Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria (9 page)

“My little one,” said Lehzen, “you will do well…very well.”

“Many boast of the splendors of such a position,” I said. “But there are difficulties too.” I raised my hand a little and added solemnly, “I will be good.”

M
Y DISCOVERY COULD NOT FAIL TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE. THE
possibility of being Queen was dazzling. I daresay I assumed new airs and graces. That was inevitable; however, I tried to remind myself that although all the balls and banquets, riding through the streets in a splendid carriage, and waving to the loyal people would be the greatest of pleasures, I must remember the responsibilities too. I recalled the poor man to whom I had given six shillings. He and many like him would be my subjects. I wanted to make them all happy, as well as to live in a pleasant state myself.

I became more restless. I hated the restrictions of life in the Palace. Uncle Cumberland was out of favor now. The new King, William, had denounced him and made it clear that he would not have him trying to guide him as he had their brother George. I was free now of that threat. Cumberland would not dare to harm one whose ascension to the throne was imminent. Uncle George's death had made a great difference.

I used to lie in my white-painted French bed with the chintz curtains and pretend to be asleep when Lehzen sat there waiting for Mama to come to bed, and tell myself that I was nothing more than a captive. They watched everything I did.

It was a great trial to be heir presumptive to the throne, to be guarded day and night and be only eleven years old. I felt there was so much I ought to know and there was no one except Lehzen and Spath in whom I could confide. I loved Spath very much, and Lehzen more than anyone else, but if I broached certain subjects, a barrier would always be drawn up and I could see in their eyes—even dear Spath's who was much more inclined to be indiscreet than Lehzen—that it was Not Good for the Child to Know … just yet. If Feodore had been there it would have been different. Oh, how I missed Feodore! But when people are absent for a long time they grow away from one; and I could read in dear Feodore's
letters that she was becoming more and more accustomed to life with her Ernest, of whom she seemed to grow more and more fond, and was not only reconciled but was enjoying married life with its prospect of motherhood.

So surrounded as I was by people who were determined to protect me, and never let me be by myself, oddly enough I often felt alone.

I was very careful how I behaved, and tried not to show any difference in my conduct from what it had been before I knew of my possible future.

I smiled to remember how arrogant I had been when I was about six years old and I had already been aware that I belonged to the royal family. When little Lady Jane Ellice had been brought to play with me, I had adopted a superior attitude to her and told her she must not play with the toys that were mine. “Though I may call you Jane,” I informed her, “you must not call me Victoria, but Princess or Highness.” I still remember the blank look on little Jane's face, and how she turned away and started to play by herself.

There must be nothing like that now that I was older and wiser. But eleven is still not very old, less still a wise age.

Ever since I had met Dr. Stockmar's cousin in the grounds, Mama had not been quite so effusively fond of Uncle Leopold. I sensed this because, I suppose, at that time Uncle Leopold was the most important person in my life—with perhaps the exception of Lehzen.

I was a little uneasy and meant to ask Uncle Leopold why Mama was displeased with him because Dr. Stockmar's cousin was at Claremont, but before I had the opportunity a matter of great importance drove it from my mind.

I was paying one of my cherished visits to Claremont.

Uncle Leopold greeted me with great pleasure, and there was dear Louisa Lewis looking so happy because I had come. I was delighted to be there but I noticed immediately that Uncle Leopold was looking a little strained. I asked after his health and he told me he suffered cruelly from insomnia.

“Dear Uncle, you work too hard.”

“I could not be happy if I did not do my duty.”

“But I must insist that you rest more.”

“My dearest little Doctor Victoria, rest is not so easily come by. My rheumatism is particularly painful at night.”

“It is so wrong that you who are so good should suffer so.”

Uncle Leopold sighed. “It is my fate, dear child, I fear.”

He looked at me sadly and I thought tenderly of all his ailments: his built-up shoes which gave comfort to his feet; his wig to keep his head warm; and the feather boa he sometimes wore to keep the cold from his shoulders. Yet in spite of all these weaknesses Uncle Leopold did not look in the least like an invalid.

I should never forget that he had given up the crown of Greece to be with me. He had reminded me of it many times.

“How many men would give a great deal to be a king!” he had said. “I happen to think that life would be more rewarding guiding one who is dearer to me than anyone else since my beloved Charlotte died.”

Dear Uncle Leopold, who had given me so much!

“My dear little Victoria,” he said. “I want to talk to you…very seriously.”

I was surprised because it seemed to me that Uncle Leopold never talked in any other way than seriously.

“I have pondered long over this matter and have at last come to a conclusion. I am deeply concerned about the Belgian people who have severed their connection with Holland.”

“Is that a bad thing, Uncle?”

“It could be a very good thing. You see they need a ruler…a strong ruler. They need a king.”

“Perhaps they will have one.”

“Yes, my child, they are going to have one. You see him before you.”

I looked round sharply.

“No, my dearest. Here.”

“You, Uncle Leopold?”

“None other.”

“You are the King of the Belgians! But Uncle…”

“They have offered me the crown. I have had sleepless nights thinking of the matter.”

“You often have sleepless nights, Uncle.”

“Yes…yes… but more since this proposition was made to me.”

I waited. I was beginning to feel very apprehensive.

“I know now where my duty lies. The saddest thing will be to say goodbye to my dear little niece.”

“So…you are going away?”

“I must, my child. All my inclinations are to stay here…to be near you…to guide you…as I have done all these years. But I know in my
heart that my duty is to my Belgian subjects. So, my dearest Victoria, I am going away. Oh, we shall be in constant contact. You write such interesting letters. They will sustain me in all my tasks. I shall watch for them …Indeed I shall watch over you…I shall never be far away from you… and I shall want to know all that goes on.”

Desolation swept over me and Uncle Leopold and I wept together.

I was going to lose him. There would be no more visits to Claremont. And if by some chance there were, how empty the place would be without him.

I went back to the Palace and told Lehzen. She was dismayed too.

Mama did not seem as unhappy as I thought she might be. Of course she admired Uncle Leopold greatly and always discussed important matters with him, but since the visit of Caroline Bauer and her mother to Claremont, she had not been quite the same.

I overheard Lehzen and Spath discussing Uncle Leopold's departure.

Spath said in a voice of foreboding, “This means that that man will have more and more sway.”

Growing up made one knowledgeable so I knew she was referring to Sir John Conroy.

I was very melancholy. Life could become sad so unexpectedly. First I had lost my beloved sister and now—devastating blow—my dear, dear Uncle Leopold.

I W
AS BECOMING
more and more aware of Sir John Conroy.

Now that Uncle Leopold had gone Mama seemed constantly in his company. My Aunt Sophia often came from her apartments in the Palace to ours, and she, too, seemed to like him very much. They were always laughing together and Mama seemed quite different when he was there; her expression softened and her voice changed when she spoke to him.

When I mentioned this to Lehzen she said sharply, “Nonsense!”

I wished that Feodore was there so that I could talk about it with her.

I had always found it difficult to veil my feelings and while I was perhaps overflowing with affection for those I liked and was—Mama said— too demonstrative, when I disliked people I could not help showing that either.

I must have shown that I did not like Sir John.

I knew that Lehzen and Spath also did not like him. He used to look at them very sardonically, with a rather unpleasant expression in his eyes.
I heard him speak of them both quite disparagingly to Mama when I was present. He said Spath was a silly blundering old woman, and he sneered at Lehzen's plebeian habit of munching caraway seeds. What shocked me was that Mama laughed with him, which I thought was disloyal to dear Lehzen who had been such a good friend to us both.

Sir John was a man who had a very high opinion of himself. I found out quite a lot about him because since the departure of Uncle Leopold he seemed to be forcing himself on my attention. He had abandoned his career in the Army to enter my father's service. He was half Irish and had an estate in Ireland that brought him a small income. He was an adventurer really; and had a swaggering way with him and seemed very confident that people—particularly women—were going to find him irresistible. He might have had some cause for this because Mama did seem to like him very much, and so did Aunt Sophia and several women of the household. I did not dislike Lady Conroy, but she was so insignificant that one hardly noticed her. His daughter Victoire gave herself airs and was certainly not my favorite companion. I felt I had continually to remind the Conroys that
I
did not regard them as of any great importance.

Victoire in particular was constantly referring to her father as though he were the head of the household. “My father says this …”

“My father says that …” And she behaved as though these pronouncements were law.

It was through her that I learned of the sneering remarks he made about my father's relations.

The King was mad, said Victoire to me; and she referred to Aunt Adelaide as “Her Spotted Majesty,” which was because Aunt Adelaide's skin was not very clear and there were sometimes blotches on it—a remark that must have come from her father because it was just the spiteful sort of thing he would say. She also told me that Aunt Adelaide wanted me to marry one of those horrid little Georges, and that her father was going to see that
that
never happened.

Victoire was always talking about the
Bâtards
who were trying to get all they could out of the King. She meant the FitzClarence children. She said it was disgraceful that they were allowed to come to Court, and her father had said that I should be forbidden to mingle with them.

It was infuriating to be told these things through Victoire and when I said this to Mama all she said was, “Oh, she is only a child and
you
should control your temper.”

I mentioned it to Lehzen, too. She was very distressed and poor old Spath said, “I don't know what things are coming to in this household. Now that the good King of the Belgians is no longer with us, things have changed for the worse.”

It was not only my relations whom Sir John sneered at. He made fun of me because he knew I did not like him.

“And how are the little dollies?” he would say, and there was a snigger in his voice as though he were implying what a child I was to be playing with dolls at my age. One could not explain to such a man that they were not ordinary dolls.

Then he would make fun of me. “You are getting more and more like the Duke of Gloucester every day.”

The Duke of Gloucester, who had married my Aunt Mary, was the most unprepossessing of men, and he was commonly known as Silly Billy because he was not very bright.

He could have reduced me to tears if he had not made me so very angry.

But these were small irritations, and I was to learn what real trouble this man could make.

One day when I was to present myself to Mama I went to her apartments. Spath was with me, but I ran on ahead.

When I entered the room Sir John Conroy was with Mama and they were talking together. I heard the words, “…a Regency… for the old man cannot live till she is of age…”

My mother was standing very close to Sir John and he was holding her hand.

I heard him say, “What a beautiful Regent you will make!”

I gasped because I thought he was going to kiss her.

Mama saw me then. Spath had come in and was hovering behind me.

Mama's color was very high and her earrings shook angrily. She seemed to quiver more than usual.

“Victoria,” she said in an angry voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Mama, it is my time for coming to you.”

“Dear me! You should not walk about so stealthily.”

I was often accused of boisterousness. This was something new. I felt very uneasy.

“Well, now you are here…”

“I see the Princess is not unaccompanied,” said Sir John in his sneering voice.

My mother frowned. “Oh …Spath …” The very way in which she said the poor Baroness's name was contemptuous. “It's you. Well, you will not be needed.”