Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria

by Виктория Холт

  “The Duchess's real feeling was not for you but for power,” said Lord Melbourne. “I fear she was not really strong-minded or she should have understood the futility of her actions; nor had she as much real affection for you as she feigned to have.”

  How right he was!

  One day when I was talking with Lord Melbourne in the closet where we discussed state matters and had those delightful personal conversations, Mama came in without warning. She had a conspiratorial look on her face—almost as though she thought she was going to surprise us in a most unpleasant way.

  I was really quite angry.

  I said, “I am engaged in business with the Prime Minister. I think it would be better if you made an appointment when you wish to see the Queen.”

  Mama looked stunned but she made no attempt to argue; she just disappeared.

  Lord Melbourne was looking at me, half amused, half admiringly.

  “The Duchess should know that when her daughter refers to herself as the Queen she is going to be very firm indeed.”

  And after that what I thought of as the war between our two factions seemed to become more fierce.

  The ladies of the households became quite spiteful with each other; and Lehzen and I used to talk sometimes indignantly, sometimes laughingly, of the little battles that went on.

  All the same I would rather not have had it so.

  Meanwhile Sir John Conroy stayed on and I suspected that he set a great many rumors in progress, such as the fact that I was getting fat. There was another more pernicious one that I did not hear much about until later. This was that my friendship with Lord Melbourne was very close indeed— closer than the relationship between the Queen and her Prime Minister should be.

  It was just after Christmas of that year 1839. That lovely morning when Lord Conyngham had come to me and told me I was Queen seemed more than eighteen months away. So much had happened since then. There was one matter that I had tried not to think too much about, but it would keep forcing itself into my mind. This was my changing attitude to Uncle Leopold. All my life until I became Queen, he had been the one I had looked up to perhaps more than any other. He had been the father I had never known. I had sought his advice on every occasion. I had strived to please him. I had believed everything he had told me. He had been more of a god than a man as far as I was concerned.

  Now that had changed.

  Ever since I had ascended the throne I had begun to detect something in Uncle Leopold's letters that made me very uneasy. It was quite insidious at first, but as time passed it became more and more obvious. Uncle Leopold wanted to manage the affairs of Europe and I was in a very powerful position. He had always exerted a great influence over me, so naturally he thought to use me now.

  There was one sentence in one of his letters which seemed of special significance: “Before you decide anything important, I should be glad if you would consult me; this would also have the advantage of giving you time …”

  I wrote back assuring him of my love and devotion, which I certainly felt, for I was not the sort of person who could dissimulate. Pretense was quite alien to my nature. In fact one of my faults was in betraying my feelings too openly. So I still did feel a great affection for Uncle Leopold and I never never could forget all he had been to me in my childhood; but the young Princess Victoria sheltered in her palace prison was not the Queen of England, and it was her task—with the help of her own government—to manage the affairs of her country.

  Uncle Leopold wanted everything done in a way that would be advantageous to him.

  There came the time when he was maneuvering with France and Holland for the rights of Belgium, and he wanted England to come down in his favor. He needed English support and he could not understand why England remained neutral. A little persuasion from me might save Belgium, he wrote.

  All I want from your kind Majesty is that you will occasionally express to your ministers—and particularly to good Lord Melbourne— that as is compatible with the interests of your dominions, you do not wish your Government should take the lead in such measures which might in a short time bring in the destruction of this country as well as that of your Uncle and his family …

  I was very upset when I read this letter. I showed it to Lord Melbourne who read it and nodded his head. “Leave it to me,” he said; and of course that meant: Leave it alone.

  I waited for a whole week before replying and then I assured Uncle Leopold that he was very wrong if he thought my feelings for him could change. But at the same time I skimmed over the subject of foreign politics. All I said was that I understood and sympathized with his difficulties and he could be sure that Lord Melbourne and Lord Palmerston were very anxious for his prosperity and that of Belgium.

  I had to make it clear to Uncle Leopold that he could not command me. I loved him dearly but I could not allow my affection to interfere with my country's foreign policy.

  All this was distressing and added to my feelings of unrest.

  It was in the middle of January when Lehzen came to me in a twitter of excitement. She said, “I have something really rather interesting to tell you.”

  “Well, what is it?” I asked.

  “It's… Scotty …” Scotty was a name that had been given to Flora Hastings by her enemies—I supposed because of her origins.

  “Oh dear, what fresh mischief has she been up to?”

  “Your Majesty may well ask. I think this is going to be rather amusing and not a little shocking. You know that she has for a long time been very friendly with that man? The Duchess has been quite jealous at times and so has the Princess Sophia.”

  “It is past my understanding why these women think so highly of him.”

  “He is supposed to be good-looking and they like his slimy way of talking.”

  “I cannot understand how anyone could. But what is this about Flora Hastings?”

  “You know Conroy went to her mother's house with her for Christmas.”

  “Yes, in Scotland. Loudon Castle, wasn't it? I suppose he was a member of the house party.”

  “She came back in the post-chaise with Conroy. The two of them would have been… alone.”

  “She would have liked that. It must have given them one or two intimate moments.”

  “So it seems,” said Lehzen.

  “Oh come on. What are you trying to tell me. Really, Daisy, you can be most perverse at times.”

  “I don't know whether I should tell you.”

  “You know you are longing to tell me. I command you to get on with it.”

  “Well, she arrived back after her most delightful post-chaise journey and complained of feeling ill; and there was a distinct change in her appearance.”

  “What on earth do you mean?”

  “She was a little larger below the waist than it is good for an unmarried lady to be.”

  “Oh, no. I can't believe it. Not Lady Flora.”

  “Even Lady Flora has her foolish moments. She went to see Dr. Clark. She complained of pains and there was this significant protuberance.”

  “What was it?”

  Lehzen looked at me and raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh no! It couldn't be.”

  Lehzen shrugged. “Dr. Clark gave her rhubarb and ipecacuanha pills and she said they relieved her and the swelling had gone down. But that did not seem to be the case. Such swellings do not disappear until the appointed time. And now the truth has come out as such truths must. Dr. Clark told one of the ladies that Lady Flora Hastings is pregnant.”

  “What a scandal! What will Mama do?”

  “The Duchess is in a difficult position. If Sir John is responsible for Lady Flora's condition, the Duchess will have to do something about that.”

  Lehzen laughed, already enjoying Mama's discomfiture.

  I said, “Should not Mama be told at once?”

  “Lady Tavistock does not feel that she can approach the Duchess who, as Your Majesty knows, might well refuse to see one of your ladies.”r />
  “Perhaps I should tell her. But then in view of how difficult everything is between us that would not be easy. Perhaps Lord Melbourne's advice should be asked.”

  “Lady Tavistock should tell him,” insisted Lehzen. “It would be somewhat indelicate for Your Majesty to do so.”

  I wanted to say that I could discuss anything with Lord Melbourne; but I thought it best to let Lady Tavistock approach him first, and this she did.

  I could hardly wait to see Lord Melbourne. He was amused by the contretemps. He thought it would raise quite a little noise.

  “I cannot understand why these women like him so much,” I said. “There is Mama, Aunt Sophia, and now Flora Hastings.”

  “He is an amazing fellow to keep three ladies in good humor all at once.”

  “Oh, he is capable of every misdemeanor there is.”

  “It seems that he might be capable of a good many.”

  I was horrified that there could be such behavior in the Palace. There was no doubt in my mind that Flora Hastings was pregnant, and it did seem clear that the cause of her predicament was that demon incarnate, that monster whose very name I could not bring myself to utter.

  Lady Flora went about looking pale and ill and very bitter, yet defiant. She had heard the talk and professed to be horrified by it. She was a virgin, she proclaimed, and it was not possible that she could be pregnant.

  “There is only one thing to do in such circumstances,” said Lord Melbourne. “That is wait and see.”

  I sent for Dr. Clark and talked to him about the case. Lehzen was present because she felt it would be improper for me to talk of such things with him alone.

  “Have you told her outright that she is with child?” I asked.

  He said he had not.

  “Then all she complains of at the moment is gossip. Perhaps you should tell her that her symptoms suggest pregnancy.”

  Lehzen said, “Why not ask her if she is secretly married? She will know what you mean then; and if she says she is not, tell her she ought to be.”

  “That would be a way of putting it,” I said.

  Dr. Clark said it was difficult to make an accurate diagnosis without a proper examination and he had only seen the protuberance over Lady Flora's skirts.

  “There should be a thorough examination,” said Lehzen, “and until that has been made and Lady Flora proved to be innocent, she should not be allowed to appear at Court.”

  I thought that seemed reasonable and gave Dr. Clark permission to confront Lady Flora, which he did. She was very distressed, insisted on her innocence and said she would indeed not submit to an examination, which naturally she would find distressing and humiliating.

  I sent Lady Portman to Mama to tell her what was happening. Lady Portman came back and said the Duchess was stricken with horror and she did not believe that Lady Flora was pregnant. She thought it was a wicked plot of which there were many in the Palace.

  On no account, she insisted, should one of her ladies be submitted to such a test, and that must be an end to the matter.

  Mama was as foolish as ever. As if there could be an end until the matter was solved.

  Lady Flora realized the position because she was a very astute person; and after a few days of consideration, hearing that Sir Charles Clark was in the Palace and that he was a specialist in such matters, she said she would submit herself to the examination.

  It was a pity that these events were not confined in the Palace walls. Unfortunately gossip has a way of seeping out and there was talk everywhere about the scandal and how the Queen was playing a big part in the war against immorality in the Palace.

  Everyone seemed to know that the examination was to take place. I could imagine the salacious expression on their faces. They loved all scandal but nothing could delight them more than one of this nature. They were prepared to damn Lady Flora as a scarlet woman or applaud her as a saint. It all depended on the result of the examination.

  We were all stunned by the verdict, which was that Lady Flora was a virgin.

  As soon as Lady Portman told me the news I came to the conclusion that I had behaved in a foolish way. I should have kept aloof from the proceedings and should never have allowed myself to take sides. Everyone knew of the feud between my mother's household and mine and when one of my mother's retinue attracted so much attention, it appeared that I had put myself at the head of those who had denounced her.

  What could I do? I must immediately see Lady Flora and express my deepest sympathy and offer my regret for what had happened. I sent a message to her asking her to come to me that evening that I might speak to her in person. I received a message from Lady Flora to the effect that she was suffering from exhaustion and bad headache; and while she appreciated the honor done to her, begged me to allow her to postpone her visit until she had had time to recover from her ordeal.

  Lord Melbourne came to see me.

  He was surprised at the verdict and inclined not to believe it.

  “But they have given Lady Flora a certificate, which she insisted on, and it states that she is a virgin.”

  “Sometimes these matters can be rather complex.”

  He did not discuss it in detail, which would have been indelicate and Lord Melbourne would never be that; but I did hear afterward from Lady Tavistock that there had been cases where someone believed to be a virgin had given birth; and there was a certain enlargement of the womb as there would have been if Lady Flora were pregnant.

  “The matter must rest there,” said Lord Melbourne.

  But that was not to be permitted, for Lady Flora lost no time in writing to her brother, the Marquess of Hastings, who, although he was on a sick bed, dashed up to London.

  He was a young man who was determined to make trouble and Mama was not one to miss an opportunity like this. The enemy—that was myself and my household—had committed a tactical error. Interest in the Hastings scandal was growing, Lady Flora Hastings was the heroine; and as in all melodramas there must be a villain. I was selected for that role. Although I had had little to do with the matter, just as the captain is responsible for his ship, so was I for the Court.

  The people were murmuring against me and my cruelty to the sainted Lady Flora; I quickly noticed the absence of those cheers in the street, and I heard an occasional hiss.

  “What about Lady Flora?” I heard someone in the crowd shout. It was most distressing.

  I began to feel ill. I could not sleep at night and lost my appetite.

  Lord Hastings determined not to let his sister's cause be forgotten. Lord Melbourne told me he had come bursting in upon him demanding “this and that.” He said he wanted a complete vindication of his sister's honor.

  “He has had that,” I insisted. “The doctors have said—”

  “That is not enough. He is consulting the law and and threatens to take action.”

  “Against whom?”

  Lord Melbourne put his head on one side and smiled dolefully at me.

  “I assured him of our innocence,” went on Lord M, “and the only way I could mollify him was bustling him off to consult the Duke of Wellington.”

  “Why should he think he could help?”

  “Your Majesty, people think that the man who beat Napoleon at Waterloo could settle all difficulties with the same success. I saw Wellington afterward. He told me that Hastings was in a state, and that the best way he could serve all concerned was to Hush It Up. A sentiment with which I am in entire agreement.”

  It was several days before Lady Flora came to see me.

  Poor woman, she was clearly ill. She knelt before me but I took her hands and made her rise.

  “My dear Lady Flora,” I said, “I am truly sorry that this has come to pass.” I spoke with feeling for it was indeed true. “I wish it could all be forgotten. The Duchess is most distressed.”

  “The Duchess has always been so tender to me … so loving … so kind.”

  Lady Flora's voice broke and I kissed her again.


  “I thank Your Majesty,” she said, “and I will try to forget… for the sake of the Duchess.”

  I do believe that Flora Hastings would have let the matter drop but, of course, there were those about her who had no intention of allowing this to happen.

  Gossip continued, fostered, I suspected, by Conroy, who saw a chance of having his revenge on me.

  If only we had met his demands—anything to have got rid of him! Letters were appearing in the Press, and they were all in praise of Lady Flora and against me.

  One day Lord Melbourne came to me and said that he had had a letter from Lord Hastings demanding the dismissal of Sir James Clark from the Palace.

  “This man is determined to make the matter public,” said Lord M.

  “That must not be,” I replied.

  “It shall not be, Ma'am, if I can help it.”

  There was gossip about Lehzen. “The German woman,” they called her. There were stories of how she had wormed her way into my affections and had ousted my mother. She, they said, was responsible for the terrible ordeal which Lady Flora had undergone. I was becoming more and more distressed. It was all so unfair and so untrue. I was very worried.

  I would not have believed that this domestic matter could have been so blown up as to become an attack on me. I was sure that Sir John Conroy was at the bottom of it and that it was he who sent the snippets of gossip to the Press. The story was taken up by foreigners, exaggerated and embroidered.

  Lady Flora had written a letter to her uncle, Hamilton Fitzgerald, and when this was published in the Examiner, there was no longer any hope of hushing up the matter. The whole world was talking of it. In this letter Lady Flora had set out the sequence of events as they had happened. She praised the Duchess for having treated her with sympathy and affection and there were veiled criticisms of me. She implied that I should have dismissed Sir James Clark and those who had spread the gossip about her. She said Clark was the tool of certain women, and he alone should not be sacrificed for the sake of others who were more guilty.