‘Simple. There is an examination and Flora is proved to be a virgin.’
‘That will be an end to the matter.’
‘Oh dear me, no. That will not be the end of the matter. Flora will be cleared, yes, but others will be involved. Those who slandered her; those who have treated a sick woman to such indignity, humiliating her, tearing her reputation into shreds.’
‘You mean … the Queen?’
Conroy lifted his shoulders. ‘Our Little Majesty could scarcely escape some censure, for those interfering old busy-bodies could not act without her consent.’
‘And then?’
‘The Court, the people will see that it is not all sunshine in the Palace. Perhaps they will question whether some of the hard things which have been said about others – such as the Queen’s mother and that Comptroller of a royal household who was ready to be her good friend – have been entirely true. Moreover I do not think Lady Flora’s family will let the matter be quietly shelved. And quite rightly. They will want no stories being put about that the matter has been hushed up to save Lady Flora’s face.’
‘You are making it look like a conspiracy.’
‘That,’ said Sir John, ‘is exactly what it is.’
On the following Sunday when the examination was to take place tension grew in the Palace. The two doctors and Lady Portman with Lady Flora’s maid were all present.
Victoria, like everyone else, was waiting for the result. She had realised that if they were wrong the situation was going to be rather unpleasant. She could not hope that they would be proved right, of course. And yet …
Oh dear, what a terrible position to be in! How had she become involved in such an indelicate affair? How much better if everyone had taken Lord Melbourne’s advice to wait and see.
The Baroness came to her, her face blank with dismay.
‘Is it over?’ asked the Queen.
‘Yes,’ said Lehzen.
‘The result?’
‘The two doctors have signed a statement to say that she is a virgin and that the swelling is due to some growth of the liver.’
‘Oh, the poor girl!’
‘She is very ill but not pregnant.’
‘At least,’ said the Queen, uncertainly, ‘this has settled the disagreeable matter once and for all. I am going to ask her to come and see me. I am going to tell her how very sorry I am that we misjudged her.’
‘That is the best line to take,’ said the Baroness.
The Queen wrote at once to Lady Flora inviting her to call on her. Lady Flora replied at once begging to be excused; the ordeal through which she had passed combined with her illness had brought her near to a state of collapse and she was unable to leave her bed.
Victoria answered kindly, suggesting Lady Flora visit her the next day.
The meeting took place. The Queen was in tears. It had been such a dreadful affair and she was afraid poor Lady Flora had suffered greatly. But she, the Queen, was so happy now that it was all over and she wanted Lady Flora to know that she had her deepest sympathy.
Lady Flora replied with guarded dignity, aware she said of the honour Her Majesty did her by her interest in her affairs. She added she felt very ill and would be glad to retire to her bed.
‘Please do so at once,’ said the Queen. ‘I shall send someone tomorrow to ask how you are.’
When Lady Flora was gone she sighed with relief and told herself how glad she was that the matter was settled, but she would be very careful in future to make sure that she was in possession of the full facts before she accused anyone.
‘I am grateful,’ she repeated to the Baroness, ‘that this most distasteful affair is now over.’
But of course it was not over.
‘This,’ said Sir John, ‘is the beginning of the fun.’
He was going to exploit the situation to the full, so he went at once to see Lady Flora.
‘So our Little Vic has made her apology,’ he said.
‘She was very gracious,’ Flora told him.
‘And very frightened, I daresay. And how are you, Flora?’
‘A little better today.’
‘Good! Well enough to write a letter?’
‘To whom?’
‘To your brother, of course. He may not have heard of this. In fact I am pretty certain that he has not. Knowing the young gentleman I am sure that if he had heard of the slanders aimed at his sister he would have been down with all speed to avenge the insult to his family honour.’
‘He does not know, of course.’
‘He is going to.’
‘You are going to tell him?’
‘No, you are.’
‘I am heartily sick of the entire affair.’
‘You know, Flora, in an affair like this even though one is proved innocent there will always be someone to believe the worst. In a few years’ time they will be saying “What was that Flora Hastings affair? Immoral woman wasn’t she? Found out and disgraced!”’
‘But I have been cleared.’
‘People believe the worst. You’ll have to make such a noise about this that the facts are not forgotten. We want the right people to be blamed. Take my advice, Flora. Write to your brother. Tell him how you have been slandered. Tell him to what you have had to submit. Your family honour is at stake, you know. People are going to believe the worst. Write off to Loudoun right away.’
‘He is not at Loudoun. He’s at Donington Park.’
‘So much the better. Leicestershire is nearer than Scotland. Take my advice, Flora. Do this at once. Or do you prefer to stand meekly by and let them insult you?’
He knew that was not Flora’s way. He brought her pens and ink and sat there watching her while she wrote the story of her wrongs. When it was written, he himself took it away and made sure it was despatched without delay to the young Marquis of Hastings.
When Lord Hastings received his letter he had just risen from a sick bed. Flora had written that she was ill, and because she was ill her honour had been in question. Certain ladies of the Queen’s household had fabricated a scandal about her and since the Queen believed this scandal it had been necessary for her to submit to an embarrassing and humiliating examination.
The young Marquis, quick-tempered and hot-headed, decided that he would leave at once for London and very soon was in his sister’s apartments listening to her story in all its most indelicate details.
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘there is one person behind this, for this examination was tantamount to an order from the Queen and we know who advises the Queen on all matters. Lord Melbourne. I shall challenge that fellow to a duel.’
‘Take care,’ begged Lady Flora.
‘I shall take care of our family honour. Lord Melbourne has questioned this. He has to answer for it. It is either his blood or mine.’
‘For Heaven’s sake be careful.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’m a young man, which is more than Melbourne is. I’ll warrant he is better at tattling scandal in the royal boudoir than handling firearms.’
Nothing Flora could say would deter her brother and she began to wish she had not listened to Sir John’s advice and written to him. However, she was feeling too ill to care very much and Lord Hastings left her to go to his friend Lord Winchelsea to ask him to act as his second in the duel.
‘Duel!’ cried Winchelsea. ‘You’re mad, my dear fellow. Whom do you intend to call out?’
‘Melbourne.’
‘The Prime Minister?’
‘Why not? If he assails the honour of my family he shall answer for it as any man should.’
‘Now wait a minute, wait a minute,’ cautioned Winchelsea. ‘You are jumping to conclusions. Are you sure it’s the Prime Minister you should be blaming?’