‘Oh, dear Uncle William, I did not mean them to be black.’
‘Knew you didn’t. It was that …’
She waited for the King to go on but he did not. Instead of which he took her hand and patted it. He was so friendly that she told him about Dash.
‘He was really given to Mamma by Sir John.’ The King’s eyes narrowed. Oh dear, thought Victoria, he does not like Sir John. She went on quickly: ‘But he seems to have become my dog.’
‘Don’t blame him,’ said the King. ‘Don’t blame him at all. Sensible little dog.’
‘He is the most sensible little dog in the world, Uncle. But perhaps I shouldn’t say that because I have not really known all the dogs in the world, have I? But he is the most sensible dog I have ever known. The other evening after dinner I dressed him in a red jacket and blue trousers. He looked so sweet. He did not mind in the least.’
‘Sensible little dog for a sensible little girl.’
The Duchess of Kent had come forward.
‘Now, Victoria, you must not tire His Majesty with your childish chatter.’
‘The Princess’s chatter does not tire me, Madam,’ said the King, ‘as much as that of some other people.’
The Duchess laughed – not very pleasantly, thought Victoria, who knew that laugh well, but, she hoped, perhaps the King did not. However, even Mamma could not order the King to stop talking to her if he did not wish to, so he went on asking her about Dash and Rosy and telling her about the ball Queen Adelaide was planning for her next birthday.
It was such a pleasant evening, and she did love the King, who might not look as one would expect a King to look but made a very cosy kind old uncle.
She gleefully noted that it was eleven o’clock before she went to bed.
Adelaide was better and well enough to accompany the King to the private view of the annual Royal Academy exhibition of paintings.
‘Not much in my line,’ said William. ‘More like George’s. The paintings he had there at the Pavilion and Carlton House! Worth a fortune, they tell me. Can’t think why. If people are fools enough to pay these artist fellows … Well, I gave them back to the nation, didn’t I? The nation’s welcome to ‘em.’
Adelaide looked a little anxious. He was in one of his ranting moods and they were becoming more frequent. He would take up a subject and go on and on as though he were addressing the House of Lords. In fact he was making too many speeches on every occasion. If he was at a dinner party she would be unable to stop his getting to his feet and addressing the company in one of his long boring speeches, but when he did not bore his audiences that was far worse because he would probably then talk in the most outrageous manner about one of his aversions in such terms that the papers would be full of it next day.
She must stop his working himself up about artists on this occasion when they were going to visit an exhibition of artists’ work.
When they arrived at Somerset House where the Exhibition was held, William was not in a very good mood. His face was a deeper tinge of red and he had talked excitedly to Adelaide on the way about various aspects of his capital city as he drove through it. The people no longer received him with acclaim and although they did not abuse him since the Reform Bill had passed, they displayed an indifference which he did not like.
‘Pictures,’ he said. ‘Nowadays some of the fellows think they can paint … George was a one for pictures. He reckoned he knew something about them.’
‘Your brother was a very artistic man, William,’ said Adelaide.
‘Oh yes, old George, he was the clever one of the family. He could look at an unknown artist’s work and say, “That’s good.” He did a lot for ‘em. Not that they were grateful. Who ever is grateful to kings?’
Oh dear, thought Adelaide, she must change the subject. The ingratitude of the people was a dangerous one.
‘I hear some of the portraits are good. Lady Grey was telling me that one of Admiral Napier was especially so.’
‘Captain Napier!’ growled William. ‘And why do we want a picture of that fellow on show, I want to know.’
‘Because, I suppose, it’s rather a fine picture.’
‘Fine picture of a knave! He calls himself Admiral. Admiral of what? Of the Portuguese Navy? He proved himself not good enough for ours. By God, you forget I’m a sailor, Adelaide. I’m an Admiral myself. Lord High Admiral for a time … but that didn’t please them either. So this fellow becomes Admiral in the Portuguese Navy … and we make a fine picture of him and people here are expected to go and admire him. Captain Napier, I say! By God, I’ve no admiration for that fellow, I can tell you. But there are envious people in the Navy, Adelaide. You know what it was like when I tried to bring about reforms. You know what happened. That fellow Cockburn with his Board of Admiralty. Tried to tell me what to do. And Wellington … well, I was surprised at Wellington. I thought he was a man of good sense. Waterloo … Fine … fine … Great Victory. And George, he was on their side too. “Resign,” said George. “The only thing you can do, old fellow. Resign. Love you as a brother but can’t stand out against the Admiralty Board. Have to give way.”’
‘Oh, William, that is long ago.’
‘Maybe, maybe, but I don’t forget.’
She listened to his voice without taking in the words and she asked herself: Is this how his father used to talk? She had never heard him. When she had come to England George III had been shut away from the world. Poor sad, mad King. But was William growing more and more like his father?
She was relieved when they arrived at Somerset House where the President was waiting to receive them.
‘I trust Your Gracious Majesty will find plenty of interest in the Exhibition,’ said the President. ‘We are honoured and delighted that you have favoured us with a visit.’
William beamed, his good temper restored.
But it was almost as though a mischievous sprite was at the President’s elbow, thought Adelaide. Why did he have to lead them to that particular picture?
‘A very fine work, Sir. One of the best in the Exhibition. A portrait of Admiral Napier.’
For a few seconds the King was speechless. Then the storm broke.
‘Admiral Napier. Oh no, sir. Captain Napier. And may Captain Napier be damned and you with him, sir. And if the Queen were not here with me, sir, I should kick you downstairs.’
The King had spoken so loudly that everyone present heard each word clearly. The President could not understand what he had done to offend the King; and whatever his offence he certainly did not expect to be kicked downstairs.
The King’s face had grown scarlet. He addressed the company on the shortcomings of Captain Napier and the President of the Royal Academy who had allowed a picture of the knave to be put on show.
His audience averted their eyes; if it were possible they would have slipped away.
Adelaide stood by shocked and trembling.
Everyone was thinking: This is George III all over again. The King is going mad.
Victoria awoke on May 24th in the year 1833 and said to herself: ‘My fourteenth birthday! How very old!’
As it was only half past five it was not time to get up yet, so she lay thinking about the day before her and wondering what her presents would be and what difference being fourteen would make. There would be letters as well, and surely one from dear Uncle Leopold and perhaps from Aunt Louise. And then the ball that the King and Queen were giving at St James’s for her. What fun that would be and Mamma could not prevent her going to it since it was her ball. A Juvenile Ball Aunt Adelaide had called it. But most important of all was the fact that she was fourteen years old – surely a milestone. Although she was not yet of age – there were another four years to go before that happy day – fourteen was no longer very young; and surely people could not continue to treat her as a child.