The Queen and Lord M (3 page)

‘The watchdog is released from her duties,’ went on Sir John. ‘And I’ll swear she’d rather not be.’

‘I hope the dear Princess sleeps well tonight,’ said Lady Flora.

‘The Princess is sleeping peacefully,’ said the Baroness.

‘With such events about to break!’ went on Sir John, raising his handsome eyes to the ceiling. A rogue if ever there was one, thought Lehzen. How could the Duchess be so deceived? But in view of their relationship …

Lehzen refused to go further even in her thoughts. Whether Sir John and the Duchess were lovers was open to conjecture, but many people were certain this was so, and if one were to judge from their behaviour it could be right. How she disliked him! He had tried to have her sent away from her beloved child.

‘And when they do,’ Sir John was saying, ‘our little darling will have to break out from the nursery, will she not?’

Lehzen knew he meant that Victoria would no longer need a governess, but Victoria would never agree to her beloved Baroness’s expulsion. Was it possible that he had not yet learned how stubborn Victoria could be?

‘Baroness,’ said Lady Flora, ‘there is something on your chin … will you allow me?’ She had taken a handkerchief and come closer, and to Lehzen’s annoyance dabbed at her face.

‘It’s caraway seeds, I’ll swear,’ said Sir John laughing unpleasantly as though there was something obscene about them. He shook his finger playfully. ‘We all know your passion, Baroness. Some women love men; some men love women; both women and men love power; but the Baroness remains faithful to her caraway seeds.’

She must get away before she lost her temper. How the Duchess could give her confidence to such a man was past understanding!

‘If you will excuse me I will say goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Baroness Cara … Baroness Lehzen.’

She did not answer; she swept on. She hated them both. As for Lady Flora with her meek expression and gentle voice and delicate air, she was doubtless far from the virtuous spinster she pretended to be if she was so friendly with Sir John Conroy.

In his apartments in the Palace Baron Christian Friedrich von Stockmar found it difficult to sleep. Instead he took pen and paper and started to write to his patron and friend King Leopold of the Belgians. He hesitated. It could only be a few days at the most, he thought, before his real mission began. Perhaps therefore a letter would be a little premature. Exciting times were ahead. He was a man of dignified demeanour and he had spent years in the service of Leopold, sacrificing his own personal life to that of the King. Perhaps it meant a great deal to mould the destiny of nations rather than to share his life with his family. In any case he had chosen this way.

To Leopold he had been a faithful servant; but more than that – he was a king-maker. Ever since he had come to England at the time of Leopold’s marriage to the Princess Charlotte he had had a hand in government. Leopold had quickly acknowledged his doctor’s usefulness, for with his help, this clever, faintly hypocritical hypochondriac (so was Stockmar and this gave them an added interest in common) had become a power in Europe. A young son of the house of Saxe-Coburg, Leopold had somehow succeeded in marrying members of his family into most of the royal houses of Europe. But for a cruel fate he would have been ruling England now, for there was no doubt that the Princess Charlotte had doted on him and would have accepted his rule in everything. But Charlotte had died and Leopold would now rule through Victoria; for he and Stockmar had decided on a husband for her. Who but Prince Albert, Leopold’s nephew, who should be guided by Stockmar, through Leopold of course. His niece and nephew on the throne of England! It would not be quite as satisfactory to be the uncle of the Queen and her Prince Consort as it would have been to be the husband of a queen. But it was no use repining. Charlotte was dead. And to govern England through Victoria and Albert must be the next best thing.

It was not only for political reasons that the Baron enjoyed his role. He was fond of Victoria. Indeed who could help being fond of such a warm-hearted, innocent girl. He remembered her as the child who had visited Claremont years ago, rather solemn for her years, passionately devoted to Uncle Leopold and therefore ready to love anyone whom Leopold commanded her to.

‘Dr Stockmar is a very dear friend of mine, my dearest child,’ Leopold had explained. ‘I want him to be yours too.’

‘He shall be, Uncle.’ The blue eyes brimmed over with love for Leopold and since Leopold commanded it, for Dr Stockmar too.

‘He is the best doctor in the world and more than that, he is my clever friend.’

She believed it. She believed everything Leopold told her. One might have thought she was too pliable; but that was a mistake, as Stockmar had discovered on his return only a few weeks before. She had received him warmly. He had come from dearest Uncle Leopold and therefore was welcome. She remembered him years ago at Claremont and she was delighted to have him back.

He had told her that her uncle had asked him to come to Kensington because he thought his old friend might be of use to her.

‘Dear Uncle Leopold,’ she had said, ‘is so careful of me.’

She had charm and when she was animated she was almost pretty; at other times she could be quite plain and rather homely; but she had such dignity in spite of her small stature that Stockmar could write to Leopold that he had every confidence in her.

Now she was on the brink of becoming Queen. A pity, thought Stockmar, that she was so young. Yet youth was appealing and he had noticed that the people liked her. What a change from the old King who was so undignified and who was called ‘Pineapple Head’ in some of the less respectable papers, and one only had to look at the King to be aware of the resemblance between his head and that fruit. And different, too, from the previous King, who had grown obese and upset his people by holding aloof from them.

‘There is certainly not much competition from the Uncles,’ wrote Stockmar, ‘and she is so innocent and fresh, so easily moved to tears, that the people will love that.’

There was surely no monarch more appealing than a young female one – particularly after a succession of unattractive men.

It was well worth while, thought Stockmar, although the dampness of the climate did not agree with him and he suffered from rheumatic pains and a hundred mysterious ailments which he as a medical man – for it was as such that he had begun his career – could imagine were indications of dire diseases. And to think that he might be at home in Coburg with his family! Not that the climate there differed much from England and his physical sufferings would not diminish. He did not go so far as to admit that he did not want them to; and that if certain symptoms had disappeared others would have taken their place. One of the first interests he and Leopold had shared was discussing their ailments which Leopold had so much enjoyed – and so had he. But they came a good second to politics.

Stockmar wanted nothing for himself. In that he was rare. He did not ask for great estates. What he wanted was power – power to do good. That gave him immense satisfaction. When he had seen how unhappy Leopold had been on the death of his wife after she had given birth to their still-born child, he had determined that Leopold should be compensated for his loss.

He it was who had advised Leopold not to accept the throne of Greece and had urged him to take that of Belgium. Leopold had had obvious evidence of the wisdom of Stockmar so it was natural that to him he should entrust one of the dearest of his projects – the marriage of Victoria.

So before coming to England he had made a study of Albert – a fine young fellow, as he had written to Leopold.

‘Well grown for his age and agreeable. If things go well he may in time turn out a strong and handsome man of a kind, simple yet dignified manner.’

He was sure he had been wise in advising Leopold not to urge a marriage on Victoria until she had seen the Prince. So last year the Duke of Saxe-Coburg had visited Kensington with his two sons and Victoria had been delighted with them both – particularly Albert.

‘The two young people are agreeable to each other,’ Stockmar had written to Leopold, ‘and that is good. But the Prince cannot receive in Coburg the education fitting to a Prince Consort of the greatest of monarchs.’ So the Prince had gone to Brussels and Paris to study history and modern languages, and after that he had been sent to Bonn. Albert was there now, and being the astute young man Stockmar was sure he was, he would be another who was eagerly watching what was happening in England.

Of course Stockmar had been quick to grasp the friction in the Kensington apartments. The Duchess was Leopold’s sister and one would have thought that the interests of both would have been identical; but it was obvious that what the Duchess wanted to do was guide her daughter in all things and thus become ruler of England … Sir John Conroy to help her.

And the Duchess had not been strictly honest in her dealings with her daughter. There was that affair of the Regency which had taught Stockmar that it was impossible to serve the interests of the Duchess and those of her daughter at the same time; and Stockmar was not a man to divide his loyalties. He knew the Duchess. A vain woman and in many ways a foolish one; he did not care for her friendship with Sir John Conroy. He had come to England to serve Leopold’s interests and now Victoria had engaged not only his interest but his affection.

Melbourne himself had told Stockmar that Victoria wished for a Regency even though she was of age; but Stockmar did not believe this and being on such friendly terms with the Princess it did not take him long to discover that she had made no such request, and that it had come from the Duchess in her daughter’s name.

‘Such action is dishonest,’ cried Stockmar and lost no time in telling Lord Melbourne the truth.

‘My dear fellow,’ said Melbourne, ‘I am astounded. I was led to believe that the request came from the Princess herself.’

‘And now that you know it does not?’

‘It shall receive the attention it deserves,’ said the urbane Melbourne and that was clear enough to Stockmar. There would certainly be no Regency. Victoria would rule with the help of Melbourne … and Stockmar.

No, he thought. He would not write tonight. He would wait until their Princess was indeed a queen.

In the death chamber at Windsor Castle the King lay breathing with difficulty. The Queen sat beside him, her hand in his. On a table close to the bed was the flag which the Duke of Wellington sent to him every year to commemorate the victory at Waterloo. His eyes kept straying to it.

‘Wasn’t at the Waterloo banquet this year, Adelaide,’ he murmured.

‘No, William. But it took place on your orders.’

‘Great victory,’ murmured the King.

His eyes had become glazed, and Adelaide, bending closer, knew that his thoughts were wandering again. Dear William, who had been a good husband to her! She had failed him by not producing the heir for the sake of which they had been thrust into hasty marriage, and that was something she would always regret. She loved children and consequently had had to console herself with other people’s. The palaces had always been full of William’s grandchildren of the FitzClarence family. What a devoted grandfather he had been to them even though they had been far from grateful. She was glad that at such a time as this they had forgotten their differences, and several of them were at Windsor now in case he should ask for them.

‘Adelaide.’

She bent over the bed.

‘You’ve been a good wife …’

‘Don’t talk, William. Lie still. Conserve your strength.’

The tears were on her cheeks. She loved him and he loved her; and that was strange in such a marriage. He had been faithful to her, which was perhaps because he was no longer young, and he would become furious with anyone who criticised her. Her gentle nature had won the regard which her lack of physical charms might have made impossible. It had been a happy marriage as such marriages go, and it was now nearly over.

‘Glad I lived till she was of age,’ murmured the King. ‘Was determined to. I did it, Adelaide. The child will be Queen tomorrow.’