When I was very young they had put it about that I was a weak child and not expected to live, and Mama had to take me for walks very publicly so that all the people were able to see for themselves how strong I was. Indeed I was quite plump and brimming over with good health. I still went for these walks with Mama or Lehzen—usually as far as Apsley House, and the people often stopped and cheered me.
Mama said later that the reason why I was never left alone was because of the forces round me and the need to protect me from them all the time. I was not so sure of that because I became aware that Mama wanted me to do exactly as she wished, so that I should be like a puppet she was controlling.
The Cumberlands were at the center of more than one scandal—and not minor ones either. There was the one long ago concerning the Duke's valet; and at this time there was another when Lord Graves was found dead in bed with his throat cut, the evidence being that he had killed himself. And why had he done this? Because his wife was having a love affair with the Duke of Cumberland, and one must never forget that his Duchess also had a dubious past with two husbands who had died young.
Aunt Sophia, when she was very young had had a child presumed to be by Colonel Garth. Now they were saying that the real father of Sophia's child was her brother, the Duke of Cumberland.
There was no end to the scandal that surrounded that family.
Aunt Adelaide used to call on my mother occasionally, and I always thought Mama behaved very regally toward her, although as the wife of the Duke of Clarence, who was older than my father would have been, Aunt Adelaide should have taken precedence. She might have been put out by this—most people, and certainly Mama, would have been—but she was not. I really think she liked to come to Kensington to see me, because she was always so kind to me, and I noticed a special look on her face when she talked to me. She always asked about my pony, Rosy, and the dolls, and what I was doing. She wanted me to go to visit her at Bushey; she told me something about the parties she gave. The two little Georges came—Cumberland and Cambridge. “Such darling boys,” said Aunt Adelaide. “George Cambridge is with us now, because his mother and father are abroad. He and the other George are great friends. We have singing and dancing and games.” How I should have loved to go to Bushey!
But I was never allowed to. I asked Mama why and she grew very red in the face and muttered something about those dreadful FitzClarences.
Later I discovered they were the children and grandchildren of Uncle William's liaison with the actress Dorothy Jordan and Aunt Adelaide had adopted them as her own family when she married Uncle William. More family scandal!
My chief companion at this time was Victoire Conroy whom I never liked because she was her father's daughter, and the older I grew the more resentful I became of his presence in our household. I felt sure I was right to be wary of him because both Lehzen and Spath disliked him too. They did not say much to me—at least Lehzen didn't—but Spath used to purse her lips and mutter “Das Schwein.”
Victoire was like her father; she was a little superior and seemed to forget I was a princess, or perhaps she felt that with such an important father, she was of as much consequence as I was.
Several times I asked Mama why I could not go to Aunt Adelaide's parties and meet gentle George Cambridge, who had the good fortune to live with Aunt Adelaide, and George Cumberland, who might not be as sinister as his parents.
But Mama was adamant. I simply could not go to Bushey because of what I heard her call “The Bastidry.” “And how Adelaide can behave as she does amazes me,” she added.
So I was left to my lessons, the company of Lehzen, my walks, and my dolls.
One day when I was out walking with Lehzen, showing myself to the people, I saw a beautiful doll in a shop window. I stopped and said, “Oh, Lehzen, isn't she lovely!”
Lehzen admitted that she was.
“I should love to have her,” I went on. “I often think the Big Doll does not quite fit in with the others, and that one would be a companion for her.”
The doll was priced at six shillings.
“I will ask your Mama if you may have her,” said Lehzen.
Mama and Lehzen put their heads together to discuss what would be good for me and they came up with the idea that I must not think everything was mine for the asking. I might have the doll if I bought her myself and to do this I must save up my pocket money. In the meantime I could go into the shop and ask them to put the doll on one side until I could pay for it.
That seemed an excellent idea and I liked the thought of buying her myself. It gave me a feeling of independence. The man in the shop was eager to please. He said, certainly he would hold the doll until I had the money to pay for it.
“You won't let anyone else buy her, will you?” I asked anxiously.
His answer was to take a big ticket which he hung around the doll's neck. On it was printed in large letters sold.
I found it exciting to walk past his windows every day and look for the doll. There she was, sitting waiting for me, and with great glee I counted my money each morning. At last I had the six shillings and in great triumph went to collect my darling.
Exultantly I carried her out of the shop but as I was walking along beside Lehzen I saw a poor man sitting on a bench. It always distressed me to see people cold or hungry and I would remember them at night when I was in bed, and think how warm I was, how cosseted, and that made me uneasy because it was so unfair.
I was not allowed to speak to people, only to smile and wave my hand when they cheered me. But I did speak to this man. I said, “Wait a moment.” And to Lehzen's horror I ran back to the shop and asked the man there to take back my beautiful doll and give me my six shillings. “Put the sold ticket back,” I said, “and when I have saved it I will come back for her, but now I want my six shillings back.”
He gave me the money and took the doll, putting the sold ticket round her neck.
“What is this?” called Lehzen breathlessly. But I was already off. I put the six shillings into the poor man's hand.
Lehzen was panting behind me. “Princess,” she cried in shocked tones. She was almost in tears, but not angry.
She took my hand firmly. “You are a good sweet child,” she said, and I thought she was going to cry. “I am proud of you.”
What Mama said when the incident was repeated to her, I did not know. I expected to be scolded. But nothing was said. And I saved up six shillings again and in due course the ticket sold was taken from the beautiful doll's neck and she joined my company much, I imagined, to the joy of the Big Doll.
MAMA AND I were spending a few days at Claremont. What a joy it was to be there! Uncle Leopold devoted so much time to me and I never wearied of listening to him. He talked of being good and the purpose of life, and how one was born to a certain destiny that it was one's bounden duty to fulfill.
He was so good himself that sometimes I felt he was too good for this life and I trembled at the thought, because that was what was said when people died.
But perhaps he was not quite so good, and he, too, may have had secrets in his life. I did not understand what happened at the time, but I was aware of something. That is so frustrating about being young. One is aware of what goes on and yet does not fully understand its significance. People are secretive and make faces at each other when they think you are not looking—Lehzen and Spath were always doing that—and then one began to ponder. What does that mean? And, there is something very secret—and when it is a secret it is often rather shocking.