The Captive of Kensington Palace (39 page)

Albert had taken to Leopold when he was a little fellow just over a year old. His enormous blue eyes had regarded his uncle with adoration; he had shown his pleasure to be near him and had constantly put his arms about his uncle’s neck and kissed him. This was gratifying to Leopold who greatly desired the adoration of the young members of his family.

After the divorce between Albert’s parents, Leopold had felt himself to be even more the boy’s guardian and had kept in constant touch with him as he had with Victoria. He was determined on a marriage between his nephew and niece; everything told him that they were ideally suited; moreover, they both turned to him naturally and that would mean that when Victoria was Queen and Albert her consort there would be no diversity of opinion between them, for they had both been brought up to trust and adore Uncle Leopold.

Some time before he had arranged for the cousins to meet, Leopold had sent his friend and physician, Baron Christian Friedrich von Stockmar, to Albert. Leopold trusted Stockmar more than any man he knew; and he wanted his opinion of Albert and for him to be with Albert to advise him in the difficult role which Leopold had chosen for him.

The Baron at this time was some fifty years old; he was a native of Coburg, and had been in Leopold’s service even before his marriage to the Princess Charlotte. Stockmar was no respecter of persons, no seeker after favours. He was just the man on whom Leopold could rely in the delicate task of bringing these two young people together.

His report on Albert was encouraging:

‘He is a fine young fellow,’ he wrote to Leopold, ‘well grown for his age and with agreeable and valuable qualities; and who, if things go well, may in a few years turn out a strong handsome man of a kindly, simple yet dignified demeanour. Externally, therefore, he possesses all that pleases the sex, and at all times and in all countries must please. It may prove too a lucky circumstance, that even now he has something of an English look.’

Very encouraging, thought Leopold.

Stockmar, who was of course well aware of his master’s intentions, wrote later:

‘But it must be made a
sine qua non
that the object of the visit must be kept strictly secret from the Princess as well as from the Prince, so as to leave them completely at their ease.’

But of course Stockmar did not know Victoria. The very fact that she knew Leopold had chosen Albert for her would predispose her in his favour; as for Albert, his grandmothers had talked so often of the possibilities of a match with England that he could not think of the Princess Victoria in any connection than as that of a possible wife.

These two young people were Leopold’s creatures and they had been so accustomed to regarding him as a superior being that they would continue to do so.

And just as he was about to set his plans in motion that old fool of a King had decided to frustrate him. Victoria’s uncles had seemed a poor lot to Leopold. His own father-in-law, George IV, had disliked him from the start and had done all he could to frustrate his match with his daughter, but at least he had been a man of taste and culture. William was a coarse sailor and a fool at that. And if he were not careful the plan he had had brewing for years could be frustrated.

Orange! No, it was too much to be borne. He did not fear Cambridge half as much; and Cumberland, being blind, was out of the running. The Duchess had made sure that Victoria did not see much of her cousins on her father’s side; naturally she was all for a husband from her own side of the family. And he could trust his sister. But if the King brought Orange in, who knew what could happen? What sort of a man was the Young Prince of Orange? Victoria was so impressionable, her mother said. So she was; the dear child was brimming over with affection. But no, he, Leopold, had made it clear that he wanted her to choose Albert. He could trust Victoria.

He took up his pen and wrote to her:

‘I am really astonished at the conduct of your old uncle the King. This invitation to the Prince of Orange is very extraordinary …’

His anger was so great that the pen was shaking in his hands. The Duchess had told him that Victoria was inclined to be very fond of her Aunt Adelaide and that she had an affection for the King too. They were on the spot. They might have some influence. Leopold was well aware that Victoria was leaning farther and farther from her mother, and that her dislike of Sir John Conroy was growing into hatred.

‘I had a communication hinting that it would be highly desirable that the visit of
your
relatives should not take place this year … I have never heard of anything like it and I hope it will arouse your spirit. Slavery has recently been abolished in the British colonies. I do not understand why you should be kept as a little white slave in England for the pleasure of the Court. I am not aware of the King’s having spent a sixpence on you; and I have no doubt that in his passion for the Oranges, the King will be excessively rude to your relations. This will not signify much. They will be
your
guests not his.’

Angrily he sealed the letter and sent it off at once. Then he felt better. Once Victoria knew what his wishes were she would act accordingly.

Victoria and the Duchess stood in the hall waiting to greet their guests.

Victoria’s heart was beating wildly beneath her rather prim white dress. ‘Albert and Ernest’ it seemed to be saying. ‘Ernest and Albert’ – the cousins whom dearest Uncle Leopold so fervently wanted her to love.

And here they were – Uncle Ernest a few paces ahead of them, embracing Mamma, and Mamma looked younger, tender and very, very happy. Now it was her turn.

Uncle Ernest held her tightly against him. It was too emotional a moment for ceremony.

‘And your cousins are longing to kiss your hand.’

Ernest first because he was the eldest – tall, dark-haired and very, very handsome. ‘Dear cousin Ernest, what a joy for us to meet at last!’

And Albert. As tall as Ernest she noticed, but not so dark – more my colour with big blue eyes – such beautiful eyes – a little stouter then Ernest who was just a little too thin – and a handsome nose and mouth and such white teeth.

They were charming and so clever and intelligent – both of them.

Her hand was held and kissed and the large blue eyes of Victoria met those of Albert and she wondered a little apprehensively if he thought she was as handsome as she found him.

‘Let us go upstairs,’ said Mamma.

She led the way with her brother and Victoria fell into step between the two cousins. They smiled at each other and the cousins talked to her in English which they spoke well and she thought how poised they were, what men of the world, far more sophisticated than Ferdinand and Augustus. Oh yes, Ferdinand and Augustus were ‘new in the world’ – not so dear Ernest and dear Albert.

Upstairs in the drawing-room Ernest was telling his cousin Victoria that he would be eighteen in a month.

‘My seventeenth birthday is only a few days away,’ Victoria replied.

‘Then Albert is the youngest for he will not be seventeen until August.’

Victoria smiled at Albert. She rather enjoyed the idea of being a little older than he was.

Uncle Ernest said he had a present for Victoria and the Duchess ordered that it be brought into the drawing-room. It turned out to be a lory which was so tame that she was able to hold it in her hand.

‘You may put your finger in its mouth and it will not bite you,’ Albert told her.

She promptly did so, laughing with delight.

‘Such glorious colours,’ she cried. ‘Purple and brown, red, blue and yellow. I shall sketch and paint him afterwards. Oh, I love him already. He is bigger than your grey parrot, Mamma.’

The Duchess agreed that he was, and they all went to see the grey parrot and Victoria told the cousins how Mamma had bought him from a man on the roadside when they were taking one of their walks.

‘You must not forget,’ said the Duchess to Victoria, ‘that you are dining with the Archbishop of York.’

Victoria looked so downhearted that everyone laughed.

‘It appears to me,’ said the Duchess in a pleased voice, ‘that you would prefer the company of your uncle and cousins.’

‘It’s true,’ admitted Victoria.

‘So soon,’ asked Albert who, she noticed, was never at a loss.

‘Yes, so soon,’ she replied.

The Duchess thought: A good beginning. Leopold will be pleased.

What a happy visit! What a pleasure to wake up every morning and think: My cousins are here. What shall we do today? I can go riding with them. I can sketch with them. They could both draw well – particularly Albert. They loved music and could play the piano. This they did charmingly. Particularly Albert.

How they laughed together! They were so easily amused and yet they could be so grown up.

They were the most fascinating cousins anyone could have.

Her seventeenth birthday came. But there was little time for writing in the Journal now. She did record it though.

‘I awoke at seven. Today I completed my seventeenth year; a very old person I am indeed.’

A very old person! One more year and she would be quite grown up. She was really looking forward to that very much.

Then she began to wonder what life would be like when the cousins had gone. How desolate! Not to walk with dear Albert … and Ernest; not to listen to their merry jokes and marvel at the way they suddenly became very solemn and grown up and talked about serious matters!

I shall be far more sad than when Ferdinand and Augustus went, she thought.

‘I’ll not have those damned Coburgs at Windsor,’ said the King.

‘Perhaps a brief visit,’ suggested Adelaide.

‘Just a brief one,’ Lady de l’Isle backed her up.

The King growled and supposed he’d have to receive them. He had to entertain the Oranges in any case.

‘But they’ll not get a ball,’ he insisted.

Never mind. He received them and there was no friction during their brief stay at Court.

They and Victoria were glad to be back in Kensington where the Duchess gave a ball for them and Victoria had the pleasure of dancing with her cousins.

Albert secretly found it all rather tiring. He was not fond of the social life and he thought the rooms overheated. He would have liked to be in his room reading – perhaps to Victoria – but not dancing which he found rather fatiguing.

He tried not to give any indication of this; he was aware that Uncle Leopold – that oracle of wisdom – wished him to like Victoria and her to like him, and he was determined to do his duty. Apart from the physical exertion required this was no hardship, for Victoria was an enchanting girl; she was so eager to please. He liked the times better when they talked or played the piano or sang and sketched together. The manner in which he was expected to stand at levees tired him considerably. He did not like the late hours which so delighted Victoria; he longed for his bed. Stockmar had said that he was growing too fast and that was why he was so drowsy early in the evenings. Once he grew so pale and looked so ready to faint that Victoria noticed. She was ‘all concern and there was that sweet anxious voice beside him. Dear Albert, are you sure you feel quite well?’