Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria (8 page)

But I was never allowed to. I asked Mama why and she grew very red in the face and muttered something about those dreadful FitzClarences.

Later I discovered they were the children and grandchildren of Uncle William's liaison with the actress Dorothy Jordan and Aunt Adelaide had adopted them as her own family when she married Uncle William. More family scandal!

My chief companion at this time was Victoire Conroy whom I never liked because she was her father's daughter, and the older I grew the more resentful I became of his presence in our household. I felt sure I was right to be wary of him because both Lehzen and Spath disliked him too. They did not say much to me—at least Lehzen didn't—but Spath used to purse her lips and mutter “
Das Schwein
.”

Victoire was like her father; she was a little superior and seemed to forget I was a princess, or perhaps she felt that with such an important father, she was of as much consequence as I was.

Several times I asked Mama why I could not go to Aunt Adelaide's
parties and meet gentle George Cambridge, who had the good fortune to live with Aunt Adelaide, and George Cumberland, who might not be as sinister as his parents.

But Mama was adamant. I simply could not go to Bushey because of what I heard her call “The Bastidry.” “And how Adelaide can behave as she does amazes me,” she added.

So I was left to my lessons, the company of Lehzen, my walks, and my dolls.

One day when I was out walking with Lehzen, showing myself to the people, I saw a beautiful doll in a shop window. I stopped and said, “Oh, Lehzen, isn't she lovely!”

Lehzen admitted that she was.

“I should love to have her,” I went on. “I often think the Big Doll does not quite fit in with the others, and that one would be a companion for her.”

The doll was priced at six shillings.

“I will ask your Mama if you may have her,” said Lehzen.

Mama and Lehzen put their heads together to discuss what would be good for me and they came up with the idea that I must not think everything was mine for the asking. I might have the doll if I bought her myself and to do this I must save up my pocket money. In the meantime I could go into the shop and ask them to put the doll on one side until I could pay for it.

That seemed an excellent idea and I liked the thought of buying her myself. It gave me a feeling of independence. The man in the shop was eager to please. He said, certainly he would hold the doll until I had the money to pay for it.

“You won't let anyone else buy her, will you?” I asked anxiously.

His answer was to take a big ticket which he hung around the doll's neck. On it was printed in large letters sold.

I found it exciting to walk past his windows every day and look for the doll. There she was, sitting waiting for me, and with great glee I counted my money each morning. At last I had the six shillings and in great triumph went to collect my darling.

Exultantly I carried her out of the shop but as I was walking along beside Lehzen I saw a poor man sitting on a bench. It always distressed me to see people cold or hungry and I would remember them at night when I was in bed, and think how warm
I
was, how cosseted, and that made me uneasy because it was so unfair.

I was not allowed to speak to people, only to smile and wave my hand when they cheered me. But I did speak to this man. I said, “Wait a moment.” And to Lehzen's horror I ran back to the shop and asked the man there to take back my beautiful doll and give me my six shillings. “Put the sold ticket back,” I said, “and when I have saved it I will come back for her, but now I want my six shillings back.”

He gave me the money and took the doll, putting the sold ticket round her neck.

“What is this?” called Lehzen breathlessly. But I was already off. I put the six shillings into the poor man's hand.

Lehzen was panting behind me. “Princess,” she cried in shocked tones. She was almost in tears, but not angry.

She took my hand firmly. “You are a good sweet child,” she said, and I thought she was going to cry. “I am proud of you.”

What Mama said when the incident was repeated to her, I did not know. I expected to be scolded. But nothing was said. And I saved up six shillings again and in due course the ticket sold was taken from the beautiful doll's neck and she joined my company much, I imagined, to the joy of the Big Doll.

M
AMA AND I
were spending a few days at Claremont. What a joy it was to be there! Uncle Leopold devoted so much time to me and I never wearied of listening to him. He talked of being good and the purpose of life, and how one was born to a certain destiny that it was one's bounden duty to fulfill.

He was so good himself that sometimes I felt he was too good for this life and I trembled at the thought, because that was what was said when people died.

But perhaps he was not quite so good, and he, too, may have had secrets in his life. I did not understand what happened at the time, but I was aware of something. That is so frustrating about being young. One is aware of what goes on and yet does not fully understand its significance. People are secretive and make faces at each other when they think you are not looking—Lehzen and Spath were always doing that—and then one began to ponder. What does that mean? And, there is something very secret—and when it is a secret it is often rather shocking.

This incident occurred in Claremont Park.

One early evening Mama and I were out riding and when I rode with
her I always liked to ride a little ahead of her. This was permitted as long as I kept in sight.

Well, there I was in the park. There was a clearing among the trees and suddenly two women emerged. They stopped short when they saw me, but I rode up to them and said, “Good evening. Who are you?”

The elder lady looked quite taken aback but the younger, who was very beautiful, was quite self-possessed. “Good evening, Your Highness,” she said. “I am Caroline Bauer, Dr. Stockmar's cousin.”

“Oh, Dr. Stockmar's cousin. My uncle is very attached to Dr. Stockmar.”

Mama had arrived. She was staring stonily at the two women. The elder blushed deeply; the younger held her head higher and looked defiant.

Mama said to me, “Come along.” And without a word to the two women, she turned her horse.

I looked at them, bewildered and apologetic, but of course I had to follow Mama.

“How many times have I told you not to speak to strangers?” she demanded.

“But, Mama, they were not strangers. She was Dr. Stockmar's cousin.”

“I should like to know what she was doing in the park.”

“She was visiting her cousin, I expect.”

“Never do such a thing again.”

Of course I knew there was something special about Caroline Bauer. I would ask Lehzen, but she would probably not tell me. Spath might know.

I did discover a little myself because when we returned, Mama told me to go to my room, but before I could do so Uncle Leopold came into the hall.

“Did you enjoy your ride, my darling?” he asked.

“Oh yes, Uncle. I met Dr. Stockmar's cousin.”

Mama looked angrily at me, and even Uncle Leopold was a little abashed.

“Go to your room, Victoria,” said Mama.

And Uncle Leopold made no effort to detain me.

She went off with him into the drawing-room and I have to admit that I hesitated for a while before going up the stairs so I heard her say, “It is terrible. Victoria met that woman.”

“I see no harm,” said Uncle Leopold.

“No harm! To have her here like that! Here… where you lived with Charlotte!”

“It has been many years since Charlotte died.”

The door was shut and I went upstairs.

What did it mean? And why had Mama been so angry because I had met that really rather pleasant young woman and her companion? It was all very mysterious. But I had discovered that Mama was not very pleased with Uncle Leopold and that was a very strange state of affairs.

Later I discovered that Caroline Bauer was Uncle Leopold's mistress. I was shocked a little because, although by then I knew something of the nature of men, I had always thought my dear Uncle Leopold would have been above that sort of thing.

A
UNT ADELAIDE WAS
very worried because people were saying that the Duke of Clarence was going mad. When there is madness in a family people are suspect, and they only have to act with a little eccentricity and they will be labeled crazy.

I knew that Uncle William was a little peculiar; he talked and talked, and very often about nothing; and then he would fly into rages; but I also heard that he was very kind to all his children. There were so many FitzClarences because the grandchildren were now coming along. The Bushey household where they lived with Uncle William and Aunt Adelaide was a very noisy one apparently. The little ones used to slide down the banisters and play all sorts of tricks on Uncle William, but he never minded and just laughed with them. There was a great deal that was rather nice about Uncle William. Oh, how I longed to go to Aunt Adelaide's parties at Bushey! I should not have minded in the least playing with the FitzClarences. I wondered what it felt like to slide down banisters; and couldn't help laughing to think of myself doing that in Kensington Palace.

Aunt Adelaide came to see Mama and they were closeted together. I could see Aunt Adelaide was worried.

Lehzen came to me afterward and spoke to me very seriously. I had to be careful, she said. I must always have someone in attendance.

“But I always have to, Lehzen.”

I listened and questioned Spath and through her discovered that they were all worried about Uncle Cumberland. He lived with the King now
at Windsor Lodge and the King was geting very old and feeble and relying on Cumberland for everything.

Mama said, “It is Cumberland who is really ruling us all. The King is nothing now … nothing at all. And he is trying to get Clarence put away. We know what that means.”

She was talking to Sir John Conroy, not to me, of course, but I did happen to overhear.

Conroy said, “He would stop at nothing.”

“He has proved that. He is a monster. My God, these brothers… they are mad, all of them.”

“Hush, dear lady,” said Conroy. He had seen me come into the room.

“Where is Lehzen?” Mama demanded of me.

“She is just here, Mama.”

Oh yes, they were very frightened about me, and it was because they thought something dreadful could happen to me. Mama did not care a rap if Uncle William should be put away. In fact I think she would have been rather pleased.

What she feared was that some attempt would be made on my life. I used to have bad dreams in which my one-eyed uncle figured. He would not be the first wicked uncle in history.

Mama said I was not to go up and down stairs without a companion. Did she think someone would creep up behind me and push me down?

Then suddenly the danger was removed.

The King died at Windsor.

Poor Uncle King! I was very sad remembering that drive to Virginia Water, and how he had said, “Pop her in.” I am sure if Mama had been friendly with him, and I had visited him more often I should have loved him.

He had been ill for so long, and quite influenced, it was said, by the wicked Duke of Cumberland. He was half blind and at the end he would lie in bed all day with fires burning during the warm weather and drinking quantities of cherry brandy. When they cleared out his apartments they found that he had hoarded clothes over a long time, and his cupboards were full of pantaloons, coats, and boots which must have been there for years. There were five hundred pocket books, all containing money. When they counted this money it came to ten thousand pounds. There were also locks of women's hair, women's gloves, and many love letters.

Dear Uncle King! I wished I had known him when he was young and
handsome and clever and charming. It was a pity that all I had seen was the fat be-wigged, rouged old man, who had somehow managed to charm me just the same.

If I was sad at the King's passing, Mama was not. She could not hide her pleasure.

“And now we have mad William on the throne,” she said, and added with a laugh, “How long will he last, I wonder?”

It was strange to think of Uncle William as King. He was too friendly with everyone. He had no dignity, said Mama. He laughed at his grandchildren—who should never have been there—sliding down the banisters and playing tricks on him. And dear, plain Aunt Adelaide was the Queen.

I could not imagine any pair less like a royal couple.

I W
AS SEATED
in the schoolroom when Lehzen came in and said, “It is time for our history lesson.”

I was rather pleased. History was one of the subjects that I liked.

Lehzen handed me
Howlett's Tables
, in which was the genealogical tree of the Kings and Queens of England. I noticed that an extra page had been pinned into the book.

I said, “What is this? I have not seen it before.”

“No,” said Lehzen, faintly mysterious. “You did not see it because it was not there. But now it is believed that it is necessary for you to see it.”

“Why?”

“Just study it, will you?”

My own name seemed to start out of the page. I saw clearly its significance. Uncle William was King of England. He had no legitimate heirs— and next to him came Victoria.

I raised my eyes to Lehzen's face; she was looking at me with a mixture of love and fear, tenderness and anxiety.

“It means,” I said slowly, “that when Uncle William dies, I shall be Queen.”

Lehzen nodded.

I felt dizzy. So many things seemed to be slipping into place. All Mama's care; all Uncle Cumberland's threats; Mama's insistence on my being given my proper dues. I was destined—very likely—to be Queen of England.

I said shakily, “I am nearer to the throne than I thought.”

“Yes, my dearest,” said Lehzen.

“I understand now why you have all been so anxious for me to learn…even Latin. You told me that Latin is the foundation of elegant expression. Oh, Lehzen, I understand now …I do. I do.”

I put my hand into hers and the tears ran down my cheeks.