The Queen's Husband Page 7

  After all Victoria was now twenty and Albert on the point of becoming so. That was old enough for marriage.

  He was disturbed about Stockmar’s comment on Albert’s behaviour with women. Albert was really very good-looking; he had a fine figure, was tall, and his features were exactly like those of his mother. He was, in fact, a little like Victoria to look at. She must like his appearance. But he must be warned that he should not appear to be over-confident. He had to woo Victoria. And the sooner he began the better.

  The first thing to do was to warn him of Victoria’s unwillingness to make up her mind, which would prevent his being too confident.

  Albert’s reply alarmed him at first. He would, he told his uncle, be prepared to wait providing there was a definite promise and a certainty that the marriage would take place.

  If, he pointed out, after waiting for three years he should find the Queen no longer desired the marriage, he would be put in a very undignified position, and it would perhaps ruin his prospects for the future.

  This reply did not displease Leopold and Stockmar.

  ‘He is becoming ambitious,’ said Stockmar. ‘And that is what I hoped for.’

  Leopold’s answer was: ‘There must be no more delays. Albert and Victoria must be brought face to face as soon as possible.’

  It was arranged that the meeting should take place in October.

  ‘Ernest should go with Albert,’ commanded Leopold. ‘If by any chance Victoria should decide not to take Albert, it would be as well to have an alternative choice.’

  It seemed to Albert that September, when the leaves began to change, that they had never before been so beautiful. It was a wonderful month and he was happy to be home, but poignantly so, for soon he must leave. The great test was coming nearer; sometimes he welcomed it, sometimes dreaded it. It hurt his dignity that he should have to present himself for the Queen’s approval; if she were to decide against him he would be a laughing-stock; and on the other hand if she still remained undecided and wanted to keep him dangling, that position was almost as undesirable.

  He talked it over with Ernest as they stalked deer in the forest or shot wild fowl or collected pieces of rock for their ‘museum’.

  All Ernest would say was wait and see; and at the end of September they were ready to make the journey to England.

  The wretchedness of that sea crossing was even worse than he had imagined it would be. He lay groaning on his bunk thinking, as he had on a previous occasion, that death would be preferable to such humiliating suffering. It did not make him feel better to realise that his brother and others of the party did not share his sickness, and he believed that the crew secretly jeered at him.

  The terrible rocking of the boat, those high grey waves, the fearful nausea … oh, how he longed for the peace of Rosenau! To go back there, to live in obscurity, to be poor – for he should be as a second son; and even Ernest, the future Duke, would not be affluent – anything was better than this. Indeed the peace of the forest and the simple life seemed very desirable.

  The crossing at last came to an end, and pale and feeble he staggered ashore. Ernest was beside him, ready for adventure. Surely, thought Albert, she will choose Ernest.

  The baggage could not be found but they decided to go on without it.

  ‘It’s fortunate,’ said Ernest, ‘that the Queen is at Windsor. You’ll recover during the journey and the country air will do you good.’

  Albert, though still pale and wan, felt better as they rode through the fresh green fields. He saw the castle – grey and seeming impregnable before him – and his spirits rose. If he were a king in such a castle with its vistas of green fields and forests, he could be content, he believed.

  So much would depend on Victoria, of course.

  They had arrived; the grooms had taken their horses and told them: ‘Her Majesty is ready to receive you.’

  So they entered the castle.

  She was standing at the top of the staircase, a diminutive figure with flushed cheeks and sparkling blue eyes.

  ‘My dear cousins,’ she cried, holding out her hands.

  Ernest first because he was the elder. She smiled up at him.

  ‘Dear Ernest, I am so happy to see you. And Albert … Albert …’

  She glowed with delight; her gaze rested on him.

  ‘Dear cousin Albert, welcome to Windsor.’

  It was on Albert that her gaze lingered. His heart leaped in triumph, for he was almost sure that he was the chosen one.

  Chapter V

  THE BRIEF HONEYMOON

  It was indeed triumph. The Queen was too candid by nature to hide her feelings and she made it clear to all about her, including Albert, that she found him fascinating.

  She confided to the Baroness Lehzen that Albert was all she had hoped for. Did not Lehzen find him handsome? He had such beautiful blue eyes; his nose was quite exquisite; his mouth was pretty.

  ‘Does one expect a man’s mouth to be pretty?’ asked Lehzen; and was told sharply that with so many ugly mouths in evidence it was a pleasure to see one which was charming.

  It was clear that Victoria would have no criticism of Albert.

  The Baroness was a little apprehensive. Having been the Queen’s governess and closest companion since she was five years old, she had considerable influence with her and did not wish to lose it now. The influence had come through affection which was the only way in which it was possible to guide Victoria. Since the Queen was not on good terms with her mother she had come to regard Lehzen in that light; Victoria’s affections overflowed; she loved and hated passionately; there were no fine shades of feeling. She loved her Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, unswervingly; she hated his opposite number, Sir Robert Peel, and would hear no good of him; the Baroness Lehzen, who had been, as she said, a mother to her, she loved passionately, whereas although she would not admit that she disliked her mother (Victoria had a keen sense of the proprieties and no good person could dislike a mother) she was very critical of everything she did. This antagonism had been aggravated by the palace factions – that headed by the Queen and the other led by her mother the Duchess. It was an unhappy state of affairs, but as Lord Melbourne, the witty Prime Minister, had said, it was an old Hanoverian custom for parents to quarrel with their children.

  Two years ago, when Victoria had become Queen, there had been great changes in the palace. She had quickly shown that she had no intention of being persuaded to do anything she did not wish. She had immediately fallen under the spell of charming Lord Melbourne and the relationship between the young Queen and her ageing Prime Minister had given rise to some speculation. She had found him extremely handsome and she was very susceptible to good looks particularly in men, although quite a lot of her ladies had been chosen for their appearance. Beauty appealed to her in every form and her first comment on those who came in contact with her would invariably be of their physical assets or defects. The handsome Lord Melbourne, with his fatherly air and the manner in which his eyes filled with tears as he contemplated her, completely won her heart from the day of her accession; and with that whole-hearted affection which she generously and rather impulsively gave, she was ready to accept almost everything he put before her simply because he had suggested it.

  These two people had had her affection up to this time: Melbourne, her worldly, cynical (in spite of the effective tears) Prime Minister who knew that his position could be changed if his government fell and therefore realised how precarious it was; and the Baroness Lehzen who had no thought of anything but her imperious young mistress and whose life would cease to have any meaning if she relinquished her hold on her affections.

  Marriage, of course, could change the situation at the palace. If Victoria fell in love she would do so whole-heartedly and the affections she had for any other than her husband would be in great danger of being usurped by him.

  So the Baroness was uneasy because she was aware of how deeply Albert’s good looks had impressed her mistress, and
the slightest criticism of that young gentleman would arouse the Queen’s temper, which Lehzen had often declared to be, in her best nursery manner, ‘Very big for such a small person.’

  Now Victoria went on to extol the virtues of Albert.

  ‘He is much more handsome than Ernest.’

  Lehzen admitted this was so. ‘Although Ernest looked the stronger of the two.’

  ‘Stronger!’ cried Victoria. ‘In what way?’

  ‘In health, I meant.’

  ‘Oh, Albert is so much more refined.’

  ‘I remember last time he came. Remember, he nearly fainted on the ballroom floor.’

  ‘He was growing too fast. You see he was quite short then. He is tall now. What a fine figure he has. His shoulders are broad and he has such a fine waist.’

  ‘You have a sharp pair of eyes,’ said Lehzen.

  ‘You always said that.’

  ‘Yes, my precious angel, and it’s true.’

  ‘Well, anyone would notice Albert. He stands out in a crowd.’

  ‘It was hardly a crowd. I must say they travel light. Their baggage hasn’t come. They won’t be able to change for dinner.’

  ‘That will make it all delightfully informal.’ Victoria giggled.

  ‘You’ve changed quickly,’ said Lehzen. ‘Yesterday you were dreading their coming.’

  ‘It’s different after having seen Albert.’

  ‘You don’t have to rush into anything.’

  Victoria was immediately the Queen. ‘I do not have to do anything I don’t wish to,’ she said. ‘Unless, of course,’ she added hastily, ‘it was for the good of the state.’

  ‘Some might say marriage was for the good of the state. As the Queen you have to give the country its next King or Queen.’

  Lehzen watched her mistress obliquely. The shaft had gone home. Victoria could never hide her feelings. Since the death of Lady John Russell in childbirth Victoria had thought a good deal about bearing children. She had referred to it as the ‘dark side of marriage’. It was horrible, painful and could be dangerous. Dear Lady John had been young, happily married, she already had children and could well have done without another, and she who had been well one week was dead the next.

  But Lehzen could not bear to see her darling unhappy, so she put an arm about her and said: ‘Why, dearest, you’re only twenty. You could wait three or four years for marriage if you wished. Didn’t Lord Melbourne tell you so?’

  ‘Dear Lord Melbourne.’ Victoria thought of those happy meetings in the blue closet, the long chats about any subject Lord Melbourne liked to introduce. Little titbits about the ministers and members of the household, about his childhood (though never about his scandalous past), his witty comments on life and the sudden way in which he would introduce some state matter and explain it in the most amusing way. Yesterday she would have been happy for the old way to go on and on. Although she knew it couldn’t because Lord Melbourne’s Whig government was very shaky and Sir Robert Peel’s Tories could overthrow it at any moment and a new Prime Minister would never allow the Leader of the Opposition to be on such intimate terms with the Queen.

  There had to be change; and it had come as soon as she looked into those beautiful blue eyes and noticed the good looks of her fascinating cousin.

  Although she had deplored the prospect of change she could not help being elated because Albert had come.

  She knew what this meant.

  She had fallen in love. And Lehzen, who knew her so well, was aware of it too.

  Albert’s fears were rapidly disappearing because she was so enthusiastic about everything he did that he could not help knowing that he was a success. He was glad he had brought his greyhound with him, for she was devoted to dogs and had several, the favourite of them being Dash, who took a fancy to Albert. She did seem rather childish, betraying her feelings so easily, and she was simple in her tastes. She would shriek with laughter when he joked. Not that he was given to joking but she was so easy to amuse and it was pleasant to make her laugh. She would race through the gardens with Dash at her heels and she would pick him up and explain to him that Eos, Cousin Albert’s greyhound, was so called because that meant Dawn, and because he was black with a silver streak he had reminded Cousin Albert of the first touch of light after the darkness of night. ‘It was such a clever name,’ she said admiringly.

  Music was a passion with her as with him, and this was a great interest in common. She loved to listen to the two brothers playing together and was in ecstasies when she and Albert sang a duet together. There was one thing which caused Albert a certain uneasiness; that was her love of dancing. Every night she wished to dance. Albert had been warned by Leopold and Stockmar that his social manners must improve and, with this in mind, he had forced himself to master the necessary dancing steps and with his usual thoroughness he had become a tolerably good dancer, though he felt no enthusiasm for the exercise. Victoria however was enchanted with his dancing.

  ‘You see, Cousin Albert,’ she explained, ‘I could never take part in the waltz before unless we had royal visitors.’ She blushed rather charmingly. ‘The waltz is such an intimate dance, the gentleman having to put his arm about the lady and of course as I am the Queen … it had to be a royal arm. But, Albert, don’t you love the waltz?’

  He wanted to say that he disliked the waltz and that love was not a word he would apply to such a thing as a dance, but he had been warned. He was doing very well and he was certain that once they were married he could guide her to such an extent that she would quickly lose her frivolous ways.

  ‘I think the music of Strauss delightful,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I am so glad. I love the Strauss music. Particularly the waltzes. They make me want to dance and dance …’

  The late nights were rather tiring but he must not show fatigue this time. He had seen Windsor Castle; he understood all that this marriage would entail. It was the greatest opportunity which would ever come his way, and there was no doubt that the little Queen was already in love with him.

  Five days after the arrival of Albert and Ernest at Windsor he and his brother went out riding in the forest. From a window the Queen watched their return and as soon as they entered the castle sent for Albert to join her in the blue closet.

  When he came she held out her hands to him.

  ‘You know why I asked you to come,’ she said, frank, happy, and only faintly embarrassed because she had to reverse the usual custom and propose to him. ‘It would make me too happy if you would consent to what I wish.’

  He understood. He kissed her hands. Joy shone in his face and she was too enchanted to differentiate between ambition and love.

  After all the fears and anxieties he had won.

  She threw her arms about him and her warm-hearted affection was very appealing.

  ‘I am not worthy of you,’ she said, astonishingly.

  He protested that this was untrue.

  ‘Oh, but it will not be easy to be the husband of a Queen. It is a great sacrifice on your part.’

  It was not so, he insisted; and he was determined that it should not be so. Sacrifice! To accept the greatest prize in Europe, together with such an affectionate young girl, who was so whole-heartedly in love with him!

  ‘This is the happiest, brightest moment of my life.’

  What bliss indeed. With love and ambition walking hand in hand into the future.

  So elated had Albert been by that brief visit that he had scarcely noticed the crossing; alas, though, Ernest had to go straight to Dresden while he returned to Coburg. But his mind was so full of Victoria and his future that he scarcely missed his brother. He was already very fond of his future bride; her absolute devotion to him made her so fascinating. How impulsive she was, but that could be curbed; she was so whole-heartedly natural that she was disarming. He wished that he had been her senior instead of the reverse but their natures remedied that. It was clear that he was the sober one, the one meant to control.

  He
was going to regret leaving Coburg, of course, and he was going to miss Ernest, but there would be great compensations. He could almost feel sorry for Ernest – Duke of a tiny territory while he would be virtually King of England.

  Disillusion quickly followed. He learned that it was not Victoria only with whom he had to deal and it was clear as Victoria began to hint in her letters (she wrote copiously and her letters overflowed with her love for him) that the English did not greatly care for foreigners.

  First there arose the trouble about his title. Uncle Leopold thought he should be made a peer but this was not acceptable. Those ‘dreadful Tories’, as Victoria called them, were determined to be difficult. She herself wished him to be the King Consort but apparently even Lord Melbourne would not agree to that, and declared that it was a dangerous precedent for Parliament to be allowed to make a king, for might it not then feel it was permissible to unmake one. He was a prince and must remain a prince. Victoria wrote to him:

  The English are very jealous of any foreigner interfering in the government of this country, and have already in some of the papers (which are friendly to me and you) expressed a hope that you would not interfere. Now, though I know you never would, still, if you were a Peer, they would all say, the Prince meant to play a political part …

  Not interfere! But he wanted to play his part in the country! He wanted to advise and guide Victoria! What did they expect him to be? A royal stud!

  He was humiliated. While he had been at Kensington she had been quite humble and had talked about the sacrifices he was making in marrying her. Did she mean by that then that he was to be a nonentity?

  He had hoped that in his household he would install a few German friends to whom he would be able to talk in his own language, which would make him feel less alien in a strange land; and the most important post would be his secretary.

  To his dismay Victoria and Lord Melbourne had chosen the man to fill this post. It was to be the Prime Minister’s own secretary, Mr George Anson.