The Captive of Kensington Palace (12 page)

The Duchess of Kent was in urgent conversation with Sir John Conroy. Surely now Victoria must be proclaimed the heiress to the throne. William might die tomorrow and then … It was ridiculous that she, the Duchess of Kent, should be expected to live in obscurity on the bounty of her brother Leopold when she was the mother of the future Queen … and not the distant future either. Victoria was eleven years old, a minor. Should there not be some arrangement made in case there was need of a Regency?

This, Sir John agreed, would be a very desirable state of affairs. He wanted to act with some caution, however, for the situation was a delicate one; and the new King was a clumsy man who prided himself on his frankness, which meant of course speaking and acting without consideration for others.

‘A buffoon!’ said the Duchess. ‘I always had the utmost contempt for him.’

Sir John nodded. That was what he wished. The more the Duchess was estranged from her relations, the better he liked it, for if they decided to befriend her what could his position be? He believed it was most advantageous to him for her to be in conflict with them and it should be Conroy and the Duchess against the royal family.

‘The King must realise our Princess’s position and the need for a Regency,’ he temporised.

‘Of course he does and I shall see that he is made aware of his duty.’

Conroy smiled at her. How magnificent she was in her ambition for her daughter; how single-minded; how completely unaware that by reminding the King of the Regency she was reminding him of his more or less imminent death. Victoria was eleven and in seven years she would be of age. Oh yes, his dear magnificent Duchess was scarcely the most tactful of women.

But let it go. The King would be incensed; the breach between them would widen; and the deeper it was the more the Duchess must turn to Sir John for guidance and consolation.

He leaned forward and taking her hand drew her gently towards him. ‘Well?’ she asked.

‘I was thinking how beautiful you are in your anger.’ Victoria had come into the room with the Baroness Späth a few paces behind her and the Duchess drew back from Conroy a little guiltily, while Victoria, startled, looked from one to the other in dismay.

‘Pray,’ said the Duchess collecting her wits, ‘do not enter a room so boisterously. And what are you doing here at this hour?’

‘I had come to ask, Mamma, if I might sing for the company this afternoon in Aunt Sophia’s apartments. Aunt Adelaide will be there with my Cumberland and Cambridge cousins. And as Aunt Augusta will also be there she would regard it as a compliment if I sang one of her songs.’

‘I think,’ said the Duchess, ‘that this might be arranged if you can learn how to enter a room in a fitting manner.’

It was strange, thought Victoria; but there was something a little embarrassed in Mamma’s attitude; and there was a slyness about Sir John which she did not like at all.

Afterwards she said to Späth: ‘Mamma was standing very close to Sir John Conroy.’

‘And pray’, said the Baroness. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Why should I mean anything other than what I say? Mamma was standing close to Sir John. I believe he was on the point of kissing her.’

The Baroness caught her breath with horror and put her hand to her mouth.

‘And,’ went on Victoria, ‘she immediately began to reprimand me which, I have noticed, is a habit of people when they seek to defend their own conduct.’

The Baroness was amazed. Did Victoria realise that she was talking about her own Mamma, she demanded.

Victoria retorted that she was at a loss to understand to whom else the Baroness thought she might be referring.

Indeed, since Victoria had been aware of her position she had become a little imperious; and the death of George IV had, she knew full well, heightened the importance of that position. Strangely enough this had been more apparent in her feelings towards her own mother.

It was a situation which the Baroness thought extremely dangerous and, as soon as Victoria was safe in the hands of Mr Steward and was deep in the arithmetic lesson, she hurried to the Baroness Lehzen to tell her what had happened.

Lehzen shook her head. She disliked Sir John as much as Baroness Späth did. He had insulted them by insisting that his wife take precedence over them. But what could they do? He was firmly entrenched in the Duchess’s household – and affections; and they must try to turn a blind eye to what might be going on. It was always better not to see something that was faintly shocking and there were occasions when ignorance could be so much more comforting than knowledge.

They were both very comfortable at Kensington and they both adored Victoria.

But it was Victoria who had
noticed
, pointed out the distressed Späth.

Lehzen said it was a matter which should never be discussed with the Princess, and left it at that. She was wiser than Späth and determined that she was not going to lose her position, for she could not imagine a life that was not dominated by her beloved Princess Victoria.

Victoire Conroy was a vivacious child with a look of her father. She clearly believed that her father’s importance in the household entitled her to very special treatment. The Duchess was after all her godmother and the Princess Victoria her playmate.

The Princess was very imperious and was not very fond of her. A fig for that! thought Victoire. They couldn’t get along here without my Papa.

Victoria had said: ‘I may call you Victoire but you must not call me Victoria. You should address me as Princess or Your Highness.’

‘But …’ began Victoire.

‘There are no buts about it,’ declared Victoria, and swept away.

Victoire put out her tongue at the departing figure.

‘The airs some people give themselves!’ said Victoire to her sister Jane. ‘Victoria is far too haughty towards us considering what she owes to Papa. The Duchess
depends
on him and is very fond of him – so is the Princess Sophia who colours and twitters every time she sees him.’

Victoire took dancing lessons with the Princess because Papa said it was good for the Princess to have companions of her own age. But Victoria preferred her cousins the two Georges because, as she had remarked to Späth in Victoire’s hearing, they were royal. Victoria was becoming very arrogant since the last King died. But Victoire and her sister were going to make sure that she kept her haughtiness for others.

She had spoken to her Papa about it and he laughed. ‘You’re the Duchess’s goddaughter,’ he said. ‘You have a right to respect in this household; and if that woman Späth – or Lehzen for that matter – insults you, stand up for yourself.’

That was Papa’s advice and as Papa ruled the household, Victoire was determined to put it into practice.

Old Späth was sitting knotting – the ridiculous occupation of senile old women, thought Victoire contemptuously. Victoire was angry. She had not been invited to the Princess Sophia’s apartments where Victoria was going to show off how well she could sing. Victoire could imagine the Princess in her white silk dress trimmed with lace and the wide blue satin sash and the little white satin slippers, looking pretty in an insipid sort of way with her plump white arms and her wide blue eyes – and Lehzen would have dressed her fair hair in ringlets.

Victoire was sure that the Princess Sophia would have extended the invitation to her because she would know that to do so would please Papa. She was sure too that the Princess Victoria had deliberately withheld it because now that she was heiress to the throne she felt herself so important that she could go against her mother’s wishes. The Princess, who could never completely mask her feelings, had shown quite clearly that she did not like Sir John.

Victoire sat down beside the Baroness Späth.

‘What are you knotting?’ she asked rudely.

‘That is no concern of yours,’ said the old woman pursing her lips.

‘Do you think I care?’

‘Then why ask?’

There was silence. Then Victoire said sullenly: ‘I wanted to go to the Princess Sophia’s party this afternoon.’

‘Then it’s a pity – from your point of view – that you were not invited.’

‘Was I not invited?’

‘You could answer that question better than I.’

‘I believe I was and that the invitation was withheld.’

‘You are accusing someone?’

‘Victoria may have decided that she did not want me.’

‘Which might be understandable.’

‘If I had been invited I should have been
told
.’

‘You are acting foolishly, child.’

‘Why? Because I say I should have gone to the party? Of course Victoria did not want me. She only wants to be with people who are royal. She prefers to have her cousins, the two Georges, all to herself. She likes boys much better than girls.’

‘How dare you speak so of the Princess!’

‘I will speak as I wish.’

‘You will not criticise the Princess in my hearing.’

‘My father says we should speak the truth.’

‘Do not quote your father to me.’ The Baroness had risen. Her knotting had fallen to her feet; her lips were quivering; she was angry and alarmed. One day there would be a big scandal concerning Sir John Conroy and that was going to be harmful to the dear Duchess and the even more dear Princess Victoria.

‘Why not? He is important. He could have you sent back to where you belong, you old German woman. And he will. He says he will.’

It was more than the Baroness could endure; she walked away catching the knotting string about her ankle and pulling her work along the floor as she went. Victoire broke into peals of laughter and the Baroness picked up the work, her face scarlet, her lips moving angrily as she tried to extricate herself.

When she had done so she walked away to look for the Baroness Lehzen. She was going to tell her at once what had happened and ask her advice as to what action should be taken because she was sure some action must.

The Baroness Lehzen had accompanied Victoria to the Princess Sophia’s apartments and so was not in her room.

How dared that insolent girl say what she had! She was like her father. Oh, why could not the dear Duchess see what vipers she had allowed to enter her household!

She must be made aware … Oh, why wasn’t calm levelheaded Lehzen here.

It was unfortunate for the Baroness that the Duchess of Kent should have chosen to send for her at that time. There was some matter concerning the Princess Victoria she wanted to discuss but the sight of Späth’s indignant flushed face drove the matter from her mind.

‘What has happened?’ she demanded.

‘I have just left that … that insolent child,’ spluttered Späth.

‘Insolent child?’ The Duchess knew very well to whom Späth referred and Späth should know from experience how she disliked anything connected with Sir John Conroy to be disparaged.

‘Victoire Conroy. She … she dared to criticise the Princess Victoria. She said she preferred the company of
boys
…’

‘I believe that to be true. Victoria is always talking of those two cousins of hers.’

‘I could not stand by while that girl made such observations about the Princess.’

‘You are being foolish again,’ said the Duchess coldly. She had never let Späth forget how stupidly she had behaved over Feodora and Augustus d’Este.