“It was not love at first sight,” he said, “but it grew to deep love. Mary Anne once said that although I married her for her money, now I would marry her for love.”
“And did you marry her for her money, Mr. Disraeli?”
“I confess I considered her fortune.”
“Oh, how mercenary!” I found myself laughing. Since Albert's death I laughed so rarely. John Brown could make me smile; but I was actually laughing with Mr. Disraeli.
He loved to talk of Mary Anne and I began to feel that I knew her well. He told me how devoted she was and how she sat up when he was late at the House and had a cold supper waiting for him, no matter what time he came in.
They were friends as well as lovers.
“I understand so well,” I said sadly.
“Ma'am we have had something very rare in common—a happy marriage.”
How right he was!
He gave me a copy of Sybil, which I thought was very good indeed. I gave him a signed copy of Leaves.
He was constantly referring to me as a fellow author, which I had to admit I quite liked. I looked forward to his visits. It was like going back in time. I was remembering more and more of the days when I used to anticipate Lord Melbourne's visits with such pleasure. Now I looked forward to those of Benjamin Disraeli.
A certain savor had returned to life. I would not admit it but in my heart I knew it was there.
SUCH A HAPPY state of affairs could not be expected to last. William Gladstone—whom I could not like—was making a great deal of fuss about the disestablishment of the Irish Church. The government was against the measure and was heavily defeated by a majority of sixty-five.
I was at Windsor and when Disraeli called on me I was delighted as ever to see him, not realizing what news he brought.
He quickly told me how things had gone in the Commons. “And, Ma'am,” he added, “I have no alternative but to offer Your Majesty my resignation.”
“Resignation!” I cried. “Does that mean I shall have that dreadful man Gladstone here lecturing me?”
Disraeli lifted his shoulders and looked woeful.
“What is this nonsense about the Irish Church?” I demanded. “The Church throughout the Kingdom is associated with the Crown.”
“Mr. Gladstone thinks otherwise, Ma'am. And so do others since we have been so heavily defeated.”
“If I accept your resignation,” I said, “I shall be compelled to give your office to Mr. Gladstone and then the government would bring in the disestablishment. I think people should have plenty of time to think about such a step. No measure should be rushed through the House, which is what would happen if you resigned and I called in Gladstone.”
“Your Majesty could, of course, refuse to accept my resignation and dissolve Parliament.”
“That is what I will do. It will be some time before there can be an election and your government will remain in office until there is one.”
“That means, Ma'am, that I remain in office and we go to the country… say in six months' time.”
I had to be content with that. Six months is a long time in politics, and one never knows what will happen to affect fickle public opinion; and there was a possibility that in six months' time the government might be returned.
Mr. Disraeli had somehow persuaded me that it might be a good idea to show myself a little. I had not held a Drawing Room at Buckingham Palace since Albert died, but I decided to, and later I reviewed twenty thousand volunteers at Windsor Park and a few days later gave a party in the grounds of Buckingham Palace.
But I did not wish people to think that I was ready to undertake a round of engagements. In August I paid a visit to Switzerland, and to emphasize the fact that I wanted no fuss I traveled as the Duchess of Kent. Napoleon was most courteous and offered me his imperial train for my journey through France and in Paris I had a meeting with the Empress Eugénie. In Lucerne, however, I rented a villa near the lake, and there I enjoyed a very private holiday, which was very pleasant.
All the same I was glad to return to Balmoral; and it was particularly interesting to go back because I had asked Brown to look out for a little house for me…a simple homely little house. Balmoral was really a castle, and what I wanted was a house where I could live with the utmost simplicity.
I could trust Brown to choose the right place. With great sensitivity he had selected a spot that had particularly impressed Albert. It was Glassalt Shiel, which meant Darkness and Sorrow. How better interpret my mood! It was set among wildly beautiful scenery of almost forbidding grandeur where the Glassalt Burn tumbled down the mountainside into Loch Muick.
I called it my Widow's House for it was the only one that had not had the touch of Albert's hand. Osborne and Balmoral were his creations. Not so Glassalt Shiel.
Louise was with me and accompanied by one of the ladies—I think it was Jane Churchill—we set out for the place. The air was clear with a touch of frost—chilly for the first of October. We stopped for tea at Birkhill and John Grant joined us there with Arthur who had come from Geneva and had arrived in Ballater only a few hours before. Arthur got into the carriage with us and Grant joined Brown on the box.
I was so excited when we arrived at Glassalt Shiel. There were lights in the house as we were expected and the servants wanted to give us a good welcome.
It was such a compact little house and there seemed plenty of room in it for it was much bigger inside than it appeared from the outside. There was one staircase leading to the upper floor where there were several bedrooms—enough to accommodate the servants. On the ground floor were my sitting room, bedroom and the maids' room; and on the other side of the hall the dining room, a kitchen, steward's room, store closet, and another room for the menservants to sleep in. There were good stables and keeper's cottage where the gillies slept.
After we had dined Brown came in unceremoniously and announced that everyone was ready for the housewarming, implying that I should join them, which I did.
Our meal had been cleared away and the dining room was ready. There were nineteen of us altogether. Two of the men played the bagpipes and the rest began to dance reels. Brown said it would not be right if I did not dance with them. So I complied. How strange to dance again! I enjoyed it, remembering how excited I used to be about balls when I was very young—before Albert taught me that dancing was a useless and frivolous occupation.
So I danced the reels and these honest Scots saw nothing unusual in their Queen dancing with them.
When the first reel was over, Brown brought in what he called “Whiskey toddy.”
I declined but Brown was quite indignant. “Come on, woman,” he said, “you mun drink to the fire kindling.”
So I drank a little and Grant made a speech in which he called upon God to see that “our royal mistress, our good Queen, should live long to reign over us.”
They cheered me and drank my health in whiskey toddy and they all became very merry indeed.
I retired to my room soon after eleven o'clock, but I believe they continued with the dancing and singing until the early morning.
I lay in bed thinking of the past and dear Albert who would have loved this place. I believed he was watching over me and that he would bless my little Widow's House.
And with that comforting thought I slept.
I was still in Scotland when the election took place. Disraeli's government was defeated and the Liberals came in with a majority of one hundred and twenty-eight.
And so, I thought, that odious Mr. Gladstone will now be my Prime Minister.