The Queen's Husband (28 page)

It was a wonderful Christmas. Albert threw himself wholeheartedly into the task of decorating the apartments. He ordered many trees to be cut and between them he and the Queen adorned them with candles and little gifts which could be tied on. Beneath them were the surprise parcels and Victoria could scarcely wait for Christmas Day when the packages should be unwrapped amid cries of pleasure and delighted amazement.

It was all rather as it had been when she was a little girl and she remembered how different Mama had been on such occasions. In fact Mama, who was with them at Windsor, had changed a great deal since the departure of her Comptroller of the Household, Sir John Conroy, and the arrival of Albert, who always referred to her as Dearest Mama. As for the Duchess, she was very fond of Albert and this had meant that relations between Victoria and her mother had changed.

Again the trouble was the Baroness, who had thought the Duchess had treated Victoria harshly when they were all at Kensington and they would never really get on.

So there were the Duchess and Albert ranged against the Baroness. Victoria frowned. Whatever happened, she had told herself, no one – simply
no one –
was going to turn her against her dearest Lehzen.

But Christmas was not a time for conflict. They must all be happy together and because she was sorry for her outburst Victoria had agreed to a
quiet
Christmas. There would be no grand ball, just an evening when they might dance a little or play games and Albert would leave his beloved double chess and play a round game in which everyone could join. Mama could have her whist which would keep her awake and satisfy her; and even Lehzen fell in with the general view because she said she did not want Victoria to be exhausted. It was too soon after her confinement and she must take care.

She and Albert rode out in the morning and what fun it was galloping down the long avenue to Snow Hill where the statue of her grandfather George III had been erected.

‘He was always quarrelling with Uncle George,’ she said, ‘but at least Uncle George had that statue put there to his memory.’

‘It would have been better to have tried to please him while he was alive than to erect a statue to him when he was dead.’

‘You are right, Albert,’ she said solemnly.

They galloped through the Great Park and she told Albert the legend of Herne the Hunter, one of the keepers who was said to have hanged himself on an oak tree and now haunted the forest. If he appeared to anyone it meant they would die.

Albert was reminded of the legends of the Black Forest and recounted some of them.

She listened avidly. How beautifully Albert told his stories; how handsome he looked on horseback; and how happy she was to have such a husband! There should never really be any differences between them. If only she had not such a violent temper; if only Albert were not so maddeningly calm; if only he and Lehzen could get on together; if only he would realise that after all she was the Queen and, although he was her dearly beloved husband, he was not a king and only a consort and she must have the final say in everything …

But why disturb such a lovely frosty morning with such thoughts.

Albert drew up his horse to admire the perpendicular Gothic architecture of St George’s chapel. Albert knew a great deal about architecture and was able to make her see buildings as she never had before. But then Albert knew a great deal about so many things – music, literature, art.

He said on that Christmas morning: ‘The Court could be more interesting if you invited intellectual people to dinner now and then and perhaps to pay visits.’

‘Intellectual people?’

‘I meant writers, artists, scientists … people like that.’

The Queen was pensive. ‘There would be a lot of clever talk, I daresay, which I shouldn’t understand.’

‘You would in time.’

She was silent. She was certainly not going to have people talking over her head at her dinner parties. But she did not wish to spoil this morning by saying so.

She started to gallop and Albert followed; they rode side by side for a few minutes in silence.

Then she cried: ‘Oh, Albert, what a pleasant ride. How I am enjoying it!’

They sang duets; they played the piano; they sketched the view from the windows because it was too cold to sketch out of doors. ‘My hands get so red,’ said the Queen.

What a happy Christmas that was.

But sadness followed. Going to Dash’s basket one morning she found him dead.

She wept bitterly. Lehzen said: ‘He was old, my love, and he didn’t enjoy the last months. It was rather sad to see him.’

She threw her arms about the Baroness. ‘Do you remember when he came? That odious Sir John Conroy gave him to Mama but he was my dog from the first.’

‘He took one look at you and loved you.’

‘Darling, darling Dashy. He was always
so
faithful. He used to come to the blue closet when I was with my Prime Minister. Lord M was fond of him and he liked Lord M. All dogs like Lord M and one understands why. But Dashy
loved
him. He was always licking his boots.’

Lehzen said it was no use grieving as it was all for the best. She must think of poor Dash whose legs were getting stiff with rheumatism and was now out of his pain.

She agreed and felt much better. Then Albert suggested that Dash be buried at Adelaide Cottage, which he had particularly loved, and designed an effigy. Beneath it the beloved body was laid and a plaque was put up to extol his virtues, his selflessness and fidelity.

Victoria knew that every time she visited his grave she would remember the dear companion of her childhood.

The sojourn at Windsor was marred only by the death of Dash and that had been imminent for some time now. She was finding that she enjoyed the country life far more than she had thought possible.

She told Albert that she was changing her mind about the country and when she saw how this pleased him she enlarged on the subject.

‘In the past I could not wait to get back to London,’ she said, ‘and I was always quite wretched to leave it. But now I am married I am quite unhappy to leave the country.’

Albert was delighted. She was coming his way; he had every hope of success; he would wean her from her pleasure-loving ways; he would make her the serious docile companion he longed for.

He pressed her hand.

‘No regrets of your marriage?’

‘Dear Albert, how could I have been so
wicked!
’

‘You wicked, my love? Never. It is just that ungovernable temper of yours. It is like an old troll of the mountains who puts words into your mouth which your loving heart could never have conjured up.’

‘That is true, Albert. How clever of you. I often think how happy I am, and what a poor sort of existence mine was before I was married.’

‘Go on thinking so, my love, I beg of you.’

‘You are so good and so patient.’

‘Together we will fight that old troll of a temper, eh?’

She laughed delightedly. ‘Then if you will fight it with me, Albert, we shall surely conquer it.’

‘I am so happy that you are growing to love the country more.’

‘Well I am beginning to
see
things differently. You know I couldn’t tell the difference between a blackbird and a thrush and I didn’t know wheat from barley or gorse from hawthorn. It makes such a lot of difference when you
know
.’

‘Of course it does. That is why I think you would enjoy having interesting people at the palace.’

Her lips tightened a little. ‘I shouldn’t want a banquet to become a sort of lesson, I fear.’

The danger signals. He must remember that too much haste would impede progress.

She went on: ‘And although I do enjoy the country that does not mean that I dislike London and the amusements we have there.’

‘Of course not,’ said Albert calmly. He changed the subject. ‘Have you decided on the date for Pussy’s christening?’

‘An idea came to me. What do you think of the tenth of February?’

‘That,’ said Albert, ‘is a very important date to me.’

‘It is the most important date in my life,’ replied the Queen

fervently. ‘So, dearest Albert, Pussy’s christening day shall be on the anniversary of our wedding.’

Harmony continued at Windsor.

Mr George Anson called on Lord Melbourne to discuss the progress of the royal couple.

Lord Melbourne listened intently to Mr Anson’s account of the Prince’s dissatisfaction with the company which the Queen kept around her.

‘The Prince,’ said Mr Anson, ‘would like more literary and scientifically minded people to be entertained.’

‘Understandable,’ said Lord Melbourne.

‘But Her Majesty does not wish this. She fears that she would be at a loss with such people.’

Lord Melbourne nodded. ‘She would want to take her fair share in the conversation and would not care for it to go over her head. A pity something wasn’t done about her education. Oh, I know she speaks German, Italian and French – not only speaks them well but writes them. She has a smattering of Latin. If she were not a queen she would be an accomplished young lady, but there has been lack of more cultured tuition. She has a naturally shrewd mind and is quick to pick up information. She is musical, but she has read very little I fear and has hardly any knowledge of the classics. It is a great lack.’

‘The Prince naturally finds the evenings dull,’ said Mr Anson. ‘He is bored with his double chess every evening and now of course he is drawn into the round games which seem positively childish to him.’

‘It is to be hoped that he doesn’t look for excitement in dangerous places,’ said Lord Melbourne.

Mr Anson looked surprised.

‘Well, my dear fellow, there are some very beautiful ladies at Court. I have often felt the Queen was ill advised to choose her ladies for their beauty, which she appears to have done. She loves beauty – particularly in the human form.’

‘The Queen is delighted with the Prince’s utter indifference to other ladies.’

‘It’s early days yet,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘I told her this and she was very indignant. But, if he is going to be bored in the evenings, she should take care. The Prince has been very successful so far. Oh, I know there have been some stormy scenes. I know well that royal temper. But his success has been remarkable. It may well be that very soon you will be seeing the company at the palace becoming literary and scientific and far more intellectual, but the Prince must be wary.’

‘He knows that very well, Lord Melbourne.’

‘And the Daisy lady?’

‘Still reigns.’

‘A battle royal will take place there one day. And until it is won our Prince should walk very carefully. I have no doubt of the outcome. Albert is a very good chess player. He’ll know the strategy. His danger is impatience.’

‘He is a very patient man, Prime Minister.’

‘He needs to be. Let him remember that and he’ll be the victor. I’ll prophesy that if he is clever enough he’ll clear the palace of his enemies and be master in his house.’

Lord Melbourne was a little sad, thinking of the days when he was the most important one in the Queen’s life. What a happy time that had been! He had lost his cynicism and had felt like a young man in love. But he had not been a young man and the object of his devotion was a young girl – a queen – to whom he could never speak of love.

But there was love between them – on his side an enduring love. That was why he wanted above all things to see her happy.

And she would be of course, and he would know that she was when Albert became master in the house. A long battle lay before the Prince. He, the Prime Minister, hoped that he would live long enough to see that battle won, for only if the Prince was the victor could Victoria be happy.

  Chapter X