The Captive of Kensington Palace (8 page)

It was very lonely in Kensington Palace without Feodora, but true to her word the older sister wrote regularly to the younger one and it was the delight of those days to have a letter from Feodora. Victoria read them all again and again and could picture the fairy-tale castle which was Feodora’s home. It was Gothic and seemed haunted; there were so many dark, twisted little staircases, so many tall rooms with slits of windows from which Feodora could look on Hohenlohe territory. Her husband was very kind and she was growing more and more fond of him.

‘I don’t believe she ever gives a thought to Augustus now,’ Victoria told the dolls.

She sighed. How much happier it would have been for her if that marriage had taken place. She liked calling on Uncle Sussex and gazing with awe on his collections of rare books and bibles. The clocks were amusing too, particularly when they all chimed together. Victoria especially liked the ones which played the national anthem. She always stood to attention when she heard that and thought of dearest Uncle King and the time when she had asked his band to play it for her. Dear Uncle Sussex; he really was
one
of the favourite uncles; and how she loved his flowers and still liked to water them, although it made her feel rather sad because darling Feodora was not sitting under the tree. But Lady Buggin was amusing and very kind and nice. It was such a pity that Mamma did not like her and that she was told to keep away when Victoria paid a visit. Victoria liked people who were affectionate and laughed a great deal; and Uncle Sussex seemed much happier when Lady Buggin was there. Uncle Sussex was very tall and he looked grand in his gold-trimmed dressing-gown which he wore a great deal in the house. His little black page was always in attendance – also grandly dressed in royal livery. Uncle Sussex treated him with respect and always called him Mr Blackman. Yes, it would have been much more comforting if Feodora had married Augustus and Uncle Sussex had become her father-in-law.

But it seemed Feodora was happy enough in her castle. She hoped, she wrote to Victoria, that before long she would be able to tell her some very exciting news. Victoria should rest assured that she should be one of the very first to hear.

‘Now I wonder what that can be,’ said Victoria to the dolls.

Lehzen was seated in the room, ever watchful; this was a little respite after her drawing lesson. Of all lessons she much preferred music and drawing. Mr Westall who was an important artist was very pleased with her; and she loved best of all sketching people. It was fun to send her drawings to Feodora – particularly those of herself which was, Feodora replied, almost like having darling Victoria with her. Mr Westall said that had she not been a young lady of such rank she might have become a distinguished artist. What praise! But when she repeated it to Lehzen that lady had smiled wryly and said: ‘But as it happens you are a young lady of rank.’

It was the same with singing. Mr Sale of the Chapel Royal was delighted with her voice. It was true and sweet, he told her; lessons with him were always a joy, as were dancing lessons with Madame Bourdin. She would have cheerfully given herself to study if this meant learning subjects like music, dancing, drawing and riding! French, German, Italian and Latin, to say nothing of English and arithmetic, were less inviting; but because she was so much aware of her vague importance – which was never exactly mentioned but constantly implied – she did her best; and the Rev. George Davys who was in charge of her general instruction was pleased with her.

Victoria had been called a little vixen by some; she admitted to waywardness and storms; but at heart she was determined to do her duty however unpleasant this might be and always she was aware of the watching eye of Lehzen, and the effect her failure would have on dear Uncle Leopold. Mamma too, but it did not hurt in the same way to disappoint Mamma. Indeed there were times when some perverse little spirit rose in her and she felt a desire to plague Mamma. But the thought of losing Lehzen’s approval or saddening Uncle Leopold always sobered her.

Lehzen came over and said that it was time for their walk.

‘Do you know what I wish to do today, Lehzen?’ said Victoria. ‘I am going to buy the doll.’

‘You have the money?’

‘Yes. I have now saved enough.’ She thought of the doll. It was as beautiful as the Big Doll which Aunt Adelaide had given her; in fact it bore some resemblance to it and would be a pleasant companion for the Big Doll. As soon as she had seen it she had wanted it. She had pointed it out to Lehzen in the shop window and Lehzen had reported her desire to the Duchess. Together they had decided that it was not good for Victoria to have all she wanted; she must therefore save up her pocket money until she had enough to buy the doll. It was six shillings – a high price for a doll, but then it was a very special one.

‘Is she not growing a little old for dolls?’ wondered the Duchess.

Lehzen could not bear that she should, so she remarked that she thought there was no harm in her fondness for them … for a year or so. Many of the dolls represented historical characters and it was amazing how quickly she learned the history of those who were in the doll family.

So it was decided that she should save for the doll and add this one to her collection. The owner of the shop, although he had left it in his window, had put a little notice on it to say Sold. Every time she passed Victoria gazed longingly at the doll and exulted over the little ticket; and gradually she was accumulating the money.

‘We will go now,’ said Lehzen, ‘and then we shall be back in time for Monsieur Grandineau’s French lesson.’

They were talking of the doll as they came out of the apartment and there was Sir John Conroy smiling the smile which Victoria could not like.

‘Going to buy the doll?’ he asked. What a pity, thought Victoria, that he knew. It was a lesson not to talk too much in future. She sighed. There seemed to be lessons in everything. What tiresome things lessons could be! But perhaps Mamma had told him.

Lehzen replied shortly that they were.

‘And the Princess saved her money for it,’ went on Sir John. ‘That is quite admirable. I know how careful she is with her money. She is getting more and more like her Grandmamma Queen Charlotte. She was very careful with money.’

Victoria coloured hotly and pulled at Lehzen’s hand. I hate him, she thought. I wish he would go.

Like Queen Charlotte! Queen Charlotte was ugly; she was unattractive. Nobody had liked her. Although poor Aunt Sophia and Augusta never actually
said
so, one could tell when they talked of their Mamma that they had not really loved her.

‘Am I like Queen Charlotte?’ she demanded as they walked through the gardens.

‘Not in the least,’ comforted Lehzen.

‘He once said I was like the Duke of Gloucester.’

‘I do not think,’ said Lehzen in a chilly tone, ‘that we should take any notice of what that man says.’

Lehzen could not have told her more clearly that she disliked Sir John, and Victoria was comforted. If Lehzen disliked him, then she could do so and know that she was right to. Only Mamma did not dislike him. That was the odd thing. Mamma liked him in a strange sort of way.

But they were getting near to the shop and the thought of clasping the doll in her arms at last, of seeing it in the nursery with Queen Elizabeth and the rest drove from her mind such unpleasant thoughts as those conjured up by brooding on Mamma’s relationship with Sir John.

‘I have the money,’ she told the man in the shop and he was so pleased, not she was sure because he wanted to sell the doll but because he knew how pleased she was to have her.

She laid the money carefully on the counter and the doll was taken out of the window.

Would the Princess like it wrapped, or would she carry it?

Wrapped! She could not bear it to be wrapped. The doll was for her a living person. One did not wrap up people.

‘I will carry her,’ she said.

And the doll was laid in her arms and Lehzen touched its face lovingly and said it was a very fine doll indeed, and compared favourably with the Big Doll.

The man at the door opened it with a bow and Victoria holding the precious doll, smilingly happily, walked out. She was glad, she told Lehzen, that it had taken so long to save up the money because this made the doll more precious.

It was a good lesson learned, said Lehzen; and then Victoria was staring in horror at the beggar in the road. His clothes were so ragged that she could see the flesh of his poor thin legs and arms, which was blue with the cold. He looked hungry. Such sights affected her deeply. Louisa Lewis had told her how Princess Charlotte felt the same and used to give all the money she had to the poor people she met, going without what she wanted herself to do so.

And there was this poor man – cold and hungry and his eyes were on the plump little girl in her warm cloak and her pretty bonnet, holding in her arms the smiling beautifully dressed doll.

She said to the man: ‘You are hungry, I believe.’

He nodded.

‘Wait here a moment.’

‘Princess,’ said Lehzen, ‘what are you thinking of?’

But Victoria had gone into the shop. ‘Please,’ she said to the shopman, ‘may I have my six shillings? You may take the doll and put her back in the window, but please put the ticket Sold on her. I will start to save again for her but I must have my six shillings.’

Lehzen looked on smiling softly; and Victoria, taking the six shillings, went out of the shop and gave them to the beggar man.

‘It was a most affecting incident,’ said the Baroness Lehzen to the Baroness Späth.

‘I am sure it was. The dear sweet soul!’

‘And she needed no prompting.’

‘The people will love her. She has so much heart.’

‘That man sneered when he heard of it.’

‘He would. What a pity he has so much influence with the Duchess.’

The two Baronesses sighed.

‘He will have no influence with the Princess, of that I’m sure,’ said Lehzen. ‘She already begins to dislike him.’

‘Do you think she is aware …’

‘She is so innocent, but I believe she senses something.’

‘Prince Leopold dislikes him.’

‘Oh yes, there is discord there.’

They nodded and the Baroness Späth looked hopefully at the Baroness Lehzen hoping for confidences. But Lehzen, while recognising the trustworthiness of Späth and her great desire to serve Victoria, thought her something of a fool. She remembered how stupidly she had behaved over the affair of Feodora and Augustus d’Este. Foolishly romantic, that was Späth and Lehzen was far from that; and if they shared an antipathy towards that man who was trying to rule the household, that did not mean that Lehzen was prepared to take Späth into her confidence over other matters.

They talked for a while of Feodora who, Späth believed, was already pregnant.

‘How I should like to be with her,’ sighed Späth. ‘But alas that would mean leaving our darling Victoria.’

‘It had to be,’ said Lehzen. ‘The time had come for Feodora to marry.’ She looked at Späth severely … ‘How
anyone
could have imagined a marriage with that Augustus d’Este would have been desirable I cannot imagine.’

The Baroness Späth looked suitably discomfited and hinted at some duty she had to perform. She could not endure another lecture over her folly on that occasion. The Baroness Lehzen, knowing that Victoria was safely taking an arithmetic lesson with Mr Steward of Westminster School, went off to make sure that the new supply of caraway seeds which she used liberally on all her food, had arrived.

Something strange was going on. Victoria was aware of it. There were whispers which ceased when she appeared. It was something very shocking and she believed it concerned that bogy Uncle Cumberland. When someone had mentioned his name Mamma had visibly shuddered; and on another occasion when someone had said his name Lehzen had pursed her lips in the way which told Victoria she thought it unwise even to talk of him.

Wicked Uncle Cumberland was like the witch in a fairy story; the evil ogre, the bad fairy. She had seen him once or twice and he certainly looked frightening, with that dreadful face, and he was so tall and thin that he looked like a shadow. When she thought of Uncle King with his bulky body – like a feather bed she had thought it when she had sat on his knee – and his kind face with all the pouches and hanging chins, she had to admit that although he was King and therefore very important he did not frighten her in the least. But Uncle Cumberland … he was the wicked magician whom the good fairies had to be fighting all the time.