“What’s wrong?” Liza asked.
“Why are you crying, Liebling?” The Baroness hurried over. “You’re finally the Queen. It’s the beginning of everything.”
Tears rolling freely down her cheeks, Victoria said, “He’s dead, Lehzen. He was kind to me. And poor Aunt Adelaide, she must be so sad.”
“The King is dead. Long live the Queen,” Liza said quietly.
“Remember who you are,” said the Baroness to Victoria. “Let me be the first to say it…Your Majesty.” The Baroness burst into tears, but Victoria, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, began to smile.
“Liza, my white dressing gown,” she said.
Baroness Lehzen agreed. “It’s very flattering.”
“And Lehzen, my hair needs doing.”
“Your Majesty, perhaps you should leave it down?” Liza said. “You can’t help your youth; use it to charm and disarm their lordships.”
“Down,” Victoria agreed.
The Baroness brushed the Princess’s dark hair. It was still thin from her illness, but Lehzen arranged it flatteringly over her shoulders.
“Who is downstairs, Liza?” asked Baroness Lehzen, as Liza tweaked the bows on Victoria’s dressing gown.
“Lord Conyngham and the Archbishop of Canterbury.”
“My mother knows?” Victoria asked.
“She’s trying to make them wait.” Liza allowed herself a giggle. “They are very vexed by the delay.”
Lehzen snorted, but Victoria lifted her chin, her eyes gleaming. “Let her, darling Lehzen. It is the last time she shall infringe upon my prerogatives.”
An iciness in her voice made Liza realize the Princess was gone forever.
Queen Victoria indeed.
Voices in the hall made all three look sharply to the door. Then Victoria gave herself a little shake and smiled at herself in the mirror. “I have no reason to fear Sir John or my mother ever again.”
The Duchess let herself in. She held a silver candlestick. The solemnity of her expression gave way to irritation when she saw Liza and Lehzen dressing Victoria.
“I suppose the maid has already told you?” she asked.
“Yes, Mama. Aren’t you very sad about Uncle King?” Victoria asked. She swiveled round from her dressing table to look at her mother.
“Of course.” The Duchess straightened Victoria’s collar and smoothed her hair. “You should put your hair up,” she said. “It will make you seem more mature.”
“The difference one poor old man’s death makes! You never wanted me to look mature before.” Victoria’s tone was deceptively light. Liza saw the Duchess’s back stiffen and the hand stroking her daughter’s hair froze.
“I admit I made some mistakes, Victoria,” the Duchess said finally. “But can’t we put that aside? I’ve sacrificed my whole life for yours.”
“And I’m grateful, of course.” Liza didn’t think Victoria sounded grateful. “However, from this point forward, I’ll make my own decisions, Mama. I shall wear my hair down because I choose to. I shall meet my ministers privately. When I address the council, I will do so alone. You will never have any influence over affairs of state.”
The Duchess burst into tears. “You are so cruel. What have I done to make you be so hateful?”
Victoria’s face might have been sculpted from alabaster, she showed so little emotion. “Mama, it is what you didn’t do. You never protected me from Sir John. You never, ever, placed my happiness above your own, as a mother ought.”
The Duchess stared speechless at her daughter, who returned her gaze steadfastly. This new Victoria was impressive, though Liza wished she could warn Victoria not to say anything unforgivable. Liza had lost her parents to a tragic accident. Did Victoria want to lose her mother to her anger and bitterness?
As if she knew of Liza’s concern, Victoria relented a little. “Of course, you shall always make your home with me. As my mother, you’ll never want for anything.”
The Duchess blew her nose loudly.
The tableau was broken by a loud thumping. Victoria gestured to Liza, who opened the door. Sir John loomed in the doorway. He brushed past Liza as though she didn’t exist.
“How long are you going to keep us waiting?” he asked.
The four women in the room gaped at his astonishing rudeness.
The new Queen looked at him with nothing short of hatred. “In a few moments, Sir John, the Archbishop of Canterbury is going to inform me that I am the Queen.” She drew herself up to her full height. “And once I am, you are never to enter my royal presence again.”
“Victoria!” The Duchess cried.
“Mama, stay out of this.”
Sir John sneered down at his former charge. “You aren’t even crowned yet and already you are abusing your power.”
“I had an excellent teacher.”
Liza wanted to applaud and the Baroness Lehzen’s plain face was split by a wide smile.
“History will attribute any success of yours to my Kensington System,” said Sir John. “You’ll never escape my upbringing.”
“You forget once I am Queen, mine is the only story people will care about. Everyone will know the truth about your wretched System.” Victoria smiled triumphantly. “Pack your bags today and go.”
“I work for your mother. You’ve no authority to remove me.”
Victoria tossed her head. “Lord Liverpool assures me the exorbitant pension you extorted will only be paid when you quit my mother’s service and I am rid of you forever. You are dismissed.”
“It’s not so easy to get rid of me,” Sir John warned.
“Liza,” Victoria said, without taking her eyes from Sir John. “I’m sure Lord Conyngham has come with a retinue of guards. Please fetch one.”
“Gladly, Your Majesty.” Liza stressed Victoria’s new title.
His face flushed with humiliation, Sir John turned on his heel and stalked out. The door banged behind him.
Victoria watched his back with satisfaction. “And that is the end of Sir John.”
“Victoria,” her mother began weakly. “How can you be—”
Victoria silenced her mother by holding up her hand. “Mama, if you want to be part of my life, don’t ever take his side again.”
The imposing Duchess seemed to shrink while tiny Victoria grew taller.
“You look bedraggled, Mama,” Victoria said. “You should repair your face before we go down.”
The Duchess, as if in a trance, moved to her own dressing table and began to powder her tear-streaked face.
Victoria turned to Baroness Lehzen. “While I am meeting my ministers, darling Lehzen, please arrange a new bedroom for me. And one for you nearby. Tonight, I will sleep alone.”
“Victoria!” The Duchess’s protest was half-hearted.
“Mama, you may stay in our former rooms.” Victoria paused before the mirror. “Lehzen, Liza, how do I look?”
The Baroness had been silent since the Duchess’s arrival, but now she burst into excited speech. “Lovely.” Her voice faltered. “To everyone else you will be the Queen, but you’ll always be the daughter of my heart.”
“Oh, Lehzen! We shall never be parted.” Victoria embraced her. The Duchess averted her eyes as her daughter embraced her governess.
Victoria said to her mother, “Shall we go, Mama?” Then she picked up the silver candlestick and walked out the door, her mother trailing behind. Liza thought the Duchess did it rather well, considering how unaccustomed she was to being in her daughter’s shadow.
While Victoria spoke with her guests privately the staff prepared the house to mourn King William’s passing. The clocks were stopped in honor of the dead King and Mrs. Strode ordered black crepe be draped over all the mirrors.
To show their respect for their new monarch, the servants lined up on the landing outside the red drawing room. As always, Mademoiselle Blanche tried to bully her way to her accustomed spot at the head of the line. But Mrs. Strode shook her head firmly. With a gra
cious gesture, she invited Liza to take the first place.
Although Liza knew it was unworthy of her, as she moved to the front of the line, she could not resist saying, “Mademoiselle, I think there is no question about precedence now?”
Nell was listening at the door. “She’s coming!”
Victoria appeared in her youthful dressing gown, her hair loose over her shoulders. The servants sank into their deepest curtsies or bowed until their foreheads scraped the floor. It was the first curtsy Liza had done with her whole heart since she arrived at Kensington Palace.
20 June 1837 Excerpt from the Journal of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria
I went into my sitting room (only in my dressing gown) alone and saw them. Lord Conyngham then acquainted me that my poor Uncle, the King, was no more, and had expired at 12 minutes past two this morning and consequently that I am Queen.
27
In Which Liza Gives Up Her Heart’s Desire for Her Heart’s Desire
Liza was more exhilarated than tired as she slipped out of the Palace into the crowds thronging the gardens. She looked back at Kensington Palace; the staid, old house seemed to quiver with new energy. The windows to the state apartments flung open and the tiny figure of Victoria appeared in the opening. Cheers erupted from the crowd; Liza thought her ears might explode.
One moment she was fighting the sea of people, the next she was alone. She saw Will’s tall, but not too tall, figure leaning against the chestnut tree. He bowed and she curtsied.
“You look lovely in your dark dress. Is this another of Victoria’s castoffs?”
“No, this one is mine.” Liza stroked her taffeta skirt. “Victoria has barely enough mourning for herself. The dressmakers are queuing. The Queen insists the court mourn for twelve weeks.” She made a face. “Ten more than I was allowed to wear my own blacks.”
“The royals have different rules,” he said. “You of all people should know that.” His eyes went to the hollows of her neck. “I like that locket. I don’t think I’ve seen you wear jewelry before.”
“I wasn’t permitted to as a maid. But that’s all changed now.”
She admired the cut of his dark coat. “You. In mourning, for King William?”
“I harried the man enough when he was alive, a show of respect is the least I could do.” He smiled ruefully. “Besides, my best girl works at the Palace.”
“Your best girl?” asked Liza archly. “There are others?”
“Well, my first choice has kept me waiting. Now we have a new Queen, I hope she’ll marry me.”
Liza looked off in the distance at Kensington Palace.
His smile faded. “That was our agreement, wasn’t it?”
There was a long silence.
“I just never thought past this morning,” Liza admitted, matching Will’s gaze.
“The day’s arrived. Will you marry me now?”
She took a deep breath. “Will, when my parents died, I was left alone to fend for myself.”
“And you did.”
“I know! I found a job, good friends, and a new life.”
“And me.” Will thumped his chest.
“And you.” She smiled. “But I wanted my old life back. I couldn’t see past everything I had lost.”
“And now?”
“I don’t want the life I led before. I want the life I’m going to build with you.”
“Ah, finally!” He tilted her chin and kissed her gently. “And you’ll let me help with your debts?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Liza assured him. “I’ve heard from Papa’s solicitor. You are looking at the sole owner of a large boatful of very expensive and fashionable scarves from Kashmir.”
“Ship,” he corrected.
“Boat, ship.” Liza shrugged. “What matters is I possess a moderate fortune. Not to mention a reward from a grateful Queen.”
“Victoria?”
“No, Adelaide!” She laughed at his surprise. “A thank-you for helping Victoria.”
“She wants you to keep quiet?” Will guessed.
Liza nodded.
“She’s a clever and generous woman. I’m sorry I wrote all those stories about her. Well, she’s out of it now. No scandal sheets will bother with her now that she’s the Dowager Queen.” He grabbed Liza’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Are you sure you aren’t too rich for me now?” He never took his eyes from hers.
“Just rich enough, Mr. Fulton. Now I can come to you without liabilities.” She sighed. “I feel terrible. I blamed my parents for leaving me destitute, but all the while, my inheritance floated to me on the Indian Ocean. I should have trusted them better.”
But without this year, I wouldn’t have met Will. And I wouldn’t have learned what I am capable of.
With the intuition she loved about him, Will let her thoughts take their course. After several moments, he handed her one of the handkerchiefs she had embroidered for him. Dabbing her eyes, she said, “Thank you.”
“It was my honor.”
She smacked her forehead with a gloved hand. “How could I forget? Speaking of honors—Victoria has offered me one.”
Will looked wary.
“She wants to make me her gentlewoman of the bedchamber.”
“I’ve never heard of such a position.”
“Victoria made it up,” Liza laughed. “I don’t have birth enough to be a true lady in waiting, but this way I can be a lady and still be close to her.”
“Liza,” Will said slowly. “A lady can’t marry a newspaper man.”
Watching him closely, Liza said, “She could marry a minor knight. How would you like to be William Fulton, Esquire?”
He rocked back on his heels. “A knighthood? For what?”
“You took her side when she had no one.”
“But I also took the other side!” he exclaimed.
“Victoria doesn’t see it like that,” Liza assured him. “I’ve told her all about you. Perhaps she just wants to make it easier for us to marry. All the Queens in England are paving the way for us.”
He shook his head. “I can’t take it.”
“Will—it’s rank! You won’t get another chance like this.”
“Liza, the kind of honor I want, no one can give.” His face set in a stubborn look Liza knew well.
“Not even me?” Liza asked, watching him closely.
“Not even you.”
Liza kissed him lightly. She had chaffed him long enough. “I knew you would refuse.”
He looked at her sharply.
“Your pride is one of the things I love about you,” Liza said. “I already told Victoria thank you, but no.”
“For both of us? You refused being lady of the chamber pot?”
“Gentlewoman of the bedchamber!”
“And my knighthood?” He growled, but his eyes were smiling. “You gave that up without even talking to me?”
“Will, you can’t be proud in both directions at once!” Liza laughed. “She offered Inside Boy a garnet brooch. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her he’s probably stolen much more valuable items from her mother’s jewelry box. He should just be grateful she didn’t shop him to the peelers.”
Will burst out laughing. “Living at Kensington Palace has had a terrible effect on you—you’re pattering flash, stealing horses, playing bailiff.” He stopped laughing. “You’ve come so far this year. Are you sure you still want to marry me? You are giving up so much.”
“Will, I want to marry you more than anything,” Liza said firmly. “If I’ve learned anything this past year, it’s riches and rank don’t make you happy.”
“What about Victoria?” he asked. “Will she be happy now she has everything?”
Liza shrugged. “She’s never had a chance to make her own choices before. It may go to her head.”
“But you’re well out of it?”
Liza nodded. “She doesn’t need me anymore.”
“Are you certain?”
“Will, if you keep asking me
that, I may have to reconsider! You are my choice.” She brushed a lock of sandy hair off his forehead. “I haven’t said that for the longest time. My choice.”
Will held out his hand. Liza could see a faint imprint of ink stains. Without hesitation, she took his hand in her own.
“What do we do now, dear Liza?” he asked.
“I’ve the rest of the day to myself. Will you take me to Claridge’s Hotel? I’ve an account to settle.”
She glanced back at Kensington Palace. The setting sun bathed the red brick house in golden light.
“Don’t look back,” said Will.
“Why not? Mama was right; it was a year like no other.”
Author’s Note
At the end of Prisoners in the Palace, in 1837, the eighteen-year-old Victoria ascended the throne. She reigned for sixty-four years, longer than any other British monarch. While she was Queen, England became an empire of over four million square miles and one hundred twenty-four million people. She was dearly loved by the public and is credited with restoring the faith of the British people in the monarchy itself.
You may be dismayed to learn Victoria married Prince Albert, although by all reports his disposition and looks had improved by the time they met again (three years after their first encounter). It was a successful marriage and they had nine children. Albert became her closest adviser. Through his efforts, Victoria and her mother were eventually reconciled. When Albert died of overwork at the age of forty-two, Victoria was inconsolable. She built an enormous (some people think it’s quite tacky) memorial to his memory not far from Kensington Palace. She retreated from public life as much as possible and wore mourning until her death in 1901. The image of the tiny dark Victoria, dressed in mourning, is the way most of us know her. I wanted to write about the girl with fair hair (before she contracted typhoid) who loved to dance and reveled in staying up late.
Although Victoria died over a century ago, I hear her voice quite clearly in my head because I’ve read her diaries. It is great fun trying to find the teenager hiding in the words “Mama would find proper.” She made her entries in pencil, which were only to be inked over when her mother approved them. The Baroness Lehzen looms large in the diaries as “dear, dear Lehzen,” but the Duchess is just “Mama.” Victoria never lost the habit of journaling, and by the time she died she had written over one hundred volumes. The excerpts of Victoria’s journal entries and the Duchess’s letters to her daughter in the novel are authentic, although I’ve taken the liberty of rearranging some dates.
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