The Queen's Husband (14 page)

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Authors: Jean Plaidy

Tags: #Romance, #Historical

BOOK: The Queen's Husband
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‘Not very daughterly behaviour,’ he commented, which made her laugh loudly. She did laugh too loudly. Later he would point out that it was rather unseemly. And a good daughter should honour her father and mother. Was it not one of the commandments? But it would have been awkward to have stayed somewhere else; and knowing these people they would probably have given him some inferior lodging which would have been humiliating and undignified. He smiled with her.

‘Albert, you are so
beautiful
when you smile.’

There was no doubt that she was affectionate and he liked her frankness. There was a very engaging lack of guile.

The night before the wedding they read through the marriage service, even to his putting the ring on her finger.

They retired early – to Albert’s satisfaction.

In the morning there was a letter from her asking her ‘most dearly beloved bridegroom’ whether he had slept well.

He had nothing to fear.

He looked out of his window and saw that the rain was teeming down. Not a very auspicious beginning to their life together, he thought, with a return of the gloomy feeling; then he re-read the note from his ‘ever faithful Victoria’. Of what importance was the weather? She loved him; she doted on him; he would guide her in the way she should go and together they would bring great good to their marriage and the country.

He drove to the Chapel Royal amid the cheers of people who had lined the streets. They could not help admiring his looks for he was undoubtedly handsome in his uniform. (She had recently created him a Field Marshal.) He looked very different from the pale-faced, sick young man who had stepped ashore at Dover.

When he entered the chapel he felt ill at ease because he had not been properly informed of what was expected of him. He was unsure whether he should bow to the Archbishop of Canterbury or to the altar; he carried gloves in one hand and a prayer book in the other; and wondered whether he carried them in the appropriate hands. He was very uneasy; but his father and brother were close to him and they smiled reassuringly at him. His father was proud of him, Ernest envious in the best possible way, and suddenly he felt desolate. What should he do when they went away and left him here in this strange land?

And then Victoria arrived in white satin and flounces of lace surmounted by the ribbon of the Garter and her dazzling diamond necklace. He did notice that she prominently wore the sapphire brooch which he had given her; the face beneath the wreath of orange blossom was ecstatic, and he felt reassured at the sight of her. Her adoring eyes took in his magnificence – Field Marshal’s uniform, the Order of the Garter, which she had also recently bestowed on him, his tasselled sash, his white knee breeches, the diamond star on his breast, and her eyes told him that she thought him beautiful.

She was trembling a little but as always very conscious of what was expected of her. Her presence calmed him and she whispered to him telling him what they were expected to do. She was both the nervous bride and the autocratic Queen. She trembled visibly – that was with emotion – but her voice when she made her responses was firm and clear.

Albert put the ring on her finger – a little awkwardly perhaps and she had to help him along, but she loved him for his lack of poise. Dear, dear Albert! She would cherish him for ever more.

The ceremony was over. Victoria and Albert were married.

They drove back to the palace where the wedding breakfast and the guests awaited them, but before going to them they were alone together for a brief while, during which time she gave Albert a ring. He must wear it all his life, she told him, and they must never,
never
have any secrets from each other.

How tiresome, she added, that they must mingle with the guests.

‘But, dearest Albert, that will soon be over. Then we shall be on our way to Windsor.’

Windsor! he thought. Fresh air! The trees and the fields! He would feel well there; it was an ideal place in which to start their married life. He would show her, with the utmost tenderness, that although she was the Queen, she was his wife and a husband must be master in his own house.

‘Darling Albert, I know you love Windsor. So do I. It will be wonderful to spend a few days there before returning to my dear London. I never like to be away too long from my capital city. Other places seem a little
dead
when compared with it. And everyone of course is in London. They have to
come
to Windsor.’

A pained look crossed his face. What different tastes they had!

‘And when we get back to London there will be lots of celebrations. Everyone will expect it. Banquets and balls, I daresay.’ Her eyes sparkled at the thought.

He feared his dear little Victoria was very frivolous. But this was not the time perhaps to attempt to improve her.

‘Look,’ she cried, ‘there is the castle.’

‘Magnificent,’ said Albert with deep feeling.

‘Dear Albert, I am so glad you like it. It will be one of your homes now.’

‘It will be my favourite home,’ he said.

‘Because we shall spend our honeymoon there? Oh, Albert, what a delightful thought.’

‘That and because it is in such a beautiful setting. I hope we shall come here often.’

‘It is difficult of course when Parliament is sitting. You see, dear Albert, the Prime Minister cannot keep coming back and forth, nor can he stay at the Castle when there is so much business going on in the House.’

A gentle reminder that she was the Queen.

‘I hope I shall be of use to you,’ he said. ‘I should want you to consult me now and then.’

‘Dear Albert, you can be sure that if the need arose I should certainly do so.’

If the need arose! What did she mean by that? But he must not show irritation on his honeymoon.

They alighted from the carriage and Albert stood gazing in wonder. What splendid Gothic architecture!

‘The terraces were made for Queen Elizabeth,’ chattered Victoria.

‘Beautiful,’ murmured Albert. ‘Grand. Imposing!’ And he thought: How different from Rosenau, and he could not suppress a longing to be there.

‘Those are the private apartments looking east,’ explained Victoria. ‘The state apartments to the north and the visitors’ apartments to the south. But let us go in.’

The past seemed to envelop him as he went inside those thick stone walls, and as he did so he wondered what part he would play in the future. If he were King of this country, if this stately and glorious castle were his and he was introducing his bride to it, how proud and happy he would have been.

But he was the outsider; hers was the hand from which all blessings flowed. ‘Come, Albert,’ she was saying, ‘I will show you
my
castle.’

In the great banqueting hall Kings of the past had feasted. Here Henry VIII had knighted a sirloin of beef and sported with Anne Boleyn. He pictured them all, the long line of English sovereigns … mostly men but some female … Elizabeth who would allow no man to share her throne and Anne whose husband, stupid Prince George of Denmark, had been given £50,000 a year when he, Albert, had been considered worthy of only £30,000.

‘What are you thinking, Albert?’

‘Of all the Kings and Queens who have lived here.’

‘So you know our history.’

‘But of course.’

‘My clever Albert! But now the castle is mine.’

Mine! he noticed.
Ours
would have been so much more gracious.

They went to look at the suite which had been prepared for them.

‘The royal bedroom,’ she said with a blush and downcast eyes.

He went through to another room: ‘And this?’

‘My dressing-room.’

‘There is a door leading to another room.’ He opened it. It was a bedroom.

She was beside him. ‘Oh that,’ she said, ‘is dear Lehzen’s room. Hers is always next to mine.’

A cold fear touched him. Why should he be so apprehensive of that woman? She was only a governess.

‘That will be changed now,’ he said, trying to sound authoritative.

‘Oh, no,’ she replied lightly. ‘I could never permit that. Poor darling Lehzen would be broken-hearted. You see, dearest, her room was
always
next to mine. One could not change that sort of thing. It would be
too
unkind. Besides, I should not wish it.’

Her loving gaze belied the arrogance of her tone; but he knew the Queen was very close at that moment.

He left her and went down to the drawing-room. She was ecstatically happy. How adorable he was, and how beautiful! Lehzen had not yet arrived. She would be coming later in the evening, so it was not possible to pop in for a chat with her, which was a pity. She had asked dear Lord Melbourne to come down to Windsor the day after tomorrow. She never felt completely happy unless she knew that he was close.

In the meantime there was dear Albert.

How pale she looked. She was really exhausted; and she had not got over the feverish cold which to her – and everyone else’s – consternation had attacked her a week ago. She must be well for her wedding night. She threw off her tiredness and went down to the drawing-room.

Albert was seated at the piano, playing divinely and looking even more divine.

He stopped playing when she entered and rose to embrace her. What bliss, she thought. How I
love
dear Albert.

‘But, dearest Albert, I interrupted your playing and it was
so
wonderful.’

He continued to play.

Afterwards he came and sat on a footstool at her feet and they talked of the future. She told him how happy she was to have such a wonderful husband and that she had never spent such a happy evening in the whole of her life in spite of the fact that she could still feel the effects of her recent fever and had had such an exhausting time.

She must retire early, said Albert, and submissively she agreed.

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