‘Dear good Brown,’ murmured the Queen.
They sat as best they could in the shelter of the overturned carriage and Brown brought a little claret for them. Brown could always be relied upon to produce wine and spirits when they were needed.
‘Mama, how long will it take for them to bring another carriage?’ asked Lenchen.
‘I don’t know, my love, but as Beloved Papa always said we must make the best of any situations in which we find ourselves.’
Brown drank liberally of the claret which shocked Alice but the Queen thought he thoroughly deserved any reward, for what would have happened without him she could not imagine.
‘Smith is too old to drive us,’ said the Queen. ‘This is the last time he shall do so. We should have realised it before. These good faithful servants go on and we are inclined to forget that they become too old for service.’
‘I’ll not have him drive you again,’ murmured Brown.
The Queen smiled and began to talk of how the Prince had always enjoyed drives in the Highlands, particularly at night when he said they became even more like the Thuringenwald.
‘I suppose because you couldn’t see so clearly,’ said Lenchen, which made the Queen frown.
‘Eh, now listen,’ said Brown suddenly when the Queen was talking of how Papa had always presented her with the first sprig of heather he picked each year.
‘Sound of horses,’ said Brown. ‘Someone’s coming this way.’
To the delight of the party it turned out to be Kennedy, another of the grooms who, fearing that some accident had happened since they were so long in returning to the Castle, had come out with the ponies to look for them.
How very thoughtful! said the Queen. Albert had always said what a good servant Kennedy was and Albert as usual was right.
So they were able to leave at once and only when they arrived at Balmoral did the Queen see how bruised her face was. There was something very wrong with her thumb too.
She was so exhausted that she wished to retire at once to her room and ordered that a little soup and fish be sent to her.
She was soon fast asleep but in the morning realised that she had a rather black eye and her thumb really felt as though it were out of joint.
There was a great deal of fuss about the accident. Vicky and Fritz came over to Balmoral to inquire how the party had survived. The Queen’s bruises were greeted with horror and the doctors were attending to her thumb, which they feared had been put out of joint.
The Queen brushed it all aside and when she returned to London Lord Palmerston took her to task for endangering her safety by driving at night through wild country.
‘My dear Lord Palmerston,’ she said, ‘I have good and trusty servants. I can rely on them absolutely.’
‘Begging Your Majesty’s pardon, I must point out that they did not prevent the overturn of your carriage.’
‘Accidents will always happen, but there was no alarm whatsoever. John Brown behaved with absolute calm and efficiency. I do assure you, Lord Palmerston, that I feel safer driving through the Highland lanes by night than I have sometimes felt on Constitution Hill in broad daylight.’
‘There have been most regrettable isolated incidents, M’am, and these have happened to other sovereigns because there are certain madmen in the world; but the hazards faced on poor tracks in mountainous country could be avoided, and I, with the backing of your Majesty’s ministers, would ask you to desist from placing yourself in danger.’
‘Nonsense,’ said the Queen. ‘The Prince Consort delighted in driving at night. It never occurred to him that there was any danger, and I am sure if there had been he would have been the first to be aware of it. He was always solicitous for my safety.’
She was an obstinate woman, thought old Pam; and with the backing of the defunct Prince Consort she was immovable; so there was no point in wasting further time on that subject. They must let her continue with her night drives and be thankful for the Prince of Wales who was taking on far more of the royal duties than the Sovereign herself.
The Prince and Princess of Wales had taken a great fancy to Sandringham. It was Bertie’s pleasure to bring with him friends from London to pass a very gay week or so in this royal residence which had never held the same place in the Queen’s affections as Osborne or Balmoral. Perhaps, he said with a grimace, this was what he liked so much about it. It seemed at Osborne and Balmoral that his father still lived on; everywhere in those houses his influence was apparent. It was quite different at Sandringham.
Alix loved it too; there she could have been very happy indeed. It could have been a sort of Rumpenheim, but wherever Bertie was, there must be people. He took the utmost pleasure in arranging house parties. His friends would go and shoot and then return for lavish banquets and gay parties with dancing, drinking and gambling which went on far into the night.
Her pregnancy was causing her a certain amount of discomfort, and although Bertie was as kind and tender as she could wish for, she sometimes had the notion that he was rather glad for her to retire early. He himself never seemed to tire; he would stay up half the night and then be out early in the morning in search of some fresh amusement. She hardly ever emerged from her room until eleven o’clock and she was sometimes late for luncheon. Bertie was occasionally faintly reproving and she promised herself that she would overcome her habit of unpunctuality. She often thought of how her father would disapprove.
Then one day she and Bertie were about to ride out to the hunt when a messenger arrived at Sandringham with news. King Frederick of Denmark was dead and Prince Christian, Alexandra’s father, had now become King.
Alexandra clapped her hands with excitement. Papa, King of Denmark. It was wonderful. Then she thought of poor old Uncle Frederick who had always been so kind to them all in his odd way; she wondered briefly what would become of Countess Danner.
But she was the daughter of a king and she could not help being excited about that.
The Queen, still nursing a sore thumb, was hoping that John Brown’s knee had improved, for the faithful man when he had jumped out of the carriage had injured it and he had limped for days afterwards. She was very sorry to have been obliged to leave Balmoral and come back to Windsor and all the trials which that entailed. Lord Palmerston, who had called on her, hinted that it would be far more convenient if she were in London; but she had no intention of going to London. Lord Palmerston had something very grave to discuss.
‘Schleswig-Holstein again, M’am,’ he said. ‘It was inevitable that there should be trouble when Frederick died.’
‘I’m afraid I haven’t a very high opinion of the new Queen of Denmark.’
‘She can hardly be blamed for what has happened,’ replied Palmerston. ‘It’s Frederick of Augustenburg who has marched into Holstein.’
‘But he was exiled years ago.’
‘His father was beaten when he was, Your Majesty will remember, by King Frederick. But King Frederick is dead and there is a new King and Queen, the parents of our Princess of Wales. This is what the Prussians have been waiting for. They want Augustenburg set up as a puppet of theirs.’
‘We can’t allow that,’ said the Queen.
‘It’s a tricky situation. Schleswig-Holstein has always been an uneasy spot.’
‘And what do you suggest should be done?’