The Captive of Kensington Palace (36 page)

It was not until January that they returned to Kensington Palace. It had been a bitterly cold journey, and after spending a night at Sittingbourne they arrived at Kensington in the early afternoon.

The Duchess took Victoria’s hand and with Lehzen hovering showed her the new apartments which would now be hers.

‘The others,’ said the Duchess, ‘were far too small. Most unbecoming. Now that you are convalescent you need more airy rooms.’

‘But it is quite magnificent, Mamma.’

The Duchess snorted. ‘I think sometimes that old buffoon at the Brunswick Hotel forgets that you are a Queen.’

‘But I am not, and if I were it would mean that he were dead. Poor Uncle William. I hope he will live for many years.’

The Duchess grunted. She was a little unsure of her daughter since Sir John had reported on that rather alarming scene in the bedroom. They had to remember that she was growing up. She would be seventeen this year and she was well aware of her importance. It would not be possible to command her now – only to arouse her sense of loyalty and persuade her what she must do out of gratitude in the future for those who in the past had done so much for her.

‘It is very kind of His Majesty to give us these lovely rooms,’ went on Victoria, at which the Duchess laughed.

Victoria went into the bedroom (which she was to share with the Duchess) and admired its lofty ceiling, its spaciousness and the pleasant furniture. It was a great improvement on the old room.

‘Seventeen rooms!’ she cried. ‘Why, Mamma, what a lot of space we shall have.’

‘There is a sitting-room for you and a study. Lehzen can have our old bedroom.’

‘She will like that,’ said Victoria, flushing with pleasure in anticipation of Lehzen’s.

‘I venture to think,’ said the Duchess, ‘that these apartments are a little more worthy of the future Queen.’

Victoria could not wait to hear what Lehzen thought of the changes; but Lehzen was clearly more interested in getting Victoria strong.

‘You’ll have to get back your appetite. Dr Clark said you must eat more bread and butter and I shall myself cook you some nice boiled mutton and make some orange jelly.’

‘Oh, Lehzen, you have this pleasant bedroom and you talk of boiled mutton and orange jelly.’

‘You’re a little wraith and nothing more,’ scolded Lehzen.

‘I used to be rather plump, didn’t I? And look at my hair. There’s scarcely any of it. You remember how thick it used to be.’

‘It’ll be thick again and you’ll soon be plump. You just trust Lehzen.’

And Victoria threw herself into Lehzen’s arms. ‘I do,’ she said. ‘I do trust you … more than anyone in this Palace I trust you.’

Then she felt guilty of disloyalty to the Duchess and so did Lehzen for listening. But they hugged each other and understood; for it was true.

  Chapter XVII  

THE CUMBERLAND PLOT

T
he Duchess of Cumberland, considerably softened since the blindness of her son, was worried. She knew what was going on in her husband’s restless mind. He was not the man to see his plans frustrated and meekly accept that; and she knew that until Victoria was firmly on the throne he would be considering means of preventing her reaching it.

He still confided in her although he was fully aware of her resignation. She had said that if only George’s sight could be restored to him she would ask nothing else of life. Her mother-love had subdued her ambition and he was not sure whether or not he admired her for this. He missed the scheming woman he had married; but he was glad to find the devoted mother. He too cared only for the two of them – wild Frederica whose past had been as devious as his own, and young George whom blindness seemed to be turning into a saint.

But he was not going to give up his ambitions.

‘Ernest,’ said the Duchess to him one January morning when Victoria was still by the sea recovering from her attack of typhoid fever, ‘why don’t you accept what life has given you? You will find the kingdom of Hanover very much to your taste.’

‘My taste is for a larger kingdom.’

‘I know, but a small one is better than none.’

‘Do you think I should stand aside and let that woman govern England, for that is what she will do if Victoria is Queen.’

‘How can you do anything else but stand aside?’

‘I am not without influence.’

‘Are you thinking of the Orange Lodges?’

‘Of course I am thinking of the Orange Lodges. My hopes lie with them. There are 145,000 men in England who would be ready to spring to arms to defend the Protestant cause.’

‘But the King is not a Catholic.’

‘He is very friendly with Mrs Fitzherbert.’

The Duchess laughed. ‘Oh come, Ernest, you can scarcely expect me to be taken in by such talk. You know there is no danger of England’s becoming Catholic and your Orangemen need not leap to her defence. Why not admit the truth … that you are ready to fight to wrest the throne from William … or at least to take over on his death?’

‘You know what this means. Victoria is too young to rule; that mother of hers – that nuisance of a Duchess – would be virtually ruler of England. The country would rise up and call blessed one who averts such a calamity. Victoria … a minor. That woman Regent.’

‘William is not dead yet.’

‘No, but he’s half way to madness they say. He’ll have to be put away sooner or later like his father.’

‘Ernest, you must be careful. You have suffered a certain amount of notoriety. The country would not welcome civil war.’

‘When the people saw that it put a real King on the throne they would think it worth while.’

‘How much better if William appointed you his heir.’

‘How can he? That girl comes next. We ought to have the Salic law in this country. Women should be excluded from the throne.’

‘At least, she won’t have Hanover.’

‘Hanover. Who would not barter Hanover for England?’

‘But you cannot have England while Victoria lives.’

The Duke narrowed his eyes. Is it true, wondered the Duchess, that if he had an opportunity he would murder Victoria? A fearful thought but the girl meant nothing to him but an impediment that barred his way to ambition. The Duchess shivered. Ernest would go too far if he attempted to remove Victoria, who was already winning popularity. If she suddenly died of some mysterious illness Ernest would be suspected. Oh, why had her darling boy had to have this terrible accident! If he had not been stricken with blindness and had married Victoria, Ernest might have been satisfied.

But now he was extremely dissatisfied and she was afraid of what he would do. He had these men ready to follow him. Besides the English there were 125,000 men in Ireland. It was to have such an army at his command that he had joined the Lodge and become its Grand Master. There was no end to his ambition.

‘This country needs a strong man,’ he said. ‘Any means to bring him to the throne should be employed.’

‘Any means, Ernest?’

‘Any means,’ he repeated firmly.

‘She is quite a pleasant creature – Victoria.’

‘She is a child, governed by that impossible nuisance of a woman. Anything is permissible which would prevent Madam Kent having a hand in government.’

The Duchess said: ‘Remember …’

And he knew what she meant. Some years ago he had had a plan to get rid of Victoria; he had wanted her at Windsor where he was living at that time in the household of George IV; and he had set rumours in motion that the child was a weakling, not expected to live. But her mother had foiled that by parading the child in the park – ‘plump as a partridge’, as it had been said, glowing with health. His schemes had reacted on himself and sinister rumours had again surrounded him.

It would be unpleasant if the rumours that he was planning to murder Victoria were started up again.

He avoided his Duchess’s eye. He said: ‘I am commanded to dine with the King at Windsor. He is not well.’ He laughed rather unpleasantly. ‘Every time I see William I wonder how much longer he can live …’

‘Out of a strait-jacket?’

‘I was thinking of the grave.’

‘Poor William. I’d rather the grave than the strait-jacket.’

‘I think that was what our father always thought – but he had both. And if William doesn’t die soon it’ll be the same for him. He would have been put away by now but for Adelaide.’

‘I don’t think we consider Adelaide enough. She’s much less insignificant than is generally believed.’

‘It’s true, but once William has gone she will have no significance whatsoever. I don’t concern myself with Adelaide. It’s Victoria I have to think about. That chit should be set aside. A girl … what good is a girl to a country that needs a strong man?’

‘People might recall Queens Elizabeth and Anne.’

‘Bah!’ said the Duke. ‘They weren’t brought up by the Duchess of Kent.’

‘It is time you left for Windsor,’ said the Duchess. ‘And, Ernest … have a care.’

The old fellow was certainly looking ill, thought Cumberland. And the Queen was a poor thing, too.

‘She works too hard,’ said the King. ‘And her cough’s troublesome.’

‘She must take greater care of herself,’ replied Cumberland.

Adelaide wanted to know how young George was.

‘He is unchanged,’ said his father; and the Queen’s eyes filled with tears.

‘Is there nothing that can be done?’

‘If Graefe can do nothing, nobody can.’

‘Poor, poor George! I know how the Duchess suffers.’

Cumberland thought: This is not like a royal court. William has no idea of kingliness and Adelaide is too domesticated. She means well but what a travesty of royalty.

He began to think of how different it would be when he was King. It was so easy to enrage the people. They hated Adelaide already. If he could make them believe that there was a danger of that poor old dotard William’s turning Catholic, his coup would succeed in a few days – weeks at the most. As for Victoria … she might be agreeable to stand aside. What did a chit of a girl want with a throne?

The King said it was time to go in to dinner and in his usual informal way he went among his guests exchanging greetings with them as though he were some country squire rather than the Sovereign of a great country.

Surely, thought Cumberland, these people must be laughing at him behind his back. Surely they would be pleased to see a real monarch on the throne.

After the meal, Ernest as the King’s brother proposed the royal toast. He noticed that those assembled drank it without a great deal of enthusiasm. This made Ernest daring. He would make an experiment; he would see what the reaction would be.

He rose and raising his glass cried in a loud voice: ‘The King’s heir, God bless him.’

William stared at him, his face growing red with sudden anger. He had heard the rumours; he knew what an ambitious man his brother Cumberland was. Did he think he was going to do away with tradition? Did he think that he was going to sweep away the true heir to the throne? William could not abide the Duchess of Kent; in fact he hated the woman more than he hated anyone; but that did not mean that her daughter was not the rightful heir.

He stood up and lifting his glass and glaring at his brother he cried: ‘The King’s heir, God bless
her
.’

For a few dramatic seconds the two brothers stared at each other. Cumberland was very well aware that the company was with the King, and that he had committed a major error in betraying his ambitions so blatantly.

This affair of Cumberland’s toast was widely discussed in political and Court circles.

The Duchess realised that her husband had once more through his impetuous conduct spoiled his own game. So it had been when he had set rumours in motion about Victoria’s health. It had been so easy to refute these by parading the child. If he had wished to woo the public he should not have accumulated such a fearful reputation, so that the world was ready to believe the worst of him.

What did Cumberland mean by such a toast? The King’s heir, God bless
him
. It could only mean one thing – that he believed that the Princess Victoria was either going to die or be deposed. This was a man who had been suspected of murder. What did it mean?

A certain Joseph Hume, a careful Scotsman who had risen from somewhat humble origins – his mother had kept a crockery stall in Montrose – and who was a man of great energy and determination, decided that this was a good opportunity to attack the Orange Society. Hume, whose mother’s hard work had enabled him to become a surgeon, had later gone into Parliament and had called attention to himself by exposing abuses.

He had long been aware that the Orange Lodges were a menace, and considering the association of the Duke of Cumberland with them he believed that they were to be used in an endeavour to change the succession. He decided to raise a question in the House of Commons regarding the purpose of the Orange Lodges and the Duke of Cumberland’s connection with them.

So once again the Duke’s hasty action had foiled his own plans.

He immediately capitulated. He declared that the rumours concerning him and his motives were entirely false. He had never thought of changing the succession. Such a thing, he declared, was impossible. He could not understand how such rumours had started.