In any other set of circumstances, he would not have found the suggestion objectionable. Even when he had been much younger he had always had a secret pash on May, but her reserved manner, coupled with his own crippling shyness, had ensured that the only way he’d felt safe in attracting her attention had been by playing practical jokes on her.
Those days, of course, were back in the days of their childhood, but his admiration of her had continued, and it had increased a hundredfold during the harrowing week of Eddy’s illness and death.
Everybody else in the family was, he knew, under the impression that Eddy and May’s feelings for each other had been those of a practical nature, the same kind of feelings that attended all royally-arranged marriages, and while that may have been true in the beginning – at least where Eddy was concerned – he knew that by the time of his death, Eddy had developed a feeling of great affection for May; and May, Georgie suspected, had felt even more than affection for Eddy.
How could he possibly marry someone who, he was certain, was mourning his brother just as deeply as he was? The answer was that he couldn’t. And wouldn’t.
‘So that is how I feel, Granny,’ he said two days later as he stood nervously before her, trying to ignore his Aunt Beatrice, who was seated at her side, knitting. ‘I believe Cousin May’s feelings for dear Eddy went far deeper than is generally realized, and I believe it would be wrong and insensitive of me to suggest to her that she now marries me.’
His grandmother had never thought of Georgie as possessing a great deal of sensitivity, and it pleased her that she had been wrong on that score. It wasn’t, however, going to change her mind about what she was now about to say to him. Turning to Beatrice she said, ‘I would like to speak with dear Georgie alone, Beatrice.’
With her knitting still in her hands, Beatrice hurriedly left the room – something Georgie would have given a king’s ransom to have been able to do.
‘Two years ago, Georgie, typhoid fever threatened your life.’ The Queen’s double chin wobbled with emotion. ‘If something similar was to happen to you again, and this time you were tragically taken from us – as dear Eddy was so tragically taken from us – I would like you to think of the situation as regards the throne.’
Georgie struggled to do so.
‘As the eldest of your father’s remaining children, Looloo is next in line to the throne after your father. And it is my opinion, and the opinion of my ministers, that the position of Queen and Empress is one Looloo is totally unfitted for.’
She waited for the enormity of what she was saying to sink in and then said, ‘There is another crucial reason why a situation with Looloo as heiress presumptive cannot be allowed to happen, and that is Fife. Fond of him as I am, he is not royal. He is a subject. As I am sure you can see, the political ramifications of a queen and empress with a commoner husband do not bear thinking about.’
It didn’t. Georgie loved all his sisters, but with the best will in the world, he could see that Looloo – highly strung, nervous and dim – was not the best person to succeed to the throne.
‘It is for all these reasons, Georgie,’ his grandmother continued, ‘that it is imperative you marry soon and have a family, and I can think of no one who would make a more imperious and dutiful future Queen of England and Empress of India than dear May. I would like you to go home now and give very serious thought to all I have said to you.’
With the words lodged in his throat, he told his grandmother he would do as she asked. Then, suffering from palpitations, he returned speedily to Marlborough House, locked himself in his room and opened a large bottle of brandy.
At the end of November, the Teck family were invited to Sandringham to celebrate the Princess of Wales’s birthday with her. It was the last thing in the world May wanted to do, for their visit would run into the beginning of December and the anniversary of her engagement to Eddy.
‘The memories will be hard to bear, sweetheart,’ her mother said sympathetically, ‘but they are something you will have to endure.’
May had enough self-knowledge to know not only that she was good at enduring, but that she was good at keeping her feelings to herself while doing so. It was something she had learned the hard way as a child when being constantly reminded that, as a Serene Highness, she was not truly royal and so not really part of the family. It was an ability she had relied on at the time of her parents’ bankruptcy when, with a broken heart, she had watched the contents of her family home being sold at public auction and she and her family had so humiliatingly been sent into exile. Her agony at the shame of it all had been intense, but she had not allowed it to show, for she believed deeply that intense emotion was cheapened by public display.
Her week at Sandringham was just as difficult as she had anticipated. Her Uncle Bertie’s and Aunt Alex’s kindness to her was as unstinting as it had been in the days immediately after Eddy’s death, but she’d had to suffer being taken by Aunt Alix into the room in which Eddy had died and which, now filled with flowers, was kept as if his death had never taken place. A fire burned in the grate of the little fireplace that Eddy had once said he could touch, even from his bed – a bed now covered with a large Union Jack. There was soap in the soap dish, and his hairbrush and comb were laid out as if, at any moment, he would be picking them up to use them. Also in the room was the hard chair she had sat on for so many long, heart-breaking hours, and once again she could see Eddy’s head turning on the pillow towards her and hear him saying huskily, ‘There you are, May. Sweet May. Lovely May.’
That afternoon, pleading a migraine, she had kept to her room and cried and cried into her pillow until she was exhausted.
The next day, the Waleses had taken her to Sandringham church so that she could view Eddy’s memorial window, which had been given by Eddy’s brother-officers of the 10th Hussars. It depicted Eddy as St George in shining armour and was exactly the way she would have wanted him depicted. For in looks, Eddy had always reminded her of Donatello’s marble statue of St George in Florence.
At Christmas, Georgie sent her a present of a brooch, and she sent him a small pin. In the card accompanying the brooch he addressed her as ‘Dear Cousin May’, and she addressed him as ‘Dear Cousin Georgie’. The embarrassment, although not as intense as it had been, continued, not helped by newspaper headlines such as ‘Will next year be the year Princess May becomes the Duchess of York?’ and ‘Buckingham Palace prepare to announce the engagement of the Duke of York to Princess May’.
‘It’s all bosh,’ May said whenever she was asked if there was any truth to the rumours. ‘Newspapers simply make up any outlandish story they think will sell copies.’
In mid-February 1893, Queen Victoria again summoned Georgie into her presence. ‘Have you,’ she asked, black satin-slippered feet on a footstool, a small Pomeranian dog in her arms, ‘thought any more about the conversation we had in September?’
‘Yes, Granny.’ Georgie’s discomfiture was intense, but he was determined to stand his ground. ‘And I thought that perhaps, in time, I might find a German Protestant princess I could propose to.’
‘Then if that is what you want, propose to May!’ The Queen’s patience – something she never had much of – was being sorely tried. ‘May’s bloodline is wholly German and she is Protestant to her backbone. As for finding another German Protestant princess to propose to, there are no other suitable German princesses of the right age, in good health and in their right minds!’
Georgie tried to think of a response, and couldn’t find one.
His grandmother tried a different approach. ‘Think of all dear May’s excellent qualities, Georgie. Although because of her father’s morganatic bloodline she is only a Serene, on her mother’s side she is, like you, a direct descendant of King George III. She has a strong sense of royal duty, is sensible, even-tempered, highly intelligent, cultured and, although not beautiful, is exceedingly pretty. And no one can deny that she possesses great natural dignity – something that
is essential in someone who, if you propose to her, will one day hold the highest position there is.’
Georgie had no intention of attempting to deny May’s natural dignity and he knew that if he was going to marry – and it was obvious he had no choice but to do so – then he would far prefer his bride to be May than anyone else.
He replied, ‘In two weeks’ time I am leaving with Darling Motherdear, Toria and Maudie on a long-arranged trip to Greece. We will be returning at the end of April and, when we do, I will propose to May.’
‘Thank you, Georgie.’ His grandmother beamed at him. ‘An engagement announcement in the month of May, for a bride-to-be named May, will be most suitable. And,’ she added, ‘so will a summer wedding, in either June or July.’
A month later, with Georgie still in Greece, it was May’s turn to be summoned to Windsor. The Queen regarded her thoughtfully, aware of how changed she was by Eddy’s death. There was a new gravity and maturity about her, and the twinkle that had previously lit up her cornflower-blue eyes was still sadly absent.
After saying that she thought May looked very fetching, dressed in the half-mourning colour of deep lilac, the Queen asked May to sit beside her. ‘I wish,’ she said, taking hold of her hand, ‘to speak with you about your present unhappy situation, May, and of how it can best be resolved.’
For a wild moment May wondered if exile was again going to be suggested as a solution to a Teck ‘unfortunate situation’. Instead her Aunt Queen said, ‘Before Georgie left for Athens, I had a long talk with him and, when he returns in a couple of weeks’ time, he will be speaking to you in order that your position can be rectified in a way beneficial to you both.’
Certain of what was now about to come, May caught her breath, her eyes widening in alarm.
Seeing her reaction and ignoring it, the Queen said firmly, ‘You must be realistic, May. Your position as Eddy’s bereaved fiancée renders it impossible for anyone of lesser rank to make you a proposal of marriage. The only suitable person is Georgie, and so the newspapers are quite right in thinking that marriage between the two of you will be the best possible outcome, from what has been a terrible tragedy.’
‘But surely my marrying Georgie would be wrong?’ There was a pain in her heart so deep she could scarcely breathe.
The Queen’s fierce eyes were stern. ‘It would not be wrong, May. It would be your royal duty, for the qualities that would have made you such a supportive Queen Consort for Eddy are the same qualities Georgie will be in need of. Despite their being so different in looks and personality, there were strong similarities between them – the first being that neither of them was educated to an acceptable standard. The result has been a total lack of fluency in either French or German, languages essential for the monarch of a country as great as ours, and languages you have been fluent in since childhood.’
The grandfather clock in the corner of the room began striking three and the Queen paused until it had finished chiming.
‘And despite their both having spent years at sea,’ she continued, ‘neither of them have – or, in dear Eddy’s case, had – any understanding or appreciation of foreign cultures, an accusation that cannot be levelled at you, after your years in Italy studying art and European civilization. And so, just as you would have for darling Eddy, you will be able to compensate for all that dear Georgie lacks, and I know of no one else of the right rank, religion, education and temperament able to do that in the way you will be able to. For that reason, May, when Georgie proposes to you – and he will be doing so on his return from Greece – I very much hope you will accept him.’
May’s head whirled. The Queen believing it best for the country that she marry Georgie was very different from the newspapers thinking so.
‘I must have time to think.’ Her voice was unsteady. ‘I cared for Eddy so much, you see.’
‘And I am glad that you did.’ Queen Victoria had a tender heart and it pained her to see how sincere May’s grief was. ‘But Eddy would be the first person to encourage you to move on with your life – and the only satisfactory way of doing so will be with Georgie.’
Two hours later and back home at White Lodge, May sat on the edge of her bed, a silver-framed photograph of Eddy in her hands. It had been given her by the Queen shortly after Eddy’s funeral, and he was looking heart-stoppingly handsome in full Highland costume, a view of Balmoral behind him. Engraved at the foot of the silver frame were the words ‘DINNA FORGET’ and she knew for a certainty there wasn’t the faintest chance of her ever doing so. But did that mean that she should never move on in her life? And was the Queen right in thinking that her only way of doing so was by marrying Georgie?
No matter how much she thought about things, she couldn’t come up with what her answer was going be, when Georgie asked her to marry him, and she still hadn’t done so when a couple of weeks later Looloo invited her for afternoon tea at Sheen Lodge. Looloo had not long since given birth to a baby girl who had been named Maud, after Maudie. May had only seen baby Maud once, at the christening, and was looking forward to seeing her again.
The first person she saw when she entered Sheen Lodge wasn’t Looloo and baby Maud, but a desperately uncomfortable-looking Georgie.
‘Hello, May,’ he said, looking as if he wished himself anywhere but there. ‘I only got back from Athens yesterday, and I thought I should start visiting family, especially as Looloo and Fife have had an addition.’
‘Yes.’ She made a valiant effort to recover her composure. ‘How were Sophie and Tino?’
Sophie was one of Kindred Spirit Willy’s sisters, and four years ago she had married Constantine, the heir to the Greek throne.
‘They were all in the best of health. I like Tino, he’s a solid, steady sort of chap, and Sophie is so easy to get on with. Not a bit like Willy.’
May was well aware that, apart from Alicky, she was the only person in the entire family who found it easy to get on with Willy, but she didn’t say so. There had never been an awkward silence between her and Georgie when they had been at Sandringham, but there was now, and just as it began lengthening into one of acute embarrassment, Looloo came to their rescue by hurrying up to them and suggesting that they sat down to afternoon tea in the drawing room.
Aware of the reason for Georgie being there, Looloo and Fife were almost as tense as their guests and the conversation was painfully stilted.
At last Looloo said, with something like desperation, ‘Georgie, don’t you think you ought to take May into the garden to look at the frogs in the pond?’
Scarlet in the face, Georgie rose to his feet and May had no option but to rise to hers.
This, she knew, was it. Once in the privacy of the garden, Georgie would propose to her and she would have to have her answer ready, and she knew what her answer was going to be. It was that she loved him as a cousin, but she didn’t want their relationship to change into anything more.
There was a wrought-iron garden seat by the pond and, as they sat down, he took hold of her hand. Words had never come easily to Georgie, and they didn’t come readily now.
‘I would like . . .’ he said, his face beetroot-red. ‘I would be very honoured if . . .’ He couldn’t get any further. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow with it, then said in a headlong rush, ‘Dash it all, May. Will you marry me?’
For May, time stood still and halted.
She had had her answer all ready to give him, but now the words stuck in her throat. He looked so desperately in need of someone in his life who would be, to Georgie, what she would have been to Eddy that her heart went out to him. She had always been susceptible to male beauty. Irish good looks, as well as his talent, were what had attracted her so strongly to Thaddeus. It had been Eddy’s good looks – which were not dissimilar to Thaddeus’s – that had so attracted her when she was a young girl, and which had attracted her ever since.
Georgie was not remotely in the same category of handsomeness as Thaddeus and Eddy. Both
of them had been tall and slim. Georgie was an inch or so shorter than she was – a difference that became apparent when she was wearing heeled shoes – and he had knock-knees and was slightly built. In looks he was, as the Queen had said so descriptively, ‘homely’. He had no education to speak of – but then Eddy hadn’t had any, either. Georgie also had a loud, abrasive voice, which she assumed was born out of having to bellow orders in rough, tempestuous seas. On the other side of the coin, he was dutiful, straightforward and it was impossible to imagine him ever being anything other than a faithful husband.
Most of all, though, as she looked into his very anxious face, she knew how much Georgie needed her. If she accepted his proposal, she would always be there for him, and she would always have a role in life; a role she suddenly felt had always been waiting for her; a role she was destined for.
‘Yes,’ she heard herself say. ‘Yes, dear Georgie. Of course I will marry you.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
JUNE 1893, WHITE LODGE
May’s engagement to Georgie held no similarity to her engagement to Eddy. There was no laughter. No sense of ease and closeness. No animated conversations about how they would decorate their future home. No companionable choosing of fabric and wallpaper and visits to see popular musicals. With his proposal to her made – and her acceptance of it – it was as if Georgie felt he had done all that could be expected of him.
The companionship that had sprung up between the two of them in the days when she had been engaged to Eddy, and Georgie thought he was going to be her brother-in-law, was a thing of the past. He was stiff and shy with her and, because he was, May’s own shyness and sense of awkwardness were crippling.
Almost immediately after the announcement of their engagement, and with no consultation with either May or Georgie, it was announced that their wedding would take place on 6 July.
The Summer Queen Page 27
