The Queen's Husband (25 page)

A precedent had been established, therefore it was perfectly in order for Albert to ride in Victoria’s carriage.

‘You have good news?’ asked Albert.

Beaming with happiness she handed him the letter.

They had ridden together to Parliament; she had read her speech and Albert had been beside her all the time.

‘Dearest Albert,’ she said, when they had returned to the Palace, ‘I felt so comforted to have you there.’

‘It is my place to be always beside you,’ said Albert.

And he was pleased.

She thought how wonderful it was to be married and deeply in love with one’s husband. The only trouble was that in just over three months’ time she had to face her ordeal. She was feeling well and taking exercise and had completely recovered from the discomforts of the first months. When she could forget the horrors of childbirth – and surely royal childbirth was worse than other people’s because it was such a public affair – she was perfectly happy.

She told the Baroness what a success the prorogation had been.

‘It was always something I wanted to avoid,’ she said. ‘That and the opening. But it seemed so different this time because Albert was there, looking so proud and so
beautiful
that I am sure I read my speech better than I ever did before.’

‘You have always read your speech
perfectly
,’ said Lehzen rather sourly.

The time for her confinement was drawing near. The child should be born at the beginning of December. Lehzen was busy making layettes; she was anxious that no one else should do this. She would have liked to shut the Queen away and allow no one to come near her. That was out of the question and Victoria even became a little irritated by what she called Lehzen’s fussiness. She preferred to forget the coming ordeal.

There was plenty in the political situation to help her do this.

‘Trouble, trouble, trouble,’ said Lord Melbourne. ‘And far more intense in Your Majesty’s far-flung dominions than ever it was at home.’

‘I’m thankful that the Union of the Canadas Bill was passed without alarm, but a majority of nine was not very much on your policy in China.’

‘That’s true, but you must always be prepared for our defeat. I believe Your Majesty is aware of this.’

The Queen’s face hardened. ‘It is something I pray will never happen.’

‘It is not easy to pass rules with only a slender majority, you know.’

‘But you have managed to for some time.’

Lord Melbourne grimaced. ‘With Your Majesty’s help. But for your refusal to change your bedchamber ladies, it would be Sir Robert Peel who would be sitting here today.’

‘It would most certainly not.
He
shall
never
be invited into the blue closet.’

Lord Melbourne laughed. ‘But seriously,’ he told her, ‘you should prepare yourself for a change of government. Talk it over with the Prince.’

‘Albert is inclined to admire Sir Robert Peel. I never want to talk about that man with Albert because it makes my temper rise.’

‘You will overcome that dislike. It is not good for a queen to bear personal animus towards a great statesman.’

‘I shall never like Sir Robert Peel,’ said the Queen shortly.

Aunt Augusta had become very ill and the family knew that she was dying. The Queen, who had an enduring affection for her family, was deeply affected. She had always been a pet of the aunts and was in constant touch with them. They looked forward to her visits and she had been determined from the time of her accession that they should know that the Queen never forgot the duties and affections of the niece.

There was poor Aunt Sophia, about whom scandal still lingered, although it was long ago when she had borne her illegitimate son. Sophia’s eyesight was fading fast, for she suffered from cataracts, and this was a great sadness for she had loved tatting and embroidering and many a bag fashioned by Sophia’s hands had come into Victoria’s possession. Now one of her great pleasures were the visits from her dear little niece who had become the most important lady in the land. There was dear old Aunt Gloucester whom Victoria had always thought of as a sort of grandmother. And poor Augusta who now needed special attention.

Victoria was always ‘her darling’ and she referred to her as such.

‘Is that my darling come to see me?’ she would say; or, ‘I hear my darling was such a success at this or that function.’

It was very touching, said Victoria.

She would sing to Aunt Augusta when she visited her – very often some of Aunt Augusta’s own compositions, for in her youth this aunt had been quite talented. Had she not been a princess she might have been a musician or an artist. ‘But I was not encouraged,’ she once told Victoria. ‘My mother, your Grandmama, Queen Charlotte, believed I did my duty by walking the dog and making sure that her snuff box was filled. She was a great snuff taker. And your grandfather, King George III, thought that there was only one musician worthy of the name and that was Handel.’

Poor dear Aunt Augusta who had never really done what she wanted to!

Victoria was always interested to hear stories of her aunts’ early life with her grandparents. It was pleasant to feel that one belonged to a family, and because it happened to be the royal family that did not mean that it was in all fundamental details different from any other. One of Lord Melbourne’s great charms was that he had lived such a long time and could enchant her with stories of the past – many concerning the eccentric members of her family.

It was so sad, therefore, to contemplate the breaking with yet another of these links with the past.

Aunt Adelaide, the Dowager Queen, nursed Aunt Augusta. Adelaide could always be relied on at such times. There was something very unroyal about Adelaide, and Victoria had loved her from the time when she had presented her with the Big Doll and tried so hard to bring her to the parties of which Victoria’s Mama did not approve.

Albert said: ‘You must not wear yourself out, my love, with these visits to your aunt’s sick room.’

‘But she loves to see me, Albert. I could not fail her.’

Albert always understood the need to do one’s duty.

It was rather a relief when on the 22nd of September Aunt Augusta died. All the family were gathered together in the death chamber, but it was the Dowager Queen Adelaide who had nursed her through her illness, to whose hand she clung at the end.

Albert took his wife back to the palace where he masterfully insisted that she rest. As soon as the funeral was over he was going to take her down to Claremont to get her right away.

Lehzen said that surely Claremont was not a good choice; but the Queen, since Albert had suggested it, decided that she would go there.

Once in the old mansion she realised that it had been rather a mistake to go there. Lehzen was right. It would have been much better to have gone to Windsor.

She found herself hurrying past the room in which Charlotte had died and she began to brood on her own ordeal which was very close now.

Lehzen at last insisted on their return. A very unpleasant rumour was being circulated that the Queen had had a premonition that like her cousin Charlotte she was going to die in attempting to give the nation its heir. It was for this reason that she had gone to Claremont. One story was that she was having the lying-in chamber decorated in exactly the same way it had been done at the time of Charlotte’s death.

‘My precious love,’ said Lehzen, ‘it is quite morbid to be here. You should be in London. That will be much better for you. It was a foolish idea to come here.’

Victoria was silent, knowing whose idea it was. But she was glad to return to London.

The government was involved in such political trouble, and so great was Victoria’s fear that it would fall, that she forgot her personal discomfort.

The oriental situation was very grave. Afghanistan was in a state of uproar; fighting had broken out in China and Lord John Russell and Lord Palmerston were disagreeing with each other within the party.

‘A split in one’s own ranks is more dangerous than any attack from the Opposition,’ said Lord Melbourne. ‘It could bring the government down.’

In concern the Queen wrote to her Prime Minister:

For God’s sake do not bring on a crisis; the Queen really could not go through that
now
, and it might make her
seriously ill
if she were to be kept in a state of agitation and excitement if a crisis were to come on; she has already had so much lately in the distressing illness of her poor aunt to harass her …

Albert, who had had a desk brought into her study and placed beside hers, had been reading the documents which had been arriving at the palace and she found how comforting it was to discuss these affairs with him. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I can be of real use to you.’

‘Dear Albert,’ she murmured, ‘that will be a great comfort.’ It was amazing how dependent pregnancy made her feel and what pleasure she took in seeing that handsome face so near her own. She could tell him of her fears of the government’s collapse and he could soothe her by replying that if the government did fall it was her duty to be just towards any new government which the country might desire.

‘I could never accept that dreadful Peel man,’ she said.

‘But my dear love is a queen and would never forget that, and, however difficult you found it, remember I should be there to help you.’

‘Yes, Albert,’ she said meekly.

It was very comforting to talk to Albert about that wicked man Mehemet Ali who was causing all the trouble. But the French were being their usual difficult selves and once again Uncle Leopold was deploring the English attitude towards that country.

England with Russia, Prussia and Austria had delivered an ultimatum to Mehemet Ali insisting that he leave North Syria or be ejected by force. France, although deeply involved, and committed to help, stood aloof, which made the situation a very dangerous one, and conflict in Europe must of course give greater cause for alarm than what was happening in the East.

Uncle Leopold wrote that while he did not think France had acted wisely he could not help adding that England had behaved harshly and insultingly towards France. Victoria was able to reply that no one but France was to blame for her unfortunate position, for that country was committed to join the allies and had refused.