The Queen's Husband (26 page)

Still, she wrote, though France is in the wrong, and
quite
in the wrong, still I am most anxious, as I am sure my Government also are, that France should be pacified and should again take her place among the five great powers …

Albert, who sends his love, is much occupied with Eastern affairs and is quite of my opinion …

It was comforting to be able to write that. Uncle Leopold had always been anxious that Albert should have the opportunity to advise her. Well now he had, and he was on her side. Not that Albert’s opinion could weigh against that of Lords Melbourne and Palmerston; but there was no doubt that Albert could offer his opinions, which Lord Melbourne said were balanced and reasonable.

As the weeks passed there were continually dispatches from the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary; and they and other Ministers were calling frequently at the palace. The oriental controversy aggravated by the intransigent attitude of the French was the matter of the moment.

‘When the baby is born it ought to be called Turko-Egypto,’ said the Queen with grim jocularity.

It was November and, although the baby was not expected before the beginning of December, three doctors – Sir James Clark, Dr Locock and Dr Blagden – together with the nurse, Mrs Lilly, were all installed in the palace. As Dr Stockmar was also at Court Albert had asked him to be ready to assist if his services should be needed.

Three weeks before the expected time the Queen’s pains began. In spite of previous apprehension she was quite calm. Albert remained in the room with the doctors and Mrs Lilly and Victoria’s greatest concern was that the pain would be so great that she might be unable to restrain her cries. That, she feared, would be most undignified, for waiting in the next room were the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Prime Minister, Lord Palmerston and other important Ministers and gentlemen of rank. Close by, but in a separate room, were members of her household. It was the public nature of the proceedings which was so undignified, but this did make her determined to exert the utmost control.

Albert was a comfort. She sensed his anxiety. Dear Albert, everything must go well for his sake.

How wonderful it would be if she could produce a dear little boy exactly like his father – and what was more important was that he should be as
good
.

After twelve hours of labour the baby was born. The Queen lay back exhausted but triumphant. Albert came to the bed to hold her hand.

‘The child?’ she asked.

‘Is perfect,’ answered Albert.

‘A boy?’

The doctor answered. ‘It is a Princess, Your Majesty.’

There was a moment of disappointment. Albert pressed her hand warmly.

‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘The next one will be a Prince.’

‘My dearest,’ said Albert, ‘we should not be sad because we have a little girl. It is a poor compliment to you. Why, this child could become a queen as good as her mother.’

‘Dear Albert. Then you are not displeased?’

‘If you get well quickly then I am content,’ said Albert.

Mrs Lilly had washed the little Princess and placed her naked on a velvet cushion. Then she walked with her into the room where the members of the government had been waiting.

‘Here is Her Highness the Princess Royal,’ she announced.

The old Duke of Wellington came forward to peer at the child.

‘Oh,’ he said in a tone of mild contempt, ‘a girl.’

Mrs Lilly glared at him. ‘A Princess, Your Grace,’ she said sharply, for she would have the old gentleman remember that although the precious child was a girl she was as royal as any boy could be.

  Chapter IX  

IN-I-GO JONES

The baby was to be named Victoria after her mother, and the names Adelaide Mary Louise were added. The Dowager Queen was delighted that the child was called after her; she was so happy, she told the Queen, that she had experienced the blessing of motherhood. Poor Adelaide, how she had always longed for a child of her own; but being of the sweetest of temperaments she would not grudge anyone else the happiness which she had missed.

‘Aunt Adelaide will be ready to spoil the child,’ said Victoria to Albert.

‘That must not be allowed,’ replied Albert. He was determined to be a good father and that did not include spoiling his offspring.

It was rather awkward that she had the same name as her mother, but Albert had wished it – ‘Such a
delightful
compliment,’ said the Queen – and she herself had thought it appropriate, so the child was Victoria.

‘She is like a little kitten,’ said the Queen and from then on the child was called Pussy and sometimes, to vary it, Pussette.

Victoria discovered that although she had enjoyed racing up and down the corridors of Buckingham Palace with the Conyngham children or those of the John Russells, she was not so fond of little babies. She was delighted, of course, to be a mother and so quickly to have produced a child (it was only nine months since her marriage) but that did not mean that she wanted to spend all her time in the nursery. She was no Aunt Adelaide.

A wet nurse was procured with other nurses and the Baroness Lehzen decided that the nursery was a place in which she should reign supreme. Victoria was delighted that dear Daisy should superintend the baby’s domain and returned to her everyday life.

The oriental situation had taken a turn for the better. Mehemet Ali had given up his claims to Syria on the intervention of the allied fleet and stated that he would relinquish the Ottoman fleet if the allies would give him possession of the Pashalik of Egypt.

‘A very happy end to the year,’ commented Victoria to Albert. ‘The crisis over and a baby in the nursery.’

Uncle Leopold was delighted that she had proved herself able to bear healthy children. It was always a fear in the royal family that this might not be the case. George III had had far too many but his sons, George and William, had not followed his example; and now at the age of twenty-one, after less than a year of marriage, the Queen had produced a child. There would of course be more, as Leopold implied in his letter.

I flatter myself, he wrote, that you will be a delighted and delightful
Maman au milieu d’une belle et nombreuse famille
.

Indeed! thought Victoria when she read it. The idea of going through all
that
again to produce a large family did not please her. Of one thing she had made very sure. If she had another child – and she did not intend to for some little time – she would arrange that the child was born before any of the dignitaries were summoned to the palace.

‘For I will not have a public birth again,’ she confided to Lehzen.

‘I should think not,’ said the Baroness. ‘I had thought that the Prince might have realised your wish for privacy when Pussy was born.’

‘It’s the old tradition, Lehzen. Remember the baby in the warming-pan rumour? They think someone might smuggle in a spurious child.’

‘What nonsense! But I shall insist that my dearest love does not suffer
that
again. And I hope that the next occasion will be postponed for at least two years. I know you look blooming, but you do need time to recover from having the child.’

Victoria wrote a little tersely to Uncle Leopold. He did like to interfere just a little too much. He had tried to tell Lord Melbourne and Lord Palmerston how to conduct the Turko-Egyptian matter and he was constantly criticising Lord Palmerston.

I think, dearest Uncle, you cannot wish me to be the ‘
Maman d’une nombreuse famille
’ for I think you will see with me the great inconvenience a
large
family would be to us all, and particularly to the country, independent of the hardship and inconvenience to myself; men never think, at least seldom think, what a hard task it is for us women to go through this
very often
.

No, she would certainly wait a few years. Lehzen was quite right about this.

Poor Dash was showing his age. He no longer leaped up barking and wagging his tail when a walk was mentioned. Instead he was rather inclined to hide himself so that he didn’t have to go out. He slept in a basket by the royal bed; he used to be very fierce and at the least sound would waken everyone near by.

But on that early December morning Dash slept on while the door handle of the Queen’s dressing-room was slowly turned and silently opened.

Mrs Lilly awoke and looked about her.

‘Is anyone there?’ she whispered.

There was no answer so she sat up, listening.

Another sound. There was no doubt about it. Someone was prowling about the Queen’s dressing-room.

She went to the door, listening. An unmistakable sound. Yes, someone
was
in there. She locked the door and called one of the pages.

He came rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘When I unlock this door,’ said Mrs Lilly, ‘you will go in and bring out whoever is in there.’

The man stared at her. ‘Someone …’

‘Do as I say.’

‘Me! Why? Suppose he’s got a gun?’