The Queen's Husband Read online

  ‘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.

  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 wit
h 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?’

  A figure with a candle had appeared in the corridor. It was the Baroness Lehzen.

  ‘What is happening here?’ she demanded. ‘You will awaken the Queen.’

  ‘Oh, Baroness,’ said Mrs Lilly, ‘I’m sure I heard someone in the Queen’s dressing-room.’

  ‘Mein Gott!’ cried the Baroness. ‘And you stand here. The Queen may be murdered.’

  She pushed them aside, unlocked the door and strode into the dressing-room like an avenging angel. Her precious darling in danger and these fools standing about doing nothing. She was thinking of the madman who had taken a shot at Victoria on Constitution Hill. So were the others, but this had the opposite effect on the devoted Lehzen.

  She looked round the room. She could see no one. The only place where anyone could be hidden was under the sofa. Thrusting the candlestick into the hands of Mrs Lilly she pushed the sofa to one side.

  There was a gasp. Cowering under the sofa was a small boy, his clothes ragged, his face dirty, his eyes wide with astonishment.

  Who was the boy? He had been some days in the palace, he told them. He had hidden under the sofa on which the Queen and Prince Albert had sat and had lain there listening to them talking together; he had been to the throne room and sat on the throne; he had been in the nursery and heard the new baby Princess cry.

  He loved Buckingham Palace. He confessed to having been there before. Last time had been in 1838 when he had spent a week there and he could not resist paying another visit.

  People remembered the excitement of two years earlier. Of course he was the Boy Jones. Someone had waggishly christened him In-I-go Jones.

  It was considered to be an amusing incident. The boy had done little harm. He had merely been curious.

  The Queen laughed when she heard of it, but Albert took a different view.

  ‘My dear love,’ he said, ‘it alarms me that people could so easily get into the palace.’

  ‘It was only a boy,’ said Victoria.

  ‘Only a boy this time. But if a boy can get in so easily how much more easily could someone enter who might wish to do harm.’

  ‘He came before,’ said Victoria; ‘fancy that.’

  Albert was thoughtful.

  Albert had been making an investigation of the manner in which the household was managed. He was determined to find out how it was possible for a boy to get into the palace and spend several days there unobserved.

  In one of the kitchens he found a broken pane of glass.

  ‘How long has that been broken?’ he asked.

  The kitchen hand to whom he addressed the question scratched his head. ‘Well, Your Highness, it were done last Saturday week. I know for sure.’

  Another kitchen hand came up and said the window had been like that for a month.

  ‘Whose duty would it be to see that it was repaired?’ the Prince wanted to know.

  They didn’t know, but they would call the chief cook.

  ‘It’s like this, Your Highness,’ said the chief cook, ‘I’d write and sign a request to have the glass put back, but the Clerk of the Kitchen would have to sign it too.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘I did, Your Highness, two months ago.’

  ‘Send me the Clerk of the Kitchen,’ said Albert.

  The Clerk of the Kitchen remembered signing the request but then it had to go to the Master of the Household.

  The Master of the Household had signed so many requests that he did not remember the pane of glass in particular, but his duty was to take it to the Lord Chamberlain’s office and there it would await attention.

  ‘And what happens there?’ asked the Prince.

  ‘The Lord Chamberlain would sign and then it would go to the Clerk of the Works, Your Highness.’

  ‘Mein Gott!’ cried the Prince breaking into German, as he did when seriously disturbed. ‘All this for a pane of glass! And meanwhile people can break into the palace and, if they have a mind to, murder the Queen.’

  His orderly Teutonic soul was outraged. He was certain that this was not the only anomaly. The servants’ domain was a little kingdom on its own. He coul
d see that there was no discipline whatsoever. Servants absented themselves when they thought fit, or brought in their friends and entertained them at the Queen’s expense.

  He was horrified.

  His questions quickly aroused suspicions which were deeply resented. The Baroness Lehzen, who was in charge of the keys, although she had no special title, never bothered them. She had other matters with which to concern herself than what went on in the kitchens. As long as she had her caraway seeds served with every meal, and when there was a state banquet or a dinner party food appeared on the table, that was all that mattered.

  The servants grumbled together that they wanted no meddling German coming to their quarters to spy on them.

  The Prince’s investigations were reported to the Baroness, so she was ready for him.

  He came to her room one day and told her about the pane of glass which had been missing for months because the inefficiency of the system had made it impossible for the request to reach the right person.

  ‘I did not know Your Highness would concern himself with such a little thing.’

  ‘It is of great concern. That boy got into the palace. How?’

  ‘Not through that broken window surely?’

  ‘He was in the palace because there is a lack of security.’

  Lehzen said: ‘As soon as I heard a commotion near the Queen I was out of bed. I have looked after her for years. The slightest sound … and I am there.’

  ‘That is not the point,’ said the Prince patiently.

  The Baroness broke into German. He followed. It was easier for them both. The Baroness was trying hard to control her anger; she had to remember that he was the Queen’s husband. He found it easier to remain calm. He must not quarrel with her. She would distort what he said and carry tales to the Queen.

  But in those moments there was one fact which was clear to them.