‘I fear it never will,’ said Albert sadly.
‘Oh, come, the countryside is beautiful, the climate very much like our own. And think of your position here.’
‘I think of it a great deal,’ said Albert with melancholy.
‘You will have Stockmar to help you. You know you can trust him.’
Oh, yes, he trusted Stockmar; but he was a foreigner too, and what chance had they against the Queen and Lord Melbourne who seemed determined to keep him out.
He did not feel he could open his heart completely to his father. He admired him and respected him. He knew, of course, that there had been many romantic entanglements in his life but Albert believed this was due to the unhappy marriage. The most easy temptation to fall into was sexual. He was sure of it; and he could not blame his father for past excesses. Women had tempted him. One thing Albert was certain of; he was going to avoid all such temptation. He would avoid all women but his wife. These alien English considered him gauche. Let them. He was certainly not going to get entangled with any woman.
And now another link with Rosenau was about to be broken. His father was going.
The carriage was at the door. He had said his final farewell. He stood watching it ride away with the tears in his eyes.
Then he turned and went slowly into the palace.
Victoria was waiting for him at the top of the staircase.
‘My poor dear Albert …’
She barred his way, her own blue eyes filled with tears.
‘I understand how you are feeling …’
He cried: ‘You don’t … you don’t …’ and dashed past her into his sitting-room. He could not bear to talk to her then. He feared that if he did he would tell her that he wanted to go home, burst into tears and cry like any baby. He could hear her calling his name as she had run after him; swiftly he turned the key in the lock.
‘Albert,’ she cried. ‘Albert, I am here.’
‘I … I wish to be alone.’
‘You can’t … not from me.’
‘Victoria, please go away. I am too upset.’
‘No, no,’ she said. ‘I am going to comfort you. Open the door. Open it at once.’
He obeyed and she was ready to throw herself into his arms, but he stood silent, unresponsive.
‘Albert,’ she cried, aghast, ‘I want to comfort you. I know how you feel. Your father has gone away.’
‘How can you know?’ he cried. ‘You have never known a father.’
‘No, but I understand.’
‘And you don’t love your mother, so you can’t understand.’
He turned away from her coldly, but she put her arms round him and held him tightly against her; she began to cry.
‘Albert, my dearest, but I can’t bear to see you unhappy. I love you, Albert.’
He turned to her then and they wept together.
He had been unkind, he said.
No, no, not unkind. It was all so natural. He must share his troubles. She must make him understand that.
They kissed and she was immediately wildly happy.
‘God knows how great my wish is to make you happy and contented. I would do anything … anything …’
How could he help but be touched and moved by such devotion?
But later he thought: Yes, she would do anything for me … except let me share her throne.
Albert was deeply shocked. He would not have believed it of Ernest, although his brother had always laughed at him and called him a prude. But that Ernest should have had adventures which could produce such a result was a terrible blow and indeed a great lesson. Ernest had been looking unwell for some weeks.
‘It is this strange country,’ said Albert. ‘You’ll feel better when you leave.’
Ernest had let that rest for a while; but later – so he told Albert – he had become alarmed and seen a doctor.
‘It was a woman in Berlin,’ he said.
‘A woman!’ cried Albert. ‘Good God, Ernest! You can’t be serious.’
‘Albert, for Heaven’s sake do be a little more worldly. These things happen now and then, you know.’
‘And those to whom they happen have to abide by the consequences,’ said Albert severely.
‘You’re right there, my dear brother. I hope you never get into this sort of mess.’ Albert was even more horrified which at least made Ernest laugh. ‘As if you would.’
‘Should one joke about such a serious matter? Ernest, I am glad our father doesn’t know about this.’
‘He knows, Albert. He understood. He is not immune from the temptations of the flesh as you are.’
‘Should we say that I have taught myself to overcome them.’
‘Well, I make a guess that dear little Vic keeps you busy.’
Albert was horrified. ‘Ernest, what has happened to you?’
‘A fate, alas, that catches up with many of us – except the virtuous like you, Albert. That is if there are any more like you … which I very much doubt.’
Albert’s affection for this brother overcame his shock. ‘You must get the best possible treatment.’
‘That’s what I am doing.’
‘And then, Ernest, marry. But not until you are completely well. You must not risk getting a sick heir.’
‘You may trust me.’
‘I shall tell Victoria. We have said we shall not have secrets from each other.’
‘I understand,’ said Ernest.
‘I shall hate telling her but I think it is an unpleasant duty.’
‘Don’t worry. It’ll only make her realise all the more that in taking you she got the better bargain.’
In hushed and solemn tones he explained the situation to Victoria, who flushed scarlet with embarrassment and horror when she heard.
‘My dear Albert, but this is so terrible.’
‘It’s the reward of sin,’ said Albert.
‘Of course Ernest is very gay.’
‘Too gay.’
‘But he is your brother and therefore very dear to us both. Everything must be done to cure him. Can he be cured, Albert?’
‘Oh, yes. I gather he is only lightly infected. I have been talking to him of the benefits of married life.’
Victoria smiled radiantly. ‘Oh, but we are so fortunate. Everyone cannot be as happy as we are.’
Albert pressed her hand in agreement and added: ‘Ernest is a man who needs marriage if he is to lead a decent and honourable life.’
Victoria nodded gravely and then with one of her impulsive gestures she threw her arms about his neck and said: ‘Oh, Albert, how very fortunate we are. I knew as soon as I saw you that you would be pure and faithful.’ She looked at him in horror. ‘Suppose I had chosen Ernest.’
‘Then one person would have been most unhappy,’ said Albert. ‘Myself.’
‘And I too, Albert. Oh, how wise I was! But then as soon as I set eyes on you, I knew.’
They were very content in each other for the rest of that day and night.
Victoria herself began to be worried. She had been married for about six weeks. It really could not be, she assured herself. It was far too early.
The only person she could talk to about it was the Baroness.
‘Dear Daisy, can it be … so soon?’
‘Well, it certainly could,’ said the Baroness.
Victoria began to shiver. ‘I must confess, Daisy, that it makes me a little uneasy.’
‘My darling, I’d be there all the time to look after you.’
‘I know. Old Louie was there to look after my Cousin Charlotte but she died.’
‘You mustn’t compare yourself with the Princess Charlotte.’