The Queen's Husband

by Виктория Холт

  He was astonished. Clearly her moral attitude was at fault. It was she who had been unwisely brought up; and the reason was that she had taken far more account of her governess than of her mother. He could see that life was not going to be very easy as the Queen’s husband – unless he took a very firm line. So much would depend on Victoria herself, and although she had been so loving when they had been together, he detected a faintly autocratic note in her letters.

  This was more than ever apparent when he was considering the honeymoon. This was going to be a very important period. He pictured their being alone together for a few weeks, far from the influence of Lord Melbourne and the Baroness Lehzen. In that time he would be able to make himself so important to her that she would be quite willing to accept his advice, which was what a German husband expected of his wife. He feared that there would be a great deal in England of which he disapproved. He must have those weeks alone with her at Windsor.

  Perhaps her reaction to this suggestion was more significant than any of the others in which her attitude might have been dictated by her ministers or the Tory opposition, for this was her own decision – and given somewhat imperiously. And was he wrong in thinking it a little patronising?

  Dear Albert had not understood the matter at all.

  You forget, my dearest love, that I am the Sovereign, and that business can wait for nothing. Parliament is sitting and something occurs almost every day for which I may be required and it is quite impossible for me to be absent from London; therefore two or three days is already a long time to be absent …

  She might have fallen headlong in love with him when she had seen him, but during his absence she was quickly remembering that she was the Queen.

  He pictured it. The two or three days – at most – at Windsor where in the fresh clean air he would be at his best. He hated London; he felt unwell and so tired in London. He did not like Buckingham Palace, where there were too many Ministers at hand, too much ceremony. At Windsor they could have ridden in the forest; they could have taken long walks in the clean fresh air; they could have retired early and risen at six. But in London she would be planning those interminable balls.

  He could almost begin to ask himself whether his great good fortune was so wonderful after all.

  What could he do? How could he protest already that he was not treated as an equal. Who knew, she might fall out of love as easily as she had fallen in.

  He foresaw all kinds of difficulties ahead. He wrote to Uncle Leopold, implying that he felt melancholy and was gloomy about the future. Everything that had happened since he had left England made him feel that his new country was not ready to welcome him. He did not say that he felt there were two Victorias – the humble, tender, affectionate girl in love and the imperious young woman who, although she could forget temporarily that she was a queen, was inclined to remember it whenever any decision was to be made.

  * * *

  It was February – the marriage month. He must take a last farewell of the forests and mountains of his homeland. Ernest had come home because naturally he and their father must be at the wedding; so for the last time he and Ernest could roam the woods together, hunting, shooting, looking for rare relics such as had delighted them in their childhood and formed their ‘museum’.

  ‘What is the use now?’ asked Albert. ‘I shall never be able to see our collection again.’

  ‘What nonsense. You will surely bring Victoria to Coburg on a visit.’

  ‘She would find the time it takes too long to be away from her business.’

  ‘You would have to put your foot down like a stern husband.’

  ‘Not with the Queen of England,’ said Albert wryly.

  Ernest looked at his brother in a startled way. Ernest did not know of the correspondence which had taken place between Albert and his affianced bride.

  ‘But let us talk of the old days,’ said Albert quickly.

  * * *

  There were some necessary celebrations before he left the land of his birth. The people expected it. Their Prince Albert was going away to marry the Queen of England and everyone knew that would be a very good thing because the Prince would be King of that powerful country and he would never forget his duty to his native land.

  There must be a ball, but balls in the ducal palace were very different from those in Windsor and London. They would be over at a respectable hour and although Albert would have preferred to do without them at all, he could submit to these with a fairly good grace. He must listen to the bands and the speeches of congratulation. Little did they know what an imperious young woman he was going to marry.

  The time came to leave accompanied by Ernest and their father. His grandmother wept openly when she said goodbye; she had watched over him from his childhood days and he knew that she was thinking she would never see him again. As the carriage drove away he saw her attendants catch her as she fainted, and it was almost as though he were going to his own funeral.

  There was another of those dreadful crossings when the sea was as rough as the last time. The boat was tossed on those malicious waves and Albert again knew what it was to be indifferent to death – in fact to consider whether it might not be preferable to the torments inflicted by the sea.

  Eventually the white cliffs appeared and he staggered to his feet, knowing that a crowd would be waiting to see the Queen’s prospective husband.

  There was a faint cheer as he stepped ashore. He smiled. No one must know that he could scarcely stand up, that he was feeling wretchedly sick. He was at least on dry land and he must give them no opportunity of jeering at the Queen’s husband.

  He stepped into the waiting carriage; the people cheered and he was driven off on the road to Canterbury where he would spend the night before going on to London and Buckingham Palace.

  The people of Canterbury did not seem to dislike him; there were only a few murmurings of ‘German’, and as after a good night’s sleep the effects of the sea crossing wore off he felt able to face what lay before him.

  At the palace Victoria was waiting impatiently. There was no ceremonial greeting. The Queen had been replaced by the young girl in love.

  She flew at him in her impetuous way.

  ‘Dear, dearest Albert.’

  She was looking up at him, her lips slightly parted to show those prominent teeth and the hint of pink gum; the blue eyes were adoring.

  ‘It has seemed so long.’ She had flung herself into his arms. ‘I have been watching for hours from the equerries’ room.’

  She blushed, suddenly turning to Uncle Ernest and Cousin Ernest. She had forgotten everything but Albert.

  Uncle Ernest smiled and murmured ‘Charming! Charming!’ and Cousin Ernest smiled and looked enviously at Albert.

  ‘I am so happy to see you … all,’ she cried eagerly, gazing adoringly at Albert.

  He could certainly not complain of her welcome.

  * * *

  During the afternoon and the next day which preceded his wedding he could complain of nothing in the Queen’s attitude towards him. She chattered in a rather hysterical manner of her joy at their reunion; the days had been so long without him; she had been desolate when his letters had failed to arrive; these wicked Tories were monsters and she would never forgive them for the manner in which they had treated him. What she would have done without dear Lord Melbourne beside her, she did not know. It was angelic of dear Albert to accept Mr Anson as his secretary.

  ‘But I have no choice,’ he replied.

  ‘You are so philosophical, dearest Albert. That is just another of your dear qualities which I love.’

  He could not fail to be charmed by her; there was no sign of the arrogant Queen; nor had there been, he remembered, when they had been together. She just appeared in those letters – dictated no doubt by her ministers. And not once did she mention the Baroness Lehzen. In fact he did not see the woman. He had exaggerated her importance; he had nothing to fear; as long as Victoria acknowledged her duties
to him as his wife, he would overcome all the opposition to him which obviously existed in some sections of the Parliament and the country.

  Darling Eos had arrived safely in advance of his master, she told him; and wasn’t it a blessing that he got on so well with Dashy?

  ‘Darling Albert, I am so glad you will be staying at the palace. Mama thought that it was wrong for a bridegroom to spend the night before his wedding under the same roof as his bride. I told her it was nonsense.’

  ‘Not very daughterly behaviour,’ he commented, which made her laugh loudly. She did laugh too loudly. Later he would point out that it was rather unseemly. And a good daughter should honour her father and mother. Was it not one of the commandments? But it would have been awkward to have stayed somewhere else; and knowing these people they would probably have given him some inferior lodging which would have been humiliating and undignified. He smiled with her.

  ‘Albert, you are so beautiful when you smile.’

  There was no doubt that she was affectionate and he liked her frankness. There was a very engaging lack of guile.

  The night before the wedding they read through the marriage service, even to his putting the ring on her finger.

  They retired early – to Albert’s satisfaction.

  * * *

  In the morning there was a letter from her asking her ‘most dearly beloved bridegroom’ whether he had slept well.

  He had nothing to fear.

  He looked out of his window and saw that the rain was teeming down. Not a very auspicious beginning to their life together, he thought, with a return of the gloomy feeling; then he re-read the note from his ‘ever faithful Victoria’. Of what importance was the weather? She loved him; she doted on him; he would guide her in the way she should go and together they would bring great good to their marriage and the country.

  He drove to the Chapel Royal amid the cheers of people who had lined the streets. They could not help admiring his looks for he was undoubtedly handsome in his uniform. (She had recently created him a Field Marshal.) He looked very different from the pale-faced, sick young man who had stepped ashore at Dover.

  When he entered the chapel he felt ill at ease because he had not been properly informed of what was expected of him. He was unsure whether he should bow to the Archbishop of Canterbury or to the altar; he carried gloves in one hand and a prayer book in the other; and wondered whether he carried them in the appropriate hands. He was very uneasy; but his father and brother were close to him and they smiled reassuringly at him. His father was proud of him, Ernest envious in the best possible way, and suddenly he felt desolate. What should he do when they went away and left him here in this strange land?

  And then Victoria arrived in white satin and flounces of lace surmounted by the ribbon of the Garter and her dazzling diamond necklace. He did notice that she prominently wore the sapphire brooch which he had given her; the face beneath the wreath of orange blossom was ecstatic, and he felt reassured at the sight of her. Her adoring eyes took in his magnificence – Field Marshal’s uniform, the Order of the Garter, which she had also recently bestowed on him, his tasselled sash, his white knee breeches, the diamond star on his breast, and her eyes told him that she thought him beautiful.

  She was trembling a little but as always very conscious of what was expected of her. Her presence calmed him and she whispered to him telling him what they were expected to do. She was both the nervous bride and the autocratic Queen. She trembled visibly – that was with emotion – but her voice when she made her responses was firm and clear.

  Albert put the ring on her finger – a little awkwardly perhaps and she had to help him along, but she loved him for his lack of poise. Dear, dear Albert! She would cherish him for ever more.

  The ceremony was over. Victoria and Albert were married.

  * * *

  They drove back to the palace where the wedding breakfast and the guests awaited them, but before going to them they were alone together for a brief while, during which time she gave Albert a ring. He must wear it all his life, she told him, and they must never, never have any secrets from each other.

  How tiresome, she added, that they must mingle with the guests.

  ‘But, dearest Albert, that will soon be over. Then we shall be on our way to Windsor.’

  Windsor! he thought. Fresh air! The trees and the fields! He would feel well there; it was an ideal place in which to start their married life. He would show her, with the utmost tenderness, that although she was the Queen, she was his wife and a husband must be master in his own house.

  ‘Darling Albert, I know you love Windsor. So do I. It will be wonderful to spend a few days there before returning to my dear London. I never like to be away too long from my capital city. Other places seem a little dead when compared with it. And everyone of course is in London. They have to come to Windsor.’

  A pained look crossed his face. What different tastes they had!

  ‘And when we get back to London there will be lots of celebrations. Everyone will expect it. Banquets and balls, I daresay.’ Her eyes sparkled at the thought.

  He feared his dear little Victoria was very frivolous. But this was not the time perhaps to attempt to improve her.

  * * *

  ‘Look,’ she cried, ‘there is the castle.’

  ‘Magnificent,’ said Albert with deep feeling.

  ‘Dear Albert, I am so glad you like it. It will be one of your homes now.’

  ‘It will be my favourite home,’ he said.

  ‘Because we shall spend our honeymoon there? Oh, Albert, what a delightful thought.’

  ‘That and because it is in such a beautiful setting. I hope we shall come here often.’

  ‘It is difficult of course when Parliament is sitting. You see, dear Albert, the Prime Minister cannot keep coming back and forth, nor can he stay at the Castle when there is so much business going on in the House.’

  A gentle reminder that she was the Queen.

  ‘I hope I shall be of use to you,’ he said. ‘I should want you to consult me now and then.’

  ‘Dear Albert, you can be sure that if the need arose I should certainly do so.’

  If the need arose! What did she mean by that? But he must not show irritation on his honeymoon.

  They alighted from the carriage and Albert stood gazing in wonder. What splendid Gothic architecture!

  ‘The terraces were made for Queen Elizabeth,’ chattered Victoria.

  ‘Beautiful,’ murmured Albert. ‘Grand. Imposing!’ And he thought: How different from Rosenau, and he could not suppress a longing to be there.

  ‘Those are the private apartments looking east,’ explained Victoria. ‘The state apartments to the north and the visitors’ apartments to the south. But let us go in.’

  The past seemed to envelop him as he went inside those thick stone walls, and as he did so he wondered what part he would play in the future. If he were King of this country, if this stately and glorious castle were his and he was introducing his bride to it, how proud and happy he would have been.

  But he was the outsider; hers was the hand from which all blessings flowed. ‘Come, Albert,’ she was saying, ‘I will show you my castle.’

  In the great banqueting hall Kings of the past had feasted. Here Henry VIII had knighted a sirloin of beef and sported with Anne Boleyn. He pictured them all, the long line of English sovereigns … mostly men but some female … Elizabeth who would allow no man to share her throne and Anne whose husband, stupid Prince George of Denmark, had been given £50,000 a year when he, Albert, had been considered worthy of only £30,000.

  ‘What are you thinking, Albert?’

  ‘Of all the Kings and Queens who have lived here.’

  ‘So you know our history.’

  ‘But of course.’

  ‘My clever Albert! But now the castle is mine.’

  Mine! he noticed. Ours would have been so much more gracious.

  They went to look at the suite which h
ad been prepared for them.

  ‘The royal bedroom,’ she said with a blush and downcast eyes.

  He went through to another room: ‘And this?’

  ‘My dressing-room.’

  ‘There is a door leading to another room.’ He opened it. It was a bedroom.

  She was beside him. ‘Oh that,’ she said, ‘is dear Lehzen’s room. Hers is always next to mine.’

  A cold fear touched him. Why should he be so apprehensive of that woman? She was only a governess.

  ‘That will be changed now,’ he said, trying to sound authoritative.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she replied lightly. ‘I could never permit that. Poor darling Lehzen would be broken-hearted. You see, dearest, her room was always next to mine. One could not change that sort of thing. It would be too unkind. Besides, I should not wish it.’

  Her loving gaze belied the arrogance of her tone; but he knew the Queen was very close at that moment.

  * * *

  He left her and went down to the drawing-room. She was ecstatically happy. How adorable he was, and how beautiful! Lehzen had not yet arrived. She would be coming later in the evening, so it was not possible to pop in for a chat with her, which was a pity. She had asked dear Lord Melbourne to come down to Windsor the day after tomorrow. She never felt completely happy unless she knew that he was close.

  In the meantime there was dear Albert.

  How pale she looked. She was really exhausted; and she had not got over the feverish cold which to her – and everyone else’s – consternation had attacked her a week ago. She must be well for her wedding night. She threw off her tiredness and went down to the drawing-room.

  Albert was seated at the piano, playing divinely and looking even more divine.

  He stopped playing when she entered and rose to embrace her. What bliss, she thought. How I love dear Albert.