Victoria

by Daisy Goodwin

  She turned and looked out over the crowd. “And now it is my great pleasure to declare these almshouses, for the relief of the poor and elderly of this parish, open.”

  There was another round of applause from the crowd and a few cheers of “God save the Queen,” but there was also a harsher, more strident noise. The Queen heard it and was turning to Melbourne when a rock landed with a great crash on the plinth, narrowly missing Victoria herself. Then the noise from the crowd solidified into a chant of “Justice for the Newport Chartists! Justice for the Newport Chartists!”

  Victoria felt Melbourne’s hand on her arm, pushing her behind him, and for a moment in the crush she rested her cheek against the wiry broadcloth of his coat and laid her arms around his waist. Despite the noise and confusion, the acrid breath of panic all around her, despite the scratchy wool against her skin, Victoria felt as if she had been wrapped in the finest cashmere, cocooned completely from the chaos around her. This, she thought, was what safety felt like.

  Then a shot rang out over the crowd and Victoria was startled from her reverie. She said urgently, “Lord M, don’t let them shoot. Remember the bonnets.”

  Melbourne turned to her, his green eyes bright and hard, but seeing her face he softened. “Don’t worry, ma’am, I won’t let anyone be harmed. But you must go back to the palace at once.”

  “I don’t want to leave you. You are the only person that—”

  Her words were lost in another volley of gunfire. Melbourne looked over the Queen’s head and saw Prince George on the left with his hand on his sword making his way towards the crowd like a knight errant and the Grand Duke looking equally martial on the right. Neither of them was suitable for what he had in mind, so it was with a sigh of relief that he spotted the fair, imperturbable face of Alfred Paget. He called him over urgently. “Lord Alfred, I believe the Queen is leaving. Can you escort her and the Duchess back to the palace?”

  Lord Alfred, with a skill forged by his experience on the field of diplomatic levees rather than the smoke of battle, managed to shepherd the reluctant Victoria through sheer force of suggestion towards the carriage, while simultaneously collecting the Duchess, conveying to her with a mere frisson of the eyebrow that in such a moment of upheaval her place was by her daughter’s side.

  Victoria allowed herself to be placed in the carriage without protest, but as she leant against the glass and saw Melbourne talking to the officer in charge of the troops, his face alive with concern, she felt the pain of leaving him so acutely that it brought tears to her eyes.

  Seeing this, her mother put her hand on her daughter’s cheek. “Don’t be scared, mein Liebe. No harm will come to you. I promise.”

  But Victoria turned her face away, looking back out of the window for one last glimpse of him. He was standing in the middle of the crowd with the commanding officer. She willed him to look round, and when he lifted his head, it seemed as if he must look right at her. But then the carriage lurched forward through the crowd, and he disappeared from her view. Victoria leant back against the buttoned leather seat and closed her eyes.

  * * *

  Melbourne saw the carriage drive away and thought he glimpsed the small white face of the Queen at the window. Feeling a great sweep of relief that she was leaving, he turned back to the captain and said with more conviction than before, “You must disperse the crowd peacefully. Make sure that your men only fire in the air. I do not want anyone to be harmed. Do you understand me, Captain?”

  The captain nodded reluctantly. He thought that Lord Melbourne was not a solider; if he had been, he would know that the more people that were harmed now, the less likely it would be that such things would happen again.

  Melbourne was looking for Emma Portman, wanting to make sure that she would be with the Queen for the rest of the day, when he heard a voice just behind him. “Lord Melbourne, may I have a word?” Melbourne recognised the clipped English of the King of the Belgians. He tried to control his irritation.

  “Can it wait, sir? I am somewhat preoccupied at the moment.” He gestured at the melee in front of them. Prince George and the Grand Duke were standing with their swords drawn, and it was unclear whether they were ready to fight the crowd or each other.

  Leopold shook his head. “I think not.”

  Melbourne sighed and regarded Leopold with weary resignation. “I see. Then, sir, I am at your service.”

  Leopold gestured for Melbourne to follow him to a spot behind the plinth where they could not be overheard, as unlikely as that seemed in the general hubbub. But the King, thought Melbourne, would lose no opportunity to set himself apart.

  The King leant forward so that his mouth was very close to Melbourne’s ear. “I wish to talk to you about my niece.”

  Melbourne took a step back, squaring himself off against the other man. “Indeed?”

  Leopold gave him a smile that suggested that they were both men of the world. “You must agree, I think, that the sooner she is married the better. Her reign so far has been troubled. A husband, children would steady her giddiness.”

  Melbourne paused, and then said, “I do not see any urgency for the Queen to marry. What is most important, I think, is that she chooses wisely.”

  He looked over at the two princes. Leopold followed his gaze.

  “I could not agree more. And there could be no better choice than her cousin Albert. He is a serious young man, and I have taken a great interest in his education.” He turned his head to face Melbourne. “And of course he is of a suitable age.”

  Melbourne’s face did not move. “I believe the Queen did not take to him the last time they met.”

  Leopold smiled at his niece’s foolishness. “She was too young to have an opinion. Victoria will change her mind, but only, I think, if she understands that such a marriage is in her best interest.” Then, he said in a lower voice, “I believe, my lord, that you could persuade her of that.”

  The other man gave a mirthless smile. “I am not a magician, sir. The Queen tends to hear only what she already thinks.”

  Leopold put his head on one side, and said slyly, “Come, Lord Melbourne, you are too modest. I have seen the way my niece looks at you.” He blinked slowly as if to suggest the flirtatious guiles of the coquettish Queen.

  Melbourne said as evenly as he could, “I think, sir, that you exaggerate my influence.”

  “If you say so, Lord Melbourne. But I am sure that on reflection a man of your,” he paused, “experience will understand what needs to be done.”

  Another volley of shots spared Melbourne from having to reply. He gave the King the briefest of nods. “You must excuse me, sir.” And he set off towards the surging crowd.

  Leopold watched him go. He had achieved his aim. Melbourne knew now that his relationship with Victoria was under scrutiny.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next morning, Victoria waited as usual for Melbourne in her sitting room, the pile of red boxes in front of her. She had dressed for the interview with care, wearing her new sprigged muslin and with her hair in the plaits around the ear that Lord M had once told her he thought charming. The events of the day before had been confusing, so puzzling in fact that she had gone to bed without any supper. But then in the middle of the night she had woken up, and feeling restless, had got out of bed.

  There was a full moon, and the gardens of the palace were bathed in silvery light. She saw an animal, perhaps a rabbit, run across the lawn down to the lake. Here in the palace, it was hard sometimes to remember that she was right in the middle of London. And yet the almshouses were less than two miles from where she was now. It had been a relief to hear that no one had been harmed that afternoon; she was glad that Melbourne had listened to her.

  She had expected to hear from him that evening, but to her surprise he had not called in after dinner or even sent a note. In a way she had been relieved because she needed time to examine her feelings; she could still feel the rough scratch of the wool of his coat against her cheek. Tha
t contact, rushed and accidental though it had been, had moved her in a way she could not explain. It was as if she had found something that she did not know she had been looking for.

  As she made her way round her bedroom, the moon was so bright she did not need a candle. She saw the box containing the telescope that Melbourne had given her for her birthday. She opened the box and pulled out the instrument, extending it to its full length. Kneeling down on the window seat, she put it to her eye and tried to find the moon. At last the lens revealed the lunar landscape, and she gazed with awe at the shadows it revealed.

  It had not been at all the present she had been expecting from Lord M on her birthday, but now she thought she understood its significance. He had been suggesting to her that she should try to look at things differently, to view her life and affairs from a different perspective. Of course, at the time he had wanted her to accept that he could no longer be her Prime Minister, but he had come to understand that his place was at her side. Now, as she looked through the magnifying glass of the telescope, she thought that perhaps it was time that she looked at Melbourne from a different angle.

  He was her friend, her advisor, and her confidant, but she wondered, could he perhaps be something more. Her body had known it at once—that sudden contact had been electrifying—but her mind had to acknowledge this new perspective. If she really was going to marry, could there be a more suitable or more desirable husband than the man who already filled her thoughts? It would be an unorthodox choice, she knew, that would provoke some protest. Uncle Leopold would not approve, but surely it must be better for her to marry a man she loved than to enter into a calculated marriage of convenience.

  There was the Royal Marriage Act, which made it impossible for a member of the royal family to marry without the sovereign’s consent, but she was the sovereign. She knew, of course, that there would be objections from her uncles, and perhaps from those beastly Tories, but in the end who could stop her?

  It would be difficult, she thought, turning the brass eyepiece of the telescope around in her hand, to tell him her decision. She wondered if he might perhaps guess, since he was always so perceptive, but even if he did, any—and here she gripped the telescope very tightly—any proposal would have to come from her. A sovereign always had to be the one to propose.

  She sighed and tried to imagine how she would say it. The only way would be to stand very close to him so that she could feel his warmth but would not have to meet his eyes. She did not think that she would be able to say what she must under the scrutiny of that green gaze. But she must do it, and without delay. She remembered the quotation that Lord M always used when he wanted to do something: “There is a tide in the affairs of men which when taken at the flood…”

  She would take it at the flood.

  * * *

  When the door to her sitting room opened just after the clock struck nine, she looked up with a smile, but instead of her Prime Minister she saw Emma Portman, who uncharacteristically looked uneasy.

  “Emma? I was expecting Lord M.”

  “I know, ma’am, which is why I came to tell you that he has gone to Brocket Hall.”

  “Brocket Hall? Why would he go there now?”

  Emma Portman lowered her eyes. “I am not sure, ma’am. Perhaps he felt the need for some country air.”

  “But he always tells me he thinks there is nothing more bracing than a walk down St. James’s.”

  Emma gave a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I am afraid that even Lord Melbourne can be inconsistent, ma’am.”

  Victoria stood up suddenly, knocking the pile of boxes to the floor. Emma began to stoop to pick them up, but Victoria put a hand out to stop her.

  “Never mind those. Is your carriage here, Emma?”

  Emma nodded slowly, her face apprehensive.

  “I should like to borrow it, if I may. Or rather I should like us to make an excursion together.”

  Emma looked at the Queen, and asked a question to which she already knew the answer. “Where will we be going, ma’am?”

  “To Brocket Hall. I have something of great importance to say to Lord M.”

  Emma Portman took a deep breath. “It is a considerable journey, ma’am. Perhaps it might be better to send a messenger. I am sure that William would come back to town directly.”

  But Victoria, who was pacing up and down, said, “No, it cannot wait. There is a tide, Emma, in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood leads on to fortune.”

  “I cannot argue with Shakespeare, ma’am.”

  “Good. But we must go at once. And we must go incognito, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Emma Portman, her voice echoing her mistress’s with a dying fall. If Victoria noticed her lack of enthusiasm, she gave no sign of it, and was already setting off down the corridor with her quick, light tread.

  * * *

  The journey to Brocket Hall, which lay in the county of Hertfordshire, took just under two hours. Victoria insisted on driving straight there, without stopping. She sat on the edge of her carriage seat, playing with her veil and trying out in her head the speech she would make to Lord Melbourne. Every so often she would look across at Emma and remark on the weather or the scenery, but it was clear that her head was too full of her thoughts to permit ordinary conversation.

  At last, to Emma’s great relief, the carriage turned into the elm-lined drive that led to Brocket Hall, a Palladian mansion faced with Portland stone.

  “There, ma’am, if you look out onto my side of the carriage you will have your first glimpse of the house. I believe it was built during the reign of your great-great-grandfather, George II, and is considered one of the finest examples of the period.”

  Victoria glanced out of the window, but the house was not what she had come to see. “Did you ever meet Lord M’s wife, Emma?”

  “Caro? Yes, of course. She is, was, a cousin of sorts.”

  “What was she like? Was she very beautiful?”

  “Beautiful? No, I wouldn’t say that. But she was uncommonly lively. If she was in a room it was impossible to look at anyone else.”

  “I see. But she was an immoral person, was she not?”

  Emma smiled. “Because of her imbroglio with Byron? I wouldn’t call her immoral; I think she was reckless, but I believe he dazzled her, and she did not have the strength to resist him.”

  “You sound as if you think she was not to blame!”

  “I felt sorry for her, ma’am. If you had seen her after the mésalliance ended, you would understand. It was as if all the spark in her had been extinguished. He was a terrible man, so attractive but completely without heart. He brushed poor Caro aside as if she were thistledown.”

  “But she broke her marriage vows, Emma. How can you feel sorry for a woman who does that?”

  Emma glanced at Victoria’s small face and saw the spots of colour in her cheeks, the shining blue eyes, the eager mouth. “She will not be the first married woman to do so, ma’am, or the last.”

  “Well, I think her behaviour was shocking. I have never understood why Lord Melbourne took her back after she had treated him so shamefully.”

  “I never admired him more, ma’am. His mother, his friends, the party all tried to convince him to divorce her, but he would have none of it. He said that he would not desert her in her hour of need. And he looked after her for the rest of her life, even though, I am afraid, she was most of the time half out of her wits.”

  Victoria shook her head. “She didn’t deserve him.”

  Emma shook her head. “At the beginning she was very lovable, and then … well, I think William held himself responsible.”

  The carriage began to slow down as it reached the house.

  Emma looked at the Queen. “If you will permit me, I will go first, ma’am. I know the butler here, and can warn him to be discreet.”

  Victoria lowered the thick black veil down over her face. “You think that anyone will recognise me wearing this?”

&nb
sp; Emma tried not to smile.

  Hedges the butler was coming down the steps as the coachman opened the door, his face creased with worry. When he saw Emma, he made a deep bow. “I am so sorry, my lady, my master did not tell me that you were coming.”

  “That’s all right, Hedges. He didn’t know.”

  Hedges’s face was now crumpled with concern. “I hesitate to say this, ma’am, but as you are such an old and trusted friend of the family, I must tell you I am afraid you will not find his lordship in the best of humours. He arrived last night with no warning and was most unlike himself.”

  “Thank you, Hedges, I shall prepare myself for the worst.” She lowered her voice.

  “I have brought with me a visitor, a most distinguished visitor, to see Lord Melbourne.” The butler looked puzzled, but when he glanced at the small veiled figure in the carriage, a glimmer of understanding began to pass over his creased features. “I see, your ladyship.”

  “She is here incognito, is that understood?”

  Hedges nodded. “Perfectly, my lady.”

  “Good. Now you had better tell your master he has visitors.”

  “He is in the park, your ladyship. I believe he has gone down to the copse by the lake, the place he calls the rookery.” He accompanied this with a lift of his eyebrows, as if he was not answerable for the location.

  Emma nodded. “Thank you, Hedges. I think we will walk down to meet him.”

  Unable to wait any longer, Victoria climbed down from the carriage. “Is everything all right? He is here, isn’t he?”

  Emma took her by the arm and walked a little way down the path with her, so that they were out of earshot.

  “Yes, ma’am, William is here. The butler says that he is over there.” She pointed to the copse which was on the other side of the lake bisected by a grey stone bridge.

  Victoria followed her gaze. “Then I shall go and find him.”

  “Would you like me to go first and tell him you are here? He might not be ready for you.”

  Victoria laughed. “Oh, Emma, Lord M and I don’t stand on ceremony with each other. Why, he often comes to the palace unannounced. Why should this be any different?”