The Duchess of Kent often whispered of these matters to the faithful Baronesses Lehzen and Späth (both German members of her household and therefore to be trusted) and asked: ‘If they were capable of murdering a jealous valet and unwanted husbands might not they be capable of acting similarly towards one who stood in the way of their path to the throne ?’
Lehzen, shivering, agreed; and in consequence the Princess Victoria was never allowed to be alone. Some trustworthy person must always be in attendance – her mother, one of the Baronesses, her sister Feodora or one of her tutors.
In the past it had been easier but now that Victoria was growing up – and showing a certain imperiousness it must be admitted, for how difficult it was to keep the knowledge of her importance from her – it was becoming something of a problem to keep her under constant supervision.
But the Duchess was certainly mistress in her own household. A woman who was capable of conducting a feud with the reigning King was undoubtedly equipped to rule her own circle. Victoria was made well aware that in all circumstances she must obey Mamma. But Victoria was wayward. Only the other day her music master had reported evidence of this to the Duchess – for all the tutors knew that the Duchess wished every little incident concerning her daughter to be reported to her. The Princess Victoria was very fond of music and had on occasion been known to attempt to cajole her tutors, that there might be music instead of some less interesting lesson. But even in music she did not always work as she should and on this occasion her tutor had seen fit to reprove her.
‘There is no royal road to music, Princess,’ he had said. ‘You must practise like everyone else.’
Whereupon Victoria had assumed her most imperious expression and had promptly shut the piano, locked it and put the key in her pocket. Rising haughtily and with the air of the Queen her mother and Lehzen longed for her to be, said: ‘There now. You see there is no must about it.’
Arrogance which must be punished, had been the Duchess’s verdict. ‘And yet,’ the doting Lehzen reminded her, ‘a certain queenliness, does not Your Grace agree? A royal determination not to be dictated to?’
The Duchess nodded; but they agreed that such waywardness must not go unchecked.
The child was truthful; one of the finest traits in her character was her frankness and her inability to tell a lie even to extricate herself from an awkward situation. She was subject to sudden outbreaks of temper. These ‘storms’ were regrettable and must be controlled. Only recently when the Duchess had come into the nursery where Victoria was with Lehzen she had asked of Lehzen how Victoria had behaved that morning.
Victoria had in fact been rather more ‘wayward’ than usual and on two occasions had shown temper. The Baroness, not wishing to complain overmuch about her darling but realising that Victoria must always be shown examples of truthfulness, admitted that Victoria had once been a little naughty.
‘No, Lehzen,’ said Victoria. ‘You have forgotten. It was twice.’
And when her mother told her that when she was naughty she made not only her dear mother unhappy but herself also, Victoria considered this and said: ‘No, Mamma, I only make you unhappy.’
They could not be displeased with such a child. In any case she was the centre of their lives. Once Feodora had told her mother that she loved Victoria far more than she loved her, to which the Duchess had sternly replied that a good mother always loved her children equally and was Feodora suggesting that she was not a good mother?
Feodora had merely been wistful, for she loved Victoria dearly; and now knowing that her little half-sister was in the nursery and that at this hour of the day she would not be at her lessons but in the charge of Baroness Lehzen she came to see her so that she might explain to Victoria about her coming wedding.
Victoria cried out in pleasure when she saw her sister; she immediately left the dolls and ran to her.
‘Darling dearest Feodora!’ Victoria put her arms about Feodora’s neck and swung her feet off the floor. Lehzen looked on critically. Scarcely the manner in which a young lady – old enough for marriage – should greet her young sister who was destined to be a Queen; but perhaps as they would soon be parted such a boisterous greeting would be permitted this once.
‘I’ve been telling the dolls that you are going to leave us, darling Feddy, and they do not like it at all.’
Too much fantasy, thought Lehzen. It is time she grew out of the dolls. But the stern Lehzen had to admit that she herself could not grow out of them, so what was to be expected of an eight-year-old girl?
‘Feodora, let us walk in the gardens. May I, Lehzen?’
The Baroness conceded that they might. ‘But put on your fur-trimmed coat and bonnet. The wind is cold.’
Feodora knew the rule: Victoria was never to be left alone; and if the two girls did not stray too far from the Palace a little saunter in the gardens would be permitted. Victoria must not forget that the Reverend Davys would be waiting to give her a lesson in exactly half an hour’s time.
‘We shan’t forget, Lehzen,’ said Feodora holding out her hand. ‘Come, Vicky.’
Such a beautiful girl, Feodora! thought Lehzen. It was well that she was marrying. A reasonably good match but was it good enough for the sister of the future Queen of England? Would Victoria ever be as lovely as Feodora? Perhaps not. She took after her father’s family so much, which was as well, as it would be from that side that the Crown would come to her. But Victoria was Victoria – beauty would not be of such importance to her. There could not be a Prince in Europe who would not be excited at the prospect of marrying Victoria – and perhaps even now in all the Courts of Europe ambitious parents with sons of eight, nine, ten … or older had their eyes on the little jewel of Kensington Palace.
Hand in hand the sisters had come into the gardens.
‘Oh, Sissy,’ Victoria said, ‘it is going to be dreadful when we’re parted.’
‘Dreadful,’ agreed Feodora.
‘You will write to me?’
‘Such long letters that you will tire of reading them.’
‘How can you say that when you know it is not true.’
‘Vicky darling, I know. But I’m so frightened. I’m going to lose you all and have a new husband and I don’t really know him very well. But the worst thing of all is saying good-bye to you.’
Victoria wept openly. She displayed her emotions too readily, said Lehzen; but the Duchess was of the opinion that it showed a tender heart and the people would like it.
‘What is your Ernest like, Feddy?’ asked Victoria. ‘Is he handsome?’
‘Y … yes, I think he is.’
‘As handsome as Augustus d’Este?’
Feodora sighed. Victoria had reminded her of that passionate attachment which had not been allowed to continue.
‘It used to be such fun,’ said Victoria. ‘And Augustus was after all our cousin.’
‘But … he was not accepted as such by the family,’ Feodora reminded her.
‘It is all so complicated,’ complained Victoria. ‘I do wish people would tell me things. Why should Augustus be my cousin and yet not be regarded as such? You know how he always called us “cousins” when we went over into Uncle Augustus’s garden.’
Feodora nodded, recalling those days when she was quite a child, being just past eighteen – she was now a mature twenty-one – and she had been put in charge of Victoria and told not to let her out of her sight. There had been no harm in it. Uncle Augustus, the Duke of Sussex, had a garden among those of the Palace and Victoria had loved to water his plants. And how she used to get her feet wet in the operation and had to be smuggled in before Mamma or Lehzen or Späth saw and feared she would die of the effects. In the garden Augustus would often stroll. He was the son of Uncle Augustus and in truth their cousin, but not accepted as such because the ‘family’ did not regard his father’s marriage to his mother as a true marriage, although Uncle Augustus had been married to her both abroad and in London. It was something to do with that tiresome Marriage Act which said that the sons of the King could not marry without his consent. Well, Uncle Augustus had married without his father’s consent and as his father was King George III who had brought in the Act, the case of Uncle Augustus’s marriage was taken to court and the court gave the verdict that it was not legal. But Augustus the younger believed that it was and that he had every right to court his cousin.