The Queen and Lord M (30 page)

Meanwhile Lord Melbourne had received her letters and, knowing his imperious, obstinate and shrewd Sovereign, and also understanding what the effect of this obstinacy would have on Sir Robert, decided that action was needed.

He must call together his Cabinet immediately for a discussion, for naturally he could not act without them.

It seemed to him very possible that he and his Party might well be back in power, for unless Sir Robert could bring the Queen to his way of thinking he would be unable to form a Government.

They were scattered but by great effort he managed to assemble the greater proportion of them.

The position was invidious, said some. Of what advantage would it be to resume office when they had such a small majority? What would happen if they went to the country? Let Peel take over and see what he could do with a minority.

Melbourne read them the Queen’s letters and the company was moved by them.

‘How,’ it was demanded, ‘could they abandon such a queen and a woman?’

As a result of that meeting, Lord Melbourne was writing to the Queen:

‘The Cabinet … after much discussion, advises Your Majesty to return the following answer to Sir Robert Peel:

“The Queen having considered the proposals made her yesterday by Sir Robert Peel to remove the Ladies of her Bedchamber cannot consent to adopt a course which she conceives to be contrary to usage and which is repugnant to her feelings.”’

When Victoria received that letter she was triumphant. Lord Melbourne and his Government were behind her. She was sure she had routed Sir Robert Peel.

She was right. Sir Robert believed that unless there were some changes in the Queen’s household he must decline her offer to form a Government.

‘We have won,’ cried the elated Queen and seizing the Baroness began dancing round the room.

The Baroness cried: ‘Is this the way for a Queen to behave! Is this the same one who was being so very much the Queen in the yellow closet with Sir Robert Peel a few hours ago?’

‘One and the same,’ cried the Queen. ‘You see our dancing master is a coward. I knew he was afraid of me from the start. Now I shall write to
dear
Lord Melbourne and command him to wait on me at once.’

Lehzen was astonished at the cleverness of her darling and said so.

‘It is the way you brought me up, dearest Daisy,’ said the Queen.

At two o’clock Lord Melbourne arrived.

‘Victory!’ cried Victoria.

Lord Melbourne smiled admiringly.

‘You always said I was stubborn. You said I was choleric. You know you did. Well, those qualities have served me well.’

‘I salute them,’ said Lord Melbourne; and she burst out laughing. Oh how good it was to laugh with pleasure again.

‘Now I will show you our dancing master’s letter. He regrets that in the circumstances he has to reject my offer to form a Government. He knows full well with what reluctance that offer was made.’

‘Yes,’ said Lord Melbourne, ‘you made that very clear.’

Lord Melbourne took Sir Robert’s letter and read it. He paused and looked at the Queen with some consternation.

‘He says here that you refuse to make
some
alterations in the Bedchamber.’

‘Yes, of course he does.’

‘But you said that he was insisting on your changing them
all
.’

Victoria looked testy. ‘All or some, what is the difference?’

‘It could be a great deal.’

‘Oh, don’t let us quibble about such a small thing.’

‘I’m afraid I must consult the Cabinet on this. They might not agree to support this since Sir Robert says
some
. It is in fact a very different matter from
all
.’

‘It is exactly the same,’ said the Queen petulantly.

‘Nevertheless,’ said Lord Melbourne, ‘I must consult my colleagues.’

‘How tiresome,’ cried the Queen, but she was uneasy.

‘Peel has met you half way,’ said Melbourne. ‘He is clever. Don’t underestimate him. This could beat us.’

The Queen answered fiercely: ‘I will never yield. And I will never apply to Peel again.’

Lord Melbourne looked dubious and said he would tell his colleagues how she felt.

With that skilful oratory, never fiery but witty, sentimental and nonchalant, of which he was master – Melbourne persuaded his Cabinet.

The Queen was adamant. If Her Majesty could see no difference in ‘some’ and ‘all’, he suggested they should look at the matter from the same angle. The Queen felt she had been insulted by the suggestions that she would intrigue with the ladies against her Government. It was intolerable. He appealed to them. Could they desert such a gallant young Queen?

They decided they could not and Melbourne was able to tell her that his Cabinet were with him. Peel’s refusal could be accepted.

‘Then everything is as before this ridiculous affair occurred!’ cried the Queen.

But of course it was not. For the country knew what had taken place. Nothing would ever be the same again. In the eyes of the people the dear little duck of a Queen had proved to be a forceful young woman, who had been arrogant and offensive to one of the senior Statesmen, Sir Robert Peel; and had defied that doughty old warrior, the Duke of Wellington. And she was not yet twenty. And why? Was it for the sake of the country? Certainly not. It was so that her relationship with Lord Melbourne might not be changed.

And what was the relationship?

The speculation which had been trivial before the Bedchamber affair flared up. Everywhere people were talking of the Queen and Lord Melbourne.

During the controversy over the Ladies of the Bedchamber the Tsarevitch Alexander, Hereditary Grand Duke of Russia, had arrived in England and the very night following the day when Victoria had routed Peel there was to be a ball at Buckingham Palace in honour of the Grand Duke.

Victoria, who loved balls more than any other form of entertainment, had lamented the fact that that wretched Peel was going to spoil this one entirely for her. But now that she was in such a mood of elation she prepared herself to enjoy it as she had never before enjoyed a ball. It will be a victory ball, she told Lehzen.

The Grand Duke was tall and very handsome, his manners charming, and he managed to convey very obviously that he thought the diminutive Queen delightful.

What a joy to dance with him and while she basked in the admiring glances of this royal personage to reflect that all was well, nothing was changed.

Lord Melbourne was present, looking a little tired she noticed with anxiety; but when she was dancing she was able to forget everything else but the pleasure that exercise gave her. How very fortunate that everything had been settled today so that she could throw herself wholeheartedly into this pleasure!

It was a quarter to three when the ball ended, and she recorded this with pleasure, for she loved to stay up late. It was because when she had been that poor little prisoner of Kensington Palace Mamma had always had such a stern eye on her and she was rarely allowed to do anything she wanted to.

She went off into a happy sleep as soon as her head was on her pillow but the first thing next morning she wrote to Lord Melbourne:

‘The Queen is very anxious to hear that Lord Melbourne has not suffered from the ball last night, as it was very hot at first … The Queen danced the first and last dance with the Grand Duke, made him sit near her and tried to be very civil to him, and I think we are great friends already and get on very well. I like him exceedingly.’

There! She was doing her duty as Queen and she would continue to do so – as long as they did not try to wrest
dear
Lord M from her and attempt to replace him with that
odious
Sir Robert Peel.

Chapter X

‘MRS MELBOURNE’

B
ut the Bedchamber controversy was by no means forgotten and it was unfortunate for the Queen that it had followed so closely on the Flora Hastings scandal. Although the names of Lady Tavistock and Lady Portman had been used freely in the press, it was generally accepted that these ladies would not have acted without the approval of the Queen and Victoria was regarded as the chief culprit. And now following on this was her behaviour in the matter of the Ladies of her Household.

Charles Greville, the Clerk of the Council, wrote in his diary that he was shocked because ‘a mere baby of a Queen’ had flouted the advice of that great man the Duke of Wellington. The truth was, he believed, that the Queen could not endure parting with Melbourne and this was a plot which had been hatched to prevent this happening.

This summed up the general opinion. Even Sir Robert Peel, that most discreet of men, could not avoid showing his indignation about the manner in which he had been treated. The Queen would have to learn that although she might be their Sovereign these men whom she had treated with such haughty disdain were some of the greatest statesmen of the age.

The press naturally took up the affair with many a sly allusion; Lord Brougham thundered away in the Lords attacking Melbourne and his Cabinet and not hesitating – though with expressions of loyalty to the
Crown
– to castigate the Queen herself.

Victoria refused to be concerned. She had won and was going to enjoy life. She had another birthday. Now she was twenty. It was not such a happy birthday as the last one, but she could congratulate herself that she still had her dear Lord Melbourne.

She threw herself wholeheartedly into entertaining her royal guest, the Grand Duke. What a charming man and such an expert dancer! He taught her to dance the mazurka – ‘Very Russian and exciting. One is whisked round as in the waltz,’ she told Lehzen afterwards. ‘Alexander does it magnificently.’

It was all very gay and if entertaining foreign visitors was always like this she could not do enough of it.

‘It is so good for me,’ she told Melbourne.

‘It might have the opposite effect,’ replied Lord Melbourne.

But for once she did not agree with him.

She thought a great deal of the Grand Duke and wrote in her Journal: ‘I am really quite in love with the Grand Duke. He is such a dear, delightful man.’

The Duke of Wellington and Lord Melbourne remained anxious about the Flora Hastings affair for Flora still languished in the Duchess’s apartments at the Palace, growing more and more like a wraith every day, a general reproach to everyone, and in particular to Lady Tavistock and Lady Portman. The latter had recently miscarried and everyone said it was due to her remorse about Flora Hastings, for it was very unpleasant to think that one’s conduct could be hastening someone to the grave.

The Queen was uneasy too and to comfort her Lord Melbourne insisted that Flora was pregnant after all.

‘We shall see,’ he said, with a look of wisdom, and Victoria tried to believe he might be right.

Wellington decided that at all costs they must rid themselves of Conroy for without doubt he had been the instigator of the Hastings drama. But for him it would have been just a matter of suspicion, a little gossip followed by the doctors’ exonerating verdict. The Hastings family, of course, had done the harm, but it should never have been allowed to reach a stage when it was possible for them to act as they had. So, they must most certainly rid themselves of Conroy. The Duke would work on him. He should have the pension he demanded; the peerage he asked could be promised him.

‘Whether he ever gets it would be another matter,’ pointed out the Duke, ‘for it may well be that you, Melbourne, will not be Prime Minister when the Irish peerage promised him is available. And as it will be you who promised it, another Prime Minister might not feel himself obliged to give it. It seems likely that at the next election, which surely cannot be long delayed, the Whigs will stand down for the Tories and then it will be Peel’s affair.’

Melbourne agreed with an ironic smile that one of the matters he would be most willing to place into Peel’s competent hands was that of Sir John Conroy.

‘So, rid ourselves of that mischief-maker we must,’ said the Duke and, as he went into the fight as though it had been Waterloo, he succeeded.

It was with great joy that Lord Melbourne was able to call at the Palace and tell the Queen what had been arranged, and that Conroy would shortly be leaving.

What a pleasure it was to sit and chat with Lord Melbourne again in the blue closet!

The only flaw was Flora Hastings, who was growing steadily worse.

‘I visited her and she was so ill,’ said the Queen. ‘She made me feel quite wretched. I never saw anyone so thin; she was like a skeleton but her body is so swollen that she looks as though she were pregnant. I hear she is very sick.’

‘Sick!’ said Lord Melbourne with an ironic smile.

‘She must be very ill to look as she does, but she took my hand when I offered it and said she was grateful for all I had done.’

‘She always had a mordant sort of wit.’

‘I think she meant it. She looked at me as though to say: “I know I shall not see you again.”’

‘Your Majesty is too tender-hearted. That woman has caused you a great deal of trouble. Shall we talk of something else? I do know more pleasant subjects.’

‘Such as?’

‘That dress you are wearing is very beautiful.’

‘Oh, do you like it? It
is
rather nice. What do you think of the Grand Duke?’

‘Agreeable.’

‘I confided in him about that dreadful Peel. Was that unwise?’

‘Unwise but natural.’

‘Oh dear!’

‘But I doubt it will blow up to a major affair now that Conroy will no longer interest himself in Palace affairs.’

‘It will be sheer bliss to know that
he
is not there.’

Then Lord Melbourne began to talk of long ago Palace scandals and how Lord Bute had tried to rule young George III as Conroy hoped to rule her. He was amusing and while he talked pulled his hair about making it rather untidy, which, as she confided to her Journal, ‘made him look so much handsomer’.

The rejoicing at Conroy’s departure was dampened by the departure of the Grand Duke. The Queen wrote in her Journal:

‘I felt so sad to take leave of this dear amiable young man whom I really think (talking jokingly) I was a little in love with.’

Victoria was planning another ball when a note was brought to her from the Duchess. Her mother wished Victoria to know that Lady Flora was very ill and the Duchess believed that people would not be very pleased if the Lady Flora were to die while the Queen was gaily dancing at a ball.

Victoria shuddered when she read the letter. She had thought a great deal of Lady Flora; she could not forget that emaciated figure stretched out on the couch looking like a skeleton, her yellow skin drawn tightly across her bones – and that fearful protuberance of the stomach. Sometimes she dreamed of Lady Flora and she was filled with remorse.

So when Lord Melbourne came she showed him the Duchess’s letter and asked him what she should do about the ball.

Lord Melbourne considered for a while and said that this might be one of the rare occasions when the Duchess was right. So the ball was cancelled.

Lord Melbourne adroitly led the conversation away from Lady Flora and it worked round to Sir Robert Peel – a not very happy subject in itself but not so depressing as that of Lady Flora, of course, because in spite of criticism the Queen believed she had acted rightly in his case.

‘Neither he nor Wellington appeared at my levée, I noticed,’ she told him. ‘I think that was rather rude of them.’

‘I don’t think they meant to be rude,’ said Lord Melbourne.

‘
I
think Sir Robert Peel is a very foolish man.’

‘Well,’ protested Melbourne, ‘he is considered to be a very able statesman. He has been responsible for many reforms and the people think highly of him, even those who oppose his politics.’

‘
I
think he is foolish to behave like this. It makes me dislike him.’

‘It’s certainly ill-judged of him,’ agreed Lord Melbourne. ‘But he is not so accustomed to dealing with kings and queens as I am.’

‘Do you have to deal with them in a
special
way?’

‘Most certainly. Some of them have very uneven tempers.’

So now they were laughing again and it was very pleasant.

Lord Melbourne then began telling her stories of Uncle William’s testy behaviour on more than one important occasion, and she quite forgot to be uneasy about Lady Flora.

Then a very disturbing incident occurred.

The Queen had come to Ascot for the races and it was a very brilliant occasion. She was aware during the ceremonial drive that the people were not as vociferous as usual, in fact looked a little sullen. How tiresome of them! They made her feel so uneasy when they behaved like that. Lord Melbourne had told her that George IV had been afraid to show his face on some occasions because the people not only were silent, they booed and jeered. How unpleasant! she thought. ‘The mood of the people is like the uncertain glory of an April day,’ said Lord Melbourne. ‘All sun one minute and rain the next.’

She was thinking of this as she rode along bowing and smiling to the unresponsive crowd. And then – as she took her place in the royal stand she heard the cry: ‘Mrs Melbourne.’

She flushed hotly and began to tremble.
Mrs
Melbourne. What were they suggesting? But she knew full well.

The cry was taken up. It sounded like a deafening roar. ‘Mrs Melbourne!’

There was nothing to be done but pretend she had not heard, but she could not enjoy the races; she could only think of getting away from those wicked people.