Queen Victoria's Mysterious Daughter

by Lucinda Hawksley

  On their holidays, Louise and Lorne would stay independently of the queen, usually at a hotel close to whichever grand home the queen had been lent for her holiday. Often they were accompanied by Lord Ronnie Gower, as well as at least one of Louise’s ladies-in-waiting, usually Lady Sophia MacNamara. Louise would travel incognito as the Countess of Sundridge. Since the death of Boehm, her health had been poor and her spirits low; just as she had done when living in Canada, when she became depressed she began spending more and more time overseas. Lorne and Ronnie would travel with Louise until she was settled, then take off on their own. This agreement suited all of them, not least because Louise was having to spend increasing amounts of time helping her mother – Louise’s childlessness and Beatrice’s fecundity meant that Louise was being sucked back into the role she had so detested. The role was less difficult now, as the queen was mellowing in her older age. She was far more indulgent of her grandchildren than she had ever been of her own children and she and Louise began to enjoy a less antagonistic relationship as Louise grew into middle age. When Boehm died, her mother would have been able to understand Louise’s grief, having lost both her beloved Albert and John Brown. She, perhaps more than anyone, could have identified with Louise’s misery and loneliness.

  When Louise was in London she was part of a social life that revolved around theatre, opera and dinner parties (fitted in between regular visits to Osborne and Windsor). She and Lorne had a wide circle of friends, many of whom they shared with Bertie, and the couple were always in demand. When they visited Wolverhampton for an official engagement, they attended the opening night of Oscar Wilde’s A Woman of No Importance. The papers were thrilled to report on the procession that followed the royal carriage: ‘Among the private carriages at the rear of the procession was one drawn by a pair of greys … having in the windows the announcement, in large letters, “This carriage is reserved for a Woman of No Importance”.’ Louise, Lorne and Bertie were also guests of Arthur Sullivan at the music festival in Leeds.

  The Court Circular announcements of the time are full of stories of Louise and Lorne attending events together, often with Louise as the only woman in the party, with Beatrice’s and Helena’s husbands making up a four. (On one occasion, the newspapers printed the shocking announcement ‘The Princess Louise and Prince Henry of Battenberg visited the Haymarket Theatre last night.’ A couple of days later an embarrassed amendment was printed, claiming it had been Beatrice and not Louise who had attended the theatre with Liko, but whether this was damage limitation or the truth is debatable.) Louise was also there to help Lorne through a wounding and humiliating time with his father. Once again Lorne’s father had been widowed – Duchess Mimi had died at the start of 1894. Less than a year later, at the age of 72, the duke announced he was marrying for a third time, to a woman over twenty years younger, who had been one of Louise’s attendants in Canada. The third duchess, Ina McNeill, was disliked by all the duke’s children and every one of them boycotted the wedding. Louise, who had come to know Ina very well in Canada, tried to play peacemaker and mediator, but the situation just became worse and, the two women ended up not speaking. Lorne was incensed with his father and deeply unhappy, and Louise was angry on her husband’s behalf.

  Yet despite this show of solidarity, of Lorne accompanying Louise to public events and she standing by his side when he was running for parliamentary office, there were still rumours about their marriage. On 13 May 1894 the gossip column of the radical Reynolds’s Weekly Newspaper printed a brief article; a couple of lines long, it simply poses the unanswered question: ‘Princess Louise lives in a suite of rooms at Kensington Palace. But where does her husband, the Marquis of Lorne, live?’

  CHAPTER 24

  Scandal in the royal household

  She is my constant companion and hope and trust will never leave me while I live. I do not intend she should ever go out as her sisters did (which was a mistake) but let her stay (except of course occasionally going to theatres) as much as she can with me.

  Queen Victoria writing about Beatrice in 1875

  Ever since the queen’s eyesight had started to fail, Louise and Beatrice had been forced to spend more time together. The two sisters had, to all appearances, been growing closer, yet despite the frequent references in the newspapers to the sisters ‘driving out’ with their mother and sailing together between Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight, Beatrice and Louise did not enjoy a trouble-free relationship. This was exacerbated for Beatrice by the obvious mutual attraction of her husband and her pretty, always slim older sister. Since she had grown out of the infantile golden curls stage of her early childhood, Beatrice had never been a beauty. Like her mother, she disliked pregnancy and childbirth and found herself growing increasingly fat; also like her mother, Beatrice found it difficult to curb her love of food. Conversely, Louise had astonishing willpower when it came to eating, and often denied herself food precisely because she refused to end up like her rotund mother and sisters. When, as a young woman, her siblings ridiculed her constant need to exercise, Louise retorted that when they were all old, she would be the only one who had not succumbed to the portly Hanoverian physique. In 1895, when Louise was 47, a story in the newspapers revealed her latest exercise regime:

  [Princess Louise] has been taking advantage of the semi-emptiness of Battersea Park lately … to continue her bicycle lessons. She drives usually to the Trafalgar Club, alights there, and then, putting herself into the hands of the most fashionable instructor of the moment, goes round and round the Park in the most energetic way possible. Occasionally, still accompanied by her instructor, of course, Her Royal Highness ventures out of the solitude of the Park into the traffic of the streets. Princess Louise rides in the neatest coat and skirt, and holds herself splendidly.

  That Louise needed excitement and attention is obvious throughout her life and there has been speculation ever since the 1890s as to whether she had an affair with her sister’s husband. She and Liko enjoyed flirting with each other, but whether it ever went further will remain a mystery. When she ended her startling revelations about Boehm’s death to Wilfrid Scawen Blunt, Skittles remarked with relish that the shock of her lover dying in her arms meant that Louise had not had a single lover since. Such a bombastic announcement smacks of pure embellishment – apart from anything else, Dr Laking could not possibly have known that Louise had not slept with anyone since – yet the experience of her lover dying while having sex with her must have caused serious psychological scars for Louise. As for Liko, his marriage was obviously not satisfactory. He was spending increasing amounts of time on his own: taking off on sailing trips for months, or escaping to London when his wife and children were at Windsor, he was happy to go anywhere he could enjoy a social life that didn’t revolve around Queen Victoria. Whether Liko and Louise’s mutual attraction ever became physical or not, Beatrice was growing antagonistic to her sister and her dislike came to a head at the end of 1895.

  To look at the next scandal in the royal family, we need to return to the summer of 1879, when the young Arthur Bigge had appeared at the royal court for the first time. He was the soldier who had served in the Zulu Wars with the Prince Imperial (the illfated son of the deposed Emperor and Empress of France) and had brought to the palace the news of the prince’s death. Bigge was an attractive and charismatic man and the queen had immediately taken an interest in him. When Sir Henry Ponsonby became very ill in 1895 and the role of private secretary needed to be filled, Bigge (now a respectably married man with children), was chosen. He and Louise got on very well and enjoyed working together.

  Perhaps Beatrice was irritated by the ease with which all men were attracted to her sister, or perhaps simply with Louise herself, but Beatrice became suspicious that her sister and Queen Victoria’s private secretary were having an affair. Instead of talking to Louise, Beatrice sent for Sir John Reid, the queen’s physician and advisor. As Beatrice knew would be the case, Reid had no option but to go to the queen and tell her
of Beatrice’s concerns. Matthew Dennison, Beatrice’s biographer, who is usually very empathetic towards his subject, describes the chaotic incident as the result of Beatrice’s ‘determined exposure’ of what she believed was Louise’s love affair. In his view, Louise suffered from ‘a persecution complex’ about her sisters. When Helena joined forces with Beatrice about the Arthur Bigge scandal, Louise was hurt and claimed they were ganging up on her.

  Louise was certainly overly sensitive, but Helena and Beatrice were extremely jealous of their sister. That Beatrice deliberately passed on the rumours about Louise, rather than asking her sister herself, and that, instead of trying to cover up the scandal, she exposed it, was vindictive and intended to wound. Beatrice took pleasure in being able to cause trouble. With such a brace of sisters, it is not surprising that Louise felt ‘persecuted’. Liko also took part in the discrediting of Arthur Bigge and his sister-in-law, relating that he had heard Bigge, at a dinner, drinking Louise’s health (often an indication of an affair).

  When Louise discovered what her sisters and Liko had done she was so shocked and hurt that she made herself seriously ill with ‘nerves’: the severe headaches and neuralgia she had been plagued with ever since her sledging accident in Canada had never abated and always grew worse at times of stress. The row that ensued after Beatrice’s betrayal left Louise utterly incapacitated; even the queen became deeply concerned about her daughter’s health. Dr Reid found the prolonged incident wearying, as he was forced to listen to complaints from all sides. He wrote in his diary that Louise was convinced there was a ‘smear’ campaign against her.

  When she was well enough, Louise spoke to her mother about the incident, telling her (as she had told Reid) that Liko was to blame. Her brother-in-law, she explained, had attempted to seduce her. She had refused him and he had become irate. She insisted that Liko had then gone to Beatrice with lies about her and Arthur Bigge in revenge. Within a few days of Louise’s confession to her mother, Lorne had arrived at Windsor Castle, summoned to fetch Louise. The couple returned at once to Kensington Palace. For several weeks afterwards, it is notable that the queen was accompanied in her carriage either by Beatrice or Louise, never the two together. Unusually, at the end of 1895, Lorne is often named as having accompanied the queen and Louise on these rides.

  Whether Louise slept with Liko or with Arthur Bigge, or was having affairs with both of them, is unknowable, but Bigge made it obvious that he found her attractive and Liko made it apparent that Bigge’s attitude affronted him. Sexual tension had reached fever pitch and what must have angered Beatrice was that the only one who did not seem to have been caught up in the heated sexual atmosphere was Liko’s hausfrau. Elizabeth Longford, whilst seemingly refuting all suggestions of Louise’s adultery, wrote the intriguing paragraph: ‘For Louise the 1890s were not exactly “naughty” – rather, full of temptations, to some of which she would succumb. Two of those who have seen private papers agree that in her forties she was at her most “alluring”.’

  Louise was forced to spend time with her trouble-making younger sister at the end of 1895, due to the death of Sir Henry Ponsonby, whose funeral took place at Whippingham Church on the Isle of Wight. Louise had been very fond of him and his death depressed her. Louise and Lorne were forced to stay at Osborne for the funeral, living uncomfortably alongside Beatrice and Liko. The situation was so unbearable that Liko came up with a solution: he was leaving the country. Although his military service had, so far, been little more than honorary, Liko persuaded his motherin-law to permit him to serve in Africa, in what was known as the Fourth Anglo-Ashanti War.

  Beatrice and Liko’s eldest son, Drino (Alexander) would claim as an adult that his father had spoken to him before he left England and told him that he was going away because he had to ‘escape the attentions’ of an unnamed ‘lady’. This added fuel to the speculation that Liko and Louise were having an affair, with Drino’s obvious implication that his father was the less willing of the two. Drino was nine years old when his father left and he never saw him again. It seems unlikely that a Victorian father would have shared a sexual secret with such a young child, and far more likely that Drino believed what he was told in later years by his mother. If Liko did genuinely tell his son that he was ‘escaping’ from unwanted attention, this makes it more likely that Louise had rejected him. Had he genuinely rebuffed her, he would have had no cause to be jealous of her and Arthur Bigge; instead one would have expected him to have been relieved and not to have joined in his wife’s jealous crusade to expose Louise’s secret.

  When Liko left for Africa, the family was about to celebrate Christmas. It was a muted affair for Beatrice and her children, and this December Louise and Lorne spent much more time in London than had been usual in recent years. Liko had little time to enjoy his freedom and was never able to win the glory of being a hero. Within a few weeks of leaving England he had contracted malaria. He died, without ever seeing military action, on 20 January 1896. Beatrice and the queen, who were at Windsor, heard the news on 22 January. Louise, who was in London, was told of Liko’s death on the following morning, whereupon she immediately cancelled her engagements for the day and went into mourning. She mourned sadly the friend she had grown so close to in recent years and with whom she had fought so bitterly just before he left. In a letter to a friend, she described her grief: ‘He was almost the greatest friend I had – I, too, miss him more than I can say.’

  On 28 January, Louise left Kensington Palace for the Isle of Wight. Liko’s body was being returned to England and Beatrice was planning his funeral. This meant Louise was away for the funeral of fellow artist Frederic, Lord Leighton, President of the Royal Academy, which was held at St Paul’s Cathedral on 2 February; Louise was represented by Colonel Collins. Ever since Leighton’s cool attitude towards Boehm’s death, Louise had not been impressed with him. He, it seems, had been aware of his faux pas and had attempted to build bridges in their relationship, but although the two were, ostensibly, friends, she had never really forgiven him. A letter of his survives from 1893, written when Louise was planning a trip to Italy. It was a country Leighton knew very well and he sent her suggestions for artistic places to visit. After pages of ideas, he ended with ‘I trust these brief notes may be of some little use to Your Royal Highness. Although I gather there is little hope of my having the honour of seeing you next week at my studio’; obviously hopeful that she would change her mind, he mentioned that both Vicky and Bertie would be visiting him on the following Friday.

  Liko’s funeral was held on 5 February. He was buried in the church at which he and Beatrice had been married. Much was made in the newspapers of the image of the two dumpy, black-clad widows, mother and daughter, now locked together just as they had been when Beatrice was an unmarried daughter-cum-companion. On the same day as the family funeral at Whippingham Church, a memorial service was held in Westminster Abbey. Many of London’s theatres closed as a sign of respect for the princess’s husband; the queen sent the managers a formal message of gratitude for their kindness.

  Instead of being brought together in their grief, Beatrice and Louise were still at loggerheads. Smarting from her sister’s betrayal over the Bigge affair and depressed by her own misery at Liko’s death, Louise lashed out at Beatrice. The household was in shock as yet another family scandal threatened to break. As the Duchess of Teck wrote to a friend, the court was in uproar: ‘Louise has alas! frisséed [Beatrice] terribly by calmly announcing that she was Liko’s confidante and Beatrice nothing to him, indicated by a shrug of the shoulders!’ Whether Louise intended the inference or not, the entire household was gossiping that she was claiming to have been Liko’s lover. Sadly, the likelihood of Liko having found Louise a more sympathetic confidante (in the true meaning of the word) than Beatrice is very high. Having been brought up so closely by her mother, Beatrice was far more like Queen Victoria than Prince Albert. She was as unmaternal to her children as her mother had been to her older children (an odd circumstanc
e when one considers that Beatrice was the only child towards whom Victoria was maternal). Perhaps Louise’s bitchy assertion was a very badly timed moment of truth. Once again, Louise and Lorne returned swiftly from the Isle of Wight to Kensington Palace.

  Interestingly, instead of causing a long-standing rift between the sisters, Louise’s outburst, and any repercussions that followed, managed to heal the wound caused when Beatrice summoned Sir James Reid to tell tales about Louise. As soon as she could, Beatrice took her children to the South of France to help them through the grief of losing their father. Within a couple of weeks, Louise had been invited to join them. From that time on, the two sisters became increasingly close. Louise suggested that they commission Alfred Gilbert to make a memorial for Liko’s tomb. Beatrice gladly assented. In the same year, Louise would begin a grave memorial of her own, a monument to honour Mary Ann Thurston, one of the royal children’s nurses. It can be seen today at Kensal Green Cemetery, in London. When it came to real friendship, Louise was immensely loyal, and always aware of how important to her own life the royal servants had been. She remembered those who had been kind to her, especially during her childhood, and went out of her way to ensure that they received appropriate gifts and had no financial worries. For years she had visited the elderly Mrs Thurston regularly, taking her gifts, gossip and amusing friends – such as Lord Ronald Gower – until the old lady’s death, in her eighties. At the end of her life, Mrs Thurston had been living very close to Kensington Palace, so Louise was able to keep an eye on her and send help if it were needed.

  One of Queen Victoria’s ladies-in-waiting, Marie Mallet, described Louise as ‘a complex character’, noting that although she could be spoilt and difficult, Louise was ‘at her best when people are in trouble’. This adult desire to be needed harks back to Louise’s childhood and Lady Bruce’s comment of 1861, that the adolescent Louise ‘is so happy to be made a little of’. She craved attention and affection and those who gave it to her, truly, were to be rewarded.