The Queen's Husband

Chapter V THE BRIEF HONEYMOON

It was indeed triumph. The Queen was too candid by nature to hide her feelings and she made it clear to all about her, including Albert, that she found him fascinating.

She confided to the Baroness Lehzen that Albert was all she had hoped for. Did not Lehzen find him handsome? He had such beautiful blue eyes; his nose was quite exquisite; his mouth was pretty.

‘Does one expect a man’s mouth to be pretty?’ asked Lehzen; and was told sharply that with so many ugly mouths in evidence it was a pleasure to see one which was charming.

It was clear that Victoria would have no criticism of Albert.

The Baroness was a little apprehensive. Having been the Queen’s governess and closest companion since she was five years old, she had considerable influence with her and did not wish to lose it now. The influence had come through affection which was the only way in which it was possible to guide Victoria. Since the Queen was not on good terms with her mother she had come to regard Lehzen in that light; Victoria’s affections overflowed; she loved and hated passionately; there were no fine shades of feeling. She loved her Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, unswervingly; she hated his opposite number, Sir Robert Peel, and would hear no good of him; the Baroness Lehzen, who had been, as she said, a mother to her, she loved passionately, whereas although she would not admit that she disliked her mother (Victoria had a keen sense of the proprieties and no good person could dislike a mother) she was very critical of everything she did. This antagonism had been aggravated by the palace factions – that headed by the Queen and the other led by her mother the Duchess. It was an unhappy state of affairs, but as Lord Melbourne, the witty Prime Minister, had said, it was an old Hanoverian custom for parents to quarrel with their children.

Two years ago, when Victoria had become Queen, there had been great changes in the palace. She had quickly shown that she had no intention of being persuaded to do anything she did not wish. She had immediately fallen under the spell of charming Lord Melbourne and the relationship between the young Queen and her ageing Prime Minister had given rise to some speculation. She had found him extremely handsome and she was very susceptible to good looks particularly in men, although quite a lot of her ladies had been chosen for their appearance. Beauty appealed to her in every form and her first comment on those who came in contact with her would invariably be of their physical assets or defects. The handsome Lord Melbourne, with his fatherly air and the manner in which his eyes filled with tears as he contemplated her, completely won her heart from the day of her accession; and with that whole-hearted affection which she generously and rather impulsively gave, she was ready to accept almost everything he put before her simply because he had suggested it.

These two people had had her affection up to this time: Melbourne, her worldly, cynical (in spite of the effective tears) Prime Minister who knew that his position could be changed if his government fell and therefore realised how precarious it was; and the Baroness Lehzen who had no thought of anything but her imperious young mistress and whose life would cease to have any meaning if she relinquished her hold on her affections.

Marriage, of course, could change the situation at the palace. If Victoria fell in love she would do so whole-heartedly and the affections she had for any other than her husband would be in great danger of being usurped by him.

So the Baroness was uneasy because she was aware of how deeply Albert’s good looks had impressed her mistress, and the slightest criticism of that young gentleman would arouse the Queen’s temper, which Lehzen had often declared to be, in her best nursery manner, ‘Very big for such a small person.’

Now Victoria went on to extol the virtues of Albert.

‘He is much more handsome than Ernest.’

Lehzen admitted this was so. ‘Although Ernest looked the stronger of the two.’

‘Stronger!’ cried Victoria. ‘In what way?’

‘In health, I meant.’

‘Oh, Albert is so much more refined.’

‘I remember last time he came. Remember, he nearly fainted on the ballroom floor.’

‘He was growing too fast. You see he was quite short then. He is tall now. What a fine figure he has. His shoulders are broad and he has such a fine waist.’

‘You have a sharp pair of eyes,’ said Lehzen.

‘You always said that.’

‘Yes, my precious angel, and it’s true.’

‘Well, anyone would notice Albert. He stands out in a crowd.’

‘It was hardly a crowd. I must say they travel light. Their baggage hasn’t come. They won’t be able to change for dinner.’

‘That will make it all delightfully informal.’ Victoria giggled.

‘You’ve changed quickly,’ said Lehzen. ‘Yesterday you were dreading their coming.’

‘It’s different after having seen Albert.’

‘You don’t have to rush into anything.’

Victoria was immediately the Queen. ‘I do not have to do anything I don’t wish to,’ she said. ‘Unless, of course,’ she added hastily, ‘it was for the good of the state.’

‘Some might say marriage was for the good of the state. As the Queen you have to give the country its next King or Queen.’

Lehzen watched her mistress obliquely. The shaft had gone home. Victoria could never hide her feelings. Since the death of Lady John Russell in childbirth Victoria had thought a good deal about bearing children. She had referred to it as the ‘dark side of marriage’. It was horrible, painful and could be dangerous. Dear Lady John had been young, happily married, she already had children and could well have done without another, and she who had been well one week was dead the next.

But Lehzen could not bear to see her darling unhappy, so she put an arm about her and said: ‘Why, dearest, you’re only twenty. You could wait three or four years for marriage if you wished. Didn’t Lord Melbourne tell you so?’

‘Dear Lord Melbourne.’ Victoria thought of those happy meetings in the blue closet, the long chats about any subject Lord Melbourne liked to introduce. Little titbits about the ministers and members of the household, about his childhood (though never about his scandalous past), his witty comments on life and the sudden way in which he would introduce some state matter and explain it in the most amusing way. Yesterday she would have been happy for the old way to go on and on. Although she knew it couldn’t because Lord Melbourne’s Whig government was very shaky and Sir Robert Peel’s Tories could overthrow it at any moment and a new Prime Minister would never allow the Leader of the Opposition to be on such intimate terms with the Queen.

There had to be change; and it had come as soon as she looked into those beautiful blue eyes and noticed the good looks of her fascinating cousin.

Although she had deplored the prospect of change she could not help being elated because Albert had come.

She knew what this meant.

She had fallen in love. And Lehzen, who knew her so well, was aware of it too.

Albert’s fears were rapidly disappearing because she was so enthusiastic about everything he did that he could not help knowing that he was a success. He was glad he had brought his greyhound with him, for she was devoted to dogs and had several, the favourite of them being Dash, who took a fancy to Albert. She did seem rather childish, betraying her feelings so easily, and she was simple in her tastes. She would shriek with laughter when he joked. Not that he was given to joking but she was so easy to amuse and it was pleasant to make her laugh. She would race through the gardens with Dash at her heels and she would pick him up and explain to him that Eos, Cousin Albert’s greyhound, was so called because that meant Dawn, and because he was black with a silver streak he had reminded Cousin Albert of the first touch of light after the darkness of night. ‘It was such a clever name,’ she said admiringly.

Music was a passion with her as with him, and this was a great interest in common. She loved to listen to the two brothers playing together and was in ecstasies when she and Albert sang a duet together. There was one thing which caused Albert a certain uneasiness; that was her love of dancing. Every night she wished to dance. Albert had been warned by Leopold and Stockmar that his social manners must improve and, with this in mind, he had forced himself to master the necessary dancing steps and with his usual thoroughness he had become a tolerably good dancer, though he felt no enthusiasm for the exercise. Victoria however was enchanted with his dancing.

‘You see, Cousin Albert,’ she explained, ‘I could never take part in the waltz before unless we had royal visitors.’ She blushed rather charmingly. ‘The waltz is such an intimate dance, the gentleman having to put his arm about the lady and of course as I am the Queen … it had to be a royal arm. But, Albert, don’t you love the waltz?’

He wanted to say that he disliked the waltz and that love was not a word he would apply to such a thing as a dance, but he had been warned. He was doing very well and he was certain that once they were married he could guide her to such an extent that she would quickly lose her frivolous ways.

‘I think the music of Strauss delightful,’ he said.

‘Oh, I am so glad. I love the Strauss music. Particularly the waltzes. They make me want to dance and dance …’

The late nights were rather tiring but he must not show fatigue this time. He had seen Windsor Castle; he understood all that this marriage would entail. It was the greatest opportunity which would ever come his way, and there was no doubt that the little Queen was already in love with him.

Five days after the arrival of Albert and Ernest at Windsor he and his brother went out riding in the forest. From a window the Queen watched their return and as soon as they entered the castle sent for Albert to join her in the blue closet.

When he came she held out her hands to him.

‘You know why I asked you to come,’ she said, frank, happy, and only faintly embarrassed because she had to reverse the usual custom and propose to him. ‘It would make me too happy if you would consent to what I wish.’

He understood. He kissed her hands. Joy shone in his face and she was too enchanted to differentiate between ambition and love.

After all the fears and anxieties he had won.

She threw her arms about him and her warm-hearted affection was very appealing.

‘I am not worthy of you,’ she said, astonishingly.

He protested that this was untrue.

‘Oh, but it will not be easy to be the husband of a Queen. It is a great sacrifice on your part.’

It was not so, he insisted; and he was determined that it should not be so. Sacrifice! To accept the greatest prize in Europe, together with such an affectionate young girl, who was so whole-heartedly in love with him!

‘This is the happiest, brightest moment of my life.’

What bliss indeed. With love and ambition walking hand in hand into the future.

So elated had Albert been by that brief visit that he had scarcely noticed the crossing; alas, though, Ernest had to go straight to Dresden while he returned to Coburg. But his mind was so full of Victoria and his future that he scarcely missed his brother. He was already very fond of his future bride; her absolute devotion to him made her so fascinating. How impulsive she was, but that could be curbed; she was so whole-heartedly natural that she was disarming. He wished that he had been her senior instead of the reverse but their natures remedied that. It was clear that he was the sober one, the one meant to control.

He was going to regret leaving Coburg, of course, and he was going to miss Ernest, but there would be great compensations. He could almost feel sorry for Ernest – Duke of a tiny territory while he would be virtually King of England.

Disillusion quickly followed. He learned that it was not Victoria only with whom he had to deal and it was clear as Victoria began to hint in her letters (she wrote copiously and her letters overflowed with her love for him) that the English did not greatly care for foreigners.

First there arose the trouble about his title. Uncle Leopold thought he should be made a peer but this was not acceptable. Those ‘dreadful Tories’, as Victoria called them, were determined to be difficult. She herself wished him to be the King Consort but apparently even Lord Melbourne would not agree to that, and declared that it was a dangerous precedent for Parliament to be allowed to make a king, for might it not then feel it was permissible to unmake one. He was a prince and must remain a prince. Victoria wrote to him:

The English are very jealous of any foreigner interfering in the government of this country, and have already in some of the papers (which are friendly to me and you) expressed a hope that you would not interfere. Now, though I know you never would, still, if you were a Peer, they would all say, the Prince meant to play a political part …

Not interfere! But he wanted to play his part in the country! He wanted to advise and guide Victoria! What did they expect him to be? A royal stud!

He was humiliated. While he had been at Kensington she had been quite humble and had talked about the sacrifices he was making in marrying her. Did she mean by that then that he was to be a nonentity?

He had hoped that in his household he would install a few German friends to whom he would be able to talk in his own language, which would make him feel less alien in a strange land; and the most important post would be his secretary.

To his dismay Victoria and Lord Melbourne had chosen the man to fill this post. It was to be the Prime Minister’s own secretary, Mr George Anson.

I am very much in favour of it because he is an excellent young man and very modest, very honest, very steady and very well-informed … wrote Victoria.

Albert threw the letter aside. How dared they treat him like this! Surely he was entitled to choose his own secretary! He wrote at once to Victoria telling her that he wished to do this. All he knew of Mr Anson, whom he had seen during his visit, was that he was a good dancer, but he did not wish to choose his household because of their prowess in the ballroom.

This brought a loving reproach from Victoria.

Regarding your wish about your gentleman, my dear Albert, I must tell you quite frankly that it will not do. You must leave it to me to see that the people of your household will be people of good standing and character.

Yes, it was a reproof. It meant: I love you dearly, but please don’t forget that I am the Queen.

Perhaps most distressing of all was the matter of his income, because this was debated in Parliament and it was such a public humiliation. Previous consorts of reigning Queens had been granted £50,000 but he was to have only £30,000. To do her justice the Queen was incensed and did her best to get the larger allowance for him. He knew what was being said in England: the people disliked him already, chiefly because he was German and they did not like the Germans. Even Lord Melbourne had thought it wise not to make a major issue of the Prince’s income and to accept the £30,000 for him.

So he did not match up to previous consorts such as stupid old George of Denmark, consort to Queen Anne, for he had been given his £50,000! Baron Stockmar, who was watching the situation carefully, made sure he saw certain extracts from the English papers. ‘You must take a deep interest in politics,’ had ever been his injunction, ‘and that means a study of the country’s press.’

It was not very comforting reading. The press reminded its readers that the Prince who was to be the Queen’s husband was the second son of a German Duke and had an income of £2,500 a year. £30,000 would be riches to such a comparatively poor man. The Chartists were on the move; there was a great deal of poverty in the country which was in no mood to shower a fortune on an impecunious Prince even if he was going to marry the Queen. They doubted whether he was in danger of imminent starvation, which was more than could be said for many of Her Majesty’s subjects. He would have been happy enough with the £30,000 if those who had previously been in similar positions had not been unquestionably awarded £50,000.

At least Victoria was loving. She deplored that he should have been so humiliated. She raged against those dreadful Tories; she was as devoted as ever and when she did not hear from him for a week she was alarmed. She wrote and told him that she watched for his letters and when they did not come she was afraid she was very bad-tempered with her dearest Lehzen.

That was not such a bad thing. Her dearest Lehzen had far too much influence. He had noted that she was not very efficient; and he believed that she was largely responsible for the relationship between Victoria and her mother, of which he disapproved. Victoria should have more respect for the family tie. Besides, the Duchess had been so charming to him and he was sure that he and she were going to be friends. He would most certainly insist on bringing about a reconciliation between Victoria and the Duchess and perhaps then he and his mother-in-law would endeavour to wean Victoria from this rather foolishly sentimental attachment she had for the Baroness.

Dear little Victoria! She needed to be guided and who better to guide a wife than her husband? There had been scandals in the Queen’s household. He had heard and read accounts of the disastrous Flora Hastings affair. The Queen had behaved very impulsively and quite wrongly in that, and he was convinced that her actions had been urged on by the Baroness Lehzen. Oh, yes, he must save the Queen from an affair like that occurring again. The fact was that Victoria was too lenient. She was good herself and could not see the evil in others.

The first thing he would have to do was to introduce a moral note into the Court, which he feared might be lacking. This struck him forcibly when he saw the list of bridesmaids.

One of these was the daughter of Lady Jersey, a woman whom the Prince called notorious. She had been the mistress of George IV when he was Prince Regent. How was it possible to allow the daughter of such a woman to act as bridesmaid to the Queen? When he queried the matter the Queen wrote that it was the daughter who was the bridesmaid, not Lady Jersey; but Albert thought that no daughter of a notoriously immoral mother should be allowed to act as bridesmaid at the Queen’s wedding.

Victoria stressed her point in referring to a certain Lady A at her Court. She liked this woman very much, she wrote:

… only she is a little

strict and particular

and too severe towards others which is not right; for in my opinion one should be indulgent towards other people, for I always think that if we had not been well brought up and well taken care of, we might also have gone astray … It is very dangerous to be too severe …

He was astonished. Clearly her moral attitude was at fault. It was she who had been unwisely brought up; and the reason was that she had taken far more account of her governess than of her mother. He could see that life was not going to be very easy as the Queen’s husband – unless he took a very firm line. So much would depend on Victoria herself, and although she had been so loving when they had been together, he detected a faintly autocratic note in her letters.

This was more than ever apparent when he was considering the honeymoon. This was going to be a very important period. He pictured their being alone together for a few weeks, far from the influence of Lord Melbourne and the Baroness Lehzen. In that time he would be able to make himself so important to her that she would be quite willing to accept his advice, which was what a German husband expected of his wife. He feared that there would be a great deal in England of which he disapproved. He must have those weeks alone with her at Windsor.

Perhaps her reaction to this suggestion was more significant than any of the others in which her attitude might have been dictated by her ministers or the Tory opposition, for this was her own decision – and given somewhat imperiously. And was he wrong in thinking it a little patronising?

Dear Albert had not understood the matter at all.

You forget, my dearest love, that I am the Sovereign, and that business can wait for nothing. Parliament is sitting and something occurs almost every day for which I may be required and it is quite impossible for me to be absent from London; therefore two or three days is already a long time to be absent …

She might have fallen headlong in love with him when she had seen him, but during his absence she was quickly remembering that she was the Queen.

He pictured it. The two or three days – at most – at Windsor where in the fresh clean air he would be at his best. He hated London; he felt unwell and so tired in London. He did not like Buckingham Palace, where there were too many Ministers at hand, too much ceremony. At Windsor they could have ridden in the forest; they could have taken long walks in the clean fresh air; they could have retired early and risen at six. But in London she would be planning those interminable balls.

He could almost begin to ask himself whether his great good fortune was so wonderful after all.

What could he do? How could he protest already that he was not treated as an equal. Who knew, she might fall out of love as easily as she had fallen in.

He foresaw all kinds of difficulties ahead. He wrote to Uncle Leopold, implying that he felt melancholy and was gloomy about the future. Everything that had happened since he had left England made him feel that his new country was not ready to welcome him. He did not say that he felt there were two Victorias – the humble, tender, affectionate girl in love and the imperious young woman who, although she could forget temporarily that she was a queen, was inclined to remember it whenever any decision was to be made.

It was February – the marriage month. He must take a last farewell of the forests and mountains of his homeland. Ernest had come home because naturally he and their father must be at the wedding; so for the last time he and Ernest could roam the woods together, hunting, shooting, looking for rare relics such as had delighted them in their childhood and formed their ‘museum’.

‘What is the use now?’ asked Albert. ‘I shall never be able to see our collection again.’

‘What nonsense. You will surely bring Victoria to Coburg on a visit.’

‘She would find the time it takes too long to be away from her business.’

‘You would have to put your foot down like a stern husband.’

‘Not with the Queen of England,’ said Albert wryly.

Ernest looked at his brother in a startled way. Ernest did not know of the correspondence which had taken place between Albert and his affianced bride.

‘But let us talk of the old days,’ said Albert quickly.

There were some necessary celebrations before he left the land of his birth. The people expected it. Their Prince Albert was going away to marry the Queen of England and everyone knew that would be a very good thing because the Prince would be King of that powerful country and he would never forget his duty to his native land.

There must be a ball, but balls in the ducal palace were very different from those in Windsor and London. They would be over at a respectable hour and although Albert would have preferred to do without them at all, he could submit to these with a fairly good grace. He must listen to the bands and the speeches of congratulation. Little did they know what an imperious young woman he was going to marry.

The time came to leave accompanied by Ernest and their father. His grandmother wept openly when she said goodbye; she had watched over him from his childhood days and he knew that she was thinking she would never see him again. As the carriage drove away he saw her attendants catch her as she fainted, and it was almost as though he were going to his own funeral.

There was another of those dreadful crossings when the sea was as rough as the last time. The boat was tossed on those malicious waves and Albert again knew what it was to be indifferent to death – in fact to consider whether it might not be preferable to the torments inflicted by the sea.

Eventually the white cliffs appeared and he staggered to his feet, knowing that a crowd would be waiting to see the Queen’s prospective husband.

There was a faint cheer as he stepped ashore. He smiled. No one must know that he could scarcely stand up, that he was feeling wretchedly sick. He was at least on dry land and he must give them no opportunity of jeering at the Queen’s husband.

He stepped into the waiting carriage; the people cheered and he was driven off on the road to Canterbury where he would spend the night before going on to London and Buckingham Palace.

The people of Canterbury did not seem to dislike him; there were only a few murmurings of ‘German’, and as after a good night’s sleep the effects of the sea crossing wore off he felt able to face what lay before him.

At the palace Victoria was waiting impatiently. There was no ceremonial greeting. The Queen had been replaced by the young girl in love.

She flew at him in her impetuous way.

‘Dear, dearest Albert.’

She was looking up at him, her lips slightly parted to show those prominent teeth and the hint of pink gum; the blue eyes were adoring.

‘It has seemed so long.’ She had flung herself into his arms. ‘I have been watching for hours from the equerries’ room.’

She blushed, suddenly turning to Uncle Ernest and Cousin Ernest. She had forgotten everything but Albert.

Uncle Ernest smiled and murmured ‘Charming! Charming!’ and Cousin Ernest smiled and looked enviously at Albert.

‘I am so happy to see you … all,’ she cried eagerly, gazing adoringly at Albert.

He could certainly not complain of her welcome.

During the afternoon and the next day which preceded his wedding he could complain of nothing in the Queen’s attitude towards him. She chattered in a rather hysterical manner of her joy at their reunion; the days had been so long without him; she had been desolate when his letters had failed to arrive; these wicked Tories were monsters and she would never forgive them for the manner in which they had treated him. What she would have done without dear Lord Melbourne beside her, she did not know. It was angelic of dear Albert to accept Mr Anson as his secretary.

‘But I have no choice,’ he replied.

‘You are so philosophical, dearest Albert. That is just another of your dear qualities which I love.’

He could not fail to be charmed by her; there was no sign of the arrogant Queen; nor had there been, he remembered, when they had been together. She just appeared in those letters – dictated no doubt by her ministers. And not once did she mention the Baroness Lehzen. In fact he did not see the woman. He had exaggerated her importance; he had nothing to fear; as long as Victoria acknowledged her duties to him as his wife, he would overcome all the opposition to him which obviously existed in some sections of the Parliament and the country.

Darling Eos had arrived safely in advance of his master, she told him; and wasn’t it a blessing that he got on so well with Dashy?

‘Darling Albert, I am so glad you will be staying at the palace. Mama thought that it was wrong for a bridegroom to spend the night before his wedding under the same roof as his bride. I told her it was nonsense.’

‘Not very daughterly behaviour,’ he commented, which made her laugh loudly. She did laugh too loudly. Later he would point out that it was rather unseemly. And a good daughter should honour her father and mother. Was it not one of the commandments? But it would have been awkward to have stayed somewhere else; and knowing these people they would probably have given him some inferior lodging which would have been humiliating and undignified. He smiled with her.

‘Albert, you are so beautiful when you smile.’

There was no doubt that she was affectionate and he liked her frankness. There was a very engaging lack of guile.

The night before the wedding they read through the marriage service, even to his putting the ring on her finger.

They retired early – to Albert’s satisfaction.

In the morning there was a letter from her asking her ‘most dearly beloved bridegroom’ whether he had slept well.

He had nothing to fear.

He looked out of his window and saw that the rain was teeming down. Not a very auspicious beginning to their life together, he thought, with a return of the gloomy feeling; then he re-read the note from his ‘ever faithful Victoria’. Of what importance was the weather? She loved him; she doted on him; he would guide her in the way she should go and together they would bring great good to their marriage and the country.

He drove to the Chapel Royal amid the cheers of people who had lined the streets. They could not help admiring his looks for he was undoubtedly handsome in his uniform. (She had recently created him a Field Marshal.) He looked very different from the pale-faced, sick young man who had stepped ashore at Dover.

When he entered the chapel he felt ill at ease because he had not been properly informed of what was expected of him. He was unsure whether he should bow to the Archbishop of Canterbury or to the altar; he carried gloves in one hand and a prayer book in the other; and wondered whether he carried them in the appropriate hands. He was very uneasy; but his father and brother were close to him and they smiled reassuringly at him. His father was proud of him, Ernest envious in the best possible way, and suddenly he felt desolate. What should he do when they went away and left him here in this strange land?

And then Victoria arrived in white satin and flounces of lace surmounted by the ribbon of the Garter and her dazzling diamond necklace. He did notice that she prominently wore the sapphire brooch which he had given her; the face beneath the wreath of orange blossom was ecstatic, and he felt reassured at the sight of her. Her adoring eyes took in his magnificence – Field Marshal’s uniform, the Order of the Garter, which she had also recently bestowed on him, his tasselled sash, his white knee breeches, the diamond star on his breast, and her eyes told him that she thought him beautiful.

She was trembling a little but as always very conscious of what was expected of her. Her presence calmed him and she whispered to him telling him what they were expected to do. She was both the nervous bride and the autocratic Queen. She trembled visibly – that was with emotion – but her voice when she made her responses was firm and clear.

Albert put the ring on her finger – a little awkwardly perhaps and she had to help him along, but she loved him for his lack of poise. Dear, dear Albert! She would cherish him for ever more.

The ceremony was over. Victoria and Albert were married.

They drove back to the palace where the wedding breakfast and the guests awaited them, but before going to them they were alone together for a brief while, during which time she gave Albert a ring. He must wear it all his life, she told him, and they must never, never have any secrets from each other.

How tiresome, she added, that they must mingle with the guests.

‘But, dearest Albert, that will soon be over. Then we shall be on our way to Windsor.’

Windsor! he thought. Fresh air! The trees and the fields! He would feel well there; it was an ideal place in which to start their married life. He would show her, with the utmost tenderness, that although she was the Queen, she was his wife and a husband must be master in his own house.

‘Darling Albert, I know you love Windsor. So do I. It will be wonderful to spend a few days there before returning to my dear London. I never like to be away too long from my capital city. Other places seem a little dead when compared with it. And everyone of course is in London. They have to come to Windsor.’

A pained look crossed his face. What different tastes they had!

‘And when we get back to London there will be lots of celebrations. Everyone will expect it. Banquets and balls, I daresay.’ Her eyes sparkled at the thought.

He feared his dear little Victoria was very frivolous. But this was not the time perhaps to attempt to improve her.

‘Look,’ she cried, ‘there is the castle.’

‘Magnificent,’ said Albert with deep feeling.

‘Dear Albert, I am so glad you like it. It will be one of your homes now.’

‘It will be my favourite home,’ he said.

‘Because we shall spend our honeymoon there? Oh, Albert, what a delightful thought.’

‘That and because it is in such a beautiful setting. I hope we shall come here often.’

‘It is difficult of course when Parliament is sitting. You see, dear Albert, the Prime Minister cannot keep coming back and forth, nor can he stay at the Castle when there is so much business going on in the House.’

A gentle reminder that she was the Queen.

‘I hope I shall be of use to you,’ he said. ‘I should want you to consult me now and then.’

‘Dear Albert, you can be sure that if the need arose I should certainly do so.’

If the need arose! What did she mean by that? But he must not show irritation on his honeymoon.

They alighted from the carriage and Albert stood gazing in wonder. What splendid Gothic architecture!

‘The terraces were made for Queen Elizabeth,’ chattered Victoria.

‘Beautiful,’ murmured Albert. ‘Grand. Imposing!’ And he thought: How different from Rosenau, and he could not suppress a longing to be there.

‘Those are the private apartments looking east,’ explained Victoria. ‘The state apartments to the north and the visitors’ apartments to the south. But let us go in.’

The past seemed to envelop him as he went inside those thick stone walls, and as he did so he wondered what part he would play in the future. If he were King of this country, if this stately and glorious castle were his and he was introducing his bride to it, how proud and happy he would have been.

But he was the outsider; hers was the hand from which all blessings flowed. ‘Come, Albert,’ she was saying, ‘I will show you my castle.’

In the great banqueting hall Kings of the past had feasted. Here Henry VIII had knighted a sirloin of beef and sported with Anne Boleyn. He pictured them all, the long line of English sovereigns … mostly men but some female … Elizabeth who would allow no man to share her throne and Anne whose husband, stupid Prince George of Denmark, had been given £50,000 a year when he, Albert, had been considered worthy of only £30,000.

‘What are you thinking, Albert?’

‘Of all the Kings and Queens who have lived here.’

‘So you know our history.’

‘But of course.’

‘My clever Albert! But now the castle is mine.’

Mine! he noticed. Ours would have been so much more gracious.

They went to look at the suite which had been prepared for them.

‘The royal bedroom,’ she said with a blush and downcast eyes.

He went through to another room: ‘And this?’

‘My dressing-room.’

‘There is a door leading to another room.’ He opened it. It was a bedroom.

She was beside him. ‘Oh that,’ she said, ‘is dear Lehzen’s room. Hers is always next to mine.’

A cold fear touched him. Why should he be so apprehensive of that woman? She was only a governess.

‘That will be changed now,’ he said, trying to sound authoritative.

‘Oh, no,’ she replied lightly. ‘I could never permit that. Poor darling Lehzen would be broken-hearted. You see, dearest, her room was always next to mine. One could not change that sort of thing. It would be too unkind. Besides, I should not wish it.’

Her loving gaze belied the arrogance of her tone; but he knew the Queen was very close at that moment.

He left her and went down to the drawing-room. She was ecstatically happy. How adorable he was, and how beautiful! Lehzen had not yet arrived. She would be coming later in the evening, so it was not possible to pop in for a chat with her, which was a pity. She had asked dear Lord Melbourne to come down to Windsor the day after tomorrow. She never felt completely happy unless she knew that he was close.

In the meantime there was dear Albert.

How pale she looked. She was really exhausted; and she had not got over the feverish cold which to her – and everyone else’s – consternation had attacked her a week ago. She must be well for her wedding night. She threw off her tiredness and went down to the drawing-room.

Albert was seated at the piano, playing divinely and looking even more divine.

He stopped playing when she entered and rose to embrace her. What bliss, she thought. How I love dear Albert.

‘But, dearest Albert, I interrupted your playing and it was so wonderful.’

He continued to play.

Afterwards he came and sat on a footstool at her feet and they talked of the future. She told him how happy she was to have such a wonderful husband and that she had never spent such a happy evening in the whole of her life in spite of the fact that she could still feel the effects of her recent fever and had had such an exhausting time.

She must retire early, said Albert, and submissively she agreed.

They rose early next morning and before breakfast they took a walk in what Albert called the wonderful fresh air.

February air was indeed fresh, commented Victoria, but it did not matter because she glowed from the warmth of Albert’s love; and she told him that there was nowhere she would rather be than walking in the gardens at Windsor on a cold February morning with her dearest husband at her side.

She was so hungry, she told him; she was ready for a good breakfast.

Albert smiled indulgently and said she was like a child.

‘Don’t forget, Albert,’ she laughed. ‘I am three months older than you.’

‘No one would believe it,’ he said.

‘They know it.’ She was solemn suddenly. ‘That is one of the drawbacks of being royal. People know everything about one.’

‘Everything?’ he queried. ‘Isn’t my dearest Victoria inclined to exaggerate?’

‘I was not aware of it.’

‘Well your remark was not exactly truthful.’

She looked concerned. ‘And one must be truthful. I will remember in future. Thank you, Albert, for pointing it out. I see that you are going to be good for me.’

He loved her in that moment. All was going to be well. She was enchanting, his dear little wife. He had been overawed because of the manner in which those around her behaved to the Queen.

‘Come, my precious angel,’ she said, ‘let us go in to breakfast.’

Hand in hand they entered the castle, where an unpleasant surprise was awaiting Albert.

The Baroness Lehzen was seated at the breakfast table. She scarcely looked at the Prince; her eyes went at once to Victoria.

‘Good morning, dearest Daisy,’ said Victoria. Daisy! Her name was not Daisy. He had discovered all he could about this Lutheran pastor’s daughter and he knew that her name was Louise.

‘My precious love, how are you this morning?’

‘Oh, so happy, my dear.’

The Baroness gave a nod of approval. Then she said good morning to the Prince as though she had just become aware of him.

She poured Victoria’s coffee.

‘Just as you like it, my love.’

‘Oh, thank you, dear Lehzen.’

Lehzen handed Albert his coffee.

He was mortified and angry, but he could not show it. Their first breakfast the morning after their wedding day and the Baroness Lehzen had to share it with them!