by Jean Plaidy
Queen Elizabeth! I seemed to be haunted by her, for there had been a time when some Member of Parliament had suggested that I change my name to Elizabeth. They had wanted me to be Elizabeth II. That, they said, would be a good omen, in view of the outstanding abilities of the first Elizabeth, and the benefits that had come to the country throughout her glorious reign.
Yes, that and Sir John's complacency over his advancement, which I should have stopped had I been able, spoiled Oxford for me.
Mama was always to the fore on these occasions, speaking to the people as though she were the Queen. I wondered what the King would have said if he could see her, and I had no doubt that there would be some to carry reports of her unseemly conduct to him.
So it was rather pleasant to go back to Kensington.
I had passed into a new phase. They were all realizing that now that I was in my teens I was no longer a child.
Mama had introduced a new lady into her household. This was Lady Flora, a daughter of the Marquess of Hastings. Mama said she would be a friend for me, but as she was about twelve years older than I was, and she and Lehzen took an instant dislike to each other, our friendship did not progress very fast. I was beginning to feel that I wanted to choose my own friends.
There were many visitors to Kensington Palace now. I think that was because I was growing up; and although Mama was very anxious to keep me segregated from the royal family, she welcomed distinguished people at the Palace. I remember how awestruck I was to be presented to Sir Robert Peel—a man of whom Lehzen had talked a great deal. He was very pleasant. Lord Palmerston came with him. He talked to me earnestly as though I were quite grown up and at the same time gave me the impression that he thought I was pretty; and I had to admit that I was quite amused and rather delighted by that.
I was sure I was going to like meeting important people.
I even softened a little toward Sir John. Mama liked dogs and he gave her the sweetest little King Charles spaniel I ever saw. I loved him on the spot and was sure he felt the same about me. He came to me at once and lifted his beautiful eyes to my face.
I cried, “He is lovely! Whose is he?”
Mama said, “He is mine. His name is Dash. Sir John has just given him to me.”
Even that could not alter my feeling for Dash. I even looked forward to going to my mother's rooms so that I could see him. Mama had two birds—a most delightful parakeet and a canary who used to come out of his cage and fly about the room. One could never be sure when he would descend on one's head. But it was little Dash whom I loved.
One day Mama said to me, “I think Dash is really your dog.”
“He is a darling.”
“I think you two liked each other on sight. Sir John says I should give him to you.”
“Did he?” I cried, flushing with pleasure.
Sir John came into the room. I always had the feeling that they discussed together what they were going to say to me. It was rather like a play with one of them waiting in the wings for their cue.
“I know how you love him,” said Sir John, giving me one of his odious smiles.
But of course I loved Dash, and I did want him for my very own.
“I do love him,” I said.
“Well then…he is yours.”
I took him up in my arms. He knew, the little darling, for he started to lick my face.
“No, Dashie,” I said gleefully, and he barked happily.
“Oh, thank you, Mama,” I said.
“I am sure you are very grateful to Sir John for such a gift.”
“Thank you, Sir John,” I said, a little grudgingly, I'm afraid. “May I take Dash now?”
“But of course,” said Mama smiling graciously. “I will have his basket sent along to you.”
So I went, so happy to have Dash. But I did not like Sir John any more for all that.
I was very happy. Dash made such a difference. I bathed him; I tied a ribbon round his neck and told him over and over again that he was mine now.
Dash was not the only great pleasure I had that year. My music master thought that as I had shown such an interest in singing, and was something of a performer myself, I might be taken to the opera.
Oh, the joy of hearing beautiful music exquisitely sung! I was in transports of delight. I wrote about it in the journal Mama had given me more naturally than I had written of anything before. Here was something that gave me profound pleasure. Mama was quite pleased by my enthusiasm for once. She said that if I behaved with decorum she saw no reason why there should not be frequent visits to the opera.
I was amazed to hear from Uncle Leopold that he intended to be married. He wrote me long letters about it. It was so many years since Charlotte had died and he had mostly spent them mourning for her. Now he had decided that he would be lonely no longer.
Of course I wanted to hear all about her for I did not believe anyone could be worthy of Uncle Leopold.
He wrote back:
My dearest Love,
You have told me you wish to have a description of your new Aunt. She is extremely gentle and amiable and her actions are always guided by principles. She is at all times ready and disposed to sacrifice her comfort and inclinations to see others happy. She values goodness, merit, and virtue much more than beauty, riches, and amusement …
Now to her appearance. She is about Feodore's height; her hair is very fair, light blue eyes, and a very gentle expression…
You will see by these descriptions that though my good little wife is not the tallest of queens, she is a great prize that I highly value and cherish.
I was so delighted for Uncle Leopold. For in addition to all her beauty and virtue, Louise of Orlèans was very highly born, being the daughter of Louis Philippe, King of France. It seemed that Leopold's marriage must be perfect.
I hoped it would not prevent his writing to me as frequently as he had in the past, and when I expressed this fear to him he assured me that it would not. He stressed that my welfare was as dear to his heart as it had ever been, and if I were faced with any problems I must write to him and he would give all his thoughts to solving them. I was his dearest love, his darling child. Nothing could change that.
It was a great comfort to think of Uncle Leopold—though across the sea—always ready to listen to me as he had done when I was close at hand.
My fourteenth birthday was approaching. I really was growing up, but I was still four years from the magical eighteen.
I was so happy when Aunt Adelaide said she would give a ball for me. It was to be a juvenile ball for young people all around my age.
Mama could hardly insist that I decline the invitation to my own ball, and if she had attempted to I should have raised a storm. Fortunately I did not have to.
I awoke early on the morning and felt irritated because I could see Mama's bed and the hump in it, which showed me she was still there. Really, it was ridiculous. A girl of fourteen to have to sleep in her mother's bedroom! Uncle Cumberland could not possibly harm me now. What did she imagine he would do? Send in his servants to smother me like the Princes in the Tower?
It was a lovely morning. I could see Dash at the foot of my bed. Spring is so beautiful and I could hear the birds singing in the gardens, and I knew the trees would be sprouting with green buds and the colors of the spring flowers would be so fresh and lovely. May was a good month in which to be born.
And today was the day of the juvenile ball.
The present-giving was a very happy part of a day like this. Mama was very good with presents. She did give the most delightful ones. There was a bag she had worked herself, a bracelet of topaz and turquoise, handkerchiefs and books; and from Lehzen there was an exquisite china basket and a dainty figure in china too. They were lovely. The only jarring note was the presence of the Conroys who behaved as though they were members of the family. All the five Conroy children were there— Victoire, Jane, and the three boys. They gave me a watch chain between them. From the odious Sir John there
was something that I could not help loving in spite of its donor. It was a beautiful painting of Dash—so lifelike that it seemed as though he was going to dart out of the frame into my arms.
I could not help exclaiming with delight. Mama looked very pleased and the moment was spoilt because I detected one of those glances passing between her and Sir John—those intimate secret looks which I hated.
Sir John went with us to St. James's although he had not been invited. He certainly did behave like a member of the family.
I was determined to show Uncle William how sorry I was for the uneasy atmosphere between our two households, and make him understand that it was not of my making. So I was delighted when the Queen took me into his closet to greet him. Aunt Adelaide must have guessed my thoughts. She was such a dear understanding lady, and so eager that everyone should be happy and forget this bickering.
I was wearing the earrings that the King had given me and when I approached him I put my arms around his neck and kissed him.
I said, “I am so glad to see you like this… privately, dear Uncle William. It is so much easier to say thank you for my lovely earrings.”
He was warm and loving immediately. He did not mean to quarrel with me—only with Mama. He was really quite a cozy old gentleman and very sentimental. I saw the tears in his eyes, which was quite affecting.
“So you liked them, eh?” he said.
“They are lovely.”
“And your Aunt Adelaide's brooch? What about that?”
“Lovely too. I am lucky to have such a kind uncle and aunt.”
He patted my arm. “Good girl,” he said. “Nice girl. You're right, Adelaide. She's too good for that lot, eh?”
I could see that the thought of my mother and Sir John made him angry. Adelaide said quickly, “This is going to be a very happy evening. It was a good idea, don't you think, a juvenile ball?”
I said it was the nicest possible idea and Aunt Adelaide always had nice ideas.
That pleased Uncle William because he liked to hear the Queen praised.
“You are to open the ball with your cousin George.”
I knew she meant George Cambridge. The King and Queen were very fond of him, perhaps because he lived with them while his parents were out of the country. I had heard Mama say that they looked upon him as the son they couldn't get and that they had plans for him.
I knew what that meant…plans for marrying me. They wanted him to be Prince Consort. I did not think he could be King.
Mama said smugly, “They will have a nasty shock.”
In any case I was too happy to worry on that night about remote possibilities; and I prepared to enjoy the dance with George Cambridge.
I liked him very well. He was a charming boy and danced with grace. He told me I did too and he said it was a pity I did not come often to Aunt Adelaide's gatherings for the young. He also said I was pretty, which I liked to hear as often as possible because I had certain doubts about the matter myself. I was too plump for one thing. So it was always pleasant to hear compliments.
He told me that poor George Cumberland was going blind and his parents were very worried about him. I was very concerned for George Cumberland and saddened for a while. I could think of nothing worse than losing one's sight.
It was a pity Madame Bourdin had to be seated there watching every one of my steps to see if they were correct. It made it seem like a lesson, and dancing with George Cambridge I could have felt differently were it not for the presence of my dancing mistress.
The Queen brought several other partners for me and I had the impression that they all felt greatly honored to dance with me—which made me very amused and happy. She also took me in to supper and I sat between her and the King. I did not look in Mama's direction but I knew she was lowering because the King behaved as though she were not there and she thought she should be beside me taking all the honors as she did during our tours.
Toasts were drunk and there were quite a number to me, and the King lifted his glass and looked at me with a smile of affection that I returned. Aunt Adelaide was beaming on the other side of me and I thought how happy we could all be without these family troubles.
When we were driving back to Kensington Palace I knew that Mama was displeased. She said to Sir John, “It is easy to see what they are planning. And they are going to be disappointed.”
I knew she was referring to George Cambridge opening the ball with me. But I was too happy to care.
When I awoke next morning, I wrote in my journal: “I was dancing at midnight. I was so amused.”
IT WAS A few days later when Mama told me that some cousins would be visiting us from Germany.
“You will find them charming boys,” said Mama, meaning that they would be far more pleasant than George Cambridge. “Your Uncle Leopold is delighted that they are coming and he says that you should get to know your German cousins.”
“I shall like that, Mama. It is always so interesting to meet cousins.”
“These are your Württemberg cousins. Your Uncle Leopold says that one day you must meet Ernest and Albert of Saxe-Coburg. I do believe they are his special favorites.”
“If they are Uncle Leopold's favorites, I daresay they will be mine.”
Mama smiled, for once pleased with me.
In due course the Württemberg cousins arrived—Ernest and Alexander. I was delighted with them. I liked the way in which they bowed over my hand and clicked their heels as they did so. So German! I thought. So enchanting! They were both tall and handsome and I found it hard to make up my mind which one I liked the better.
When the King and Queen heard that the Württemberg cousins were at Kensington, they decided to give a ball for them. I was very excited.
“You will love it,” I told the cousins. “Aunt Adelaide gives such wonderful balls.”
Mama grumbled and Sir John went to her apartments, I guessed to discuss the invitation. I was in a state of terror lest she find some excuse for refusing it, which I was sure she wanted to do if she dared.
I could not understand why she should be so anxious to keep our Württemberg relations to ourselves as I was quite proud of them.
Mama went about all that day and the next with tight lips and I thought she was on the point of saying I was to refuse the invitation to the ball, but she did not; and I was greatly relieved when it was time to leave and we set out in the carriage for St. James's. I was determined to enjoy it. To dance would be delightful. There would be George Cambridge as well as the Württembergs—and they would all want to dance with me. I should dance till midnight. Nothing could be more exciting than that.
When we arrived, the King, with the Queen beside him, received our guests, and I was kept at their side so that the guests could greet me with them. Mama tried to stand beside me but the King signed to Sir John to move on with her.
I saw Mama's face flush and her earrings quiver, and my heart sank. However we were safely here and nothing could be done about that now.
My feet were twitching with their longing to dance, but the King said to me very kindly, “I do not see as much of you as I should wish. The Queen wants to arrange some parties for you. There are people you should meet. There's your cousin—young George. He is here all the time. How do you like him, eh?”
I said I liked my cousin George very much.
He went on to tell me what a fine boy he was. “Just about the same age as you. Good for people of an age to be together.”
I said I was sure it was. The Queen smiled encouragingly at me and said she would be happy to arrange some balls for me because she knew I liked dancing so much—and singing too. I had such a pretty singing voice. We ought to have concerts. She would invite people… good singers. She had heard how much I liked the opera.
I spoke of my enthusiasm and they both smiled at me in the most kindly manner.
Then the Queen said, “I know Victoria is longing to dance. Are you not, my dear?”
“Let her dance with Geo
rge,” said the King. “I like to see them dance together.”
Aunt Adelaide took my hand. “There is George. We will go to him.”
As we moved away Mama swept down on us. I knew by her face that something awful was going to happen.
“I have come to inform Your Majesty that I am leaving with my party. Come, Victoria.”
“But Mama,” I cried indignantly, “the dancing is only just starting.”
“Come along,” she replied sternly.
“But the dance is for your guests,” protested Aunt Adelaide.
“My guests are exhausted.”
“They… they look very well,” began Aunt Adelaide.
“They have been to a review in the Park this afternoon.”
“But they appear to be…”
“Absolutely exhausted. Your Majesty must understand that I cannot allow my guests to overtire themselves.”
“The King will be most annoyed. The ball was expressly in their honor.”
Poor Aunt Adelaide! I was almost as sorry for her as I was for myself. I was furious. I so wanted to dance. But Aunt Adelaide was terribly worried because she was afraid of a scene between the King and my mother. Fortunately he had not noticed what was going on, but I could imagine his fury when he did discover.
Aunt Adelaide was trying to smooth everything over, trying to look as though this were not an unprecedented affront to royal dignity, which it was.
“The Princes must come and stay for a few days at Windsor,” she said.
“Their time is already accounted for,” said Mama coldly.
I saw the Queen flinch, but she said nothing and Mama gripped my hand firmly.
I sat silent, ashamed and angry, as the carriage took us back to Kensington.
THE MEMORY OF that evening lingered on even through the exciting days which followed. I was more and more enchanted by the cousins, particularly as, when I appeared to pay more attention to one than the other, the other was a little jealous.
There was a wonderful occasion when we went to hear the great Paganini play the violin. He played some variations most wonderfully and I was glad to notice that dear Lehzen, who was with us, enjoyed it thoroughly. Unfortunately Sir John Conroy also accompanied us, but even he could not spoil such a marvelous experience.
