Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria (18 page)

So it was a wonderful and memorable visit, and when it came to an
end I was desolate. I could not bear it. The days had been so full and exciting.

Albert said goodbye regretfully, but quietly. I on the other hand could not stop my tears from falling.

“Dear Albert … dear Ernest…you
must
come again.”

Mama wept too and said how delightful it had been to have her dear relations with her.

“There must be more meetings,” she said.

I had written a letter for Uncle Ernest to take to Uncle Leopold and in it I told him of my pleasure in meeting Albert.

I was desolate for weeks after they had left, and my only comfort was in remembering little scenes from the visit and some of the wise comments of my dear Albert.

He told me, long afterward, that when he saw Uncle Leopold after that visit, and our uncle asked him what he thought of me, his only comment had been, “She is very amiable.”

I laughed when he told me and compared his comment with all the fulsome compliments I had paid him.

But, as I said at that time, Albert and I were very different from each other.

D
ASH COMFORTED ME
during those days after the cousins' departure. The dear little thing seemed to understand. When I sat remembering, he would leap onto my lap and nestle up to me as though to say: The cousins have gone, but you still have me.

“Yes, darling Dashy,” I said. “I have you.” And then I remembered
how funnily Albert had played with him, for the two had taken to each other immediately, and that made me sad again.

Now that I was soon to be eighteen I felt a new independence. My dislike for Sir John Conroy had increased. I should never forgive him for coming into my bedroom when I was ill and trying to extract a promise from me in the hope that I was too weak to refuse. It seemed a dastardly act—and typical of him. Mama was as close to him as ever, and I began to think of them as “the plotters.” Mama was so furious because Uncle William lived on, and she was becoming so dictatorial to me, and told me several times a day how much she had done for me. I said, very coldly, on one occasion, “No, Mama. You did it for yourself.” And I swept out of the room and left her.

I think that shocked her, for she was silent, and there was a long conference with Sir John.

I was changing. I was beginning to feel that there were two factions in our household, and my mother and I were opposing each other. Sometimes I felt I had only one real friend in the household; and that was my dear Lehzen.

My half-brother, Charles, Prince of Leiningen, was with us at this time. He had two adorable little boys and I loved playing with them; but I believed that Charles was on my mother's side and planned with her and Sir John to make me subservient to her will, which was for her to be Regent, even after I was of age, and to make Sir John Conroy my private secretary. I knew what that would mean. They would make the rules and I should be expected to obey them.

No! It was not going to be like that at all.

For a long time Aunt Sophia, who was a constant caller at our apartments as she was also living in the Palace where visiting could then be easy and unceremonious, was somewhat enamored of Sir John. I knew that she was a spy for him. What was it about that man that women found so irresistible when he was to me quite odious? I was always careful what I said in Aunt Sophia's presence.

Another sly creature was Flora Hastings, whom I had never liked since she was so rude to Lehzen, sneering at her German ways and her love of caraway seeds—as though that mattered, weighed up beside loving and selfless devotion, which was very different from what I found in some quarters!

Looking back, I can see that I actively disliked Mama at this time.

I wished to dissociate myself from her. I did not want the King and
Queen to think that I approved of her behavior toward them. I am afraid my mother was not a very wise woman. She was very uneasy about the growing change in me but she did not attempt to alter her ways by practicing a little diplomacy. She could so easily have won me back, for she was after all my mother, and I felt a strong sense of duty toward her. I wanted to love her and tried hard to—but it was just that she would not let me. She must have known that I was acutely embarrassed by her assumption of royalty, but she continued in exactly the same way. I think in her heart she could not accept the fact that I was no longer a child.

I was deeply distressed when Aunt Adelaide invited us to Windsor on the thirteenth of August.

Mama said, “Here is an invitation to celebrate Adelaide's birthday.”

“Oh, that will be fun,” I cried.

“Not for us,” said Mama, in the role of haughty Regent which she loved to play. “We shall not be there.”

“But, Mama…”

Mama held up a hand and I saw Sir John's eyes on me…mocking…because he knew that I wanted to go to Windsor and even if I did not enjoy going I would believe we should do so on such an occasion.

“Adelaide”—Mama rarely referred to her as the Queen—“forgets it is
my
birthday a few days later and I do not intend to celebrate
that
at Windsor.”

“Your Grace will wish to go to Claremont to celebrate your birthday, I expect,” said the odious one.

“You are right, Sir John,” said Mama. “That is what I intend to do. So I shall decline this woman's invitation. I suppose she thinks her birthday is so much more important than mine.”

“Oh no, she wouldn't think that at all, Mama,” I began.

But Mama just smiled at me. “My darling, you don't understand these things.” She turned to Sir John and just as though I were not there said, “I shall send a note at once.”

I went back to Lehzen, fuming with rage. How dared they? Why had I allowed it? Why did I not say, I am the heir to the throne. I could be Queen at any moment now … but I hope not. I want Uncle William to go on living. I don't want to be Queen… not until it is too late for you to interfere.

Oh yes, there was beginning to be war between Mama and me.

The King's birthday was on the twenty-first, not long after the Queen's, and of course that was a time when I must be present because it
was a State occasion. No doubt Mama would like to give a regal refusal, but even she could not do that.

So we traveled down to Windsor.

The King had been to Westminster to prorogue Parliament and before returning to Windsor he decided to call in at Kensington Palace because he would know we were not in our apartments. Whether he had some inkling as to what had happened about our apartments I did not know. All I was aware of was that Mama had asked for more rooms and they had been refused. I naturally thought, when I came back to Kensington after my illness, that he had relented and given the required permission. I was to learn otherwise. I felt sure that he must have had some suspicion of what had happened and no doubt Mama's impolite rejection of the invitation to celebrate the Queen's birthday had particularly incensed him.

The fact was that he called at the Palace to inspect our apartments and was filled with rage when he discovered that, in spite of the fact that he had refused Mama permission to take the extra rooms, she had deliberately disobeyed him.

We were in the drawing room when he returned and he came straight there. His eyes were bulging and his face was crimson. There was no doubt of his anger.

I approached him and curtsied and he softened slightly, but as I kissed him and he returned my kiss I could sense that he was quivering with rage; and I knew that it was against Mama. Even so I was unprepared.

Mama was close behind me. She always resented my being greeted before her. The King did not ignore her. He bowed almost imperceptibly and his eyes blazed at her.

He then said in a voice that could be distinctly heard all over the drawing room, “A great liberty has been taken with one of my palaces. I have just left Kensington Palace where, against my express command, apartments have been taken. I cannot understand such conduct. Nor will I endure it. It is quite disrespectful toward the King.”

Mama stood there, pale, but with her head held high, regarding the King haughtily. I was so ashamed, I could have wept. I should have known. How dared she! And I had so enjoyed those lovely rooms at the Palace. If I had known that we had no right to them I should have hated them. I should have forced her to vacate them. Yes, that was what I should have done. I should not have allowed Mama to behave as she had.
I should let her know that her importance came through her relationship to me.

I wanted to leave Windsor. I could not look at all these people. I saw in their faces that amused excitement that people have when there is trouble for others. I wanted to run away and hide.

The Queen said, “The King is very tired. It has been a long day for him and the journey from Westminster to Windsor can be exhausting.”

She went out with him. Mama and I followed them. I could not bear to look at Mama. I was seething with anger against her and I knew I should show it.

Part of me did not care. And yet I held myself in check. Perhaps the time was not yet ripe. But it was coming.

W
ORSE WAS TO
follow.

I spent a restless night though Mama, in the same room, seemed to sleep peacefully. I could not understand how she could reconcile herself to such behavior. If anyone had flouted her authority or attempted to rob her of one iota of the dignity she thought due to her, she would have been incensed; yet she continually defied the King, which was actually defying the Crown.

When I was eighteen, when I took on responsibility, she must never be allowed to dictate to me.

I was longing to leave Windsor for I grew so apprehensive when Mama and the King were under the same roof, and I had rarely seen him so angry as he had been on the previous day. I thought he was going to have a fit—and if he had it would have been Mama's fault.

Perhaps tomorrow we could leave.

So it was with great trepidation that I went down to dinner that night. My fears were on a firm foundation although the King was charming to me, but I noticed Aunt Adelaide was watching him in that uneasy way she had when she feared there might be trouble. The King behaved as though Mama were not present, looking right through her as though she were invisible; but when he turned to me he was very friendly and kept patting my hand. He said my eighteenth birthday would be in the coming May… another nine months. Then I should be of age. He stressed that once or twice, and although he did not look at Mama, I think he wanted her to hear it.

There were a hundred guests because it was his birthday, and it was naturally a very grand occasion. When the meal was over the Queen proposed the King's health, and he got up to reply.

We were all relaxed and even the Queen seemed to be lulled into a sense of security. The evening was almost over and it had passed without any unpleasantness.

And then it happened.

The King rose to reply to the toast. We all expected him to ramble on as he invariably did at such times, but soon we were all roused from our complacency.

“Thank you all for your wishes for my continued health,” he said. “I trust to God that my life may be spared for nine months longer, after which period, in the event of my death, no Regency will take place.” He looked at me. “I should then have the satisfaction of leaving the royal authority to the personal exercise of that young lady—” He pointed a finger at me and I shrank into my seat. I dared not look at Mama. “—the heiress presumptive to the throne, and not in the hands of a person now near to me who is surrounded by evil advisers and herself incompetent to act with propriety in the station in which she would be placed. I have been insulted—grossly and continually—by that person, and I am determined to endure no longer a course of behavior so disrespectful to me. Among many other things I have particularly to complain of the manner in which that young lady has been kept away from my Court; she has been repeatedly kept from my Drawing Rooms, at which she ought to have been present, but I am fully resolved that this shall not happen again. I would have her know that I am the King, and I am determined to make my authority respected, and for the future I shall insist and command that the Princess on all occasions appear at my Court, as it is her duty to do.”

As I listened I felt the tears gushing to my eyes. He was more than angry; he had been deeply wounded; and he was a kind old gentleman although I knew he could not be considered a good king; he was more like a bluff country squire. He blundered and rumbled on and was often incoherent, but he was kind and meant well, and what more can one ask of people than that?

Mine were tears of humiliation. I was ashamed of Mama, who sat there as though stunned, for once speechless and bewildered as though, in spite of the King's outburst only the night before, she could not believe her ears.

The Queen as usual came to the rescue. As the King sat down she rose; and that was the signal for the ladies to follow her from the dining room.

When we were in the drawing room Mama's fury burst out.

“I…I have never been so insulted in my life,” she cried. “We are leaving at once. I shall order the carriage immediately.”

“No, Mama,” I protested. “We cannot do that. Please, Mama, listen to me.”

Mama was too distraught to notice the firmness of my tone.

The Queen said gently, “You cannot leave tonight. It is too late. Wait until the morning.”

I suppose Mama realized how impossible it would be to leave at that hour for Claremont, so tightening her lips and clenching her fists, she agreed to stay for the night.