The Captive of Kensington Palace Read online

  She hoped the comparison would have a sobering effect.

  ‘Ah,’ said William craftily, ‘but think of the life he has led. He has eaten and drunk too well. He’s not a healthy man. Any moment now, Adelaide. He can’t last another year.’

  ‘We must pray for him,’ she said.

  Yes, she thought, pray for him. Pray for him to live because what will happen when William comes to the throne who can say? She shivered to remember his brief period as Lord High Admiral. But how much more he would strut as a King than he had as an Admiral. George must live; she was terrified of what might happen when William became King.

  ‘It is very pleasant here at Bushy, William. The cosy intimate life we lead here – and the dear, dear children.’

  He nodded; like his brothers – with the exception of Cumberland – he was excessively sentimental.

  ‘Poor sweet Louise,’ she went on, luring him farther away from dreams of kingship, ‘she is so interested in this wedding. Dear child, I fear there will never be a wedding for her.’

  He nodded. ‘But she is fortunate,’ he said brightly, ‘to have her Aunt Adelaide looking after her.’

  ‘I know she is happy here.’

  Poor little Louise, indeed she was. She was the daughter of Adelaide’s sister Ida, Duchess of Saxe-Weimar, and had been crippled from birth. Adelaide had more or less adopted her and her brother Edward, the little boy who had been born in England when Ida was visiting her sister. This niece and little nephew formed part of Adelaide’s family of children; they adored her and she did everything she could to make their childhood happy.

  ‘So she should be. Why, my dear Adelaide, you look after us all … every one of us.’

  His calm was restored; he was momentarily the country squire of Bushy, but one word could bring back his dreams of greatness. Adelaide lived in terror of what he would do. He was not only tactless but extremely insensitive. She was never sure when he was going off to the House of Lords to deliver a speech which at best would set the peers yawning and at worst set fire to some inflammatory matter which would set the people raging, the lampoonists and cartoonists jeering and give credence to the rumours that the Duke of Clarence was on the way to becoming as mad as his father. ‘I think,’ said Adelaide, ‘that the bridegroom has arrived.’

  ‘Then,’ replied William ungraciously, ‘I suppose we should go down to greet him.’

  * * *

  The Duchess’s brother, Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, called at the apartments at Kensington Palace to see his sister. He came regularly every Wednesday afternoon, very dignified, very benign, expecting affection and homage, for the Duchess lived on his bounty and he was one of the few people in England whom she was sure she could trust.

  On Wednesday afternoons Victoria was on her best behaviour because that was how dearest Uncle Leopold would wish her to be. She believed that she loved Uncle Leopold more than anyone else in the world. Dearest Feodora she loved tenderly; Lehzen she respected and loved; secretly in her heart she was not altogether sure of her feelings for Mamma except that one must love one’s Mamma because it would be extremely wicked not to do so, but if loving meant being excited and happy to be in the presence of the loved one, that was not always the case with Mamma. But with Uncle Leopold she had no doubt whatsoever. Her other loves were female and Victoria believed that while she could love her sister and her governess deeply she could not feel quite so protected in their company as she did in that of a man; and therefore there was something beyond love in the emotions Uncle Leopold aroused and this set him apart from all others.

  ‘He is the most beautiful man in the world,’ she told the dolls. ‘He has almost commanded me to love him best. Oh, he has not said so, but there is an understanding between us which does not need words.’

  So Wednesday afternoon was the great day of the week.

  She would watch from her window for his carriage – usually with Lehzen beside her – and he would look up, knowing she was there. Once she had not been and although he was not reproachful he was very sad.

  ‘Lehzen,’ she would say, ‘may we not go down to greet him?’

  And Lehzen would say, maddeningly: ‘I think we should wait until we are sent for.’

  The summons would come quickly; and she would go to Mamma’s drawing-room and she would throw her arms about him and say: ‘Dearest, most beautiful Uncle Leopold.’ And Mamma would say: ‘My child, your uncle will think you have never been taught how to enter a drawing-room.’ ‘Oh, but Mamma, this is dearest Uncle Leopold and I am too happy to have good manners.’

  And if Mamma was not pleased, Uncle Leopold was. He would have his dearest Victoria just as she was. He loved her tenderly and he was delighted when she showed him that she loved her uncle with a devotion almost as great as that he felt for her. ‘Oh, more so, dearest Uncle.’ ‘No, my love, that could not be.’ And they would play the delicious game of ‘I love you more than you love me,’ each trying to prove that the other was mistaken.

  Then Uncle Leopold would wish her to sit on his knee while he twirled her hair in his fingers and he told Mamma how he suffered with his rheumatic pains and his chest cold for poor darling Uncle Leopold, in spite of his beauty, was often very sick.

  Mamma listened and mentioned a few symptoms of her own, and then Uncle Leopold would want to hear about Victoria’s lessons because he was always so interested in what she did. But today was different as everything was with the wedding so close. Victoria was not summoned immediately to the drawing-room because Uncle Leopold wished to talk to Mamma alone.

  He now sat in one of the blue-and-white-striped chairs regarding his boots with the high soles to make him look taller. His wig, which he wore not so much for the sake of appearances as to keep his head warm, and prevent his catching cold, gave him an added air of elegance.

  ‘Soon,’ he was saying, ‘Feodora will be settled. It’s a fair enough match. And Charles will have to be prevented from doing anything foolish.’

  ‘Charles will never be such a fool,’ said the Duchess.

  ‘My dear sister, your son has sworn to marry this woman. He’s a ruler in his own right. I doubt he can be prevented … only persuaded.’

  ‘He shall be persuaded,’ declared the Duchess.

  Leopold regarded her with faint irritation. She was a most domineering woman. She needed a man to guide her; all women did. His own wife Charlotte had been a hoyden but she had improved considerably under his guidance. Ah, if only Charlotte had lived, how different everything would have been. Charlotte would have been on the point of becoming Queen – for King George was surely on the point of death – and he would have been her consort, the power behind the throne, the real ruler of England. But his dear hoyden had died in childbed and this most unsatisfactory situation had arisen. The King’s brothers had hastily married and Leopold’s own sister had fallen to the Duke of Kent (he, Leopold, had helped to arrange that marriage) and now they had a child, dear little Victoria who, once George and Clarence were out of the way, would be Queen of England.

  Some compensation, but how much better it would have been to have guided his Queen-wife than his Queen-niece.

  And his sister, the Duchess Victoria, could be a nuisance. She talked too much; she wished always to be in the centre of the stage and if she was willing to accept Leopold as one of the little Queen’s counsellors, she was determined that her mother should be another.

  Leopold shrugged aside the affair of his nephew Charles and Marie Klebelsberg. The important issue was, as always, Victoria.

  ‘The King has taken a turn for the worse,’ said Leopold giving a little cough and laying his hand delicately over his chest.

  ‘He will die very soon, I’m sure,’ said the Duchess with blithe optimism.

  ‘The life he has led!’ Leopold raised his eyes to the ceiling. He had never liked his father-in-law and the feeling was mutual. A sanctimonious fellow who didn’t drink could hardly be to the King’s taste; besides, he had wanted his daughter to ma
rry the Prince of Orange, not link the family with the little house of Saxe-Coburg.

  The Duchess shuddered. ‘I can’t understand how he keeps living. It seems as though he does it to spite us.’

  Leopold said: ‘You should speak with greater discretion, sister.’

  She shook her head, elaborately dressed as usual. The bows and ribbons fussed all over her gown and she glittered as she moved. She was overdressed, thought Leopold painfully. They would say it was bad taste.

  ‘Everyone knows it,’ she said. ‘Everyone is saying it. And then it will be that fool William’s turn. He can’t last long.’

  Leopold put his fingers to his lips. He guessed that Sir John Conroy was not far away. That gentleman would make it his business always to be at hand when Leopold was with his sister, although he doubted not that the Duchess Victoria kept him informed of all that went on. Still, nothing was ever so accurate as that gleaned first-hand.

  Should he warn her of Conroy? It was hardly the time. He himself was engaged in an adventure of the heart with Caroline Bauer, a charming actress, who was a niece of his favourite physician and friend, Dr Stockmar. He was not given to such conduct and this was a rare lapse; but he consoled himself that Charlotte would have understood; and being so certain of this he could even entertain Caroline at Claremont where he had lived with Charlotte during those months before she had died.

  His sister had learned of this attachment and expressed her stern displeasure. That Leopold should have behaved like the immoral people of the Court was distressing. This was perhaps because he had hinted at her relationship with Conroy.

  It was clearly better for them to turn a blind eye on each other in that respect. There were ample excuses for both of them, and neither was promiscuous.

  So not a word about Conroy. That could come later.

  ‘Does Victoria understand the position?’

  ‘Not exactly. She is aware that some great destiny awaits her but she is not quite sure what.’

  ‘I daresay she has a shrewd notion,’ Leopold smiled affectionately. ‘She is a clever little minx.’

  ‘I would not have her talk of the possibility. She is so … frank.’

  Leopold nodded. But not so indiscreet as her mother.

  ‘Everyone should take the utmost care,’ he said pointedly. ‘This is a very delicate matter. And I believe Cumberland has his spies everywhere.’

  She shivered. ‘I believe he would stop at nothing.’

  ‘She is guarded night and day?’

  ‘She sleeps in the same room as myself. Lehzen sits with her until I come to bed. She is never allowed to be alone. I have even ordered that she is not to walk downstairs unaccompanied.’

  ‘I suppose it’s necessary.’

  ‘Necessary. Indeed it’s necessary. You know those stairs. The most dangerous in England, with their corkscrew twists and at the sides they taper away to almost nothing. It would be the most likely place that some harm would come to her.’

  ‘I have Cumberland watched. He wants the throne for himself first and for that boy of his.’

  ‘But he can do nothing. He comes after Victoria.’

  ‘And there is no Salic law in this country as in Hanover. But Cumberland would like to introduce it.’

  ‘He could not do such a thing.’

  ‘I do not think the people would wish it, but often laws go against the people’s wishes. You know he is Grand Master of the Orange Lodges. I heard that one of their plans is to bring in a law by which females are excluded from the throne.’

  The Duchess put her hand to her be-ribboned bosom.

  ‘It could never be!’

  ‘I trust not. But I tell you that we should be watchful. William is an old fool; he’s almost as old as George. His health is no good. He suffers from asthma, and that can be dangerous. Moreover, it is just possible that he’ll follow his father into a strait-jacket. They are taking bets at the Clubs that William will be in a strait-jacket before George dies.’

  The Duchess clasped her hands. ‘If that should happen …’

  ‘A Regency,’ said Leopold, his eyes glittering.

  ‘A mother should guide her daughter.’

  ‘Her mother … and her uncle.’

  The prospect was breathtakingly exciting.

  Leopold said: ‘I have been offered the Greek throne. But I have decided to refuse it.’

  His sister smiled at him. Of course he had refused it. What was the governing of Greece compared with that of England? When oh when … ? Just those two old men standing in the way. One on his deathbed – although it must be admitted that he was always rising from it, rouging his cheeks and giving musical parties at the Pavilion – and the other a bumptious old fool tottering on the edge of sanity and who was not free from physical ailments either.

  It was small wonder that the marriage of Feodora and the pending indiscretions of her brother Charles were of small moment compared with the glittering possibilities which could come through Victoria.

  * * *

  Sir John Conroy, hovering close to the drawing-room, was disturbed. He was always uneasy when Leopold was in the Palace. Leopold was his great rival, for the Duchess’s brother had marked for his own role that which Conroy had chosen for himself. Adviser to the Duchess. In the Saxe-Coburg family Leopold was regarded as a sort of god; he it was who had married the heiress of England, although a younger son and no very brilliant prospects to attract; he had won not only the hand but also the heart of the Princess of England and would have been to all intents and purposes ruler of that country. The Duchess was completely under the spell of her brother.

  Hypochondriac! growled Sir John. But he had to admit that for all his brooding on imaginary illnesses Leopold was a shrewd man. Sir John, who made it his business to be informed on everything that might affect his career, had learned that there was a possibility of Leopold’s accepting the Greek throne. That had been joyous news; and when Leopold had refused no one could have been more sorry than Sir John Conroy. He had to accept the fact that Leopold intended to rule England through Victoria, and that was precisely what Sir John wished to do. But how could he hope to influence the Duchess while her brother was beside her?

  A lover should have more influence than a brother; and Sir John had always been able to charm the ladies. Lady Conyngham was prepared to be very agreeable; and the poor old Princess Sophia was always excited when he visited her; as for the Duchess, she was devoted to him. One would have thought, in the circumstances, that all would have been easy; but Leopold was no ordinary brother. And Leopold had shown quite clearly that he did not very much like the friendship between his sister and the Comptroller of her household.

  What was Leopold saying now? He, Conroy, had made sure that the Duchess was aware of her brother’s affair with Caroline Bauer. That would make him seem slightly less admirable, more human. Leopold was a sanctimonious humbug and it was not surprising that the King could not bear him.

  Still, the Duchess did depend on his bounty. It was shameful the way she was treated. Even the King, who was noted for his chivalrous behaviour towards all women, expressed his dislike of her. As for Clarence, he spoke disparagingly of her publicly. But then no one expected good manners from Clarence.

  While he hovered close to the drawing-room the Princess Victoria appeared with Lehzen.

  Victoria was saying: ‘I do hope dearest Uncle Leopold will not be too upset because I was not at the window. He has come early. Oh dear, how I wish I had been there.’

  ‘I daresay His Highness will understand,’ said Lehzen.

  This adoration of Leopold was really quite absurd, thought Conroy.

  A sneer played about his lips. Victoria noticed it and did not like it. She had come to the conclusion that she did not really like Sir John. There was something about him that disturbed her. It was when he was with Mamma. Sometimes when he was with Aunt Sophia too; and there were times when his eyes would rest on Victoria herself speculatively.

  She had nev
er spoken the thought aloud but it was in her mind. She did not like Sir John.

  ‘Have you something on your mind?’ The sneer was very evident. He never treated her with the same respect as she was accustomed to receive from the Baroness Späth – and Lehzen who, for all her sternness, always conveyed that she was aware of her importance.

  ‘I did not care to keep my uncle waiting,’ she said coldly.

  ‘He hasn’t waited long. You were here almost before the summons came.’

  ‘If I wish to be here, I shall be,’ she said in her most imperious manner.

  But Sir John Conroy was not to be intimidated as a music master some years before. Doubtless, she thought, he will report this to Mamma and say that I was arrogant and haughty. But if I wish to be arrogant and haughty, I shall be.

  ‘Ha,’ laughed Sir John, ‘now you look exactly like the Duke of Gloucester.’

  What a dreadful thought! The Duke of Gloucester. Aunt Mary’s old husband and cousin. Silly Billy, they called him in the family; he was looked on as rather stupid and now that he had married the Princess Mary, had become a difficult husband.

  ‘I have always been told,’ she said coldly, ‘that I resembled my Uncle, the King.’

  ‘Oh no, no. You’re not a bit like him. You grow more like the Duke of Gloucester every day.’

  She swept past, with Lehzen in her wake. Sir John laughed but with some misgiving. It was silly to have upset the child just because he was angry about Leopold. Old Lehzen too! She was no friend of his.

  He would get rid of her if possible. But he could see he would have to be careful with Victoria.

  Smarting from her encounter with her mother’s Comptroller of Household Victoria went into the drawing-room where the sight of dearest Uncle Leopold seated in his chair, his dear pale face beautiful beneath his curly wig, made her forget everything else.

  ‘Dearest Uncle …’

  She ran to him, throwing ceremony aside. After that horrible encounter with Conroy she needed the protective comfort of Leopold’s arms more than ever.