Lord Hastings found it difficult to argue with the Queen, so he came away dissatisfied; but even though the Queen had intimated that she wished the matter to be closed, he soon realised that this could not be so. The press brought out the story again and worried it like a dog with a favourite bone trying to get a little more meat off it. People were taking sides. The majority of them were with Lady Flora but an unpleasant rumour was started that she was actually pregnant, that this was not the first time, and that she had recently left the Court to give birth to an illegitimate child.
‘I will not allow this,’ cried Lord Hastings. ‘I don’t care for anyone … not even the Queen. I am determined to make sure that no one is going to question the honour of our house.’
He wrote to Lord Tavistock demanding that he ask the truth of his wife; he also wrote to Lord Portman. Acrimonious letters passed between them. Lord Hastings believed he knew who was at the centre of the plot against his sister and it came from the foreign influences which existed at Court. This was an accusation against the Baroness Lehzen.
Lady Hastings, Flora’s mother, took up the fight and wrote to the Queen, reminding Victoria that she was a mother defending her much maligned daughter and she wanted an explanation of the ‘atrocious calumnies and unblushing falsehoods against her daughter’s reputation’. She wanted to know who had betrayed the Queen into following a course of action which had attempted to degrade the victim of their persecution. People looked for sympathy to a female sovereign, she added. This was not a matter to be hushed up.
The letter was sent to the Prime Minister with a request that he should deliver it to the Queen.
He took it to her himself.
‘Is there no end to this tiresome business?’ demanded Victoria petulantly.
‘There is an end to everything but time and space,’ said Lord Melbourne lightly.
‘I hear that when the injured lady took a drive this morning she was loudly cheered in the streets.’
‘Unfortunate,’ said Lord Melbourne. ‘And also an indication. But I think we should handle Mamma Hastings with tact.’
‘Of course she is a mother and she writes as though she is very upset.’
‘But the matter is done with and I should have thought she would have known better than to address Your Majesty in this way. It’s a breach of etiquette. Will you trust me to reply?’
‘Please do. But tell her that I am sorry it all happened and let her know I understand her feelings.’
Lord Melbourne gave her one of his tender looks and sat down to write the letter immediately so that she could approve it.
Her Majesty’s allowances for the feelings of a mother diminished her surprise that Lady Hastings should address her thus. Her Majesty bade her Prime Minister convey to Lady Hastings her deep concern for the unfortunate occurrence and was anxious to do everything to soothe the feelings of Lady Flora’s relations.
‘That should settle the old lady,’ said Lord Melbourne.
But it did not. In a short time Lady Hastings was writing once more – this time to Melbourne. She now demanded the dismissal of Sir James Clark.
This, said Lord Melbourne, was insolence; and he wrote to Lady Hastings telling her that her demand was ‘unprecedented and objectionable’ and that although she was a lady and the head of a respected family he would do no more than acknowledge that he had received such a letter.
‘They will give us no satisfaction,’ said Lord Hastings, ‘and there is only one thing to do, unless we are to slink off with our tails between our legs. We will publish the correspondence.’
The press was delighted; so were the people. Here was a mighty scandal. The Morning Post had a scoop and it intended to make the most of it. The whole story was revived. The Tories were trying to make it a political issue. Some declared that Lord Melbourne should apologise to Lady Hastings for his discourtesy towards her. In the clubs, in the streets, in the taverns, the Flora Hastings affair was discussed and the three principal actors in the piece were said to be Lady Flora, the Queen and Lord Melbourne.
‘It will die down,’ said Lord Melbourne. ‘These things always do.’
The Queen read the papers every day and was hurt and amazed to read criticisms of herself.
When she rode out in the streets the people were silent. They no longer cheered her; yet Flora Hastings’s carriage was held up by people who applauded her and wanted to tell her that they were on her side.
It was astonishing. Victoria could not believe it. She was no longer their little duck, their dear little Queen; she was a wicked woman who had cruelly slandered an innocent one.
‘Who would have thought such a little thing could change them towards me,’ she cried.
‘It is often the little things in life which are the most important,’ said Lord Melbourne.
She was depressed.
‘It’ll pass,’ said Lord Melbourne philosophically. ‘It always does.’
‘How right you were when you impressed on me how important this affair could become.’
‘And you listened to me. Therefore let us regard it as a lesson.’
That lifted her spirits a little. Lord Melbourne said that any experience was worth while if one learned from it. She had certainly learned from this. And she still had dear Lord Melbourne as her companion.
And that, she reminded herself, was a great deal for which to be thankful.
Chapter IX
THE BEDCHAMBER AFFAIR
The Palace feud had intensified, and the happiness the Queen had experienced during the ‘pleasantest summer’ had completely disappeared. The Duchess was becoming more and more tiresome and seemed to do everything possible to make life difficult. She kept Lady Flora constantly in her company, was over-solicitous for her health as though to draw attention to her own compassion compared with her daughter’s heartlessness. The Flora Hastings scandal was still discussed and of course by this time it was obvious that she would not be pregnant and was really ill.
Victoria was touchy, irritable, snapping at dear Daisy and sometimes being imperious even with Lord Melbourne. Of course his extreme tact and rather cynical jocularity overcame these moods and he would laugh at her in a funny respectful way, bow with exaggerated formality and call her Majesty, so that she would have to laugh and feel better for a while.
She raged against the Tories and their horrid paper, the Morning Post, which had blown up the silly Palace intrigue to a mighty scandal; she referred to Flora Hastings as that ‘nasty creature’; she worried about putting on weight, her lack of inches and her health. She was getting really melancholy and that, she once told Lord Melbourne, was how it probably started with her grandfather.
Lord Melbourne said it was not in the least like her grandfather. He had had a rash and had been unable to stop talking. Lord Melbourne thought where she did show a lack of balance was in comparing herself with him. Yet look how angry she had been when she had been likened to Queen Charlotte and the Duke of Gloucester!
That made her laugh.
‘Dear Lord M!’ she cried. ‘What should I do without you? Whenever I feel melancholy I remember that you will be coming in to see me and that makes me feel much better.’
Lord Melbourne looked a little thoughtful and wondered whether he ought to tell her about the uncertain position of the Government. Was it better to do so and prepare her or let the inevitable burst upon her? It would certainly do nothing to relieve her present gloomy feelings; on the other hand he did not wish it to come as a surprise.
Better perhaps to prepare her gradually.