There was one disappointment. She had expected Lord Melbourne to come and pay his respects. How pleasant it would have been to sit beside him on the sofa while the waltz was in progress which would have been almost as good as dancing. But Lord Melbourne was not at the ball, which was very odd indeed.
While she was dancing she forgot Lord Melbourne. Lord Alfred Paget really was most amusing and very handsome. She had been slightly aware of him when out riding but had been too absorbed in Lord Melbourne’s brilliant conversation to take much notice of him. Now she could appreciate his good looks and his devotion; he really was rather charming.
He was twenty-one, he told her, two years older than she was; and he had a retriever called Mrs Bumps. Victoria laughed at the name.
‘What an odd name! I daresay she is very dignified and adores you.’
Lord Alfred thought this might be true of Mrs Bumps; he admitted that he had a portrait of Her Majesty which he carried with him always and that Mrs Bumps, whom he was determined should be as staunch an admirer of Her Majesty as he was himself, also wore a portrait of the Queen about her neck.
‘What a wonderful idea!’ cried Victoria. ‘I think that is excellent. A dog to wear my portrait!’
‘Why not?’ demanded Lord Alfred. ‘Mrs Bumps is one of your subjects also.’
She was enchanted. What a wonderful ball! But now they were playing the waltz and she must sit on her sofa and watch them, when she would so much have loved to be dancing the waltz – perhaps with Lord Alfred.
Then her thoughts turned to Lord Melbourne. It really was strange that he should be absent.
It was supper time and she led the way into the banqueting room where the royal liveried footmen were waiting to serve. Everyone seemed to want to have a word with the Queen and she was eager to speak to as many as possible for she was not in the least tired.
‘Oh, no,’ she cried to solicitous enquiries, ‘I could go on dancing all night.’
And she did, for it was four o’clock before the ball was over.
When she was very young, before her accession, one of her greatest treats had been to stay up late and she still felt excited to do so. It had been a heavenly ball, and it shall be the first of many, she promised herself.
She was too excited to sleep so she decided to write in her Journaclass="underline" ‘A charming ball. I have spent the happiest birthday that I have had for many years. I have been dancing till past four o’clock. Only one regret I had and that was that my excellent good kind friend Lord Melbourne was not there.’
The next day while she was at breakfast a note arrived from Lord Melbourne. It contained profuse apologies and stated that he had been unable to attend the ball because he was both unwell and disturbed.
Lord Melbourne unwell! Lord Melbourne disturbed! She was in a panic.
‘I knew he did not take enough care of himself,’ she told the Baroness. ‘I have told him often that he must not go out in the cold wind.’
‘The wind is scarcely lethal at this time of the year,’ commented Lehzen.
‘But it is precisely at this time of the year that we have to be most careful. Oh, I do hope he is not ill. I must send a messenger. I must know.’
‘Even if he is ill the Queen of England can’t very well act as his nurse, you know.’
Victoria turned troubled eyes on Lehzen. Good Heavens! thought Lehzen, how far do her feelings go for this man? Is she in love with him?
Absurd! Preposterous! Little innocent Victoria and a man of fifty-eight … fifty-nine more likely. Nearly sixty, cited in two divorce cases, involved in a cause célèbre with his wife. Melbourne and the Queen of England!
Lehzen was beginning to feel worried.
During the morning Lord Melbourne called at the Palace. Victoria could not wait to greet him. Her expression was very serious but she was immediately relieved to find that he looked much the same as usual.
‘My dear Lord M, you are unwell.’
Lord Melbourne touched his brow with a beautiful graceful motion.
‘A little disturbed,’ he said.
‘Only disturbed … not ill?’
‘I was very, very anxious last evening because I fear a crisis in the House of Commons.’
‘Oh, is that all? I was afraid you were sick.’
‘Sick with anxiety perhaps,’ he said.
‘Is it so bad?’
‘You remember that we have perpetual trouble with Ireland. It’s a complicated situation, always on the simmer, ready to boil over into trouble. The tithe system and the poverty of the people, the state of their municipal government, all these are such as to make an uneasy country. They’re an excitable people. One feels that if their land were turned into Utopia they’d find fault with something. There is a continual conflict between the Catholic and Protestant population. They can’t settle down together as they do in England. They have to be at each other’s throats all the time. We can be sure of one thing only. Whatever legislation was brought in there would be trouble about it. The resolution regarding the Church is now under discussion as to whether or not it should be rescinded. You know we have a very small majority in the House, and a thing like this could bring down the Government.’
‘No!’
‘It’s true. If the vote went against us and we were defeated we should fall and Sir Robert Peel, the Leader of the Opposition, would come along and ask Your Majesty’s permission to form a new Government.’
‘I should never give my permission.’
‘But that is something you would be obliged to do.’
‘I … the Queen!’ Her eyes were brilliant, her cheeks flushed. ‘I never would.’
‘Your Majesty’s temper is a little choleric,’ he said with a tender smile.
‘Do you expect me to agree to this when I know what it would mean? You would cease to be my Prime Minister.’
He nodded, making one of his grimaces which usually amused her but did not do so on this occasion.
‘That,’ she said firmly, ‘is something I should never allow.’
Lord Melbourne’s eyes filled with tears and at the sight of them she wanted to repeat her determination even more emphatically.
‘Alas that you cannot enforce your sweet will,’ he said, so poetically, she thought, that she could have burst into tears. ‘Ours is a Constitutional Monarchy and that means that we all – even our Sovereign – must obey the rules of the Constitution. The Government is elected by the people and since our Reform Bill all sorts and conditions have been allowed to vote. Therefore Your Majesty’s Government cannot always be of your choosing.’
‘But to change Governments. How foolish! Why?’
‘Because ours is not a strong Government. Our majority is small and popular feeling is against us. Sir Robert Peel is waiting to jump into my shoes.’
‘I will never allow that!’
He shook his head at her.
‘Your Majesty will have no choice. If I go out, he will come in.’
‘And all because of this silly Irish question!’
‘Many consider it of importance.’
‘I would rather lose Ireland than let you go.’
He was touched, but he pretended to treat the matter lightly.
‘It will most certainly give you more trouble than I ever shall, but you will not be asked to make the choice. I have wanted to speak to you on this matter for some time and now seems an appropriate moment. I fear the day will come – and it may be that that day is not so far distant – when I may not be your Prime Minister.’
‘Oh, no!’ She stamped her foot. Anger was the only emotion she dared show. ‘I will not have that.’