‘I’ll start,’ he said. ‘A cosy wee nook, north-facing. The walls are covered in Stuart Dress Jaundice, and the upholstery is in Hunting McPuke with bile tassels. I thought it might do nicely for Mr Gladstone. Your turn.’
It was a game without winners. Pa didn’t understand it at all.
‘Not been out with the guns!’ he kept saying. ‘How very peculiar.’
There was quite a family gathering, though not everyone was staying at Balmoral. The Uncle Bertie Waleses were down the road at Mar Lodge. Georgie Wales and his new bride, dear May Teck, were at Abergeldie. There was plenty of company. But May Teck informed me that they’d all been warned not to monopolise my time, to give Ernie every courtship opportunity. It became quite embarrassing, worse with every day that passed. Ernie didn’t avoid me, not at all. He just didn’t ask me to marry him.
I began to think there must be something wrong with me. I studied myself in a hand mirror and found quite a number of imperfections. My face is rather long. My complexion has a slightly sallow cast. Then Aunt Louise arrived and weighed up the situation at once.
She said, ‘You’re not the problem, darling. You’re stunning and Ernie needs to grow up.’
Aunt Louise was Pa’s sister. We were supposed not to approve of her and I’m sure if Mother had known she’d be in the Balmoral party, I wouldn’t have been allowed to attend. The charge against Aunt Louise was that she was over-endowed with an artistic temperament that marriage had done nothing to tame. It can happen in the best of families.
‘No regard for the proprieties,’ Mother said.
We’d been denied any further explanation but Missy’s guess was that Aunt Louise misbehaved with men. After all, if the problem were one of insanity she would have been put away. And being artistic wasn’t in itself a bad thing. We were all encouraged to produce a watercolour or two. We were forced to the conclusion that our aunt received gentlemen callers when her husband wasn’t at home. Missy grew quite excited at the thought of an aunt behaving so outrageously. I just loved the way Aunt Louise narrowed her eyes when she thought someone was talking tosh. Even Grandma Queen.
Aunt Louise was alone at the breakfast table one morning when I went in.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Just the girl I want to talk to. Tell me about the Ernie situation.’
I told her how things stood. Grandma Queen wanted it. Mother wanted it. Ernie wasn’t against it. It just never seemed to progress.
‘And what do you want?’ she said.
Really, I just wanted to go home. I wanted people to stop discussing me.
‘Quite right,’ she said. ‘You’re still so young. What’s the hurry? Where are you in the succession? Absolutely nowhere. Pass the butter dish.’
I said, ‘Ernie’s very nice.’
‘Yes?’ she said. I wasn’t sure she was agreeing with me.
‘The main thing, Ducky,’ she said, ‘is to marry someone you can rub along with. I did. Look, the sky didn’t fall on my head. The ravens haven’t left the Tower.’
Aunt Louise was married to Lorne. He was just a Marquess in those days. Later on he became Duke of Argyll. Now he’s dead.
She was playing with the butter, shaping it into a little human head.
She said, ‘What do you want to do with your life?’
It was a question I’d never considered. Surely we all did what we were ordained to do. The army, in the case of my brother, Affie. Marry suitably, in the case of myself and my sisters.
She said, ‘You’re a bright girl, healthy and able. What are your dreams? What do you hope to achieve?’
Dreams, hopes, achievements. One began to see why Mother avoided Aunt Louise. But there was no escape. It was just me, my aunt and two inscrutable footmen stationed at either end of the sideboard. I felt an obligation to give some kind of answer, and quickly. I told her I hoped to get my three-year-old jumping over poles by the end of the year.
She narrowed her eyes but I believe she was just judging her sculpture.
‘Well, that’s something,’ she said. ‘But you don’t yearn to write books or cross the Sahara desert?’
These were not options I had realised might be open to me, as Aunt Louise understood from my gaping mouth.
‘Those are merely examples I plucked out of the air,’ she said. ‘When I was your age, I’d already decided to be an artist.’
My breakfast kipper lay cooling on the plate. I felt I was a disappointment to my aunt.
‘Some people know at once what they want to do,’ she said. ‘Others take longer. And some, of course, never want to do anything. The main thing is not to tie yourself to a husband before you know. Imagine discovering you have a passion to explore the Amazon rainforests but you can’t because you’ve previously agreed to be Queen of Romania.’
Which, if nothing else, demonstrated that Aunt Louise was impractical and also, possibly, slightly bonkers. Missy, in a rainforest!
‘And who knows?’ she said. ‘You may end up marrying Ernie anyway. As you say, he’s agreeable company.’
I said, ‘I don’t at all mind waiting. The problem is he hasn’t even asked me.’
‘Heavens, Ducky,’ she said. ‘If he’s the one you want, why don’t you ask him? So? What do you think?’
It was Grandma Queen, to the life, fashioned from best Deeside butter.
I didn’t ask Ernie to marry me. Mother would never have forgiven me. And what if I’d asked him and he’d turned me down? It would have been too humiliating. I decided to try and enjoy what was left of my time at Balmoral and we did have some larks. Ernie wrote a little skit called Dinnae Gang on the Moor and we performed it for the tenantry before supper at the Tenants’ Ball. Ernie played the hapless traveller, the Henry Prussias were cast as the innkeeper and his wife, and I was Ghoulish Noises Off. May Teck was supposed to operate the rainbox but Grandma Queen developed a fancy to do that herself and poor May had to content herself with the drumming of coconut-shell hooves. Everyone said it was a triumph.
There was one day when I thought Ernie really was about to propose. He asked me to walk with him down to his mother’s memorial. It was a granite cross, quite overrun with ivy. Princess Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse. Her name shall live though now she is no more.
Ernie was only ten when she died, although he was no stranger to death. His elder brother had already passed away. The bleeding disease. That was why it had fallen to Ernie to become Grand Duke of Hesse.
I asked him what his mother was like.
‘Very lovely,’ he said. ‘Kind and lovely and always busy doing good works. Actually, I hardly remember. But I’m sure she was. Everyone says so.’
We sat for a while listening to the sound of the river and then we both felt chilled and walked on and the moment passed.
He said, ‘You’re very quiet today, Miss Duckydoo. I hope you’re not going all pensive on me. “Pensive” isn’t permitted at Balmoral, don’t you know? Not done at all. It would be like going out to the grouse butts wearing one’s tailcoat.’
Once a week, Ernie and I would go into Ballater to buy butterscotch and packets of Gayetty’s medicated papers for the littlest room – at Balmoral one was only ever given squares of the Aberdeen Journal and they were terribly harsh – but one could never just go on an ordinary errand with Ernie. He was always looking for ways to make life more fun. He wore a straw bonnet one time, which looked very puzzling because Ernie had such a splendid moustache, and the next time he dared me to drive the wagonette wearing a pair of his duck trousers and a monocle. His naughtiest jape though was the song he’d composed, a little ditty which he fitted to the tune of Ode to Joy.
Geeraffes, llamas and alpacas,
Camels too, have necks quite tall.
But, the saddest fluke of Nature,
Grandma has no neck at all.
Eventually he didn’t need to sing the words. In sight of Grandma Queen, he’d simply whistle the tune. It was agony not to laugh and then Grandma would take me to one side and ask
me if I was quite well.
‘Is it women’s troubles, dear?’ she’d murmur. ‘You’ll find things get easier after you’ve had your first child.’
I will say she always treated me with kindness, even when I failed to become engaged. She recognised it was Ernie who was dragging things out. Mother was in a less forgiving mood. Just as Pa and I got back to Coburg, she was about to leave for Romania, to be with Missy for her confinement. We practically crossed on the doorstep.
She said, ‘What a waste of my time and effort. Are you sure you’re not discouraging him? I hope you’re not still thinking of Cyril Vladimirovich, young lady, because he’s quite out of the question.’
I promised her I’d never given a thought for Cyril, which wasn’t strictly true. I also omitted to mention my conversation with Aunt Louise.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘Ernie Hesse has had his last chance. As soon as Missy is well enough to spare me I shall come home and reconsider the Bourbons.’
Pa never talked about husbands. He usually left that side of things to Mother, but the very moment she’d left he sent for me.
He said, ‘No flim-flam, Ducky. A straight yes or no. If Ernie Hesse asks for you, will you have him?’
I said I would.
Pa said, ‘Then I’m going to write to your grandmamma and seal the affair, once and for all. If I don’t, your mother will have you spliced to one of those Spanish buffoons and I’ll never see you again. Bad enough business about Missy. Bloody Romania.’
It was the first time my father had ever hinted that he’d mind not seeing me if marriage took me far away. I began to cry.
‘Now, now,’ he said. ‘No need for any of that nonsense. Hesse seems a bit of a lightweight to me but he has many points in his favour. Raised by English nurses, so he should be pretty sound. He has a nice establishment in Darmstadt. Comfortable, plain. Not filled with silly drapery. And I’ve heard he has excellent shooting at Wolfsgarten, though from what one observed of him at Balmoral it may be rather wasted on him. But whatever, this stalling cannot continue. It makes your mother irritable and whatever discommodes her discommodes me. It seems someone has to put some resolve into the little pansy and the person to do it is Her Majesty.’
And that was how it happened. Pa wrote to Grandma Queen, she wrote to Ernie and Ernie came to Coburg for my seventeenth birthday. He brought me a Cairngorm pin, to remind me of the fun we’d had at Balmoral.
He said, ‘I’ll try not to make you unhappy, Ducky.’
3
Mother was jolly cross when she found everything had been settled in her absence.
I said, ‘But I thought you wanted me to marry Ernie?’
‘I did,’ she said, ‘but not if he had to be dragooned into it by that interfering old woman. Your father had no business meddling. I had everything in hand. And a Cairngorm brooch! What kind of an engagement token is that? Such an unattractive stone, especially for someone with your colouring. He should have given you amethysts, at the very least.’
It wasn’t an auspicious start. Mother was begrudging, Ernie was glum and Grandma Queen was at her most bullying. The wedding must be in April, she said. Not inconsiderately in the middle of winter, as Missy’s had been, and not in the summer when the heat of Coburg would certainly kill her. She would arrive on 16th April and we should therefore have the wedding three days later, after she’d had time to recover from her journey. That was how our wedding date was set.
Mother had given me diamonds and pearls, but then Emperor Uncle Sasha and Aunt Minnie sent an emerald pendant, so Mother, never one to be outdone, added an emerald diadem to my wedding jewels. Then Ernie said he’d very much like me to wear his dear, departed mother’s veil and I of course agreed and walked into my first conflict with his sister, Alexandra. Sunny.
She said, ‘You might have asked me before you presumed.’
I said, ‘But I didn’t presume. It was Ernie’s wish, that’s all. I really couldn’t care less what veil I wear. It’s just a piece of lace, and I’m only borrowing it for an hour.’
She said, ‘It’s not just a piece of lace. It’s the finest Honiton and it was our dear mother’s. I do hope you’ll take proper care of it.’
What did she think? That I was going to tear it up for a jelly bag?
‘Taking it all the way to Coburg,’ she said. ‘It poses such a risk.’
The family call her Sunny. I’ve never understood why. Frosty would suit her better. Or Cloudy.
Ernie had three darling sisters, Vicky, Irene and Ella, all long married, all perfectly sweet and welcoming to me. And then there was Sunny, the baby of the family, not yet settled and as cross as two sticks that I was about to displace her as First Lady of Darmstadt. People reckon her marriage to Nicky has been a great love match but I still say she only did what she did when she did so as to steal my thunder.
Missy and Nando were the first to arrive for the wedding, good and early as I’d begged her to because I had a million things I needed to ask her. It was worth getting married to have Missy’s company for a while. I found her changed though. She fussed endlessly over baby Carol and expected me to adore him, which I found impossible because he smelled of cheese. It’s different when the child is your own.
I said, ‘You know what I need to ask you.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But Mother has asked me not to say too much.’
All she would say was that The Thing wasn’t so bad because it only took about a minute, but childbirth was hell. She was expecting again, already.
She said, ‘Getting the baby out takes days. I quite thought I’d die. Mother says it gets easier after the first one but I’d rather hoped not to find out. At least, not so soon.’
She’d taken up douching after Carol was born but Nando sometimes came back for seconds.
‘Often, actually,’ she said. ‘He’s quite insatiable.’
And that was probably how she’d been caught. Between douches.
‘But this will be positively the last time it happens,’ she said. ‘Mother’s going to have a word. She’s going to suggest to Nando that he get himself a little ballerina.’
The other guests began to arrive. Aunt Louise sent her regrets, to Mother’s great relief, but practically everyone else came. The Battenbergs, the Connaughts, the Henry Prussias, the Kaiser Wilhelms, Uncle Bertie Wales, Grandma Queen and, of course, Mother’s people: Grand Duke Uncle Paul, Grand Duke Uncle Serge and Ernie’s sister Ella, and Cyril’s parents, Grand Duke Uncle Vladimir and Aunt Miechen. Not Cyril though, and I was glad. Better not to see him. I’d cast my die. Actually very few of the Russian cousins came, with the notable exception of Nicky and he had his own selfish reasons that were nothing at all to do with gracing my wedding.
I was never pretty. Missy was dealt that card. ‘Striking’ was the word they used when a compliment was required for me. I’m too tall to be doted on and my skin was always too dark to compete with the porcelain dolls. Mother always predicted I’d ruin my complexion, haring about in the midday sun and turning the colour of a Hindoostani, and I fear she was right. But I wasn’t such a fool as to be jealous of prettier girls. I was a better rider than any of them. It would have been nice though, on my wedding day, to be the cynosure for just five minutes.
We had the civil ceremony first, as soon as Grandma Queen was up and dressed. Ernst Ludwig Karl Albrecht Wilhelm and Victoria Melita. It was strange to hear our names read out like that. We’d always been, always will be, Ernie and Ducky.
Grandma Queen said, ‘Such a pity you couldn’t be married at Windsor, but at least you chose Coburg. Grandpa in Heaven would be so happy. I’m sure he’s smiling down on you.’
As soon as the civil ceremony was over and we were married in the eyes of the Duchy, everyone went down to the chapel to take their seats and see us married in the eyes of God. I was left alone with my bridesmaids. Even Pa abandoned me. It was his job to offer Grandma Queen his arm.
I had planned to have just two bridesmaids, my younger sister
s, Baby Bee and Sandra, but Mother said an odd number looked better in procession and the next thing I knew Poor Cousin Dora had been foisted upon me.
It was Dora who burbled out the news, as we sat in Mother’s dressing room waiting to go down.
She said, ‘Isn’t it thrilling, about Ernie’s sister?’
I said, ‘What’s thrilling? Which sister?’
‘Why, Sunny, of course,’ she said. ‘Haven’t you’ve heard? Nicky has asked her to marry him and Sunny said yes.’
I didn’t pay too much attention to it at the time, what with trying to quell my nervous stomach and the remark having been made by Dora. It was widely known that Poor Cousin Dora wasn’t quite all there. And Tsesarevich Nicky had been pursuing Sunny for years but she’d always refused him because of the church thing. Someday Nicky would be Tsar of Russia and his wife would have to be Orthodox but Sunny couldn’t bear the thought of converting. So there was no reason on earth why Sunny should suddenly have said yes, and on my wedding day.
But it turned out that Poor Cousin Dora was right. At the wedding breakfast, my new sister-in-law’s forthcoming engagement was the talk of the room and Cousin Nicky was flushed and beaming like a loon. The official announcement was to be made the next day. I suppose that was their feeble idea of good manners.
When it came time for Ernie and me to leave, I felt the crowd that gathered to wave us off was rather going through the motions. Their minds were already on the next wedding. And what a wedding it would be. A Romanov wedding! The Tsesarevich’s wedding. Only Aunt Miechen whispered a kindness to me as Ernie and I made our way to the carriage.
‘Don’t mind Sunny,’ she said. ‘If the Russians can make an Empress of her, it will be a miracle. But you, dear girl, look every inch the Grand Duchess.’
Even Ernie was caught up in the excitement about Sunny and Nicky. We took the train from Coburg to Darmstadt and then drove in a little park drag to Wolfsgarten for our wedding night and he never once told me how lovely I looked or what a splendid girl I was. All he could talk about was Sunny.
The Grand Duchess of Nowhere Page 2
