The Queen and Lord M (20 page)

Victoria was in the blue closet listening entranced to Lord Melbourne’s racy conversation. She had begun by scolding him, for during the recent thunderstorm she had seen him from a window standing under a tree.

‘I was in a
fever
of anxiety. It could have been struck. You might have been killed. Anything could happen.’

‘A sublime death,’ replied Lord Melbourne.

‘I was so
angry
with you.’

‘Then I must immediately begin to worm my way back into Your Majesty’s regard.’

‘You will not do it by standing under trees in thunderstorms.’

Lord Melbourne believed his size would prevent his doing that.
One
tree was all that was needed to shelter him. It was his subtle way of correcting her; she often needed correction. Her grammar was frequently faulty, and Lord Melbourne was so erudite. He noticed such things. As for herself, she was never quite sure when one should say ‘who’ or ‘whom’ or ‘me’ or ‘I’, but it was often convenient to be able to substitute ‘the Queen’ for the latter.

Then he talked lightly and easily about Canada and how Lord Durham as High Commissioner was managing. There were outbreaks of rebellion in Canada which were causing some concern to the Government.

‘Possession abroad means anxiety at home and those damned Tories are ready to exploit any situation for the sole purpose of bringing discomfort to Your Majesty’s Government,’ explained Lord Melbourne.

Victoria shivered at the use of the word ‘damned’. She had heard that Lord Melbourne was noted for his colourful oaths, but in her presence he was usually restrained; she was delighted that he could feel so relaxed as to use a mild one now and then. But she noticed that when he did it it was always in connection with State matters.

‘Lord Brougham is beside himself with glee, and if Durham fails to bring about the desired result, Brougham could ask for a vote of confidence.’

‘I’m sure the whole country has as much confidence in her Government as the Queen has.’

‘I wish I could be sure of that, ‘said Lord Melbourne fervently.

‘You dined at Holland House last night,’ said the Queen.

‘That was so.’

‘I trust that it was a reasonably entertaining evening?’

‘Your Majesty’s trust is not misplaced.’

She giggled and went on, ‘I wished that I were there sitting next to you and you could have amused me with some of your comments on the guests.’

‘A somewhat churlish occupation,’ replied Lord Melbourne. ‘For after all one is invited to these occasions to help entertain, not to criticise.’

‘But, Lord M, you are very critical.’

‘If I have the permission to correct Your Majesty I would say that I am the most forbearing man in the world.’

‘In some circumstances, perhaps. I am sure you would be very forbearing with Lady Holland.’

‘I have never had occasion to exercise that trait in my character in connection with Lady Holland.’

‘And I hope you never will be familiar enough with her to be called upon to do so. I think she has an extremely ugly mouth.’

Lord Melbourne smiled with cynical amusement. ‘Your Majesty is very observant.’

‘Yes, a
vulgar
mouth I should say. The Queen cannot understand why the Prime Minister finds the society at Holland House more entertaining than that at Windsor or Buckingham Palace.’

‘The Prime Minister cannot understand why the Queen imagines that he does.’

‘He goes there far too often.’

‘Not as often as he is at Buckingham Palace and there are some who say that he is there far too often.’

‘Naturally he has State business to discuss with the Queen.’

‘Such as the appearance of Lady Holland’s mouth, where he should stand during thunderstorms, his school days at Eton and the Queen’s in Kensington Palace.’

She began to laugh. He could always make her laugh even when she was beginning to feel a little angry about his visits to Holland House.

Lord Melbourne became momentarily serious as he often did when the conversation became a little too frivolous. The civil war in Spain, he said, was causing Her Majesty’s Government some concern. As for Portugal, that country was tottering on the edge of grave financial disaster.

‘They are far away from us,’ said the Queen.

‘No country can be completely unaffected by what is happening in another and the European situation is of vital importance to this country. “No man is an island”,’ he quoted. ‘Far less countries. We cannot afford to be
un
concerned about any European situation.’

‘I know that Uncle Leopold is most concerned.’

‘Your Uncle Leopold likes to have a stir at every pudding.’

She laughed immoderately until she realised that she was laughing at Uncle Leopold, which seemed wrong.

She spread her hands and frowned at them, thinking that they would have been quite pretty if they did not get so red and swollen.

Lord Melbourne looked at them too.

‘You don’t like my rings,’ she accused him.

‘You wear far too many.’

‘Well, you see my hands get red and I think the rings hide them.’

‘They make them worse.’

‘I don’t wear them in the morning.’

‘If you didn’t wear them at all the fashion for so many rings would stop. And if you wore gloves when you are out riding your hands would not get red.’

‘I can’t get my gloves on.’

‘So you see it is a battle between rings and gloves … and you choose rings and cold hands against gloves and soft white ones.’

‘That doesn’t sound like a very wise choice.’

‘I leave your Majesty to decide.’

More laughter in the midst of which the door was opened and the Duchess came in.

Lord Melbourne rose and bowed; the Duchess nodded her feathers curtly; she looked at Victoria steadily and said: ‘I thought to find you alone.’

Victoria, coldly regal, replied: ‘No, Mamma. I am not alone. I have urgent State matters to discuss with my Prime Minister.’

Even at such a moment she wanted to laugh for the manner in which Lord Melbourne’s brow shot up told her what he was thinking: urgent matters like rings and red hands and Lady Holland’s vulgar mouth.

‘I did not realise that you were so
busy
,’ said the Duchess pointedly.

‘Well, you now see that we are.’

The Duchess’s rather insolent gaze swept the table and Victoria said: ‘If you wish to see the Queen it is better to make an appointment beforehand.’

Lord Melbourne took a document from his pocket and laid it on the table (for all the world, the Duchess told Sir John and Lady Flora afterwards, as though I was not there) and Victoria went over and studied it, ignoring her mother.

Uncertain, angry and tearful, the Duchess turned and went out of the room.

‘There you see,’ said Victoria, ‘she was spying on me. She will go back at once and report to That Man.’

‘She must not be allowed to walk in unannounced.’

‘I will go to see her and tell her that no one is to enter my apartments without first obtaining my permission.’

‘That, said Melbourne, ‘is the only way to settle the matter.’

The Baroness was rather angry.

‘What is it, Daisy dear?’ asked the Queen.

‘It is that impertinent Flora Hastings.’

‘Oh, that woman. In Lord Melbourne’s opinion she is most disagreeable. They call her Scotty. Whether it is a term of endearment I do not know. But I can’t imagine
anyone’s
finding
anything
endearing in Flora Hastings. What has she been doing now?’

‘Oh, just making her unpleasant remarks.’

‘About you?’

‘Sly hints at us both and of course Lord Melbourne.’

‘How dare she! And who are the Hastings? Lord M says they haven’t an ounce of brains between them. They are Tories, too.’

‘Scotty is very friendly with John Conroy.’

‘Which makes her even more odious.’

‘I’ve heard rumours that they are more than friendly.’

‘I really think he is a very wicked man.’

‘He looks at all the letters you write to the Duchess and all her replies to you are seen by him … perhaps even written by him.’

‘I always hated him. Do you remember how he came to my bedroom when I was so ill and tried to trick me into promising to make him my secretary?’

‘I remember a great deal about him and nothing good. I think it is unwise of you to put anything in writing to the Duchess. If you gave all our answers verbally he could not be so sure of what you had said.’

‘She would tell him.’

‘It wouldn’t be so satisfactory to him because he knows the Duchess’s tendency to inaccuracy.’

‘How I wish he would go.’

‘He won’t until his demands are met.’

‘Lord Melbourne says they are blackmail.’

‘Lord Melbourne is right.’

‘Lord Melbourne is always right,’ said Victoria smiling. ‘I will ask him what he thinks of your idea, Daisy. I have made her understand that she is not to enter without permission. I was obliged though to remind her that I am the Queen.’

‘There are some people who need constantly reminding of that important fact,’ commented Lehzen grimly.

Later Lord Melbourne told the Queen that he thought it an excellent idea to reply to the Duchess only by word of mouth.

Lehzen discovered by, as she said, keeping her ear to the ground that the Duchess was in debt to the sum of £70,000, a loan had been arranged for her at one of the banks, and that if this had not been done her affairs would have been in dire straits.

‘Of course,’ said the Queen, ‘it is That Man again. He is supposed to be managing her affairs.’

‘Mismanaging,’ said Lehzen.

And the Queen agreed.

The ladies of both parties whispered together.

‘The Duchess’s financial difficulties are due to the fact that since she has had her increased allowance she has been paying off her husband’s debts,’ said Lady Flora’s faction.

‘So she should,’ retorted the Queen. ‘It is her duty to do so.’

The Duchess’s ladies felt that since the debtor was the Queen’s father it was the Queen’s duty to settle the debts.

The gossip was brought to Lehzen who took it to the Queen.

‘It’s That Man again,’ cried Victoria indignantly. ‘He is putting this about. And it’s monstrous because I
am
paying my father’s debts.’

‘It should be made known that you are doing this. I shall see that it is.’

‘Oh, no, please Lehzen, don’t say anything. It would seem as though I was saying how good I am. I shouldn’t like that.’

‘But the villainy of that man should be revealed.’

‘It will in time, Daisy dear. For the moment let it rest.’

And so the Palace war continued.

There was great astonishment throughout the Palace because one of the footmen who had descended to those regions below stairs where the silver and gold plate were kept, to be brought out on state occasions, had discovered a boy.

He was young, about eight or nine, decidedly grubby, inarticulate and unlawfully in the Palace.

Everyone was talking about him. His name, he said, was Jones. He had come in … he couldn’t say how or even why, except that he wanted to see where the Queen lived. He did admit, though, that he had been in the Palace for a week.