And then … home to the best-loved place of all – though by no means the grandest – the dear Yellow Palace with its little rooms and winding passages which was Home.
Who would have thought this happy life would not go on for ever.
Louise was waiting impatiently for her husband’s return from the barracks. When reading the English papers which she did whenever possible to improve her knowledge of the language she had found something of great interest in The Times.
The Prince of Wales was nearly seventeen, and as it was the custom of royalty to marry early, there was a great deal of speculation as to whom this very important young gentleman would choose for his bride.
The article went on that the choice was somewhat limited for His Royal Highness. His bride would be the future Queen of England and therefore some qualifications would be demanded of her which might not be easy to supply. She must be young, for her main duty was to give the country heirs; she must be royal; and she must be Protestant. This narrowed the choice down considerably and the author of the article had, after great consideration, come to the conclusion that there were only seven candidates for the honour.
Six of these were German princesses; the seventh on the list was Princess Alexandra of Denmark.
Louise stared at the letters. Alix, Queen of England! Her common sense immediately rose to the fore. The seventh on the list. What hope had she!
All the same it was something which she must discuss with Christian at once.
When he came in and she was able to show him the article he was startled.
‘Our Alix! Why she’s only a child.’
‘She’s fourteen. Why in two or three years she’ll be ready.’
‘English Princes always marry Germans.’
‘A matter which I believe the English people resent.’
‘The English royal family is half German. Albert was most definitely. And Victoria is half so. Germans always have the first chance.’
Christian was thinking of himself and how he had been overlooked for a Prince of Coburg.
‘It could change.’
‘My dear Louise, Alix is seventh on the list.’
‘Still she’s on the list.’
‘No, it would always be a German.’
‘Look at the list. These German Princesses … who are they? Daughters of small States. Whereas Alix is the daughter of a future King.’
‘You are prejudiced,’ said Christian with a laugh.
‘I’m also realistic,’ said Louise. ‘We are going to be prepared. Our children have not had an education worthy of them so far. All that has to be changed and we are going to change it.’
‘When?’ asked Christian.
‘At once,’ said Louise. ‘There’s no time to be lost.’
Life had changed suddenly. It had become more serious. Bernstorff and the Yellow Palace appeared to be invaded by an army of teachers. They must spend more time at their lessons, said Louise. They were no longer children – at least Fredy, Willy and Alix weren’t and Dagmar was fast gaining their grown-up status.
Louise always believed in explaining to the children. She herself had taught them music and drawing, but these were the necessary accomplishments of well-brought-up young ladies; they were scarcely lessons. They had had their Swiss governess, Mademoiselle Schwiedland. But now they had to be prepared for whatever role they might be called upon to play in later life.
Pastor Theobold came to teach them German and Professor Petersen history and geography; there was a new music teacher because Louise thought that they should have professional tuition which she feared she did not give them. So Mr Siboni was engaged.
But most important of all was Miss Knudsen, who came to teach English. Mathilde Knudsen was homely, kindly and quiet; she had been born in the West Indies and spoke English as a native of England. Alix’s conversations with Cousin Mary had been of great use to her and she found that she progressed rapidly under Miss Knudsen’s tuition. Her accent improved and although she occasionally used quaint expressions which made Miss Knudsen smile she was undoubtedly fluent.
This seemed to be of the utmost importance for her parents were constantly asking her how she was progressing with her English and these constant enquiries made her aware that for some reason learning English so that she could write it with ease and speak it with a degree of fluency was more important than any of her other lessons.
Miss Knudsen’s very special favourite was Alix – not the cleverest of the family, but without doubt the most beautiful; Dagmar was much quicker at her lessons and little Thyra was charming, but Alix, in Miss Knudsen’s opinion, was the flower of the family.
They became great friends and Alix enjoyed walking out in Copenhagen or in the gardens of Bernstorff with her governess, chattering away in English all the time.
Listening to her, her parents exchanged significant glances. Louise as usual was right. If by chance Alix became number one on that important list, owing to the foresight of her mother, she would be prepared.
There was an addition to the family. A little brother was born and they called him Valdemar. There was great excitement about a new baby. The time had come for Fredy’s confirmation.
‘As there is so little difference between their ages and Alix is almost sixteen they might as well be confirmed together,’ said Louise.
So it was arranged that this should be so; and preparations began. There had always been an emphasis on religious education in the household; and as Prince Christian liked his children to follow his example and read a chapter from the Bible every night before they went to sleep, Fredy and Alix were ready.
As Fredy was in the line of succession the confirmation was a public occasion and King Frederick himself was present among the distinguished company which filled the Slots Kirken in Copenhagen on that October day. The dignity and good looks of the young pair excited the admiration of the spectators; and it was a solemn occasion, for in the Lutheran Church the confirmation ceremony meant that this was an end of childhood and that the responsibilities of adult life were now to be taken on.
The King had wished the Countess Danner to attend and there was some consternation about this as she was not accepted as his legal wife; but the King must have his way and a place was provided for the Countess, who then declared that she had no wish to attend the ceremony, only to be asked to it; so embarrassment was spared. As soon as the ceremony was over King Frederick presented Fredy with a commission in his army and Alix with a medallion containing his portrait.
When they returned to the Yellow Palace Louise took her daughter to a new room below that which she had shared with Dagmar. This had been prepared for her occupation, for her piano had been put in it and her bed was there.
It was a symbol of growing up. She had a room of her own.
She turned to Louise, who was standing beside her, and embraced her.
‘Oh, Mama, it’s wonderful.’
‘It means you are no longer a child, my dear.’
Alix’s eyes were shining. ‘It’s wonderful … growing up,’ she said.
A faint apprehension came into her mother’s eyes.
‘It’s as well to remember that it also has its responsibilities,’ she replied; and she was thinking of that list with Alix’s name at the bottom.
Then Wally arrived in Denmark. She was in fact the Countess Walburga von Hohenthal; she was beautiful, cosmopolitan, vivacious and therefore very attractive. She had come to Copenhagen to marry the English diplomat, Mr Augustus Paget, and with the simple friendliness they showed to visitors Christian and Louise invited Walburga to the Yellow Palace.