Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria

by Jean Plaidy

  I said on impulse, “Lord Melbourne, I want you to have a portrait painted. I shall hang it in my sitting room and then I shall always be able to look at you even when you are absent.”

  He was deeply touched and with tears in his eyes said that although sitting for a portrait was not his idea of the best way of passing time, he would gladly endure the ordeal if it was my wish.

  “Oh, it will not be so bad,” I told him. “I will come and watch the work in progress.”

  “That will be a great inducement.”

  “I daresay Dashy would like to come, too. You know how fond he is of you.”

  “Then I shall be assured of good company.”

  I was not going to let the matter be forgotten and engaged Sir William Charles Ross to paint the portrait, which I insisted should be done at the Palace.

  I enjoyed the sittings far more than Lord Melbourne did. I could sense that he was somewhat restive. I sat with him and Dashy came and watched the progress with an interest that amused us all and sent me into gusts of laughter.

  It was the best way of forgetting all that unpleasantness through which I had recently passed, and living in the moment, which was so amusing.

  When the portrait was finished, I was not altogether pleased with it. It was like Lord Melbourne, but not nearly as good-looking as the original.

  When I mentioned this to Lord Melbourne he said, “Oh Ross always likes to make his sitters look worse than they are. He thinks it is such fun.”

  “I do not,” I said. “I like to see people as they are.”

  “An artist will talk about seeing through an artist's eyes.”

  “Well, if an artist cannot see what is there, his eyes need attending to.”

  “Your Majesty is as ever the Mistress of Logic.”

  I hung up the picture, and even if it was not entirely true to life, at least it was pleasant; and I did feel it would be comforting to have it there … forever.

  UNCLE LEOPOLD MUST have been rather disturbed by my letter for I had one from him which said that he intended to pay me a short visit. When he said short he meant very brief indeed.

  He intended to leave Ostend overnight and I was to be in Brighton where he could join me for a few hours, talk to me and then return.

  The idea of traveling to Brighton did not appeal to me. Moreover I distrusted this idea of a few hours. I thought I might be pressed into making some agreement which I did not wish for. If anything was suggested I wanted time to talk it over with Lord Melbourne.

  So I wrote back and said I could not be in Brighton for I had so many duties in London. He knew what a trying time I had passed through recently for he was fully aware of what was going on in England.

  He must make it a proper visit. Let him come to Windsor. I should be so delighted to entertain him there.

  I think he was a little put out because in the past I had immediately fallen in with his suggestions.

  However, I guess he was very disturbed by what I had said about Albert; and he agreed to make arrangements for a visit to Windsor.

  I was as excited as ever at the prospect of seeing him. I had forgotten those little differences we had had. What were they in a lifetime of devotion! Of course Uncle Leopold must act in a way which would be advantageous to Belgium. Of course he must rally as many friends as he could. It was only natural that he should ask for my help if I could give it.

  When he, with Aunt Louise, arrived, I was waiting to greet them. I ran into Uncle Leopold's arms and he embraced me warmly.

  “Still the same dear child,” he said.

  “I am twenty now, Uncle Leopold.”

  “Yes…yes…growing up.”

  And there was Aunt Louise, looking much older, not the lighthearted young woman I had known when she was first married to Uncle Leopold.

  I spent a great deal of time with him for he was with us for only a few days. There was, he said, so much to talk about; and the theme of his conversation was Albert.

  He was surprised, he said, at my attitude to marriage.

  I replied that I thought my attitude to marriage was quite normal.

  “I mean your own marriage. You seem to avoid all thought of it.”

  “Oh no, Uncle. It is just that I am young as yet and there seems no immediate need for it.”

  “My dear child, as you have said, you are twenty years of age. That could be quite mature. You are certainly ready for marriage. A monarch has duties toward the State. You have to give the country heirs. Do you realize that your uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, the King of Hanover, is waiting to pounce?”

  “He has always been the bogeyman. I used to be terrified of him when I was young. I thought he was a horrible one-eyed monster, a Cyclops.”

  “Nor were you far wrong. He is just waiting now, as he always has been, to seize the crown.”

  “Oh, Uncle, I am not going to die yet. I am years younger than he is.”

  “Don't talk of dying, dear child. Just be reasonable. Think of the future… what is expected of you. You enjoyed the visits of your Coburg cousins.”

  “Oh yes. They were such fun… all of them. I thought Alexander was charming.”

  “I remember how much you enjoyed the visit of your cousins, Albert and Ernest.”

  “Yes. That was long ago. But I do remember.”

  “I have had the most excellent reports of Albert from Stockmar. He says he is a young man in a million.”

  “Stockmar would not say that if he did not believe it.”

  “Indeed not. I have the highest hopes for Albert.”

  “Yes. I know you always did.”

  “You and he…my niece, my nephew … my dearest children, both of you. You remember those days when I was a widower… mourning Charlotte and the loss of our child. You were my comfort, you and Albert. Planning for you, spending my days trying to discover what would assure the happiness of you both…”

  “I do remember, Uncle. You were so good to me…to Albert too.”

  “It was always my dearest wish that you two should come together.”

  “Yes, Uncle, I know.”

  “I think I should be completely happy if I could see you and Albert married.”

  “It may come to pass…in time.”

  “I am not sure that Albert is prepared to wait… indefinitely. I think you should make up your mind soon.”

  “Not prepared to wait! But there has been no agreement … no engagement.”

  “That is true. But it is known that you and he…”

  “But why is it known? I have never given my word.”

  “Albert cannot be humiliated.”

  “I certainly do not wish to humiliate him. But marriage is a serious matter. One wants to consider.”

  “You must consider. It is unwise for you to go on living as you do. I know, of course, that you and your mother are not on the best of terms, and that grieves me…It grieves me deeply. You are living here in separate households. There was that unsavory matter of the girl who died.”

  “Yes, but at least we have rid ourselves of Conroy.”

  “I did hear of that. It was most unfortunate. And there is another matter. You seem to be on terms of very special friendship with your Prime Minister.”

  “My Prime Minister is a wonderful man.”

  “I have no doubt of his excellence, but does that mean that he should be on…er… such terms with the Queen?”

  “He is a great friend as well as adviser.”

  “My dearest child, you are so good, so honest, so honorable, that it does not occur to you that there are people in the world who are less so. Royalty cannot afford … scandal. It can be the end of them. In view of everything…you must consider marriage.”

  “I have considered and have decided that it is for the future.”

  “That will not do. You need marriage soon. You need the good, sober companionship of one who can stand beside you and assist you, someone to share the burden that has been put on these dear young shoulders. I will
arrange for Ernest and Albert to pay you a visit. I think when you see this unusually talented young man you will be in entire agreement with me.”

  I could not bear to see Uncle Leopold so disturbed and I cried, “Oh, I hope so, Uncle. I do indeed.”

  Their visit was coming to an end. I had had little time with Aunt Louise. Poor Aunt Louise, so different now! She was still elegant—that was innate—but she did not seem to have the same joy in her clothes. I think her life with Uncle Leopold must have been very serious.

  My acquaintance with Lord M had made me see people differently. I loved Uncle Leopold dearly, of course, but he was so serious; and he had somehow drained all the merriment out of Aunt Louise. One could not laugh with them as one could with Lord Melbourne. There were none of those dry cynical comments which amused me so. I could not laugh… vulgarly… with Uncle Leopold. I always had to remember to keep my mouth shut when I did so. It was almost as bad as having the prickly holly under one's chin; but there should be nothing tormenting about laughing. Uncle Leopold was so good really, whereas my dear Lord M was just a little wicked. Those divorce cases and then Lady Caroline Lamb, his wife, being so mad and all that scandal about Lord Byron. It was not Lord Melbourne's fault; but the dear man did seem to have become caught up in so many scandals. And that had an effect on him and made him easy to get along with. It made him fascinating, too.

  Was I faintly critical of Uncle Leopold? Although I had soothed him and listened patiently to his eulogies on my cousin Albert, was I beginning to build up that obstinacy—which Lord M knew existed and did not hesitate to call attention to? Now, was it a sort of resistance to Albert?

  In any case, when Uncle Leopold and Aunt Louise were about to leave I felt the old desolation at the prospect of parting and I told them, with absolute sincerity, that I should miss them sadly.

  I said a tearful goodbye on their last day for they were leaving early in the morning, but when morning came, I woke early, got out of bed and went to their apartment where they were having an early breakfast.

  They looked very sad in the light of the candles and I told them I was too because they were leaving. Their visit had been far too brief.

  Uncle Leopold agreed that it had been and assured me once again of his love and continual concern for me.

  “I want to see you happy, dearest child, before I depart this life,” he said.

  “I am happy, Uncle,” I replied. “If only we can keep the Tories out and all these horrible things which have been happening are forgotten, I can be quite happy.”

  “I want to see you fulfilled. I want to see you looked up to. I want to see you doing your duty to the State.”

  That meant he wanted me to marry Albert.

  And in that tender moment of parting I thought: Oh, Uncle, I will try to like him. I really will.

  We embraced again and parted.

  I went to my room and watched their carriage carry them away to the ship which would take them across the water.

  THERE CAME THAT memorable October day—the tenth to be precise.

  I awoke to find Lehzen standing by my bed.

  “Good morning, Daisy,” I said. “I feel a little sick.”

  “It was the pork last night,” said Lehzen. “And you do gobble so, you know.”

  “You sound like Mama. You will be telling me soon that I show my gums when I laugh.”

  “Are you feeling very sick?”

  “No, only a little. Nothing that a walk in the park will not put right.”

  “There is something else. Some of the windows were broken last night. It looks as though someone took it into his head to throw a stone or two.”

  “How dreadful!”

  “Are you going to get up?”

  “Yes, I must.”

  After breakfast I expected Lord Melbourne to come to see me but instead he sent a message. He, too, felt sick and thought it was due to the pork.

  “It should have been all right,” said Lehzen. “There was an R in the month.”

  “I shall go out now,” I told her. “All I need is fresh air.”

  “Wrap up well,” advised Lehzen. “The wind is fresh.”

  As I walked in the park I was thinking of what Uncle Leopold had said during his visit. Indeed, I had thought of little else since his departure; and the more I thought of it the more determined I became not to be forced into marriage.

  Lord Melbourne agreed with me. What an understanding man he was! He was not overfond of Germans and was always stressing their failings.

  Dear Uncle Leopold, I thought. I do love you as much as ever, but you must not interfere.

  In the distance I saw a page. He was running toward the Palace.

  “What is it?” I called out. Then I saw that he was carrying a letter.

  “Your Majesty,” he panted. “I was to deliver this to you immediately.”

  I took it and saw that it was from Uncle Leopold.

  I tore it open and read: “Your cousins, Ernest and Albert, will be with you this evening.”

  I could not believe it. This very evening!

  My heart was pounding as I went back to the Palace.

  LORD MELBOURNE SAID it was short notice, particularly for people who were suffering from a surfeit of pork. We must forget our discomfort and prepare ourselves for the arrival of the august gentlemen.

  “They will be exhausted when they get here, no doubt,” went on Lord M. “There is quite a gale blowing across the Channel. I don't envy them the trip.”

  All preparations had been made. I had dressed for the evening and was waiting with great impatience for the arrival of the cousins.

  Then I heard the sound of carriage wheels in the courtyard and was waiting at the top of the stairs to receive them.

  And they came; Ernest and Albert. And when my eyes fell on Albert, whom I recognized at once as the more distinguished of the two, my heart leaped and I knew in that first moment that nothing could ever be the same again.

  They were coming toward me, these two young men. I am afraid I did not notice much about Ernest. My attention was all for Albert.

  He was tall and very pale. Lord Melbourne had been right; it had been an atrocious crossing and I heard later that poor Albert had been very sick. He was in dark traveling clothes which in a way accentuated his pallor and his beautiful blue eyes more than colorful garments could have done. His nose was perfectly shaped, and his mouth pretty with a delicate mustache and very very slight whiskers. What a handsome figure he had! Very broad shoulders and a small waist. His hair was about the same color as mine, so he was fair. Ernest was dark and had very fine eyes, but really my attention was all for Albert.

  He stood before me. I raised my eyes to that beautiful face and a great exultation possessed me.

  This, I thought, is being in love.

  OH THE JOY of that visit… discovering Albert!

  I could not sleep that night. I lay in bed thinking of him. Oh dear Uncle Leopold, to have my happiness so much at heart. Of course he was right. Albert was perfect. And I was so happy.

  There was so much to talk about. Albert loved music. We would sing together. Duets were so pleasurable. Dash—dear, discriminating Dashy—selected Albert for his special attention and Albert played with him enchantingly. Everything Albert did was done with such grace. He had brought his greyhound with him. Its name was Eos.

  He said, “We could not be parted.”

  Oh, what feeling! How I understood his love for Eos. It was exactly like that which I had for dear Dash.

  I was looking forward to the next day and could hardly sleep at all. I got up early and wrote a letter to Uncle Leopold. I owed him that for sending me this most superb of cousins.

  “Ernest is grown quite handsome,” I wrote. “Albert's beauty is more striking and he is so amiable and unaffected … in short he is very fascinating …”

  I could have gone on writing of Albert's perfections but I forced myself to stop.

  I smiled as I sealed the letter. Un
cle Leopold would be very pleased indeed.

  That day we went riding. It was so exciting. I knew that I looked my best in the saddle. Then people could not see how short I was. I rode well and my riding clothes, I believe, became me more than any other except ball gowns and such. I loved my horses and they reciprocated my affection, so we got on well together.

  I rode between the two princes, but I was hardly aware of Ernest, although he was very charming, of course. Lord Melbourne was of the party, and on this occasion, instead of riding beside me, he was a little way behind.

  Soon I would talk to him alone. I would discuss with him my opinion of Albert … of both princes… but just for a while I wanted to keep my thoughts to myself. I was bemused and yet certain. There would never be anyone quite so perfect as Albert. I had no doubt of it. Uncle Leopold was so clever; he had known who would be just the right one for me.

  Albert and his brother spoke English well. Clever Uncle Leopold had insisted on their being proficient in that language. Of course they had German accents but that did not prevent their being understood perfectly.

  We talked of many things during that ride but chiefly of music. Albert had composed a little. How clever of him! It was just what I would have expected. And I was longing to hear some of his very own music. He also spoke most lovingly of Rosenau, the place where he had been born, and which had been the home he loved best, which showed genuine sentiment and sensitivity.

  He made me long to see it.

  I returned to the castle more in love than ever. There I had my first talk, after the arrival of the cousins, with Lord Melbourne.