The Queen's Husband

Chapter I ALBERINCHEN

The family were in the summer residence, the charming little schloss called Rosenau, some four miles from Coburg; and the two Grandmamas had come to visit them. The first thing they did when they arrived was to hurry to the nursery for both Grandmama Saxe-Coburg and Grandmama Saxe-Gotha doted on the two little boys, Ernest aged five and Albert, fondly known as Alberinchen, just a little over a year younger.

Alberinchen was the favourite. He was such a beautiful child with his big blue eyes and dimples. ‘More like a girl than a boy,’ said his nurses. Ernest was bigger than his year’s seniority warranted; he was brown-eyed and more physically energetic than his brother, and although they quarrelled constantly and fought now and then, the children were miserable when separated and because of the closeness of their ages they did almost everything together.

Alberinchen knew, though, that he was the favourite of the grandmothers and what was more important, of his mother, for the happiest times of his life were when she came to the nursery; she was beautiful and different from anyone else Alberinchen had ever known. Life without Ernest would have been inconceivable, for Ernest was almost always there, but his feelings for Ernest were made up of rivalry, companionship and custom; his mother was as beautiful as his conception of an angel; she laughed all the time and her suffocating caresses filled him with bliss.

‘Where are my big boys?’ she would cry, peeping round the door of the nursery; and they would both run forward, Alberinchen pushing Ernest aside, knowing that Ernest would not retaliate because if he did Alberinchen would cry and the precious half hour of Mama’s visit would be spent in consoling him. Alberinchen’s tears were notorious; when they came it was everyone’s desire to stop them as soon as possible.

Alberinchen would sit on his mother’s lap and Ernest would lean against her; she would place her arm about him and they would talk about a new game she had thought of. It was very different from other people’s visits. They always wanted to know about lessons; and the two little boys would be expected to read their books or repeat the verses they had learned; but with Mama they would be playing the new game which involved a good deal of fun.

On this occasion the door was opening and there was Mama, Duchess of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, looking so beautiful and excited that the two little boys, shrieking with delight, ran to her and clung to her gown.

‘So my two little boys are glad to see me?’ she asked unnecessarily.

‘Alberinchen’s here,’ Alberinchen reminded her.

She lifted him up. Beautiful little Alberinchen, she thought; my consolation. What a lovely child and how he depended on her.

‘And Ernest too,’ said Ernest.

‘My precious darlings,’ cried the Duchess.

‘What shall we play?’ demanded Ernest.

‘Your grandmamas will be here at any moment. I was surprised that at least one of them is not here already.’ Mama grimaced. ‘So perhaps we should not be discovered crawling round on the floor. We’ll have to play a word game instead.’

Ernest wailed and Alberinchen was about to cry when it occurred to him that he was more likely to win at a word game. But that game was never played because just at that moment Grandmama Saxe-Coburg came in.

Ernest pouted and Alberinchen was disappointed but he wanted Grandmama Saxe-Coburg to go on loving him so he did not betray the fact that he was disappointed.

‘How are the little boys today?’ asked Grandmama Saxe-Coburg.

‘Well and happy,’ said their mother.

She caught up Alberinchen and held her face against his.

‘The resemblance is remarkable,’ said Grandmama Saxe-Coburg.

‘Well, why shouldn’t I be like my own son?’ said the Duchess.

‘And Ernest is just like his father.’

Alberinchen smiled smugly; it was of course far better to be like his mother, who was gay and beautiful, than like his father who had lines on his face and pouches under his eyes; although Alberinchen, in fairness to Ernest, could not see that Ernest was in the least like him.

‘I daresay we shall see the Saxe-Coburg coming out in little Alberinchen in due course,’ said Grandmama.

‘I am sure you will search most assiduously for a resemblance.’

There was something strange about the way in which they were speaking to each other. Alberinchen was only faintly aware of it; he wished Grandmama Saxe-Coburg would go, so that he could be the centre of attention.

‘And how are they getting along with their lessons? I was speaking to their governesses …’

Mama grimaced, which made her seem as though she were a child in the nursery; Alberinchen gripped her hand tightly. He would be ready to cry if he could not answer the questions Grandmama Saxe-Coburg asked him.

‘They are a little young for so many lessons,’ said the Duchess. ‘Little Alberinchen is only four.’

‘They can’t start learning too young,’ said Grandmama, ‘and if properly taught, lessons are a joy like games and sports.’

Alberinchen could not agree with that so he kept close to his mother; but he realised that she was ineffectual against Grandmama Saxe-Coburg so the lesson books came out and he had to spell out the words; and as he did better than Ernest there was no need for tears.

While they were thus engaged Grandmama Saxe-Gotha (the young Duchess’s step-mother) came in and sat listening, nodding with approval; and this went on until Mama said she was going riding and must leave them to get ready.

Alberinchen’s face puckered, but she held him tightly against her and kissed him fervently.

‘Darling Alberinchen, I’ll see you later on. And you too, my precious Ernest.’

So they were left with the grandmothers.

There was something rather alarming in the air; Alberinchen was not sure what. Was it the manner in which the grandmothers looked at each other?

‘Now, Ernest, read from here.’

Ernest with his rather imperturbable good humour began stammering out the words.

‘Can it possibly be true?’ whispered Grandmama Saxe-Coburg.

‘I hesitate to say, but I very much fear …’

‘She could not be so … criminal …’

‘Ernest I fear has not been …’

‘But Ernest is a man … and that is different. But if this is true … I tremble …’

‘I always thought her frivolous.’

‘You heard what she said about my looking for the likeness to his father?’

‘Why is there always trouble in the family?’

‘Hush. The boys.’

‘They wouldn’t understand.’

‘Little ones have big ears.’

Alberinchen touched his ears which made the grandmothers gasp.

‘You see.’

‘I do. Alberinchen, my darling, show me your drawings. I’m sure Grandmama Saxe-Coburg would be delighted to see them.’

He was so excited by his drawings that he immediately forgot the conversation he had heard; but he remembered it later.

The young Duchess of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld hastily changed into her riding-habit. What a relief, she thought, to get out of the palace for a short while. She could not bear the censorious attitude of her mother-in-law and her step-mother. She knew they were discussing her now.

I don’t care, she thought. I must have some life or I’d die of boredom.

Her marriage had been a failure from the start. How she had cried when at sixteen they had married her to the Duke. He had seemed so old and she was so inexperienced; of course if he had been different, a little tender, if he had tried to make her love him, it might have been different. But like his ancestors he was crude and sensual; and he had no intentions of giving up his mistresses because he had acquired a wife – for the sole purpose of course of getting heirs. No one could deny that she had done her duty in that respect. She had given him first Ernest and then Albert; and he was pleased with the boys. And so was she. She loved them dearly, but she was too young and too pleasure-loving to be able to make them all she asked of life. Perhaps some women would have been able to – but not Louise. She hated her husband, who was parsimonious and, although he indulged his sensuality, could scarcely be called gay.

She had tried very hard to be a good wife, but after Ernest’s birth she had begun to look round for some means of making life more amusing – and she had found it.

Of course she should not be riding out alone: she should be with a party. He goes his own way, she told herself defiantly. Why shouldn’t I go mine? And in any case how could she take a party to meet her lover?

The Dowager Duchess of Saxe-Coburg went to her son’s apartments when she left the children. She was very uneasy.

‘I must have a talk with you, Ernest,’ she said, ‘about you and Louise.’

The Duke’s expression hardened, ‘There is a good deal to be said on that matter,’ he agreed.

‘It is all so unfortunate.’

‘I believe that I am on the verge of discovery.’

‘So these rumours …’

‘Of her misconduct? Yes, I believe them to be true. I am having her watched.’

‘And you suspect that someone here is her paramour?’

He nodded. ‘Szymborski.’

‘Never.’

‘Well, he’s a handsome fellow.’

‘Is he Jewish?’

The Duke nodded.

‘Oh, Ernest, and how long do you think this can possibly have been going on?’

‘That’s what I intend to find out. I suspect that she had been unfaithful before Albert was born.’

‘Ernest! This could have terrible implications.’

‘Oh, I believe Albert to be mine.’

‘It could not be otherwise. But it is criminal of her.’

‘I agree with you. That is why I am determined to bring the matter to a head.’

‘She was always frivolous and she is little more than a girl now. Ernest, what will you do?’

‘It remains to be seen. So much will depend on what we discover.’

‘If there were other children …’

‘I know you are thinking that we could not be sure that I was their father. Even so …’

‘No, don’t say it. Don’t even think it. Ernest is you in miniature and I am convinced that darling little Albert is your son.’

‘I feel so, too. But how could I be sure of any others?’

‘It is a scandalous situation.’

‘And will become more so.’

‘Does Leopold know?’

‘Not yet.’

‘He will be horrified.’

The Duke felt faintly resentful. His brother Leopold was his mother’s favourite son and regarded in the family as something of an oracle since he had succeeded in marrying the Princess Charlotte which, had she lived, would have meant that he was the husband of the Queen of one of the most important countries in the world – very different from the little dukedoms and principalities of Germany. But Leopold was far too ready to interfere in family matters. It was not as though he were an elder son either. Fortunately he was in England where he was paid a good income even though his position there was somewhat invidious. King George IV had never liked him and had not wanted him as a son-in-law. But Leopold was so good-looking and clever that Charlotte had insisted on marrying him, and by accounts – Leopold’s at any rate – she had been so enamoured of him that he had easily been able to subdue her will to his. What a glorious future it would have been for Leopold – and the house of Saxe-Coburg – if Charlotte had lived to be Queen.

Still, Leopold had not lost hope of governing England, for a very significant event had occurred at Kensington Palace three months before young Albert had been born. Their sister, who was Duchess of Kent, had given birth to a daughter – Alexandria Victoria – and if the King did not marry and produce an heir – which was scarcely possible considering his age and condition – and his brother William did not either – and he seemed in no state to do so – that little girl, Leopold’s niece, his own niece, would be Queen of England.

So Leopold stayed on in England hoping that since he had failed to be the husband of that country’s Queen, he might one day be her uncle.

Very clever of Leopold, but that was no reason why he should be considered an oracle who could solve the problems of Saxe-Coburg.

Of course his mother believed he could.

‘I think,’ she was saying now, ‘we should write to Leopold and ask his advice.’

‘Mother, this is a matter for me to settle.’

‘When he came over four years ago, he did mention that he thought Louise a little frivolous. He noticed, you see.’

‘We all knew the character of my wife, Mother. It was obvious.’

‘He came all the way from England then just to find me a house in Italy for the winter,’ said the Dowager Duchess fondly. ‘I am sure he would be willing to come on this far more important mission.’

‘I am of the opinion that I can deal with this affair.’

‘What do you propose to do?’

‘To bring the matter into the open. I may find it necessary to rid myself of her.’

‘Ernest, be careful. This could reflect on the children. You remember when Leopold was here, how taken he was with little Albert.’

‘They were taken with each other, I think.’

‘It is true. Albert could just toddle at the time, but although just a year old, he was very forward for his age. He followed Leopold everywhere. I remember how he sat on his knee watching his lips as he talked.’

‘I remember how enchanted Leopold was by such admiration.’

‘He said to me, “I have a dear little niece in Kensington Palace whom I love as much as I could love this little fellow.” And he went on to say that as soon as he had set eyes on our little Albert he had thought of his little niece in England. “She could be Queen of England,” he said. “And would it not be a wonderful arrangement if these two children could be brought together.” He said that, Ernest.’

‘No one makes plans for the family like Leopold.’

‘Oh, he is clever, so wise and so eager to bring good to the family. Just think – our little Albert could be King of England. It’s a possibility, Ernest. So you see, my son, how careful you will have to be. There must be no whisper against little Albert.’

‘I’ll see that there is not. At the same time I have no intention of allowing my wife to deceive me under my very own nose.’

‘I just cannot believe it of her.’

‘You will … when I produce the evidence.’

‘All I ask you, Ernest, is take care.’

‘You may rely on me to do that.’

She sighed. She hoped so. But all her children of course could not be as wise as Leopold.

The book lay on Grandmama Saxe-Coburg’s lap and the two boys listened entranced as she read to them.

‘These two little boys you see here were Saxon Princes and one was named Ernest and one named Albert.’

‘Those are our names,’ cried Ernest.

‘Which one was Albert?’ asked Alberinchen.

Grandmama Saxe-Coburg showed them.

‘They were your ancestors, my darlings, and they lived in the Castle of Altenburg. Their father was Duke Frederick.’

‘Our Papa is Ernest,’ said Alberinchen.

‘That’s quite right,’ said Grandmama. ‘There are a lot of Fredericks in our family and Ernests too.’

‘And Alberts,’ put in Alberinchen. ‘There are a lot of Alberts too, Grandmama.’

‘There is one here now,’ said Grandmama, kissing him, which made him hunch his shoulders and laugh delightedly.

‘There’s a bad man coming in,’ said Ernest, placing a plump finger on the page.

‘Yes, there is a bad man. Now the Duke Frederick had a chamberlain named Kunz of Kaufungen and because Duke Frederick had made him give back land which he had stolen he decided to have his revenge. So one night he, and some wicked men who were helping him, crept into the castle where the two boys were sleeping and they seized Ernest.’

‘What about Albert?’ cried Alberinchen.

‘Well, there was another little boy, an attendant of the Princes, who was sleeping in a bed near that of Albert and they mistook him for Prince Albert and took him instead.’

Alberinchen’s face puckered. It seemed that Prince Albert was going to be left out of the adventure and he didn’t like that.

‘Albert was clever,’ said Grandmama quickly. ‘He saw at once that a mistake had been made, so he said nothing and when little Graf von Barby, the boy they had mistaken for Albert, was dragged away, he hid under the bed in case they came back.’

‘And what happened then?’

‘They discovered their mistake and came back for Albert. They found him under the bed.’

‘But he was clever to hide there,’ said Alberinchen.

‘It was very clever. Well, the good Duke Frederick was not going to allow his sons to be kidnapped, so he sent his trusty soldiers after the villains and they caught them and the boys were restored to their father. Now, that is a true story and it happened in the year 1455.’

‘I like that story,’ said Ernest.

‘So do I,’ Alberinchen laughed. ‘I liked it when Albert hid under the bed.’

‘It’s history,’ said Grandmama Saxe-Coburg. ‘Now you know how exciting history is you must pay great attention to your lessons.’

‘I like history when it’s about us,’ said Alberinchen.

‘That wasn’t about us was it, Grandmama?’ asked Ernest.

‘It was about our family. And as most royal families are connected with each other, history is about us.’

‘I like history,’ said Alberinchen. ‘I wish Mama would come. I want to tell her about how Prince Albert hid under the bed.’

They were playing the capture of the Princes. It was a good game because they could each play the part of a prince, but there were other exciting roles. They both wanted to be the wicked Kunz at the start of the game and Duke Frederick at the end. Ernest thought he should have the choice as he was the eldest, but Alberinchen did not agree with this and it seemed as though the game was going to end in a fight and the inevitable tears when their mother put her head round the door and said: ‘Are my boys pleased to see me?’

The game was forgotten. They dashed at her.

‘My darling, darling Alberinchen. Dearest Ernest!’

‘Oh, Mama, how beautiful you look.’

‘That’s because I’m pleased.’

‘Why are you pleased, Mama?’

‘Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you all about it. We’re going to have a children’s ball.’

‘What’s that, Mama?’ asked Ernest.

‘We’re going to dance.’

Alberinchen’s face puckered.

He didn’t like dancing, he said. It made him tired.

‘Tired!’ cried Mama. ‘Why I could dance all night and not be tired.’

‘So could I,’ said Ernest. ‘It’s only silly Albert who can’t.’

Alberinchen’s lips trembled and his mother hastily embraced him. ‘Albert is not silly, are you, Alberinchen?’

‘I’m clever like Albert who hid under the bed.’

‘Oh, that story, yes. It was interesting, wasn’t it, my pets? Now you’re going to love my ball and we’re all going to dress up. What would you like to be, Ernest?’

Ernest could not think but Alberinchen wanted to be Prince Albert who was nearly kidnapped.

‘Well, I don’t think so, darling. I’ve got a lovely idea for you.’

‘What is it, Mama?’

‘It’s a surprise. You’ll learn all in good time.’

‘A surprise!’ The little boys danced around joyously.

‘Now,’ said Mama, ‘who doesn’t want to dance? Look at Alberinchen.’

The surprise was his costume. He was to be dressed as Cupid.

‘Who was Cupid, Mama?’ asked Alberinchen.

‘The God of Love. He carried arrows with him and when he shot them into people they fell in love with each other and married.’

‘Like you and Papa?’ asked Ernest.

Alberinchen watching her face saw a strange expression flit across it. It frightened him but he did not quite know why.

‘Like people who fall in love,’ said Mama.

‘Shall I have arrows?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘You can shoot them,’ cried Ernest. ‘Mama, I want arrows too.’

‘No, darlings, you won’t shoot them. Alberinchen will just carry them and he will dance with the pretty little girls.’

‘I don’t like little girls,’ growled Alberinchen.

‘Oh, my dearest boy. You are not very gallant.’

‘What is gallant?’ asked Ernest.

‘It’s something nasty,’ Alberinchen said, confident that it must be if he was not it.

‘Well, it’s something Princes must learn to be.’ Mama laughed and hugged him. ‘My precious little Cupid!’ she added.

So there he was in satin costume and Ernest was similarly garbed.

‘What darlings they look,’ said the grandmothers to each other; and their fearful eyes were on the Duchess Louise who was rather hysterically gay as though she knew that there would not be many more such balls where she would be able to dress up her children and join in the fun.

All the young guests were lined up together.

‘You know the steps,’ whispered Ernest to his brother. ‘They’re those you learned yesterday.’

‘I don’t like those steps,’ said Alberinchen.

But Ernest wanted to dance; he liked the look of the pretty little girls who were placed opposite them, and it was interesting to be with other children.

Ernest took his partner’s hand and they danced along the line of children as they had been taught to do, while the grownups looked on and were enchanted.

‘Ernest is quite the little gentleman,’ said Grandmama Saxe-Coburg.

‘A real little Prince,’ agreed Grandmama Saxe-Gotha.

Alberinchen stood sullenly. He did not like being dressed as Cupid. He wanted to be dressed as Prince Albert. He did not want to dance with silly girls but to hide under the bed and then fight and scream when the wicked Kunz came to take him.

They were waiting. The music was playing. The little girl was standing before him, smiling. He hated her; he hated all little girls. He stood sullenly, his eyes lowered.

‘Albert.’ Grandmama Saxe-Coburg was calling to him. But he remained, his eyes lowered.

His mother came over. ‘Alberinchen, darling, it is your turn to dance.’

He would not dance. He hated dancing.

He began to cry. He was aware of the shocked dismay all about him, so he yelled; soon his screams were drowning the music. His face was red; they were always afraid when he screamed like that and he knew that they wanted to stop him at all costs.

One of his nurses came forward at a sign from Grandmama Saxe-Coburg, seized him and hurried him away.

In the room he shared with Ernest he stopped screaming. Once again his tears had brought him what he wanted.

But that was not the end of the affair.

Grandmama Saxe-Coburg came into the room. He stood eyeing her defiantly.

‘Albert,’ she said, ‘I wish to speak to you.’

The fact that he was called by his proper name was a sure sign that he was in disgrace.

The tears started to fill his eyes.

‘Your conduct in the ballroom was not what I would have expected of a Coburg Prince,’ said his grandmother.

‘I didn’t want to dance,’ said Albert.

‘But what about the little girl, your partner? She wanted to dance.’

‘But I didn’t.’

‘And because of you, she couldn’t. Was that kind?’

‘It makes me tired,’ said Albert pathetically.

‘What, you, a Prince … too tired to dance with a little girl!’

‘I don’t like dancing. It’s silly.’

‘It’s a necessary social grace, and that is something you will have to learn, Albert, social grace.’

He wondered about social grace. Was it as exciting as history and stories of his ancestors?

‘One day, you will grow up and you will marry. You won’t be able to cry then, you know. I wonder what Uncle Leopold would have said, if he could have been in the ballroom today.’

At last the child looked contrite. What power Leopold had! It was three years since Albert had seen him but so impressed had he been that he remembered still and was eager for his uncle’s good opinion. But perhaps Leopold’s name had been kept alive by constant references to this god-like uncle.

‘You must not think, Albert, that this is an end of the matter. That was a disgraceful scene and you will hear more of it.’

As Albert was about to burst into tears, his grandmother left him.

Albert was silent. There was no point in exercising his lungs on unresponsive silence.

Duke Ernest was in his study and his younger son stood before him. The Duke was holding a long thin cane which fascinated Albert.

‘Now, Albert,’ said the Duke, ‘I am ashamed of you. You have insulted a lady. I have heard all about your conduct in the ballroom. Your partner in the dance, a little girl of nobility, stood before you and you refused to dance with her and screamed so much that you had to be carried struggling from the ballroom. That is conduct which I cannot tolerate in my Court.’

Albert continued to stare at the cane.

‘Therefore I am going to punish you. I am going to beat you with this cane and you will still feel the effects of this beating for days to come. Now don’t start to cry. Is that the way princes behave? You can scream to your heart’s content but Ernest is gone for a walk and will not hear you; your mother will not hear you either. As for your grandmothers, they agree with me that what I am about to do is necessary. So Albert, take your punishment like a man and remember that when you are about to behave badly in future the cane will be applied with even more severity than I shall apply it now.’

His father seized him. ‘No!’ screamed Albert.

‘But yes,’ retorted the Duke.

Albert’s screams were deafening.

‘I won’t be defied,’ shouted the Duke.

Albert screamed the louder. His face grew red; he was gasping for breath. The Duke raised the cane but Albert’s piercing screams grew louder.

The Duke hesitated. The child would do himself an injury; he had heard of Albert’s screaming but had never realised how alarming it could be.

It grated on the Duke’s nerves; he felt he had to stop it at all costs; at the same time the sight of that small face suffused with blood and growing more purple every moment alarmed him.

The boy would do himself an injury; and the Duke knew that if he applied the cane those terrifying screams would grow worse.

‘Stop it, Albert,’ he commanded.

Albert continued to scream.

The Duke could not bear the sound; it seemed to pierce his eardrums. And then suddenly the child started to cough.

The Duke put the cane down. Albert, they said, was delicate. That was why he didn’t like dancing. It tired him. Albert went on coughing; he found he couldn’t stop.

The Duke said: ‘If you promise to behave better next time, I shan’t use the cane now.’

That quietened Albert.

‘I think,’ went on the Duke, ‘that we have come to an understanding.’

It was true. Albert understood that his screams were as effective with his father as with others.

The cough had helped too. He started to cough again. He went on and on making an odd noise as he did so.

His father went with him to the nursery and the grandmothers came in for a consultation. Meanwhile Albert discovered that Ernest, returned from his walk, was coughing too.

The brothers had contracted whooping-cough.

They must stay in the nursery, said the grandmothers. Everything that could be found to amuse them was brought to them. There were not so many lessons and more picture books; and Albert studied the drawings in one of these picture books which told the story of the two Saxon princes who had been kidnapped.

He did not mind being kept in the nursery because Ernest was with him; they could play and fight and listen to accounts of the treats that had been planned for them when they were better.

‘Why does Mama not come to see us?’ asked Albert.

Ernest couldn’t answer that; and when they asked the grandmothers they talked of something else.

The young Duchess was imprisoned in her room. She was frightened. Everything was known now. They had spied on her. She had been seen with her lover; they knew that she had visited his house.

What would become of her? What of her little boys? They were confined to the nursery now with whooping-cough and she longed to be with them.

They were cruel, these German Princes – cruel and crude. There was one law for the men and another for the women. Why should Ernest be so shocked because she had taken a lover? She wanted to laugh when she thought of the hosts of mistresses with whom he had humiliated her. Yet she was supposed to ignore that side of her husband’s nature; to remain coldy virtuous and await those occasions when he deigned to share her bed for the purpose of getting children. Her part of the bargain had been kept. He would have to understand that.

She would never forget – and who else would? – the terrible case of their ancestress, Sophia Dorothea. How very like her own: a crude boor of a husband from whom no female was safe, be she lady of the court or tavern woman; and poor tragic Sophia Dorothea had loved romantically the Count of Konigsmark. The discovery of their liaison had brought about the murder of Konigsmark and the banishment and divorce of Sophia Dorothea. Poor sad Princess who had languished in her prison castle for more than twenty years while her coarse husband went to England to become George I. And she had had two children – a boy and a girl. How heart-broken she must have been to leave them!

And here she was … she, Louise, married to Ernest, mother of two dear little boys, her Ernest and little Alberinchen. Poor darlings, if I am sent away what will they do without me? she asked herself.

The door was unlocked and her husband came in. He looked at her with contempt and her expression became one full of loathing.

‘It’s no use making any attempt to deny it,’ he said.

‘I was unaware that I was attempting to do that.’

‘Szymborski is leaving the country.’ She was silent. ‘We have put no obstacle in his way. We think it better to have him out of the way with as little scandal as possible.’ She nodded. ‘As for yourself, you may go tomorrow. You shall go quietly and without fuss. There has been enough gossip.’

‘You and your women have created a fair share of it,’ she retorted.

‘I have behaved as a natural man is expected to behave.’

‘By crude peasants, perhaps.’

‘Whereas you have behaved in a manner which is intolerable to me, my family and the people.’

‘Why should what is shameful in me be so natural and commendable in you?’

‘I did not say commendable … only natural. And the difference is, Madam, that you are the mother of the heirs of Saxe-Coburg. How long have you been consorting with your Jewish lover? Was it before Albert’s birth?’

‘How … dare you!’

‘I dare because we are here in this room alone. I would not have the boy’s future jeopardised by voicing these fears outside.’

‘Albert is your son.’

‘With a wanton for a mother how can I be sure of that?’

‘A mother can be sure.’

‘I can conceive circumstances where even she might not be sure.’

‘You are making me an object of your insults. Pray don’t.’

‘You are an obvious object for insult. How can I know that you have not brought a bastard into my house?’

She ran to him, her eyes blazing; she would have struck him but he caught her wrist and twisted her arm till she screamed with the pain.

‘Albert is your son,’ she said.

‘I believe you,’ he said, releasing her. ‘If I thought he were not, I would kill you.’

‘Always be good to Albert. He is not as strong as Ernest.’

‘Albert is my son and shall be treated as well as his elder brother.’

That placated her to some extent; but she felt desolate. She knew that she would be sent away, but for the first time she realised how wretched she would be when she was unable to see her children. Perhaps she would never see them again.

‘Yes, Ernest,’ she said, ‘Albert is your son. Never doubt it. I swear it.’

He looked at her searchingly and there was still a niggling doubt in his mind. His impulse was to seize her, to throw her to the ground, to beat the truth out of her. But Albert is my son, he assured himself. He must believe it. It was unthinkable that he could accept anything else. He had feared that under stress she might confess that Albert was not his son. What if Ernest were not also? Then he would be a man without sons. That was unthinkable. He loved the boys in his way. They were his. Ernest surely was, there could be no doubt of that. Ernest had his looks. And so was Albert. It was true those fair delicate looks were inherited from his mother but many babies resembled their mothers and bore no likeness whatsoever to their fathers.

He could not afford his suspicions. Albert was his son and no one must doubt that in the years to come.

He looked at his wife with hatred.

‘You will not take the boys away from me,’ she said.

‘Are you mad? You play the whore and then think it would be pleasant to be the mother for a while. You will never see the boys again.’

‘That would be too … cruel … wicked.’

‘What a pity you did not think of that before.’

‘Ernest, listen to me, I beg of you. I’ll go away. You can divorce me … never see me again. I admit I have done wrong, but please … I beg of you don’t take my babies from me.’

‘It’s a pity you did not think of your children when you were with your lover.’

‘I have thought of them constantly. Only they made my life worth while.’

‘They … and Szymborski?’

The Duchess broke down and wept.

‘Be ready to leave the schloss tomorrow morning early,’ said the Duke. ‘I want no one to see you go. You will just disappear.’

The Duchess, thinking of her little boys, began to weep silently.

The boys were recovering. Grandmother Saxe-Coburg stayed with them and she was constantly in and out of their room.

‘Why doesn’t Mama come?’ Alberinchen asked Ernest.

Ernest thought she might have whooping-cough too.

Grandmother Saxe-Coburg said that fresh air was good for the boys while they were getting better, so they were taken out into the pine forests. They played games and pretended they were the kidnapped princes. But Albert could not forget his mother and made up his mind to ask his grandmother what had become of her.

One day when she was reading to him he put a finger on the page and said: ‘Where is my Mama?’

The Dowager Duchess hesitated for a moment and then she said: ‘She’s gone away.’

‘She did not say goodbye.’

‘There was no time.’

‘Was she in a hurry?’

‘Yes, she was in a great hurry.’

‘When is she coming back?’

‘I can’t tell you that.’

‘Tomorrow,’ said Alberinchen and his grandmother did not answer: and when she saw the questions trembling on his lips she said: ‘I’ll tell you a story.’

That quietened him; his enormous blue eyes were fixed on his grandmother while he waited for her to begin.

‘Three months before you were born another little baby was born right over the sea in a place called Kensington.’

‘Over the sea?’ repeated Albert.

‘Yes, in England, which is a big country. There are many in our family as you know, and the little baby girl who was born in Kensington three months before you is your cousin. Her name is Alexandrina Victoria. She is a little mayflower because she was born in May.’

‘What sort of flower am I?’

‘Boys are not flowers. You are an August baby. But one day you will grow up and so will the little girl at Kensington. Then you will meet because that is what your Uncle Leopold wishes. And I’ll tell you a secret, little Alberinchen. If you are very good when you grow up you shall marry the Princess in Kensington.’

Albert’s eyes were round with wonder. He was not sure what it meant to marry; but that story about the baby girl of Kensington was his story too.

There were changes in the household. The nurses were dismissed.

‘The boys have to grow up and learn to be men,’ said the Duke. ‘Now that their mother has gone there shall be no more pampering. Albert particularly needs a man’s hand. He will have to stop this crying habit.’

Herr Florschütz came to be the new tutor; he immediately set about discovering what standard the boys had reached and found them to be rather forward for their ages. Lessons were going to begin in earnest now. Alberinchen was not dismayed for he was a little brighter than Ernest and he enjoyed coming in first with the answers.

He was constantly asking when his mother was coming back and began to wonder because the answers were always evasive.

The two grandmothers disagreed as to the desirability of Herr Florschütz’s taking the place of the nurses.

‘Poor mites,’ said Grandmama Saxe-Gotha. ‘They need a woman’s tender hand.’

But Grandmama Saxe-Coburg was of the opinion that Herr Florschütz would make a much better attendant than the nurses for he was expected to combine these duties with those of a tutor, the Duke’s income being inadequate to his position and his necessarily large household.

‘His mother was a bad influence on Albert,’ was her verdict. ‘He was growing too much like her. A man’s firm hand is what he needs.’

The grandmothers seemed to be the only women who came into close contact with the boys. Albert screamed less but dissolved into tears at the least provocation. Herr Florschütz was immune from tears. He just allowed Albert to cry; and Ernest said he was a bit of a cry baby.

Albert cried sometimes quietly in his bed when he thought of his mother. Sometimes she had come to tuck them in. Why had she gone away without telling him, without even saying goodbye? Why did his grandmothers look strange when he asked about her? When was she coming back?

He had a little gold pin which she had given him. She had used it once when a button had come off his coat.

‘There is a nice little pin, Alberinchen,’ she had said. ‘It will hold your coat together until the button is sewn on and after that you must keep it and remember always the day I gave it to you.’

So he had and he would take it to bed with him and put it under his pillow; and first thing in the morning he would touch it and remember.

It became the most precious thing he had.

Once Grandmama Saxe-Coburg came into the bedroom and, bending to kiss him, saw that he was crying quietly.

‘My little Alberinchen,’ she said, ‘what is it? Tell Grandmama.’

‘I want my Mama,’ he said.

‘You mustn’t cry,’ she said softly. ‘Only babies cry. You must be brave and strong. Otherwise you won’t be able to marry the little Princess of Kensington.’