The Captive of Kensington Palace (38 page)

‘Well, Ferdinand is clearly not intended for her. I don’t know about Augustus; but I think it’s the other cousins Leopold has his eye on – Ernest and Albert.’

‘If he tries to bring those fellows over here I shall forbid them to enter the country.’

‘Oh, William, can you do that?’

The King’s eyes bulged. ‘I’m the King.’

It was better not to pursue that. ‘I suppose,’ said Adelaide, ‘that we must ask Ferdinand and his sons to Windsor.’

‘I don’t want them here.’

‘I know, William, but I believe it is expected of us. You forget sometimes how important your invitations are.’

‘You’re right, my dear. You always are. Let’s have them, but if that woman starts her capers in my Castle …’

‘We will try to make it an enjoyable visit.’

The King nodded dismally. ‘A pity we can’t ask Victoria without her mother and that man … I won’t have him in the Castle, Adelaide. She can entertain her lover elsewhere.’

‘We are not sure that Conroy is her lover.’

‘N … no,’ agreed the King. ‘She’s a cold-hearted vixen.’

‘Well, I shall see that the invitations are sent out. It will be a very short visit.’

The King nodded and went off to finish his letter to George FitzClarence which he hoped would help to close the rift between them.

‘My affection for yourself and all your brothers and sisters is, and ever will be, unaltered; and the only difference which has risen between you and me has been that you have not considered that I have a double duty to perform as King and father. Whenever you feel inclined to return to my roof, the Castle at Windsor, the Pavilion at Brighton and the Palace at St James’s will be opened to you and yours with perfect satisfaction on my part. God bless you, and I ever remain, dearest George,

Your most truly affectionate father,

William R.’

Adelaide was determined that the visit should not be marred by discord between the King and the Duchess. Ferdinand and Augustus were two charming young men and there was no difficulty about entertaining them. William received them kindly; and there was no doubt that he was delighted with Victoria. There was something so fresh about her, so affectionate that it was impossible not to be fond of her. The King wanted to make it very clear that his quarrel with Kensington did not extend to his young niece.

He took her hand and led her into dinner; the Duchess of Kent walked on the other side of him but he did not look at her. It was arranged that Victoria should sit between William and George Cambridge – which, Adelaide had said, will give the young people a chance to talk together and discover how very charming they are. It was also significant of the royal wishes.

Victoria liked George Cambridge, but she had known him for a long time and he was not as new and fascinating as her German cousins.

‘Are you looking forward to the ball, eh, my dear?’ asked the King.

‘Oh yes, Uncle William,’ cried Victoria. ‘I love to dance.’

‘So you should. You should dance more. The Queen’s always saying to me: “We’ll give a ball for Victoria.”’

‘I
love
the Queen’s balls, Uncle. Aunt Adelaide always gives the best parties.’

‘She knows what young people like.’ His eyes were filled with tears and so were Victoria’s for she knew that he was thinking how sad Aunt Adelaide was because she had no children.

After dinner Victoria danced three quadrilles – the first with Ferdinand as he was the guest; and then with George Cambridge and after that with Augustus.

She wrote in her Journal: ‘I stayed up until one. I was much amused and pleased.’

The visit was a brief one. Young Ferdinand must go to Portugal to celebrate his marriage to the little widowed Queen, and Victoria must say good-bye to them.

‘How very sad,’ said Victoria, while her hair was being done and the book from which she was reading lay unopened before her.

Lehzen said that there would be other visits.

‘I look forward to them. I am very fortunate to have
such good
cousins. The more I know Ferdinand the more I like him. He is so sensible, so natural and unaffected, so unsophisticated and so truly
good
.’

‘And Augustus?’

‘I love him too. He is so distinguished-looking and unaffected. He is so amiable and quiet and gentle.’

‘They have certainly made an excellent impression,’ replied Lehzen.

‘How I wish they were not going so soon! You know, Lehzen, I think Ferdinand more handsome than Augustus. There is something quite beautiful in his expression. I think he is superior to Augustus and more advanced for his age.’

If, thought Lehzen, he were not going to marry the Queen of Portugal and they had wished him to be Victoria’s husband, they would have had little difficulty in persuading her to take him. She was so ready to love and be loved.

‘Let us get on with the book or we shall miss our reading,’ said Lehzen.

  Chapter XIX  

DEAR ALBERT

T
he cousins had left. How she missed them! There was no one to dance with.

‘You must never dance with anyone who is not royal,’ said the Duchess, which meant a dearth of partners. But with her cousins Victoria could dance round the schoolroom at any moment of the day when she was free. She could ride and walk with her cousins; she could show them her drawings; they could help her seal letters which they did and it seemed a great joke when Augustus burned a letter during the process. Everything seemed gay and amusing when shared with them.

And when they had gone she felt that she had stepped back into captivity. It was the old routine, never to be left alone, always supervised.

She was now openly showing her hostility to Sir John who was growing very uneasy and seeking to placate her; she believed she disliked his oily hypocrisy more than the sneers of the past.

She would never forget that moment when he had come to stand by her bedside and almost forced her to do what he wanted. She had written and told Uncle Leopold who was most shocked and did not feel so kindly as he had once towards Sir John. With the support of Uncle Leopold she felt bolder. A certain coolness had crept into her attitude towards her mother. After all, she was growing up. She was just over a year from independence, and the Duchess and Sir John knew that if they did not get the Regency set up and Victoria in leading strings before her eighteenth birthday they never would.

The Duchess sent for her daughter. She still sent for her but whenever she received a summons Victoria thought: ‘It will not be for long. Very soon
I
shall be sending for people.’

‘My dear child,’ said the Duchess, who called Victoria ‘child’ frequently in the hope that by so doing she could ignore that fast-approaching eighteenth birthday, ‘you miss your cousins sadly, I know.’

‘Yes, Mamma, I do.’

‘Well, here is a letter from your Uncle Leopold. He suggests that I invite our brother Ernest’s sons to Kensington.’

‘Ernest and Albert?’ asked Victoria. ‘Uncle Leopold has already mentioned them.’

The Duchess inclined her head. ‘I have already sent an invitation.’ Her smile was a little coy and Victoria guessed what this meant. After all, Uncle Leopold had hinted at it.

The visit of these two cousins was more important than any other because one of these boys could be her future husband.

‘You will greatly enjoy their visit,’ said the Duchess as though this was an order; and Victoria was too excited to feel resentful.

‘I’m sure I shall, Mamma,’ she said; and a pleasant little refrain started up in her head and would not be dismissed.

‘Albert or Ernest – Ernest or Albert.’

Feodora, happy in her Langenburg Castle, wrote loving letters to Victoria which bubbled over with cosy domesticity. Marriage was clearly a desirable state, thought Victoria – happy marriage that was. There was Feodora with her drawing and painting, her reading, her devoted husband and her growing family whose little ways were so lovable and diverting.

Her life was dull, she wrote, compared with that of Victoria, but she was very happy. The two eldest children had just paid their first visit to the theatre. They had been so excited that they had laughed merrily all the time and the audience had been more diverted by them than what was happening on the stage. The babies were well and merry and content and they talked often of their Aunt Victoria. Of course Feodora discussed this aunt constantly and the children felt that they knew her. They were very interested in all she used to do and quite consoled that sometimes she was just a little naughty. In fact they liked the stories of Victoria’s bad behaviour better than her good. Perhaps because those stories were so rare.

And now she had the news that their two Coburg cousins were coming to Kensington. Victoria would like them she was sure, even more than Ferdinand and Augustus. They were more
manly
in Feodora’s opinion; she was very fond of them both.

‘Ernest is my favourite, although Albert is much more handsome and cleverer too, but Ernest is honest and good natured. I shall be very curious to hear your opinion of them.’

Victoria read and re-read the letter.

So Feodora preferred Ernest. But she loved them both.

‘I shall use my own judgment,’ she told herself resolutely; but in her heart she knew Albert would be favourite with her because that was what Uncle Leopold wished.

‘So,’ cried the King in fury, ‘she’s bringing these Coburgs over. That water-drinking fellow has arranged this! They know I want her for George Cambridge so they bring over these Coburgs.’

‘Do sit down, Papa,’ said Sophia. ‘You are getting far too upset.’

‘Upset. That woman is enough to upset anybody. I’ll send her back where she belongs. She can leave Victoria to Adelaide. Adelaide will look after her better than that feathered vixen.’

‘She is her mother, dear,’ said Adelaide gently.

‘More’s the pity. I won’t have those young fellows here. They seem to forget I’m the King. Why should I have these foreigners in my kingdom when I have no wish to? They’re not going to be asked to Windsor. They’re not even coming to England.’

Lady de l’Isle and Dudley exchanged glances with the Queen. When he was in this mood it was better to let him work out his fury rather than frustrate him. Later, between them, they would persuade him that it would be a major affront to a foreign power to refuse the Princes of Saxe-Coburg admittance to England.

In his heart he knew it; but he was disappointed. He liked young people. He had no heir of his own body; he would have enjoyed fathering Victoria. He liked the girl. He wanted to have her here in his household like his daughter. That would have been pleasant. They could have been seen more together. The King and the heiress to the throne! It was what the people wanted; it was good for the Monarchy. But that woman at Kensington had spoilt everything.

He went on at length about his intended refusal to permit the landing in England of the Saxe-Coburg Princes. Victoria was going to have George Cambridge. A nicer boy there could not be. He would rather see her married to blind George Cumberland – a charming fellow if ever there was one and a boy who had overcome his handicap. Why shouldn’t he be the Queen’s consort? ‘No reason,’ said the King. ‘No reason at all.’

Then he laughed. ‘I’ve only got to live a little longer, Adelaide, and that child will be eighteen. Once she is, that mother of hers will have no power over her whatsoever. It’s clear what I’ve got to do. I’ve got to live till after Victoria’s eighteenth birthday.’

‘It’s only next year, William, and you’ve got years ahead of you.’

‘I’m a sick old man, Adelaide. But I am going to do everything in my power to foil that woman. She is never going to be Regent of this country. I am going to see Victoria Queen … then I’ll die. Not before.’

At length Adelaide succeeded in persuading him that he could not forbid the Saxe-Coburgs to come to England. He then devised another plan.

It made him laugh so much he almost choked.

‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Adelaide … and I’ve done it. I didn’t want you persuading me. You’re too good a woman, Adelaide. That Kent woman is a she-wolf and you’re too good to know it. Time and time again you’ve smoothed things over for her. I know. You’ve shielded her. You’ve kept me from knowing. That’s what you’ve done. Well, now I’ll tell you what I’ve done. I’ve invited the Prince of Orange and his son over. They’ll be here the same time as those Coburgs. That will put their German noses out of joint.’

‘But you don’t like the Oranges overmuch.’

‘But the Water Drinker will
think
I do. He’ll be in a panic. He’ll think young Orange has been brought over for Victoria.’

‘But it’s our George … George Cambridge who is to have Victoria.’

‘Of course it is. But let Leopold think it’s going to be young Orange. That’ll shake him. That’ll make him see that I won’t have him interfering in my Kingdom.’

So there was nothing the Queen could do. At least she had averted a major quarrel with the Saxe-Coburgs; and now she would do her best to entertain the Oranges without alienating the Saxe-Coburgs and the Duchess of Kent.

When Leopold heard that the Prince of Orange and his son had been invited to England he was furious. This was a double insult. There had always been an uneasy relationship between himself and the Prince of Orange, for Orange had been one of the Princess Charlotte’s suitors. She had rather brusquely jilted him and when Leopold arrived had fallen passionately in love with him. It was something which made Orange regard the King of the Belgians with a certain pique.

And to invite him at the same time as Leopold’s protégés were in England was, Leopold considered, an insult to himself.

Leopold had long decided that the husband for Victoria was Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. Albert was his protégé as Victoria was. Leopold’s great hobby was the guiding and directing of his young relations. He was not only a King but a maker of Kings and Queens. He had written a treatise on how to govern for young Ferdinand; he had tutored Victoria since she was a child; and he had been equally watchful of Albert.

Albert was three months younger than Victoria – a bagatelle, said Leopold. They were of an age.