Victoria Confesses (9781442422469)

by Meyer, Carolyn

  The next morning Albert played the piano in my apartments—Haydn symphonies!—and quite dazzled me with his musical ability. In the afternoon when we looked through an album of drawings together, I found his comments wonderfully acute and sensitive. After dinner that evening, we danced. Albert performed SO gracefully in the quadrilles, and I watched with a pounding heart as he waltzed with some of my married ladies. How I longed to be among them! It pleased me that on this visit Albert did not seem ready to fall asleep before the evening had scarcely begun.

  I had not expected any of this. What I had expected was to find an amiable young man of average looks and average accomplishments. But Albert was not at all average! Albert was MAGNIFICENT!

  But if Albert had changed, so had I. In a matter of weeks, it seemed, I had become a completely different person. Where was that drab, unhappy girl of the past summer who had gone about sleepless and complaining, weeping and shouting, seeing the world as a dark and dismal place? She was gone! Gone forever!

  After only one day, I was enchanted. Skerrett assembled a series of costumes for me, depending on what plans I might be making for the entertainment of my VERY delightful guest; Ernest had receded quietly into the background, and I had nearly forgotten about him. Albert and I walked together in the palace gardens, completely unconcerned that it was raining hard—a downpour—though the ladies trailing after us looked far from happy.

  On Saturday we went out riding. I had acquired a new horse, a delightful creature called Tartar, dark brown and full of spirit with a springy, charming canter, and I thought Albert would enjoy riding him. For my own mount I took the pretty little chestnut mare, Taglioni, that I had won on a bet at Ascot with poor old King William. The rains had stopped, but the roads around Windsor were so deep in mud that my riding skirt was soon caked with it and Albert managed to get splattered all over. How we did laugh! I pulled my mare up close to Tartar and used my handkerchief to dab a bit of mud from Albert’s dear face, gazing into his eyes as I did and feeling an almost overwhelming desire to kiss his sweet mouth. I knew that he was struggling with the same feelings. But we drew apart and continued our ride, arriving back at the stables sodden and looking utterly disreputable.

  Mamma hosted another dinner, for which I wore the blue-striped taffeta, assured by Maggie that it was excessively complimentary to my figure. Dinner was followed by a game of whist and a great deal of conversation that would have seemed dull had I not been watching Albert so closely—he had such elegant manners!—and listening to every word. He spoke BEAUTIFUL English with only a slight German accent, which was SO delightful to my ear.

  On Sunday everyone attended services at St. George’s Chapel. I sat near dearest Albert, who enjoyed the music excessively. My uncle Leopold would have been proud to note that at the luncheon afterwards, I ate sparingly. Dearest Albert sat far down the table next to the old king’s sister and two of his brothers, the dukes of Sussex and Cumberland, and I seemed to have lost my usual appetite, preoccupied as I was with stealing glances in Albert’s direction.

  In the afternoon we took our dogs, Albert’s glorious greyhound, Eos, and my dearest Dashy, out for a run in the park. When we returned to the castle, Albert sat again at my piano and began to play some very pretty but rather melancholy music by Frédéric Chopin. This set the mood for a very DEEP conversation about the parents missing from our lives—his mother, who had deserted the family for a lover, an army lieutenant, when Albert was just five, and my father, who had died before I ever knew him. This led me to speak of my loathing for Sir John Conroy, but I stopped short of confessing my strained relationship with my own mother. We talked in hushed voices, leaning close, our hands not quite touching except occasionally by accident.

  Dearest Daisy peered in, cleared her throat, and reminded us that it was time to dress for dinner. Albert rose and, smiling, told me that he and Ernest had been invited to go out shooting the next day at nearby Frogmore. I struggled to hide my disappointment at not seeing him for the entire day, but once accustomed to the idea, I decided to take dearest Albert’s temporary absence as an opportunity to pour out my feelings to Lord Melbourne. Albert and I had spent just three days together, but I had no doubts whatsoever about what I wanted.

  I wanted dearest Albert.

  “I see that you have indeed come to a decision,” said my prime minister before I had spoken a word. “But I would advise you to take a week to make up your mind finally.”

  “A week! I can’t wait that long. My mind is already made up.” I put my hands to my face—my cheeks were burning. “I love him, and I want to marry him.”

  “Ah,” said Lord Melbourne, “that’s a very good thing.” He was as calm as though I had just told him I had chosen a new horse for my stables. “You’ll be much more comfortable, I think. A woman cannot stand alone for long. You have made a very good choice. But when are you thinking of the marriage taking place?”

  “A year?” I suggested tentatively, for that did seem like a VERY long time.

  “Sooner than that, I think.” He was so kind, so fatherly!

  “Oh, yes! Much sooner! As soon as possible, then!” I twirled around giddily, unable to contain my happiness.

  “Then you must tell the prince of your decision,” Lord Melbourne advised.

  “How do I do that?” I asked, suddenly serious. “In general such things are done the other way, aren’t they? It’s the man who proposes, but dearest Albert would never presume to propose to the queen of England.”

  Lord Melbourne merely laughed and said, “Just do it.”

  “Very well, I shall!” I cried, and I could not help throwing my arms round my dear old friend and kissing his cheek, though it was no doubt HIGHLY improper to embrace one’s prime minister.

  Chapter 30

  PROMISES, 1839

  Albert and his brother returned from their day at Frogmore for dinner on Monday, but we had only a little time alone that evening. The whole company seemed involved in playing jackstraws—the straws were made of ivory—and Albert and Ernest both proved VERY dexterous. Knowing what I was about to do the next day, I was unusually clumsy. When we said our goodnights, dearest Albert gazed deeply into my eyes and squeezed my hand, and that gave me confidence that all would go well. Nevertheless, I slept scarcely at all.

  Tuesday morning, after I had taken care of a few items of official business, I sent Albert a note, asking him to come at noon to the little room we called the Blue Closet. Maggie and I spent an hour trying on various dresses—I settled on one of palest pink—and doing my hair. I decided against wearing any jewelry but pearl earrings. I longed to tell her what was about to happen, but of course could not, though she may have guessed.

  Maggie disappeared, and at precisely noon Albert was standing in the doorway. I was sure he knew why I had sent for him, but that made it no easier. We were BOTH so nervous, we were trembling!

  Though all of our earlier conversations had been in English, we now spoke in German of the MOST inconsequential things. My heart was beating wildly, and I wondered if Albert could hear it. My mouth was so dry I could hardly say a word. Finally, though, I drew a breath and plunged ahead, speaking in English. “Dearest Albert,” I said, barely above a whisper, “it would make me too happy if you would consent—”

  He did not let me finish. He seized my hands in both of his and kissed my fingertips. “My dearest Victoria, there is nothing more I could wish than to spend the rest of my life with you!”

  And then we were in each other’s arms, embracing, laughing, kissing, weeping, and kissing again. Oh, to feel as I felt at that moment, loved by such an angel! Albert was SUCH perfection, perfect in every way. How I adored him! We embraced over and over again, and I knew with all certainty that this was the happiest, brightest moment of my life. It would be MADNESS to wait a year! If I could have married him that day, I would have, without question.

  We parted then for an hour or two to dress for dinner, and naturally I flew to dearest Daisy and told her
my DELICIOUS news. There were more tears of joy. When I recalled how wretched I had felt only a few weeks earlier—only a few DAYS earlier—I could scarcely believe this new happiness. But I pledged her to secrecy.

  “I shall write to Uncle Leopold and inform Baron Stockmar, but no one else is to know,” I told her. “Not even Mamma, who as we know is unable ever to keep a secret.”

  Daisy embraced me and gave me her word, and we went down to dinner. Of course, she no longer held my hand, but on this MOMENTOUS day I reached for hers.

  I could hardly bear to sit through several courses and the conversation afterward when my heart was bursting with joy. There was dearest Albert, handsomer than ever in the Windsor uniform. Each time our eyes met, we could not prevent ourselves from smiling broadly. Our secret must have been obvious to everybody.

  “Please, dearest love,” I said when the evening finally ended and we had escaped to the privacy of my apartments, “it would mean so much if I could have a little of your dear hair.”

  “Then you must find scissors and cut off whatever lock pleases you,” dearest Albert said, laughing.

  I called for Maggie, who supplied the scissors along with a bit of advice: “Cut from a place just behind the ear, not from the front,” she said, trying to suppress a smile.

  I did as she advised, but when Albert inspected the results, he did say he might not hire me as his barber.

  After many ardent kisses we said good night and parted VERY reluctantly. Maggie had just finished helping me into my nightclothes when a letter was delivered. I broke the seal and read:

  Dearest greatly beloved Victoria, how can it be that I have come to deserve so much love, so much affection? I believe with all my heart that Heaven has sent me an angel whose brightness shall illumine my life.

  My eyes swept down the page. There was more, and then the last line: “In body and soul ever your slave, your loyal ALBERT.”

  I read it again and burst into tears. Dear good Maggie, understanding everything without my saying a word, wrapped me in her strong arms. “I pray that your majesty will have every happiness,” she murmured, “as I have with my Simon.”

  The next weeks were deliciously happy. I gave dearest Albert a little ring with the date engraved, 15th October 1839, a date that would be ever dear to me, and he gave me a little ring that matched it. We decided that we would marry on the tenth of February in the coming year.

  In order to have two months at home in Coburg, dearest Albert planned to leave England with his brother on the fourteenth of November. As I had counted the days with dread before his arrival, now I counted the days until his departure, determined to savor each one. We spent every possible hour together, talking and talking—I had never imagined there would be so much to talk about with a future husband! He stayed with me while I attended to the stream of papers that never stopped appearing on my desk. We walked together and rode together, played piano duets and sang together. I could hardly wait to be alone with Albert, to kiss his sweet mouth again and again, to whisper my passionate love for him. I understood now what Maggie had told me so long ago when I’d begged her to describe to me what it was like to be in love, for I’d had no idea of it then. I remembered her words:

  ’Tis the most wonderful feeling! When my Simon holds me in his arms and kisses me, I think I’m going to melt—just like butter.

  That was exactly how I felt when Albert kissed me, that I was going to melt—just like butter.

  I wrote to dear Uncle Leopold: “I love him more than I can say. The days pass like a dream, and I am so much bewildered that I scarcely know how to write. I do feel very very happy.”

  It must have been evident to everyone that I was deeply, rapturously, in love. But it was not until a few days before dearest Albert was to leave for Germany that I finally went to Mamma’s apartments to give her the news. She was seated at her desk, writing a letter—to Sir John, no doubt—and she glanced up, surprised to see me. Though we met daily in public, it was rare for me to visit her, and I had forbidden her to appear in my apartments without an invitation, which was equally rare.

  “Dear Victoria, how good to see you here,” she said, rising to greet me with a wary smile.

  “Mamma, I’ve come to give you good news. I’m sure you will be very happy to learn that I intend to marry Prince Albert.”

  Mamma’s smile warmed. “Oh, my dearest Vic!” she cried, tears springing to her eyes, and she reached out to embrace me. “Albert is such a dear, dear boy, and I know he will make you very happy.” Then she held me at arm’s length and said sharply, “But it was very ill of you not to tell me until now. The servants have been gossiping about it for weeks.”

  I felt my face flush at her reprimand. Perhaps she was right—it was ill of me. “We will be married three months from today,” I said.

  This was not the time to remind Mamma that she should begin making definite plans to move out of Buckingham Palace and to establish a home for herself elsewhere. That discussion would have to come later. It was sure to be unpleasant, and I could not bear any unpleasantness now. As soon as I could break away, I hurried off in search of dearest Albert.

  One delicious night just before my darling was to leave for Germany, I held a ball in honor of my two cousins—I had seen scarcely anything of Ernest—and Albert taught me to waltz. Due to my station, I had never been permitted to dance encircled in a man’s arms, but now that everyone knew we were to be married, no eyebrows would be raised by any but the oldest and most conservative ladies of the court. When the band struck up a tune in three-quarter time, Albert and I danced together, my first public waltz and my last dance as an unmarried girl.

  I hated our parting. It would be a VERY long three months until I would see my beloved again. I thought I could not bear it, I felt SO wretched, but dearest Albert consoled me and kissed me so tenderly that I shed tears but did not break down in sobs as I so often had at partings. I loved him so ardently, so intensely, and I knew he loved me just as passionately and devotedly, and that he would return, and from that day on my life would be perfection.

  Then he was gone, almost like in a dream, and in the meanwhile, there was much to be done in preparation for the wedding. Soon after he departed, he wrote from Calais:

  I need not tell you that since we left all my thoughts have been with you. Your image fills my whole soul. Our days together flew by so quickly, but our separation will fly equally so.

  A few days later I read these words:

  Dearly beloved Victoria, I long to talk to you. Your dear picture stands on my table, and I can hardly take my eyes off it.

  And this:

  Love of you fills my heart. Where love is, there is happiness. Even in my dreams I never imagined I should find so much love on earth. My greatest wish is to walk through life, with all its joys and all its storms, with you, my dearest, at my side.

  His letters, arriving almost daily, sustained me. I kissed the pages, danced off to share a line or two with dearest Daisy, and put the letters in a box by my pillow, to read and to kiss again and again.

  Chapter 31

  TROUBLE, 1840

  A week after bidding good-bye to dearest Albert at Windsor, I rode up to London to present a formal declaration of marriage to my Privy Council. I did not need Lord Melbourne’s assistance in writing this speech; I felt perfectly capable of doing it myself. I could not stop my hands from trembling and the paper from shaking—it was rather an awful moment—but my voice was firm and did not betray my nervousness.

  What would I have done without the advice of dearest Daisy? She agreed with me that the wedding should be held at Buckingham Palace and not at Westminster Abbey, where it would seem like a second coronation. I made list after list, deciding on which young ladies should attend me and who was to be invited to the ceremony and to the wedding breakfast—lists with many additions and crossings-out. But I was VERY firm and unwavering about one thing: no Tories to be invited.

  In January, my household left Windso
r and moved back to London. Buckingham Palace had been newly painted and gilded, and pretty flowered chintz curtains and furniture brought in. This is where my dearest Albert and I shall live, I thought, and I could not help smiling.

  But my pleasure was soon blighted by the wretched Tories. In mid-January I opened Parliament and read a speech to the House of Lords. I was less nervous than I had ever been and thought it went well. Then, within a week, arguments had begun about the size of dearest Albert’s household and his allowance. I had assumed that Parliament would provide my future husband with the annual sum of fifty thousand pounds, the same amount my uncle Leopold was promised when he married poor Princess Charlotte. But the despicable Tories claimed that the country was TOO POOR to provide my consort with so much. Even that nasty wretch, Sir Robert Peel, stood up and opposed it. They decided that thirty thousand was enough for Prince Albert!

  Naturally, I was furious, and so was dearest Albert. “Those nice Tories have cut my income nearly in half,” he wrote to me. “It is inconceivable that they could behave so insultingly to you and to me. I have little respect for them, and everyone here in Coburg is indignant at my treatment.”

  Making me even angrier was the suggestion by some in Parliament that Prince Albert might possibly have Roman Catholic leanings. As queen, I was forbidden to marry any but a Protestant. The duke of Wellington made quite an issue of it and was among those who opposed giving dearest Albert the fifty thousand pounds he deserved. Everyone fawned over him for his defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo, but I did not, for he was a wicked Tory. He said that the people deserved to know more about the German prince and be absolutely sure that he was a Protestant!