The Widow of Windsor (27 page)

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Authors: Jean Plaidy

BOOK: The Widow of Windsor
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The Queen kissed Alix and gave a gracious nod to Louise.

‘My dear sweet Alix, this is dreadful. You so ill and my not knowing.’

‘Dr Paget sent for Mama,’ said Alix. ‘I felt better as soon as she came.’

The Queen’s eyes filled with tears.
Dear
sweet Alix, she was not clever but she was such a good child and so pretty; and devoted to that woman who after all was her mother.

‘You must get well quickly,’ said the Queen. ‘I am pleased that Sir James had the good sense to send for the Queen of Denmark.’

The emotions of the people were deeply touched by the plight of the invalid. Alix was the most popular member of the royal family; she was beautiful, gracious and sick. Bertie amused them with his adventures, but they were not amusing doubtless to the Princess; and now she was very ill; crowds clustered about Marlborough House, all sorts of people sent in advice on treatment, embrocations arrived in their thousands; one old lady sent a roll of oil silk; ointments were sent to the palace, all kinds of cures were suggested. A special staff was needed to deal with them and bulletins on the Princess’s health were issued regularly while crowds waited to see them.

Alix was without doubt very ill indeed and the pains in her joints continued so it was some months before she was able to walk and then could only do so with the aid of sticks.

The new baby was christened Louise Victoria Alexandra Dagmar three months after her birth, when Alix was carried to the drawing-room and even then could only hobble about on her two sticks.

The Queen was very sympathetic but she blamed Bertie – and indeed both of them – for the rackety life they led. They would have to be a little more careful now – not so many late nights, not so many wild parties. Bertie must try to be the sort of husband to Alix that Albert had been to the Queen.

Chapter XII

JOHN BROWN IN COMMAND

A new paper calling itself
Tomahawk
was being published; it was meant to be satirical and was most libellous; its leading topic was with that subject of which the Press was trying to create the greatest possible scandal – the Queen’s relationship with John Brown.

On the paper’s birth there had been constant hints about that relationship and in August of that year there appeared a cartoon which could not be ignored.

It was entitled ‘A Brown Study’. It showed John Brown sprawling against the throne with his back to it and a glass in his hand, while the British Lion roared at his feet.

The implication was clear and when Bertie saw it he was secretly amused. He had suffered so much criticism regarding his own conduct, but what was that compared with this?

He was planning a trip to Paris – his favourite city – and he knew that the Queen would put up a certain amount of opposition as she always did at the hint of his travelling abroad. He thought it would be good strategy to get in first, so with
Tomahawk
in his hand he arrived at Osborne.

As he came uninvited the Queen was not waiting to receive him. She was in her apartments and the way was barred by John Brown.

The Prince was furious. No wonder the cartoonists had such a field day with his mother and this crude serving-man. The Prince of Wales would certainly not accept this unbecoming behaviour.

‘Ye canna see the Queen now,’ said John Brown. ‘The woman’s resting.’

‘I think the Queen will not be pleased to hear that the Prince of Wales has been denied admittance.’

‘She’s nae in a fit condition to be badgered,’ said Brown firmly.

The Queen, hearing voices, called out: ‘Brown, who is that?’

‘It’s your eldest,’ answered Brown. ‘I’ve told him ye’ll see him in the morning. Ye’re too tired to be bothered the night.’

‘Thank you, Brown,’ said the Queen.

And what could Bertie do after that but go away fuming? Brown would have to go. The position in which he put the Queen, the position in which he put them all, was quite ridiculous.

The next morning Bertie triumphantly waved ‘A Brown Study’ before his mother.

‘Have you seen this, Mama?’

She glanced at it. ‘Oh dear, another of those tiresome things. Brown is so imperturbable. He doesn’t care a pin about them.’

‘Mama, this is an attack on
you
, on the Crown.’

‘Of course any attack on honest John Brown is an attack on me.’

‘But this is making the throne … ridiculous.’

‘What nonsense, Bertie! This is just malicious people being malicious.’

‘Brown must go, Mama. He was very rude to me.’

‘Ah, that is it, is it? You don’t like him. It is the first time I have understood that my servants must win
your
approval.’

‘Mama, they are suggesting he is not just a servant and it is the people who disapprove as well as myself.’

‘The people know nothing. They cannot understand my grief at Beloved Papa’s death and they would like to deny me the comfort my faithful servants give me. I hope you have not come bursting down here just to tell me this. But while you are here there are one or two matters I should like to discuss with
you
. Your debts, mostly incurred by gambling, and I am horrified to learn by presents you have given to
women
, are mounting. You are going the same way as my Uncle George who caused such distress to
his
parents by the trouble he got into with women. I hope you do not write scandalous letters. And what of dear sweet Alix who is
pathetically
ill? What does she think, I wonder, at these rumours? There is an actress … I heard … but I sincerely hope
that
is not true. I think it is time I took a close look into your manner of living. Vicky is quite horrified … and even Alice has heard. Sometimes I can’t help feeling
relieved
that Beloved Papa is not here. He would be so distressed and when we think of how when he was so ill he went to Cambridge …’

The Prince turned away in dismay. What was the use of trying to remonstrate with her; she could turn the tables so adroitly because all the time she was reminding him that although he might be the Prince of Wales, she was the Queen.

He left Osborne deflated, a fact which John Brown noted, and his sardonic insolent smile was not lost on the Prince of Wales.

‘A Brown Study’ had sent the sales of
Tomahawk
soaring and rumours about the Queen’s relationship with John Brown magnified. Some said that he was her lover, others that he was her husband; there was one rumour that she had inherited her grandfather’s madness, that she was a raving lunatic at times and only John Brown could keep her in order; there was another rumour that John Brown was a medium who could put her in touch with Albert and this was the reason for his influence over her.

Spiritualism was having a vogue in England at the time and the Queen had been heard to express interest in the new cult. What more natural than that she should wish to be in touch with Albert?

But the most usual theory was that the Queen and Brown were lovers; and the fact that the Queen would not appear in public and so deprived her people of the glittering ceremonies they loved, and that John Brown’s arrogance and indifference had not endeared him to those who were in contact with him, made both the Queen and her Highland servant become very unpopular.

She had, however, consented to attend a review in Hyde Park, with Brown of course in attendance as usual on the box of her carriage.

She was astonished, therefore, when Lord Derby called on her and told her that he thought it very unwise for John Brown to accompany her to the review.

‘And why not, pray?’ demanded the Queen.

‘The people might resort to violence. The mob can easily be aroused and these distasteful cartoons have been read by thousands.’

‘And because of unscrupulous scribblers who have tried hard to damage the character of a good honest man, he is not to perform his usual duties?’

Lord Derby tried to imply discreetly that it was not the defamation of John Brown’s character which worried him so much as that of the Queen’s, but the Queen would not see this.

‘I shall not be dictated to,’ she told Derby coldly. ‘And I shall certainly not allow my comfort to be spoiled by the interference of wicked people.’

That was as far as the Prime Minister could get with her. He went to Disraeli and told him of the Queen’s response. Disraeli was grave. ‘There could be trouble,’ he said. ‘John Brown there in the Queen’s company with that smug self-satisfaction of his … for all the world as though he is the new Consort. Now if the Queen would relegate Mr John Brown to the Highlands where he belongs and take some handsome Prince for her husband – preferably a gay one – nothing would delight the people more.’

But it was no use hoping for the impossible. The Queen had made up her mind that John Brown should accompany her at the Hyde Park review and accompany her he should.

Over cold patty from Fortnum and Mason’s and champagne fresh from the ice bucket taken together after Dizzy’s return from the House he and Mary Anne discussed the situation.

‘It’ll be a miracle if there’s not trouble with the mob over John Brown,’ said Dizzy.

‘There are occasional miracles in public life,’ Mary Anne reminded him. ‘Think of my own Dizzy’s climb to fame.’

‘That’s not a miracle, that’s hard work.’

‘Geniuses might make miracles happen. Couldn’t you bring your dulcet tones to drive home the truth by putting the whole thing in one of your clever little nutshells?’

‘My dearest Mary Anne, what a delectable concoction of metaphors. But even I am not capable of mixing them into a tasty little cake to delight Her Majesty’s palate.’

‘Oh come, Dizzy, you’re capable of anything and you can’t tell me that she doesn’t take more notice of you than that crude John Brown.’

‘We run neck and neck, my dearest, and I couldn’t tell you who is the favourite.’

‘Now who’s talking in metaphors and I won’t have my Dizzy compared with a horse, even a race-horse. And as for that John Brown he’s nothing better than an old carthorse.’

Dizzy laughed; but he was very anxious about the review.

Affairs in Mexico provided the miracle. Napoleon III had set up the Archduke Maximilian as ruler of Mexico and given him the title of Emperor; he had married Princess Charlotte, Uncle Leopold’s daughter, so was therefore close to the Queen. But the Mexicans would not acknowledge him. The civil war in North America had come to an end and Washington warned Napoleon that the army he had set up there must be withdrawn. This was done but Maximilian remained, hoping to raise an army of his own and retain his position. It was hopeless; the Mexican republic was restored and Maximilian court-martialled, sentenced to death and shot.

In view of such a catastrophe, it was decided that the Hyde Park review must be cancelled.

‘God has sent us our miracle,’ said Dizzy.

But Mary Anne was certain that her clever husband had arranged it.

Although she would have been pleased to, the Queen could find no reason why Bertie should not go to Paris to attend the International Exhibition.

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