by Jean Plaidy
I was changing. I was growing up; and when I thought of how I had behaved to Sir Robert, calling him the dancing master, failing to recognize his worth, I was quite ashamed. My eyes were opened. Albert had opened them.
The Bill for the protection of the Sovereign's Life went through Parliament with the greatest ease. They had all been impressed, said Lord Melbourne when he came to see me, by the courage I had shown. He looked at me with that loving expression, now a little sad; but he was genuinely delighted because I had at last discovered the worth of Sir Robert Peel, and I felt that was very noble of him. After all Sir Robert was his political enemy; and there had been a very special relationship between Lord Melbourne and myself. Yet he was so anxious for my well-being that he was glad that I was appreciating Sir Robert and Albert.
What a good friend he had always been!
I ALMOST FELL into a trap over the Cambridges, and it was really Lord Melbourne who helped to extricate me from what might have been a dangerous situation. Sir Robert was very clever with political matters, but I think my dear Lord Melbourne understood more about people and how they would act in certain circumstances, and why. Lord Melbourne had been an inveterate gossip; and when I looked back over our relationship it had been more—or at least equally—concerned with the private lives of the people who surrounded us than it had with politics.
I had been on uneasy terms with the Cambridges ever since the Duchess had refused to stand up for the toast when Albert's name had been proposed. Of course they would never forgive me for not marrying their son George.
I must confess to a certain pleasure when I heard that Lady Augusta Somerset was pregnant and that George was responsible.
I discussed the matter with Albert. He was always upset by immorality and particularly so when it touched the family. The Cambridges had been consistently hostile to him and he said that it was a chance for me to show my disapproval and that I would not allow them to continue to insult us.
“You have been so lenient with the people around you,” said Albert with a mixture of tenderness and censure. “You have accepted people who have been at the center of scandal—your own Prime Minister, who was at one time your constant companion, for instance, was not untainted by scandal.”
A short while ago that would have been the beginning of a storm, but although I felt my anger rising as it always did at criticism of those of whom I was particularly fond, I said calmly, “People are sometimes involved in scandal when they are innocent. I never believed they should be blamed. Your father and brother have scarcely been blameless in that respect, but in my eyes that only makes you seem the more virtuous because of your defense of them.”
Albert did not pursue the matter. He was very sensitive about the misdeeds of his family.
However he did think some action should be taken about the Cambridges and in this case I was only too eager to agree.
“Invite the Duchess to a Drawing Room, and tell her that you cannot receive Lady Augusta.”
“And George?”
Albert admitted that was difficult, George being a prominent member of the royal family, and in line for the throne.
The Duchess was soon asking for an audience, which I gave her, and I must admit that I looked forward to the encounter with some relish.
“I must know the reason for Your Majesty's ban on my lady-inwaiting,” she said.
“Dear Duchess,” I replied. “I should have thought the reason was obvious.”
“It is not to me, Your Majesty.”
“Ask your son or your lady-in-waiting. They should know. The Prince and I are aware of the lady's condition, and we will not accept immorality at Court. We shall not receive those who err in a certain way—and if members of the royal family are concerned, so much the worse. But we will stamp out laxity.”
“I can assure Your Majesty that you have been misinformed…as you were on another occasion.”
Any reference to Flora Hastings always unnerved me. It was not only the trouble it had brought me. It was the thought of that poor girl dying of a terrible disease and all the time being accused of immorality.
The Duchess left in a state of great indignation. As she departed she said she could not allow this matter to rest there.
I was very disturbed, particularly when I discovered that there was no truth in the rumor.
Lord Melbourne, who even now he was no longer Prime Minister was still living a very social life, was very much aware of what was going on in people's private lives.
I was delighted when he asked if he could see me privately.
“Dear Lord Melbourne,” I welcomed him. “This is like old times.”
“I am happy to know that Your Majesty realizes the good points of your present Prime Minister.”
“I was very young and inexperienced. I am sorry I spoke of him as I did. He is a very dear man … so feeling, really—although he cannot always show it.”
“No longer the dancing master?” said Lord M, who could never resist a joke.
“He has given up that profession,” I replied with a laugh.
“And the silver ornaments on the coffin?”
“I don't notice them. I do know that he is a dear, good, clever man, and that he is determined to do what is best for the country and for me… and even though you and he might not agree on the first, you would, I am sure, on the second.”
“That is true. And what I came to talk to Your Majesty about is this affair of the Cambridges. Your Majesty cannot afford another Hastings scandal just now.”
“Oh no… no!” I cried.
“It would not be so easy to extricate yourself now as it was then … and even then it was a difficult time, was it not?”
I nodded.
“I shall never never forget how the people turned against me so quickly.” “It is the way of the mob. The Duchess of Cambridge is incensed. She is involving the Press. You must take the utmost care, for this could explode into another scandal. You will know there are riots in various parts of the country. There is unemployment. Peel will have kept you informed about this.”
I nodded.
“He would. It is nothing much. These things happen.”
I looked at his dear face and I thought, Sir Robert doesn't think it's nothing much. Sir Robert says these things must not happen if we can help it.
There was a great difference in the two men but they were united in their care for me.
“There is one thing which should be done without delay,” went on Lord M. “An apology must be sent to the Duchess.”
“An apology! From me!”
“Let it come from the Prince. He seems to be the target for their enmity. But it must be done swiftly before this blows up into something very like the Hastings affair. Moreover, that will be revived if this goes much further. That would be unwise and very difficult for Your Majesty.”
“I will tell Albert.”
“He will not wish to humiliate himself naturally, but Your Majesty will impress on him that, having had experience of what a scandal like this could turn out to be, you are aware of the danger to your standing with the people—and you are sure this must be done.”
“I do understand. You are my very dear friend and I will talk to Albert immediately.”
As Lord Melbourne had said, Albert was very reluctant to apologize; but I did manage to impress on him the importance of this. I recalled the terrible days when I had suffered so much from the Flora Hastings matter and that even now I occasionally had nightmares about it.
“There were placards in the streets, Albert,” I said. “On them was ‘Murder at Buckingham Palace.' I shall never, never forget; and it must not happen again.”
At last Albert was prevailed upon and he made an apology to the Duchess. It was ungraciously given and curtly received. The matter was allowed to drop, but the Cambridges continued to show their enmity to Albert; and they made it clear that they did not consider his rank as high as their own.
But at least—thanks to
Lord Melbourne, who in such matters was far more knowledgeable than Sir Robert Peel—we had passed safely through danger.
SEPTEMBER WAS ALMOST upon us.
It was the time, said Albert, for a little holiday. He had revised the nursery and there had been no protests from Lehzen. September was the month she was due to leave. Albert had sent off all the nurses who had worked with Lehzen and had replaced them.
Vicky, to our delight, was now thriving and becoming very amusing. Albert was enchanted by her and I was glad to see that she had a very special feeling for him, calling to him whenever he came into the nursery, running to him and catching hold of his legs. He would lift her in his arms, and I even saw her riding on his back while he pretended to be a grisly bear or a fierce tiger, rousing her to shrieks of terrified delight.
What a happy scene that was! The Boy was growing well, but of course was younger and therefore not so interesting.
I should be glad to have a holiday. It was really rather a strain to be with Lehzen and to know that she would soon be gone.
She was sad, in a resigned sort of way. She made no criticism of Albert now, and it really did seem as though she were looking forward without too much sorrow to her new life, but that quiet melancholy air did distress me.
I was sure her sister would be glad to have her and the children would love her. I remembered so vividly how it used to be between us and how she had thrown herself wholeheartedly into all my childish pleasures.
So it would be delightful to get away for a few short days of holiday alone with Albert.
I thought we should go to Claremont as we often did at these times, but Albert had other ideas.
“I have always wanted to go to Scotland,” he said.
“Scotland! It seems so far away.”
“After all,” said Albert, “it is part of your kingdom. You should put in an appearance now and then. The people expect it.”
So we made plans to visit Scotland.
How glad I was that we did!
It was late August when we left Windsor at five o'clock in the morning, and we reached London in three quarters of an hour and were at Woolwich before seven. People had heard that we should be there and quite a crowd had gathered to see us get into the barge. The Duke of Cambridge; Lord Jersey, as Master of Horse; Lord Haddington, First Lord of the Admiralty; Lord Bloomfield, Colonel Commandant of the Royal Regiment of Artillery; and Sir George Cockburn, Senior Naval Lord, were present as it seemed quite a State occasion. Unfortunately it was raining and we had to go straight to the sitting room. Then we set off, the Trinity House steamer and packet forming our squadron; we were followed by several little pleasure steamboats, their occupants eager to catch a glimpse of us.
It was three days later before we caught sight of the Scottish coast. The Scots gave us a wonderful welcome with bonfires all along the shore.
It was the first of September before we reached our destination, and when we arrived we could not see Edinburgh, because it was shrouded in dim fog. It was a great pleasure to be greeted at the pier by the Duke of Buccleuch and Sir Robert Peel, the latter having made the journey to Scotland to be there on our arrival.
I was enchanted by Edinburgh—quite beautiful and unlike any other city—everything of stone and no bricks at all—and the main street steep, and the castle on the rock right in the middle of the city.
I loved Scotland—partly because Albert was so delighted with it. I thought the people attractive. Quite a number of the girls had long red hair that they wore flowing down their backs. I thought it enchanting. I ate porridge, which I found very good, and I tried another of their Scottish dishes called Finnan Haddies.
What happy days they were, discovering Scotland. I was fascinated by the most unusual dress of the people—the kilts and the tartans; and I soon grew accustomed to the sound of bagpipes. I thought them most romantic.
We traveled extensively and were warmly welcomed everywhere. I was sorry the holiday was coming to an end but I longed to see the children. I did miss them and although I had heard from Lady Lyttelton, who had now been appointed royal governess, that they were well and happy, I thought about them a great deal.
I believe Albert was more than a little sorry when it was time to sail southwards. He stood on deck watching the coastline of Scotland fade away.
His comment was, “An enchanting country. We must visit the Highlands again soon.”
And I agreed most enthusiastically.
I WAS VERY sad for the time had come when Lehzen was to leave us.
Albert watched me anxiously. I was sure that, right up to the last minute, he was afraid I would find some excuse for her to stay. I was tempted to do so. One cannot easily dismiss more than twenty years of devotion; but I knew in my heart that it was a choice between Lehzen and Albert—and it had to be Albert.
Moreover, since it had been agreed that Lehzen would depart, Albert and I had been so much happier together. There had been scarcely any disagreement. We were growing closer. During the holiday in Scotland everything had been perfect.
My life lay with Albert.
Lehzen knew this and that was why she was going. But the sadness was like a heavy cloud which hung over the household.
Our last day together! We were both aware of it and the slightest thing would have set me crying and I should have been clinging to her telling her she must not go. Lehzen herself was wonderful. She knew it was better for me to turn to Albert. He was a fellow German and she understood him. I believe she would have admired him if she had not been so jealous of him. Lehzen loved me truly… just as Lord Melbourne did. And love is selfless. I had learned that.
When I said goodbye to her she said, “This is the last time. I shall not see you in the morning before I go. Partings are so sad. There is no need to prolong the unhappiness. My dearest one, take care of yourself. You will write to me and I shall write to you. I shall follow your life in all you do. I know you will be happy because you will make those around you happy. You are a dear good girl, and I am proud of you.”
She held me in her arms for the last time, and I went to my bedroom and wept.
In the morning she left.
There was no doubt of Albert's pleasure; but he did understand my feelings and was most kind and sympathetic.
Then I stopped to brood for I discovered that I was once more pregnant.
Rumblings of Revolt
IN APRIL OF THE FOLLOWING YEAR MY LITTLE DAUGHTER WAS born. This was a much easier pregnancy and birth than the others, and I wondered whether one became accustomed to that. That was a happy thought because I seemed to be the sort of woman who would be excessively fertile. In three years I had managed to have as many children.
She was to be Alice Maud, and as she had been born on the Duchess of Gloucester's birthday, she was to be Mary also—after her.
Everything had gone so much more smoothly after Lehzen's departure. Albert had had a thorough examination of the household and had made some astounding economies. I knew that lots of the servants did not like it, for life must have been very easy for them under Lehzen's rule. They grumbled among themselves, I knew. Poor Albert, he was very unpopular with them, but that is often the reward of doing what is right.
For Alice's christening we had to invite Uncle Ernest, although I did so with the utmost reluctance. He was still the bogeyman of my childhood, and I could never feel perfectly at ease when he was in the country. He seemed to be in a state of constant resentment because he had not inherited the crown of England. I did not begrudge him that of Hanover. So why could he not be content now that he was a king? There was conflict between us now because he was claiming Princess Charlotte's jewels. I wore them often for I really had very few of my own—for a queen; and I saw no reason why he should have them, so I refused to give them up. But I thought he might feel a little reconciled if he were asked to act as sponsor for the baby.
My dear sister Feodore was to be another and the apprehension at the prospect of seeing Uncle Ernest
was forgotten in the joyous one of having Feodore with me. Albert's brother, Ernest, and Aunt Sophia were to be the other two.
Feodore and I hugged each other; we kissed and studied our faces, entwining our arms as I took her to her room where I sat on the bed and we talked and talked.
“You…my little sister…a mother of three!” she said. “I cannot believe it. I shall never forget the sight of you with your dolls. Live dolls are different, are they not?”
How easy it was to talk to darling Feodore. I was able to tell her of the anguish over Lehzen. She listened and what was so wonderful, she understood.
“I know Lehzen well,” she said. “A wonderful woman…but possessive, and it was only natural that she and Albert should resent each other. Your life, dearest sister, is with Albert … him and the children. It is your family which matters most.”
She loved the new baby who was plump and contented.
“She is a wonderful baby,” I said. “Quieter than the other two. I think she will be a great comfort to me.”
“Vicky is very bright.”
“Indeed, yes. Albert is so pleased with her. I wish Bertie was different. I think he is going to be rather lazy. He just mumbles to himself, shouts, and runs all over the place.”
Feodore laughed. “Bertie is adorable. He is a normal boy. They are the best sort to have.”
“There speaks the wise mother.”
I looked at her lovingly. That lovely willowy figure she had had was no more, for she had grown rather plump; but Feodore would always be beautiful because of her lovely expression. Her face was illuminated by an inner goodness.
She was in complete contrast to Uncle Ernest who radiated malevolence.
He arrived late and after the christening ceremony was over. I wondered whether he did it on purpose. He looked even more evil if less physically able to carry out any wicked intentions. He was rather bent and bald and obviously hard of hearing. Alice behaved perfectly during the ceremony; and everyone said what a lovely child she was.
