The Queen's Husband (13 page)

At least Victoria was loving. She deplored that he should have been so humiliated. She raged against those dreadful Tories; she was as devoted as ever and when she did not hear from him for a week she was alarmed. She wrote and told him that she watched for his letters and when they did not come she was afraid she was very bad-tempered with her dearest Lehzen.

That was not such a bad thing. Her dearest Lehzen had far too much influence. He had noted that she was not very efficient; and he believed that she was largely responsible for the relationship between Victoria and her mother, of which he disapproved. Victoria should have more respect for the family tie. Besides, the Duchess had been so charming to him and he was sure that he and she were going to be friends. He would most certainly insist on bringing about a reconciliation between Victoria and the Duchess and perhaps then he and his mother-in-law would endeavour to wean Victoria from this rather foolishly sentimental attachment she had for the Baroness.

Dear little Victoria! She needed to be guided and who better to guide a wife than her husband? There had been scandals in the Queen’s household. He had heard and read accounts of the disastrous Flora Hastings affair. The Queen had behaved very impulsively and quite wrongly in that, and he was convinced that her actions had been urged on by the Baroness Lehzen. Oh, yes, he must save the Queen from an affair like that occurring again. The fact was that Victoria was too lenient. She was good herself and could not see the evil in others.

The first thing he would have to do was to introduce a moral note into the Court, which he feared might be lacking. This struck him forcibly when he saw the list of bridesmaids.

One of these was the daughter of Lady Jersey, a woman whom the Prince called notorious. She had been the mistress of George IV when he was Prince Regent. How was it possible to allow the daughter of such a woman to act as bridesmaid to the Queen? When he queried the matter the Queen wrote that it was the
daughter
who was the bridesmaid, not Lady Jersey; but Albert thought that no daughter of a notoriously immoral mother should be allowed to act as bridesmaid at the Queen’s wedding.

Victoria stressed her point in referring to a certain Lady A at her Court. She liked this woman very much, she wrote:

… only she is a little
strict and particular
and too severe towards others which is not right; for in my opinion one should be indulgent towards other people, for I always think that if we had not been well brought up and well taken care of, we might also have gone astray … It is very dangerous to be too severe …

He was astonished. Clearly her moral attitude was at fault. It was
she
who had been unwisely brought up; and the reason was that she had taken far more account of her governess than of her mother. He could see that life was not going to be very easy as the Queen’s husband – unless he took a very firm line. So much would depend on Victoria herself, and although she had been so loving when they had been together, he detected a faintly autocratic note in her letters.

This was more than ever apparent when he was considering the honeymoon. This was going to be a very important period. He pictured their being alone together for a few weeks, far from the influence of Lord Melbourne and the Baroness Lehzen. In that time he would be able to make himself so important to her that she would be quite willing to accept his advice, which was what a German husband expected of his wife. He feared that there would be a great deal in England of which he disapproved. He must have those weeks alone with her at Windsor.

Perhaps her reaction to this suggestion was more significant than any of the others in which her attitude might have been dictated by her ministers or the Tory opposition, for this was her own decision – and given somewhat imperiously. And was he wrong in thinking it a little patronising?

Dear Albert had not understood the matter at all.

You forget, my dearest love, that I am the Sovereign, and that business can wait for nothing. Parliament is sitting and something occurs almost every day for which I may be required and it is quite impossible for me to be absent from London; therefore two or three days is already a long time to be absent …

She might have fallen headlong in love with him when she had seen him, but during his absence she was quickly remembering that she was the Queen.

He pictured it. The two or three days – at most – at Windsor where in the fresh clean air he would be at his best. He hated London; he felt unwell and so tired in London. He did not like Buckingham Palace, where there were too many Ministers at hand, too much ceremony. At Windsor they could have ridden in the forest; they could have taken long walks in the clean fresh air; they could have retired early and risen at six. But in London she would be planning those interminable balls.

He could almost begin to ask himself whether his great good fortune was so wonderful after all.

What could he do? How could he protest already that he was not treated as an equal. Who knew, she might fall out of love as easily as she had fallen in.

He foresaw all kinds of difficulties ahead. He wrote to Uncle Leopold, implying that he felt melancholy and was gloomy about the future. Everything that had happened since he had left England made him feel that his new country was not ready to welcome him. He did not say that he felt there were two Victorias – the humble, tender, affectionate girl in love and the imperious young woman who, although she could forget temporarily that she was a queen, was inclined to remember it whenever any decision was to be made.

It was February – the marriage month. He must take a last farewell of the forests and mountains of his homeland. Ernest had come home because naturally he and their father must be at the wedding; so for the last time he and Ernest could roam the woods together, hunting, shooting, looking for rare relics such as had delighted them in their childhood and formed their ‘museum’.

‘What is the use now?’ asked Albert. ‘I shall never be able to see our collection again.’

‘What nonsense. You will surely bring Victoria to Coburg on a visit.’

‘She would find the time it takes too long to be away from her business.’

‘You would have to put your foot down like a stern husband.’

‘Not with the Queen of England,’ said Albert wryly.

Ernest looked at his brother in a startled way. Ernest did not know of the correspondence which had taken place between Albert and his affianced bride.

‘But let us talk of the old days,’ said Albert quickly.

There were some necessary celebrations before he left the land of his birth. The people expected it. Their Prince Albert was going away to marry the Queen of England and everyone knew that would be a very good thing because the Prince would be King of that powerful country and he would never forget his duty to his native land.

There must be a ball, but balls in the ducal palace were very different from those in Windsor and London. They would be over at a respectable hour and although Albert would have preferred to do without them at all, he could submit to these with a fairly good grace. He must listen to the bands and the speeches of congratulation. Little did they know what an imperious young woman he was going to marry.

The time came to leave accompanied by Ernest and their father. His grandmother wept openly when she said goodbye; she had watched over him from his childhood days and he knew that she was thinking she would never see him again. As the carriage drove away he saw her attendants catch her as she fainted, and it was almost as though he were going to his own funeral.

There was another of those dreadful crossings when the sea was as rough as the last time. The boat was tossed on those malicious waves and Albert again knew what it was to be indifferent to death – in fact to consider whether it might not be preferable to the torments inflicted by the sea.

Eventually the white cliffs appeared and he staggered to his feet, knowing that a crowd would be waiting to see the Queen’s prospective husband.

There was a faint cheer as he stepped ashore. He smiled. No one must know that he could scarcely stand up, that he was feeling wretchedly sick. He was at least on dry land and he must give them no opportunity of jeering at the Queen’s husband.

He stepped into the waiting carriage; the people cheered and he was driven off on the road to Canterbury where he would spend the night before going on to London and Buckingham Palace.

The people of Canterbury did not seem to dislike him; there were only a few murmurings of ‘German’, and as after a good night’s sleep the effects of the sea crossing wore off he felt able to face what lay before him.

At the palace Victoria was waiting impatiently. There was no ceremonial greeting. The Queen had been replaced by the young girl in love.

She flew at him in her impetuous way.

‘Dear,
dearest
Albert.’

She was looking up at him, her lips slightly parted to show those prominent teeth and the hint of pink gum; the blue eyes were adoring.

‘It has seemed
so
long.’ She had flung herself into his arms. ‘I have been watching for
hours
from the equerries’ room.’

She blushed, suddenly turning to Uncle Ernest and Cousin Ernest. She had forgotten everything but Albert.

Uncle Ernest smiled and murmured ‘Charming! Charming!’ and Cousin Ernest smiled and looked enviously at Albert.

‘I am
so
happy to see you … all,’ she cried eagerly, gazing adoringly at Albert.

He could certainly not complain of her welcome.

During the afternoon and the next day which preceded his wedding he could complain of nothing in the Queen’s attitude towards him. She chattered in a rather hysterical manner of her joy at their reunion; the days had been so long without him; she had been
desolate
when his letters had failed to arrive; these wicked Tories were
monsters
and she would
never
forgive them for the manner in which they had treated him. What she would have done without
dear
Lord Melbourne beside her, she did not know. It was angelic of dear Albert to accept Mr Anson as his secretary.

‘But I have no choice,’ he replied.

‘You are so philosophical, dearest Albert. That is just another of your
dear
qualities which I love.’

He could not fail to be charmed by her; there was no sign of the arrogant Queen; nor had there been, he remembered, when they had been together. She just appeared in those letters – dictated no doubt by her ministers. And not once did she mention the Baroness Lehzen. In fact he did not see the woman. He had exaggerated her importance; he had nothing to fear; as long as Victoria acknowledged her duties to him as his wife, he would overcome all the opposition to him which obviously existed in some sections of the Parliament and the country.

Darling Eos had arrived safely in advance of his master, she told him; and wasn’t it a blessing that he got on so well with Dashy?

‘Darling Albert, I am so glad you will be staying at the palace. Mama thought that it was wrong for a bridegroom to spend the night before his wedding under the same roof as his bride. I told her it was nonsense.’