So to the sea they went and there she gave birth to her boy who was adopted by a worthy couple; and the Colonel who had become a General doted on him and arranged his future for him and he was indeed a fine fellow now, almost thirty – a son to be proud of.
He came to Kensington to see her now and then. He knew of the relationship and was proud of it; but although brother William might openly acknowledge his ten FitzClarences borne to him by the actress Dorothy Jordan, it seemed a very different matter for a royal Princess to admit she was the mother of an illegitimate son.
‘So many scandals in the family,’ she murmured and picked up her netting. Was there another family with so many? The dear King’s life was one long scandal; her second brother Frederick, now dead, had created the biggest scandal of all when he had been accused of allowing his mistress Mary Anne Clarke to sell commissions in the Army of which he was Commander-in-Chief; then William, who had set up his house with Dorothy Jordan who had given him ten children; and Edward, Victoria’s father, who had lived with Madame de St Laurent for years (respectably it was true but without marriage lines); and Ernest, Duke of Cumberland … the less said of him the better. Many people shuddered every time they heard his name. Augustus, now living in this Palace tending his collection of clocks and bibles, accompanied everywhere by his dear friend Lady Buggin, though mild enough was scarcely without reproach; and only Adolphus in far away Hanover lived the exemplary life of a married man.
There never was a family so deep in scandal, thought Sophia.
And how strange that she should have had her share of it!
Perhaps her son would come today, by way of the back stairs. ‘Madam, a gentleman to see you.’ And they talked of course, for they knew. It was impossible to keep royal scandals secret.
My boy … my very own boy, she thought. At least I did something.
And if the boy perhaps did not come someone else would – perhaps that tall commanding gentleman whom she admired so much and was so charming and so courteous to her that he reminded her of the days when Colonel Garth had loved her so devotedly.
There was no doubt that Sir John Conroy was a very charming man. The Duchess of Kent realised this. Of course she was younger than Sophia; and beautiful too in a flamboyant way. Dear George did not think her attractive, but then he had his own views of beauty. She secretly believed he compared all women with Maria Fitzherbert. No, the Duchess was too showy and she was not of course of the same rank as a daughter of the King of England.
So it was rather pleasant sitting by the fire, dreaming of the past. I wouldn’t have had it different, she thought.
Perhaps he’ll come to see me today. And if he doesn’t, perhaps Sir John will look in.
It was comforting to have something to look forward to.
In the nursery the Princess Victoria was whispering to her dolls.
‘Darling Feodora will soon be leaving us. She is going away … to Germany to be exact and although she says we shall see each other often, I believe she says it only to comfort me.’ She shook the doll with the ruff impatiently. ‘You are not listening. You would not. You are more interested in your own affairs, I daresay.’
The wooden face stared back, as Victoria clicked her tongue and smoothed down the farthingale. This was the most glittering of the dolls and the one singled out for abuse. It was amusing to slap Queen Elizabeth now and then. ‘You may have been a good Queen,’ said Victoria now, ‘but I do not think you were a very good person.’ And dear Amy Robsart with her satin gown and ribbons was picked up and hugged to Victoria’s plump person.
‘Feodora is going to be married,’ she went on, ‘and my only hope is that Ernest Hohenlohe-Langenburg will make her a good husband.’ Then Victoria began to realise what it would be like in the nursery without Feodora and tears filled her eyes.
Baroness Lehzen rose from her chair in the window and came over.
I am never allowed to be alone for a minute! thought Victoria resentfully. They watch me all the time.
The Baroness could never quite control her features when she looked at her charge. The words might be stern, the rule rigid, but the devotion was always obvious – and to none more than Victoria herself. Dear Louise Lehzen – so recently Fräulein and now awarded with a Hanoverian title in accordance with the dignity of her role in life. Lehzen – and of course Mamma, the Duchess of Kent – ruled Victoria’s days as they had Feodora’s, but now the bonds which bound Victoria’s half-sister were slackening. Feodora was going to be married.
‘Talking to the dolls again?’ enquired Lehzen.
‘I was telling them about poor Feodora.’
‘Poor Feodora! When she is going to marry the man your dear Mamma has chosen for her!’
‘I think she would rather stay with me.’
‘Nonsense!’ said the Baroness. ‘And what have you been doing to Queen Elizabeth’s ruff?’
Lehzen loved the dolls as much as Victoria did; in fact she had made some of them. And because many of them represented figures of history it was decided that they were a frivolity with some educational advantages.
Lehzen adjusted the ruff. She sighed to herself. Marriages were disturbing. She was fond of Feodora but the little Victoria was her life; and when she had been selected to become her governess she had entered into the task with the dedication of a nun taking her vows. Victoria was no ordinary child. If all went as the Duchess of Kent and Lehzen nightly prayed it would, this plump lively child could be the Queen of England. But what a torment it was to contemplate that all might not go as they wished. There were obstacles. At the moment only William, Duke of Clarence, stood between her and the throne; but William had a youngish wife, Adelaide, and although she had had several miscarriages she had at least proved that she could conceive – and there was no doubt that this was her main object in life – and if a child of hers should live … away would go Victoria’s chance of mounting the throne.
It was unbearable! It was unthinkable. Neither the Duchess nor the faithful Lehzen would allow themselves to believe for a moment that it would really happen; but there was always the lurking fear that it might.
In the meantime dear little Victoria must be guarded at every moment of the day, because not only did William stand before her but there was her wicked uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, who the two watchdogs – as Cumberland had called the Duchess and the Baroness – knew was capable of any unscrupulous action to remove Victoria from his path. The old King was still living between melancholy solitude in his Gothic cottage in Windsor Park and oriental splendour at Carlton House and the Pavilion. He was on the point of death – but then, for the last ten years he had been in that situation – so depressing for him but so exciting for others, as the Duchess had remarked to Lehzen. And the fact remained that it was for those two women – so united in their dedicated cause – to keep Victoria safe for the throne.
The Duke of Cumberland was a constant bogy; he and his Duchess had unsavoury reputations; both may well have been guilty of murder; the Duke was once in a very awkward position over the death of his valet who had been discovered dead in his master’s blood-spattered apartments; and the Duke had been wounded too. As the Duke’s reputation with women was well known and the valet had an exceptionally pretty wife, certain conclusions were drawn – although not proved. For how could a royal Duke be expected, or allowed, to stand in the dock of a court of law? With the Duchess it was a question of husbands. Two who had become a trial to her had died mysteriously.