautious character will stand you in good stead. You are her perfect complement. Your calm will always win against her violent temper. It is her chief fault and her great disadvantage. She loses her temper; you keep yours. Calm always wins over tempest. Remember that.’
‘I am sure your advice is sound and I am greatly cheered by it.’
‘Well, now a plan of action. You are going to make yourself knowledgeable politically. Lord Melbourne is difficult to approach because he is so much the Queen’s man. But what of Sir Robert Peel?’
‘The Queen hates him.’
Stockmar laughed. ‘Peel is a brilliant statesman. He has been a little piqued by the affair of the Bedchamber a year or so ago. Who would not be? The Queen behaved in a very unconstitutional manner. You must read accounts of this. I will see that they come to your hands. But for the chivalry of Melbourne and the dignity of Peel the Queen could have been in a difficult position over that affair. And following so closely on the Flora Hastings scandal it made Her Majesty very unpopular. These are matters which you must study. The Queen, like most young monarchs, does not yet understand the importance of pleasing the people. Her very crown depends on it. That is something you will be able to teach her. In the meantime cultivate the men who, though they may not be governing the Country now, will be doing so in a very short time. Are you aware that the fall of the Melbourne Ministry is imminent? When it falls there will be a Tory Government. There must be no repetition of the Bedchamber affair. You will have to save the Queen from that folly. And when the new government comes in you may well be on friendly terms with the new Prime Minister, Sir Robert Peel.’
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