Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria (16 page)

“Then I am sure he will be mine.”

“I hope so, dear child. I fervently hope so.”

Then he talked at length about Albert. How he loved to ride through the forest on his English ponies; how he collected plants and geological specimens.

“He is more of a student than a sportsman. He once said to me that he could not understand why people made such a business of shooting. Which shows very fine feelings, do you not agree?”

I said I did. “Is he very clever?” I asked. “He is very studious.”

“He would probably think I was rather frivolous.”

“Your mother tells me that you are a little… and apt to let your emotions rule your head. Well, my darling, I am of the opinion that that is not always a bad thing. You are overflowing with affection, and when you love you do so wholeheartedly. I am sure Albert would admire that in you. He finds it less easy to express his emotions. You could help him to be more demonstrative. He could help you to be more restrained.”

I liked the thought of helping Albert.

“He is so good-tempered. It is only that which is unjust or dishonest that makes him angry. I remember once watching them play at Rosenau. There were a party of them and some were to defend the castle. Albert was with those who were trying to capture it. One of the boys found a way in through the back, but Albert would not take it. He said it was not becoming in a Saxon knight to do anything underhand and that the enemy should be attacked from the front.”

“How noble!”

“Albert
is
noble. You will find him the most honorable, noble, and handsome knight that ever was.”

“I long to meet him.”

“You shall…very soon, I think.”

“Will you arrange it, Uncle Leopold?”

“I shall. He will come to see you with my blessing and my urgent wish that you shall each realize the other's virtues—and all you have to offer one another.”

“I hope he will come soon.”

Uncle Leopold drew me to him and kissed me tenderly. “Understand always, dearest child, your welfare is the most important thing on earth to me—yours and that of dear Albert.”

“I feel I love him already,” I said.

“I have no doubt you will love him very dearly.”

Then Uncle Leopold began to talk of other matters, explaining how necessary it was for me to have humility, which was one of the greatest Christian virtues. Fate had set me in a difficult position. Great responsibilities loomed ahead. I told him that I knew this, and the Archbishop had made it very clear to me when I had been confirmed.

“Always be on guard against hypocrisy. It is the besetting sin of our times. I am sorry to say, my dear love, with all my affection for old England, the very state of its society and politics renders many in that country humbugs and deceivers. The appearance of the thing is generally considered more than the reality. Defend yourself against this system. Let your dear character always be true and loyal. Always be prudent and cautious… but at the same time be sterling and true.”

Oh, how wonderful it was to listen to his eloquence! Although there were a great many dos and don'ts and one often seemed to cancel out the other. I must say what I meant and yet I must be careful. I must listen to the hypocrites and be true to myself and yet at the same time be prudent, which must mean disguising my true feelings, and how could one be truthful if one did that?

It seemed to me that I was going to find it difficult to do the right thing because it was all rather contradictory, and I consoled myself with the thought that Uncle Leopold—although a strip of water would separate us—would be there if I needed him. And I should shortly meet this Cousin Albert who seemed to combine all the virtues which could be found in one person—with none of the vices.

I had some pleasant times with Aunt Louise too. She turned out to be just a little frivolous when Uncle Leopold was not present. That made a delightful intimacy between us. I told her how elegant she always looked and how I loved her clothes. We talked about clothes at great length and she told me what colors would be best for me. She took me to her apartments and showed me some of her gowns. She said they were a little old for me, but I tried them on and paraded in front of the mirror. She put her head on one side watching me and she said French fashions became me. In fact they became everybody because they were the best in the world. I had to agree with her, and I really did look rather nice in some of her gowns. She was small but slimmer than I, and she had the prettiest figure while I was a little fat.

I said, “My clothes are always little-girl clothes. I do wish I had something grown-up to wear.”

“You will,” she said. “After all you are no longer a little girl.”

In a rush of confidence I said, “I think Mama wants to keep me a little girl as long as possible. She is very much afraid that I shall soon be eighteen.”

I stopped hastily. I was being indiscreet. I must remember all the injunctions Uncle Leopold had given me. But it did seem that every day my resentment against Mama was growing.

Then came the sad day when Uncle Leopold and Aunt Louise must leave us.

I flung myself into Uncle Leopold's arms and sobbed, “Don't go.”

He stroked my hair and said how it grieved him to leave me.

“But I have a country to govern, my little one.”

I clung to Aunt Louise. “I am going to miss you so. It's going to be so
dull
without you.”

Uncle Leopold put his lips to my ear and whispered, “Soon I shall send Cousin Albert to comfort you.”

That did comfort me a little, but I was very sad as I watched the ship, flying the flag of Belgium, sailing away.

How many years would it be, I wondered, before I saw Uncle Leopold again?

I
T WAS SHORTLY
after that when I became desperately ill. Ramsgate will always remind me of those dark days that came almost immediately after Uncle Leopold and Aunt Louise had departed.

I was only vaguely aware of the figures around my bed. Dear Lehzen, of course, was there, and so was Mama. They thought I was going to die. Poor Mama, she must have been in despair for all her hopes rested in me, and I could imagine the excitement in the hearts of the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland. My death would be as much a boon to them as Uncle William's would be to Mama. To come near to death oneself makes one realize how wrong it is to desire other people's departure from this life so that one's own may become more comfortable in it.

I remember Lehzen cutting off most of my hair.

“It is for the best, my darling,” she murmured and her voice shook with emotion for the tresses she had so lovingly curled.

There came a day when the crisis came and after that had passed they believed I would live.

I loved them all then—Lehzen, of course, my dearest and most faithful friend, and Mama, who looked so pale and wan without her frills and feathers, so anxiously had she been watching over me.

I was amazed at my weakness. I could scarcely sit up without help.

“She needs the greatest care,” said Lehzen; and she was going to supply that care, and not even Mama was going to come near me if Lehzen thought it best for me to be left alone. But Mama and Lehzen were together in this. Their great aim was to have me well.

How tired I felt! I just wanted to sleep and sleep. So I slept through the days and nights, and whenever I opened my eyes Lehzen would be there seated by my bed, and if she were not it would be Mama.

They brought nourishing things for me to eat. “Do try to eat, my darling, for Mama's sake” or “Lehzen will be so worried if you don't.” So I tried to eat to please them.

“Rest,” they said. “You are getting better every day.”

I believed them, but I felt so terribly weak.

I noticed that neither Lehzen nor my mother would bring a mirror to me. That was why I guessed they did not want me to see myself. So one day I insisted, and as I was growing agitated Lehzen brought me a looking-glass. I could hardly believe that it was myself who looked back at me. That pale little face instead of the plump, blooming one that had been mine! My eyes looked enormous and my hair…I put up my hand in despair.

“It will grow again when you are well,” said Lehzen.

“What has happened to me?” I cried.

“You had typhoid fever, dearest. But you have recovered and your hair
will be as lovely as ever and so will you be… quite soon. Young people recover from these upsets very quickly.”

“But I am sixteen, Lehzen. That is not really a young person.”

“It is still young. You are going to be well in next to no time. I shall see to that.”

“You have been here all the time?”

“Day and night, my dearest, and when I cannot be here your Mama is.”

“That is comforting. And tell me the truth, Lehzen, will my hair grow again?”

“I swear it,” said Lehzen, putting some caraway seeds into her mouth as she always did when she was emotional.

“Oh, dearest Lehzen, how glad I am that you are here to look after me.
You
are the dearest friend I ever had.”

She nodded, kissed me, and bade me rest. “The more rest you have, the more good food you eat, the sooner you will be better.”

I trusted Lehzen. I would soon be well.

A rather unpleasant incident took place one evening, which I could not think of for a long time after without experiencing shivers down my spine.

It was just beginning to get dark, when I was awakened suddenly by a sense of evil. I saw the darkening room and felt the heaviness of my limbs to which I had become accustomed. I could not understand what had awakened me. I saw the familiar objects of the room begin to take shape. Lehzen was sitting by the fire; her needlework had fallen from her hands and she was asleep.

Someone was in the room, coming stealthily toward the bed.

To my horror I saw that it was the man whom I had come to think of as a sinister enemy—Sir John Conroy—and he was tiptoeing silently toward me.

I started up. “What do you want here…in my room?” I demanded.

He put his finger to his lips and glanced at Lehzen.

I went on, “I have been ill. I do not have visitors.”

“This is different. This is only your old friend.”

“No,” I said firmly.

He was right beside my bed now, and he laid a hand on mine, which was outside the bedclothes. I withdrew it sharply.

“A quick word,” he whispered. “Nothing more. I just want you to give me your promise.”

“What promise?”

“Your solemn promise… that's all. Give it to me and I will go.”

“Do you think I would promise you something without knowing what it is?”

“Your mother has agreed that it is best for you to do this.”

“I want to know what.”

“It is all very simple.” He was still whispering and poor Lehzen, tired out from looking after me, slumbered on. He glanced toward her and smiled. Then he went on, “You are going to need a private secretary when you are Queen. I have been with you for years. I know you well. I respect you so much. The post should be mine. Just give me your solemn promise. That is all I want. Give that to me and I will go and tell your Mama that you have agreed. She will be so delighted.”

“No,” I said firmly. “No. No.”

“You are very weak at the moment. We can talk more of this when you are fully recovered…Just for now your promise…your solemn promise will do. You are naturally honorable and would never go back on a solemn promise. That is all I ask. We can talk together…your mother, you, and I…when you are well—and that will not be long now.”

“I will give no promise.”

“The matter is urgent.”

“Why?”

“You must be ready when the time comes.”

“I am ready.”

“You are young…young and pretty. You like to dance and sing and play. It is only right that you should. So you need a secretary to take on all the disagreeable work. I have a paper here. Your signature is all that is needed.”

“No,” I repeated. “No.”

This conversation had been conducted in whispers, but now I spoke loudly. I said, “Go now. I am not well enough to be disturbed like this.”

That woke Lehzen. She jumped to her feet in alarm.

“What?” she stammered. “Why…?”

“Do not disturb yourself, Baroness,” said Sir John suavely. “The Princess and I have been transacting a little business.”

“The Princess is not well.”

“This was nothing to harm her. Just a little light conversation.”

“The Princess does not receive visitors.”

“Oh come, I am a member of the household. And I have the Duchess's permission to call on the Princess.”

Lehzen was splendid as I knew she always would be.

“I will not have you disturbing the Princess. Please leave at once.”

“My dear Baroness, you exceed your authority.”

“It is my duty to protect my Princess from upsets of
any
sort. She wishes you to leave at once.”

He turned to me appealingly and I cried, “Yes, I do. Go away. I will give you no promise. Leave me alone.”

“Oh come, come,” he said placatingly. “We don't want a storm, do we?”

“If I want a storm I will have one,” I retorted, “and I shall not appoint you as my private secretary now … or ever. Please go.”

Lehzen went to the door and held it open. He lifted his shoulders and bowed to us, smiling that sneering smile that I hated so much.

He went out and Lehzen firmly shut the door.

She came to the bed and took me in her arms, holding me tightly against her.

“I hate that man,” I said.

“He is a monster. It is a pity…”

“Yes, Lehzen, say it. It is a pity he is here. How dared he! To come into my room like that and try to get a promise from me when I was feeling too weak to resist. That was what he wanted, and he thought I would be too ill to fight him. It is clear to me.”

Lehzen stroked my hair.

“You must not be upset, my pet. It is bad for you. And I was asleep when he came in! I cannot forgive myself.”

“Dear Lehzen, you were worn out with caring for me.”

“To think I was asleep!”

“I dealt with him. Lehzen, they…he is getting worried. It is because I am past sixteen, and there are less than two more years to go when Mama might be Regent and before I am Queen. Who knows, she may hope to be Regent even then.”