Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria Page 7

  What Mama said when the incident was repeated to her, I did not know. I expected to be scolded. But nothing was said. And I saved up six shillings again and in due course the ticket sold was taken from the beautiful doll's neck and she joined my company much, I imagined, to the joy of the Big Doll.

  * * *

  MAMA AND I were spending a few days at Claremont. What a joy it was to be there! Uncle Leopold devoted so much time to me and I never wearied of listening to him. He talked of being good and the purpose of life, and how one was born to a certain destiny that it was one's bounden duty to fulfill.

  He was so good himself that sometimes I felt he was too good for this life and I trembled at the thought, because that was what was said when people died.

  But perhaps he was not quite so good, and he, too, may have had secrets in his life. I did not understand what happened at the time, but I was aware of something. That is so frustrating about being young. One is aware of what goes on and yet does not fully understand its significance. People are secretive and make faces at each other when they think you are not looking—Lehzen and Spath were always doing that—and then one began to ponder. What does that mean? And, there is something very secret—and when it is a secret it is often rather shocking.

  This incident occurred in Claremont Park.

  One early evening Mama and I were out riding and when I rode with her I always liked to ride a little ahead of her. This was permitted as long as I kept in sight.

  Well, there I was in the park. There was a clearing among the trees and suddenly two women emerged. They stopped short when they saw me, but I rode up to them and said, “Good evening. Who are you?”

  The elder lady looked quite taken aback but the younger, who was very beautiful, was quite self-possessed. “Good evening, Your Highness,” she said. “I am Caroline Bauer, Dr. Stockmar's cousin.”

  “Oh, Dr. Stockmar's cousin. My uncle is very attached to Dr. Stockmar.”

  Mama had arrived. She was staring stonily at the two women. The elder blushed deeply; the younger held her head higher and looked defiant.

  Mama said to me, “Come along.” And without a word to the two women, she turned her horse.

  I looked at them, bewildered and apologetic, but of course I had to follow Mama.

  “How many times have I told you not to speak to strangers?” she demanded.

  “But, Mama, they were not strangers. She was Dr. Stockmar's cousin.”

  “I should like to know what she was doing in the park.”

  “She was visiting her cousin, I expect.”

  “Never do such a thing again.”

  Of course I knew there was something special about Caroline Bauer. I would ask Lehzen, but she would probably not tell me. Spath might know.

  I did discover a little myself because when we returned, Mama told me to go to my room, but before I could do so Uncle Leopold came into the hall.

  “Did you enjoy your ride, my darling?” he asked.

  “Oh yes, Uncle. I met Dr. Stockmar's cousin.”

  Mama looked angrily at me, and even Uncle Leopold was a little abashed.

  “Go to your room, Victoria,” said Mama.

  And Uncle Leopold made no effort to detain me.

  She went off with him into the drawing-room and I have to admit that I hesitated for a while before going up the stairs so I heard her say, “It is terrible. Victoria met that woman.”

  “I see no harm,” said Uncle Leopold.

  “No harm! To have her here like that! Here… where you lived with Charlotte!”

  “It has been many years since Charlotte died.”

  The door was shut and I went upstairs.

  What did it mean? And why had Mama been so angry because I had met that really rather pleasant young woman and her companion? It was all very mysterious. But I had discovered that Mama was not very pleased with Uncle Leopold and that was a very strange state of affairs.

  Later I discovered that Caroline Bauer was Uncle Leopold's mistress. I was shocked a little because, although by then I knew something of the nature of men, I had always thought my dear Uncle Leopold would have been above that sort of thing.

  * * *

  AUNT ADELAIDE WAS very worried because people were saying that the Duke of Clarence was going mad. When there is madness in a family people are suspect, and they only have to act with a little eccentricity and they will be labeled crazy.

  I knew that Uncle William was a little peculiar; he talked and talked, and very often about nothing; and then he would fly into rages; but I also heard that he was very kind to all his children. There were so many FitzClarences because the grandchildren were now coming along. The Bushey household where they lived with Uncle William and Aunt Adelaide was a very noisy one apparently. The little ones used to slide down the banisters and play all sorts of tricks on Uncle William, but he never minded and just laughed with them. There was a great deal that was rather nice about Uncle William. Oh, how I longed to go to Aunt Adelaide's parties at Bushey! I should not have minded in the least playing with the FitzClarences. I wondered what it felt like to slide down banisters; and couldn't help laughing to think of myself doing that in Kensington Palace.

  Aunt Adelaide came to see Mama and they were closeted together. I could see Aunt Adelaide was worried.

  Lehzen came to me afterward and spoke to me very seriously. I had to be careful, she said. I must always have someone in attendance.

  “But I always have to, Lehzen.”

  I listened and questioned Spath and through her discovered that they were all worried about Uncle Cumberland. He lived with the King now at Windsor Lodge and the King was geting very old and feeble and relying on Cumberland for everything.

  Mama said, “It is Cumberland who is really ruling us all. The King is nothing now … nothing at all. And he is trying to get Clarence put away. We know what that means.”

  She was talking to Sir John Conroy, not to me, of course, but I did happen to overhear.

  Conroy said, “He would stop at nothing.”

  “He has proved that. He is a monster. My God, these brothers… they are mad, all of them.”

  “Hush, dear lady,” said Conroy. He had seen me come into the room.

  “Where is Lehzen?” Mama demanded of me.

  “She is just here, Mama.”

  Oh yes, they were very frightened about me, and it was because they thought something dreadful could happen to me. Mama did not care a rap if Uncle William should be put away. In fact I think she would have been rather pleased.

  What she feared was that some attempt would be made on my life. I used to have bad dreams in which my one-eyed uncle figured. He would not be the first wicked uncle in history.

  Mama said I was not to go up and down stairs without a companion. Did she think someone would creep up behind me and push me down?

  Then suddenly the danger was removed.

  The King died at Windsor.

  Poor Uncle King! I was very sad remembering that drive to Virginia Water, and how he had said, “Pop her in.” I am sure if Mama had been friendly with him, and I had visited him more often I should have loved him.

  He had been ill for so long, and quite influenced, it was said, by the wicked Duke of Cumberland. He was half blind and at the end he would lie in bed all day with fires burning during the warm weather and drinking quantities of cherry brandy. When they cleared out his apartments they found that he had hoarded clothes over a long time, and his cupboards were full of pantaloons, coats, and boots which must have been there for years. There were five hundred pocket books, all containing money. When they counted this money it came to ten thousand pounds. There were also locks of women's hair, women's gloves, and many love letters.

  Dear Uncle King! I wished I had known him when he was young and handsome and clever and charming. It was a pity that all I had seen was the fat be-wigged, rouged old man, who had somehow managed to charm me just the same.

  If I was sad at the King's passing, Mama wa
s not. She could not hide her pleasure.

  “And now we have mad William on the throne,” she said, and added with a laugh, “How long will he last, I wonder?”

  It was strange to think of Uncle William as King. He was too friendly with everyone. He had no dignity, said Mama. He laughed at his grandchildren—who should never have been there—sliding down the banisters and playing tricks on him. And dear, plain Aunt Adelaide was the Queen.

  I could not imagine any pair less like a royal couple.

  * * *

  I WAS SEATED in the schoolroom when Lehzen came in and said, “It is time for our history lesson.”

  I was rather pleased. History was one of the subjects that I liked.

  Lehzen handed me Howlett's Tables, in which was the genealogical tree of the Kings and Queens of England. I noticed that an extra page had been pinned into the book.

  I said, “What is this? I have not seen it before.”

  “No,” said Lehzen, faintly mysterious. “You did not see it because it was not there. But now it is believed that it is necessary for you to see it.”

  “Why?”

  “Just study it, will you?”

  My own name seemed to start out of the page. I saw clearly its significance. Uncle William was King of England. He had no legitimate heirs— and next to him came Victoria.

  I raised my eyes to Lehzen's face; she was looking at me with a mixture of love and fear, tenderness and anxiety.

  “It means,” I said slowly, “that when Uncle William dies, I shall be Queen.”

  Lehzen nodded.

  I felt dizzy. So many things seemed to be slipping into place. All Mama's care; all Uncle Cumberland's threats; Mama's insistence on my being given my proper dues. I was destined—very likely—to be Queen of England.

  I said shakily, “I am nearer to the throne than I thought.”

  “Yes, my dearest,” said Lehzen.

  “I understand now why you have all been so anxious for me to learn…even Latin. You told me that Latin is the foundation of elegant expression. Oh, Lehzen, I understand now …I do. I do.”

  I put my hand into hers and the tears ran down my cheeks.

  “My little one,” said Lehzen, “you will do well…very well.”

  “Many boast of the splendors of such a position,” I said. “But there are difficulties too.” I raised my hand a little and added solemnly, “I will be good.”

  The Waiting Years

  MY DISCOVERY COULD NOT FAIL TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE. THE possibility of being Queen was dazzling. I daresay I assumed new airs and graces. That was inevitable; however, I tried to remind myself that although all the balls and banquets, riding through the streets in a splendid carriage, and waving to the loyal people would be the greatest of pleasures, I must remember the responsibilities too. I recalled the poor man to whom I had given six shillings. He and many like him would be my subjects. I wanted to make them all happy, as well as to live in a pleasant state myself.

  I became more restless. I hated the restrictions of life in the Palace. Uncle Cumberland was out of favor now. The new King, William, had denounced him and made it clear that he would not have him trying to guide him as he had their brother George. I was free now of that threat. Cumberland would not dare to harm one whose ascension to the throne was imminent. Uncle George's death had made a great difference.

  I used to lie in my white-painted French bed with the chintz curtains and pretend to be asleep when Lehzen sat there waiting for Mama to come to bed, and tell myself that I was nothing more than a captive. They watched everything I did.

  It was a great trial to be heir presumptive to the throne, to be guarded day and night and be only eleven years old. I felt there was so much I ought to know and there was no one except Lehzen and Spath in whom I could confide. I loved Spath very much, and Lehzen more than anyone else, but if I broached certain subjects, a barrier would always be drawn up and I could see in their eyes—even dear Spath's who was much more inclined to be indiscreet than Lehzen—that it was Not Good for the Child to Know … just yet. If Feodore had been there it would have been different. Oh, how I missed Feodore! But when people are absent for a long time they grow away from one; and I could read in dear Feodore's letters that she was becoming more and more accustomed to life with her Ernest, of whom she seemed to grow more and more fond, and was not only reconciled but was enjoying married life with its prospect of motherhood.

  So surrounded as I was by people who were determined to protect me, and never let me be by myself, oddly enough I often felt alone.

  I was very careful how I behaved, and tried not to show any difference in my conduct from what it had been before I knew of my possible future.

  I smiled to remember how arrogant I had been when I was about six years old and I had already been aware that I belonged to the royal family. When little Lady Jane Ellice had been brought to play with me, I had adopted a superior attitude to her and told her she must not play with the toys that were mine. “Though I may call you Jane,” I informed her, “you must not call me Victoria, but Princess or Highness.” I still remember the blank look on little Jane's face, and how she turned away and started to play by herself.

  There must be nothing like that now that I was older and wiser. But eleven is still not very old, less still a wise age.

  Ever since I had met Dr. Stockmar's cousin in the grounds, Mama had not been quite so effusively fond of Uncle Leopold. I sensed this because, I suppose, at that time Uncle Leopold was the most important person in my life—with perhaps the exception of Lehzen.

  I was a little uneasy and meant to ask Uncle Leopold why Mama was displeased with him because Dr. Stockmar's cousin was at Claremont, but before I had the opportunity a matter of great importance drove it from my mind.

  I was paying one of my cherished visits to Claremont.

  Uncle Leopold greeted me with great pleasure, and there was dear Louisa Lewis looking so happy because I had come. I was delighted to be there but I noticed immediately that Uncle Leopold was looking a little strained. I asked after his health and he told me he suffered cruelly from insomnia.

  “Dear Uncle, you work too hard.”

  “I could not be happy if I did not do my duty.”

  “But I must insist that you rest more.”

  “My dearest little Doctor Victoria, rest is not so easily come by. My rheumatism is particularly painful at night.”

  “It is so wrong that you who are so good should suffer so.”

  Uncle Leopold sighed. “It is my fate, dear child, I fear.”

  He looked at me sadly and I thought tenderly of all his ailments: his built-up shoes which gave comfort to his feet; his wig to keep his head warm; and the feather boa he sometimes wore to keep the cold from his shoulders. Yet in spite of all these weaknesses Uncle Leopold did not look in the least like an invalid.

  I should never forget that he had given up the crown of Greece to be with me. He had reminded me of it many times.

  “How many men would give a great deal to be a king!” he had said. “I happen to think that life would be more rewarding guiding one who is dearer to me than anyone else since my beloved Charlotte died.”

  Dear Uncle Leopold, who had given me so much!

  “My dear little Victoria,” he said. “I want to talk to you…very seriously.”

  I was surprised because it seemed to me that Uncle Leopold never talked in any other way than seriously.

  “I have pondered long over this matter and have at last come to a conclusion. I am deeply concerned about the Belgian people who have severed their connection with Holland.”

  “Is that a bad thing, Uncle?”

  “It could be a very good thing. You see they need a ruler…a strong ruler. They need a king.”

  “Perhaps they will have one.”

  “Yes, my child, they are going to have one. You see him before you.”

  I looked round sharply.

  “No, my dearest. Here.”

  “You, U
ncle Leopold?”

  “None other.”

  “You are the King of the Belgians! But Uncle…”

  “They have offered me the crown. I have had sleepless nights thinking of the matter.”

  “You often have sleepless nights, Uncle.”

  “Yes…yes… but more since this proposition was made to me.”

  I waited. I was beginning to feel very apprehensive.

  “I know now where my duty lies. The saddest thing will be to say goodbye to my dear little niece.”

  “So…you are going away?”

  “I must, my child. All my inclinations are to stay here…to be near you…to guide you…as I have done all these years. But I know in my heart that my duty is to my Belgian subjects. So, my dearest Victoria, I am going away. Oh, we shall be in constant contact. You write such interesting letters. They will sustain me in all my tasks. I shall watch for them …Indeed I shall watch over you…I shall never be far away from you… and I shall want to know all that goes on.”

  Desolation swept over me and Uncle Leopold and I wept together.

  I was going to lose him. There would be no more visits to Claremont. And if by some chance there were, how empty the place would be without him.

  I went back to the Palace and told Lehzen. She was dismayed too.

  Mama did not seem as unhappy as I thought she might be. Of course she admired Uncle Leopold greatly and always discussed important matters with him, but since the visit of Caroline Bauer and her mother to Claremont, she had not been quite the same.

  I overheard Lehzen and Spath discussing Uncle Leopold's departure.

  Spath said in a voice of foreboding, “This means that that man will have more and more sway.”

  Growing up made one knowledgeable so I knew she was referring to Sir John Conroy.

  I was very melancholy. Life could become sad so unexpectedly. First I had lost my beloved sister and now—devastating blow—my dear, dear Uncle Leopold.