Victoria in the Wings

Menace at Kensington Palace

THEY WERE AT Bushy again leading a quiet life for a while. It was very necessary for the Affair with the Admiralty had upset William more than Adelaide cared for people to know.

He brooded on it; he went about mumbling to himself; she would go into a room where he was alone and find him talking to an imaginary Sir George Cockburn or Duke of Wellington, or perhaps to his brother the King. He would be somewhat incoherent and there would be a wild look in his eyes.

‘You need rest,’ said Adelaide fearfully; and she wished that her mother-in-law Queen Charlotte were alive so that she could have confided in her. Was this how William’s father had behaved in those weeks which had preceded his attacks?

She tried to interest him in the laying out of new gardens; such matters were very soothing to him. The children helped and they were constantly calling at Bushy. He was a little worried though about Amelia’s broken romance with Horace Seymour and he was not sure that the Church was the right vocation for young Augustus.

Adelaide persuaded him to play Pope Joan in the evenings and to retire early to bed.

Sometimes he would look at her with tears in his eyes and say: ‘What should I do without you … you and the children?’

Then she would feel that he was moving away from this threatening shadow, for then he was seeing things as they were. It was when he pictured himself as the great Drake defying tyranny in the form of Cockburn and the Admiralty Board, when he saw himself as the great King of England that she feared for him. The quiet family man at Bushy remembered that he had had nothing but kindness from the brother who now lay close to death; and who was not so much a King with a crown to pass on but a friend and brother.

‘Oh, my dear wife,’ he said, ‘what I owe to you nobody knows!’

Adelaide embraced him and said: ‘Never forget that I shall always be at your side.’

And so William passed out of danger and settled down to enjoy the quiet life of Bushy.

There were children on the lawns. Poor crippled Louise was there with her brother, and the FitzClarence grandchildren looked upon Bushy as their home.

Adelaide was happiest when surrounded by the children but she often confided to William that there was one member of the family whom she missed. It was Victoria.

‘She’s guarded like the crown jewels,’ said William.

‘I think of her often,’ said Adelaide. ‘Poor child, hers is not a very natural childhood, I fear. She seems to me such a grown-up little person. The only childish characteristic is her love for her dolls.’

And as she could not see Victoria as often as she would like, Adelaide started to embroider a dress for her in coloured wools and as she worked she thought of the child and selected the colours which she believed would please her best.

Peace was restored to Bushy.

The danger, thought Adelaide, was past. But like all such dangers it could return.

Was this how Queen Charlotte had felt? Was it some strange presentiment which had made her feel drawn to the mother-in-law who seemed to be out of sympathy with almost everyone else? It was an alarming thought.

A tragedy had occurred in Court Circles. Lord Graves had committed suicide, and there was no doubt of the reason. The Duke of Cumberland had seduced his wife, and so rendered his life no longer worth living.

Because Lord Graves had been a kindly man and popular, a wave of disgust for the behaviour of the Duke of Cumberland swept not only through the Court but throughout the country.

Cumberland had become a bogy man. His very appearance was evil. No one could trust him; and it was said that his grotesque looks fascinated some people, particularly women as in the case of Lady Graves. His attitude to life was cynical, as was that of the Duchess. Old scandals were revived. They had both been implicated in mysterious deaths which could have been murder.

Cumberland was shunned in some society; but most people were a little afraid of him. They remembered that he was a younger brother of the King and there were only two lives between him and the throne. It was true one was an ageing man, and not a very stable one at that; but the other was a young girl who had been proved to be in glowing health. There had been rumours about her delicate state, but those had been false for she was seen walking in the park with her mother almost every day, sturdy and intelligent. There was nothing wrong with the Princess Victoria.

The people cheered her. They were pleased with her. This pleasant little girl was not only destined to be their Queen, she was also a bulwark between the throne and the evil Duke of Cumberland.

The Duchess of Cumberland was a little exasperated with her husband.

‘This Graves affair is most annoying,’ she said. ‘It has focused attention on you. Was it necessary?’

‘Quite unnecessary. Why did the fellow want to kill himself so publicly?’

‘And he gave no indication that he was about to act so maddeningly?’

‘My dear,’ replied the Duke coldly, ‘don’t you think that had he done so I would have prevented him at all costs?’

The Duchess replied that she hoped it would be a lesson and that in future he would choose women with less mischievous husbands.

‘What’s done is done,’ he said. ‘No useful purpose is served by recriminations.’

‘But it has drawn attention to us. It has revived old scandals. And what of the Princess Victoria? They are saying now that she is a healthy child and the rumours about her delicate health were false. Soon they will be asking who started these rumours.’

‘Not they. They’ll have forgotten them.’

‘And William?’

‘I’ve kept a watch on William. He would have been in his strait-jacket now if Adelaide had not cosseted him and kept him quiet at Bushy.’

‘We have to watch Adelaide. I don’t trust those quiet people. So self-effacing! Always working for the good of others! She’s devoted to Victoria as well as William. The good woman is in fact a universal mother. She’s even taking our own George under the maternal wing. He dotes on her.’

‘Adelaide is of no importance.’

‘She could in a few weeks’ time be the Queen of England.’

‘Let us leave William and his pretensions alone for a while. He’s old and probably on the verge of madness. It’s the child who is important to us.’

‘And now we hear nothing but reports of her good health. No one believes that she is a delicate child and if she were suddenly to go into a decline suspicions might be aroused.’

‘She’s guarded like a prisoner. Her mother scarcely lets her out of her sight.’

‘What do you expect after those rumours? It was too early to start them.’

‘Perhaps. But if Victoria were taken from her mother’s care …’

‘There would be an outcry.’

‘Not if there was a very good reason for her being taken away.’

‘What reason could there be for removing the child from her mother.’

‘The Princess Charlotte was prevented from seeing her mother during the Delicate Investigation. Why? Because Caroline was suspected of immorality.’

‘The Duchess of Kent is no Caroline.’

‘Who said she was? But Caroline is not the only woman who has strayed from the paths of virtue. Imagine our Duchess – not so old, luscious, alone. What would be more natural than that she should take a lover?’

The Duchess began to laugh.

‘I see your reasoning.’

‘And you find it worthy of me?’

‘Completely worthy.’

‘There is a ready-made situation.’

‘And the gentleman in the case?’

‘Surely you don’t need to ask. John Conroy – her controller and adviser – such a handsome man! I believe the Princess Sophia finds him most attractive. The Duchess of Kent certainly does. Now you must admit that it would not be proper for our future Queen to be brought up in an immoral household.’

‘You will have to act more subtly over our immoral Duchess than you did with her delicate daughter.’

‘You will see,’ said the Duke, smiling his evil smile.

It was pleasant riding one’s pony through the grounds at Claremont; in fact Claremont, thought Victoria, was one of the most lovely places in the world. Here, Cousin Charlotte had walked with Uncle Leopold. She supposed that Charlotte was her aunt in a way, because she had married Uncle Leopold; but royal relationships were so complicated. People could be cousins and aunts at the same time.

Here Charlotte had made plans about her baby. Oh yes, it was having a baby which had killed her. Louisa Lewis had let that out. Mamma would be cross if she knew, for Victoria was not supposed to know anything about having babies.

She was watched all the time. It was very strange that they allowed her to ride her pony alone. But then she was only in the grounds of Claremont. And I am thankful for a little freedom, she thought.

Something strange was going on.

Feodore had left her and she was sad because Feodore was so pretty and charming and they had always been together. Feodore had been one of her admirers. But Feodore herself was admired – by men. Which, said Mamma, was dangerous. So Uncle Leopold, who always seemed to decide what should be done, had said that it was time that Feodore was married. So poor Feodore, weeping in bed at nights and hugging Victoria and saying that she never never wanted to leave her little sister, had to prepare to leave Kensington and go away to marry the Count Hohenlohe-Langenburg. Poor Feodore. How frightened she had been!

‘Lucky Victoria,’ she had said, ‘when you marry you won’t have to go away … and you will be a Queen who will chose your husband.’

Yes, thought Victoria, she was very lucky.

But sad as Feodore’s going had made her, her sadness had nothing to do with the strangeness.

And Lehzen had now become a Baroness. She supposed they thought a mere Fräulein was not good enough to be the close companion of a Queen.

But it was nothing to do with that either.

No, the strangeness was in Kensington Palace. Mamma had taken to sleeping in her room which was odd; and before Mamma came to bed the new Baroness sat there doing her needlework.

‘Why do you sit there?’ Victoria wanted to know. ‘I used to be all alone in my room.’

‘Do you not wish for a companion?’

Victoria was usually precise. ‘I was not thinking of whether I liked a companion but asking why it was thought necessary to give me one.’

‘Her Highness the Duchess has asked me to bring my needlework in here and sit until she comes to bed.’

‘I see,’ said Victoria, ‘that it must be because she does not wish me to be alone.’

‘The Duchess thinks constantly of what is best for you.’

‘I know,’ said Victoria.

‘And knowing it, it would be wise to accept it without question.’

How could one accept anything without question? Victoria wondered. For if one did, how could one expect to discover what everything was about?

But it was very pleasant at Claremont – Charlotte’s Claremont, where she might have had her little baby and if he had lived – for Louisa Lewis had let out that the child was a boy – Victoria would not have been as important as she was at this moment; in fact there might not have been a Victoria at all. What a gossip Louisa was! She loved to tell stories of the family; so Victoria knew of all the urgency of getting her uncles married when Charlotte had died, including her own Papa.

A world without Victoria? Impossible! she thought. So poor Charlotte had to die.

It was hard to imagine death in Claremont; but death could be anywhere … even in Kensington Palace. Death! Mystery! Something strange was happening and it was all about her. It concerned her.

She was suddenly alert. She had seen a figure moving among the trees. Who was it? Not Mamma, for Mamma was seated on the lawn; she knew exactly where Mamma was. Someone was watching her.

Her heart began to beat faster. Who was watching her? And why? And all this mystery was a little frightening. It made one wonder if something really dreadful was about to happen.

She could ride quickly back to the lawn and Mamma – or she could go closer to the trees and look. She hesitated for a second. She was on her pony; she could always gallop away or call for help.

She galloped over to the trees.

‘Who is there?’ she called.

She was relieved yet a little disappointed. It was only a young woman who stepped out from among the trees.

She curtsied as Victoria pulled up.

‘Who are you?’ she asked.

‘I am Dr Stockmar’s niece.’

Victoria knew Dr Stockmar; he was Uncle Leopold’s physician and Uncle Leopold was very fond of him and talked to him for hours of his rheumatism.

‘Are you staying at Claremont?’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘It is very beautiful, do you think?’

‘Very beautiful.’

‘I haven’t seen you before.’

‘No, Your Highness.’

‘I suppose you know my Uncle Leopold?’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘Do you know who I am?’

‘Certainly. Everyone knows the Princess Victoria.’

‘That is a remark which gratifies me,’ said Victoria. ‘What is your name?’

‘Caroline Bauer, Your Highness.’

Victoria wrinkled her brows. ‘I have never heard of you although I know your uncle … well.’

‘There is really no reason why Your Highness should hear of me,’ was the answer.

And at that moment the Duchess of Kent appeared. Hearing the sound of voices and recognizing one as that of her daughter, she had come hurrying to see with whom Victoria was conversing.

The effect on her was startling. She gave the girl a withering look and said: ‘Victoria, ride at once to the stables. I shall expect to see you in your room in fifteen minutes.’

Victoria, who had been about to present Caroline Bauer to the Duchess, hesitated, thinking that her mother could not have been aware of the young woman’s presence.

But the Duchess said coldly: ‘Pray go at once.’ And as Victoria went she noticed her mother turn away and sweep back to the lawn, just as though the girl were not there, and someone Victoria had imagined.

Life was really growing very strange.

The Duchess looked reproachfully at her brother.

‘Really, Leopold,’ she said. ‘A most distressing occurrence. Victoria came face to face with Caroline Bauer in the gardens.’

‘I am sure Victoria must have been enchanted.’

‘We are not all as besotted as you. And besotted you must be to keep your mistress here … where Victoria is likely to meet her.’

‘My dear sister,’ said Leopold, ‘I doubt Victoria would have thought anything amiss if you had not walked off in a huff and left Caroline standing there.’

‘So that unfortunate creature has been carrying tales of what happened?’

‘You can hardly call it tales.’

‘But, Leopold, is it wise? Think of Victoria.’

‘Victoria will have to learn something of the world one day.’

‘Not such immoral details, I hope.’

‘Well, if she is going to learn the history of the world she will discover much of what you are pleased to call immoral. And she won’t have to go farther than her own family either.’

The Duchess shivered. ‘Leopold, I sometimes wonder what has come over you. You used to be so different! Here … in this house where you lived with Charlotte.’

‘Charlotte would understand,’ he said. ‘It is twelve years since she died. She would not begrudge me this friendship … as you appear to.’

‘I was thinking of Victoria.’

‘An occupation of us all – thinking of Victoria. I must say the child is exceptionally bright.’

He looked at his sister quizzically; he had succeeded in changing the subject. The accomplishments of Victoria were an irresistible bait.

He added: ‘She will make a great Queen.’

‘I pray nothing will interfere with her accession to the throne.’

‘What could?’

‘I am afraid. All these rumours. I sense danger … and I am not sure from where it may come. I never like the child to be alone.’

‘You are fanciful.’

‘It is a great responsibility.’

‘Of course it is, but you have me to help you.’

‘If you can spare the time from … your mistress!’

‘Oh, pray don’t be tiresome. Caroline has nothing to do with this. You ask me why I keep her here in Claremont. Do you ask yourself why I should be in Claremont? I might be in Greece. Did you know the Greeks had offered me the crown? Did you know that I had declined and the reason I had done so?’

‘Because, my dear brother, you did not want the Greek crown.’

‘Because, my dear sister, I preferred to stay in England. I wish to be at hand to stand with you when you need me. And believe me, you will need me, when Victoria is Queen and you are Regent, for she will not be of age, I am certain, when the crown is hers.’

‘You think Clarence will not live another eight years?’

He put his head close to hers. ‘I think Clarence may well be put away. You have heard the rumours?’

‘What if they are but rumours … like those about Victoria?’

‘I don’t think they are but rumours. Clarence is unbalanced to say the least. It could happen … this year, next year. This week. What then? Where would you be without your brother Leopold?’

‘I admit it is a comfort for me to remember that you are here.’

‘Then allow me my comforts, sister. And where is my little niece now? Why is it that you have allowed her out of your sight?’

‘Because she has gone to her room and Baroness Lehzen will be there. While she rode in the gardens Lehzen would have been watching her from the window We never let her far out of our sight.’

‘Little Victoria is safe … with such watch-dogs.’

The Duchess was not sure that she liked the term watch-dog which was somewhat undignified; but she needed Leopold and so she must accept his ways.

John Conroy was delighted with the situation. He was becoming indispensable to the Duchess of Kent who discussed everything with him. The Princess Sophia, who since the death of Queen Charlotte had made Kensington Palace her home, was rather taken with him too.

‘I have a way with the royal ladies,’ he told his wife. She was a meek woman and thought him exceedingly clever; she was ready therefore to allow him to go to work in whatever way he considered best. He had now become Sir John, which pleased him. With Lehzen a Baroness it was only fitting that he too should have a title.

He was indisputably head of the Duchess’s household and since her fears concerning the Princess Victoria he had become even more important to her. In her anxiety she depended on him almost as much as she did on Leopold; and now that Leopold did not seem to be completely trustworthy, she leaned towards him more and more.

He would have liked to discuss his cleverness with Lady Conroy, but she was too stupid; so all he could do was continue in it. One day he would be a rich and powerful man. If George died and William either followed him or was put away, Victoria would be Queen and her mother Regent, and who would be her chief counsellor? Sir John Conroy. One might say brother Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, but would Leopold stay here? Sir John, who flattered himself that he had a finger in foreign affairs, did not think so. Already Leopold had toyed with the idea of accepting the Greek throne and although he declared that he had no intention of taking it, that was not true. He had considered the proposition very seriously. And no wonder. What was he doing here in England? He was at loggerheads with the King and his brothers; he was accepting a pension from England, grudgingly given, he was living at Claremont which must be full of memories of his brief but blissful life with Charlotte; and it was clear that he was only waiting for the right opportunity to leave.

It would come; and then Sir John Conroy would be the power behind the Duchess of Kent and that would be the power behind the Queen.

All he had to do now was wait – and in the meantime he must make the Duchess understand how close were the bonds which bound them, that he was her trusted friend, her tender friend; and that nothing could make him swerve in his loyalty towards her and her daughter.

The affairs of royalty were discussed everywhere in the Capital where men congregated together. Servants of the royal family confided in servants of others and news seeped out to be garnished according to taste.

‘How could one expect a woman like that to live the life of a nun?’

‘She is a handsome woman … and not young.’

‘Ah yes, and they say he’s a very fascinating man. Why the Princess Sophia is in love with him too, I hear.’

‘Sophia! She’s a bit long in the tooth.’

‘Maybe, but some of them are never too old.’

Long-ago scandals were revived about the Princess Sophia. Wasn’t there talk of a child she had had years ago? He must be a grown man now. These things did happen in royal circles.

It was not long before many people accepted it as a fact that the Duchess of Kent was the mistress of Sir John Conroy.

The Duke of Cumberland sat by the King’s bedside. He had a somewhat arrogant habit of presenting himself without permission, which the King half resented. He implied that he came as a brother, and therefore, out of affection, dispensed with ceremony.

The King smiled faintly, feigning pleasure. There was always the vague threat conveyed in Cumberland’s manner. Yet he was so affectionate, so determined to do everything he could to help.

‘Well, George, and how are the pains today?’

‘Agony at times, Ernest.’

‘My poor brother, if the people only knew what you went through.’

There it was. The King shuddered. If the people could see him now in his somewhat grubby silk coat which he wore in bed and the crumpled nightcap hiding his wigless head, what would they say? He thought of cartoons, newspaper comments and shuddered again.

Ernest should have warned him that he was coming; then he would have arisen and have been made presentable.

‘The latest gossip concerns your Swiss Governess.’

The King groaned. ‘That woman! What has she been doing now?’

‘She’s having a love affair with that man Conroy.’

The King laughed. ‘I wish him joy.’

‘Do you think he finds it?’

‘She’s a handsome woman. She might not irritate him as she does some of us. I think she was quite attractive before she became Victoria’s mother. The fact that she has the child has given her false ideas of her own grandeur.’

‘The Princess is a precocious child.’

‘A delightful creature.’ The King smiled. ‘I should like to see more of her. I shall never forget a very enjoyable ride to Virginia Water.’

‘You should see more of her. After all, she is the heiress to the throne.’

‘Don’t harp on that. You make me feel I have to apologize for having outstayed my welcome.’

‘For God’s sake don’t say that, brother. I often wonder what would happen … if you … I can’t speak of it. It affects me too deeply.’

The King wrinkled his eyes in an effort to see his brother’s face. He could not believe Ernest would be greatly affected by his death – at least by affection – but when a man was old and sick and had as he had said ‘outstayed his welcome’ he wanted to believe that when he died there would be some to regret him. And whom could he expect to do that but his own family?

‘And there is William,’ went on Ernest. ‘When I remember our father I tremble.’

‘William is recovered now,’ said the King. ‘It was a momentary lapse. That unfortunate affair of the Lord High Admiral and the fact that Fred’s death put him next in the line went to his head.’

‘I know. To his head … to his weak and foolish head! Things went to our father’s head.’ Ernest came closer to the bed. ‘It would not surprise me if he went the way of our father.’ He raised his eyes piously to the ceiling. ‘Thank God, there are heirs. And that child Victoria would then be the next. She must be prepared for her great position. It occurred to me to ask this question. Should the heiress to the throne be brought up in an immoral household?’

The King was astounded. Ernest of the evil reputation, who had recently been involved in a scandal with a married woman whose husband had committed suicide; who was suspected of practising every vice ever heard of and had been concerned in a violent killing, which could have been murder; Ernest to talk of an immoral household – simply because the Duchess might be having a love affair with a member of her household!

The King, who had also been guilty of many an immoral act, was a little shocked that Ernest could have spoken in this way of the Duchess of Kent. He did not like the woman, but he understood her position. She was a widow, not old, she had an attractive controller of her household. It was in the King’s view inevitable that she should take a lover; and if he had not felt so tired and ill he would have defended the Duchess and asked Ernest why he had suddenly decided to become so virtuous, because it did not become him.

He merely said coolly: ‘I find the Duchess an extremely exhausting woman; her type of looks do not appeal to me, but I certainly would not think of her as an immoral woman.’

One could go so far with the King and no farther. Cumberland knew that. Every action he had to take must be subtle; and the King was no simpleton.

But how could he realize his ambitions while that fat smug child lived on and flourished in Kensington Palace? and how could she cease to do so when she was guarded day and night by her fatter and even smugger mother?

He must be careful though. This was not a matter which could be hurried.

While Adelaide worked in gay-coloured wools on the dress she was making for Victoria, enjoying the peace of Bushy, she was thinking that this could not last. There was change in the air. She could sense it.

One did not need to have special powers to do that. The King was critically ill. The fact that he kept recovering a little because of his strong constitution did not mean that he could go on doing it for ever.

King George was going to die soon and then there would be King William and Queen Adelaide.

But would there?

During the last months she had suffered a terrible fear. She had believed that William was going mad. And yet when she considered his behaviour it was eccentric more than anything else. It had been exaggerated; the rumours had done that.

And who was responsible for those rumours?

Whenever she was in the presence of the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland she felt uneasy. Was it the Duke’s appearance? That scarred face; that void where an eye should have been? Sometimes he wore a patch over it and that gave him a sinister look. It was absurd to judge him by his looks. He had been wounded in the face like many soldiers.

But had he been involved in the Graves’ affair? What had the Duchess of Cumberland thought of that? She gave the impression that she did not care.

She was embroidering the last of the flowers on the dress. This blue would bring out the colour in Victoria’s eyes, she thought. Dear child! She wished that she could see more of her. She feared that the restricted life she led at Kensington Palace was not right for a little girl. There was too much emphasis on etiquette and decorum. Victoria should be allowed to run wild like the FitzClarence grandchildren. Adelaide smiled to think of the pranks they got up to.

Victoria was now spending a few weeks by the sea. The Duchess had decided that she would take her there that she might be seen making the journey; and when she came back she would be so full of good health that the Duchess would wish the people in the Park, where they took their walks, to see it too.

There had been such unpleasant rumours about her health.

Victoria was an interesting child. Such a grown-up letter she had written for Adelaide’s birthday, accompanying some charming presents. Of course it would have been the Duchess of Kent who had chosen the presents, but they had come in Victoria’s name.

Victoria was one of the band of children with whom she had had to compensate herself for having none of her own. The FitzClarence grandchildren, the Cumber lands’ George – a delightful boy – and the Cambridges’ George too. She loved them all, although of course the Duchess of Kent was most insistent that Victoria should never meet any of the FitzClarences which was tiresome and meant that Victoria was often excluded from parties which she would have enjoyed.

Victoria was on her mind today, and when she had finished the embroidered flowers she went indoors out of the hot August sun to write to her.

She sat at her desk and wrote thanking her for the well-written birthday letter and the gifts.

It gives me great satisfaction to hear that you are enjoying the sea air. I wish I could pay a visit there and see you, my dear little niece … Your Uncle desires to be most kindly remembered to you and hopes to receive soon also a letter from you, of whom he is as fond as I am. We speak of you very often, and trust that you will always consider us to be among your best friends.

God bless you, my dear Victoria, is always the prayer of your truly affectionate

Aunt Adelaide

She sealed the letter and sent it; but she could not get Victoria out of her mind.

She could not talk to William of this sudden fear which had come to her. It obsessed her. And it concerned William too.

It was true that William had been over-excitable; it was true he made long, rambling speeches, that he was eccentric; but there was a long step between such conduct and … madness.

It was always as though there had been a force at work which was trying to send William mad.

There! She had faced it.

A force? She might go farther and bring out what was truly in her mind: the Duke of Cumberland.

It was so clear, so simple. The motive could not have been plainer. There was a crown and the Cumberlands wanted it – first for themselves and then for their son. Poor innocent young George, that charming boy whom she loved. God preserve him from the influence of his parents!

They shall never drive William insane, she thought. I will prevent that. I will stand between him and them. I will nurse him. I will not let it happen. It need not, I know – and yet the alarming thing is that it could.

William is safe … with me.

And Victoria?

Oh God, she thought, the child is in danger. Those rumours of her illness. What could they mean?

Whenever she thought of Victoria she saw a great shadow hanging over her, and she was afraid.

The Duchess of Kent and her daughter were back at Kensington Palace after the seaside holiday and Victoria, blooming with health, took her daily walks with the Duchess as far as Apsley House and back and the people cheered her as she passed.

Adelaide called at Kensington Palace. She had brought the dress she had been embroidering for Victoria who was enchanted with it. She must try it on at once, she declared.

‘You shall,’ said the Duchess. ‘Go and do so now and your Aunt Adelaide and I will have a chat while we await your return.’

As soon as she had left Adelaide looked over her shoulder furtively.

‘Is anything wrong?’ asked the Duchess.

‘I have been waiting for an opportunity to talk to you. Perhaps I am being foolish but I feel this is of such great importance to us all. Forgive me if I am stupid, but it is out of my love and concern for the child.’

‘For Victoria!’ cried the Duchess.

Adelaide nodded.

‘Pray go on.’

‘I am anxious. I believe that there is some … evil at work. I cannot forget those accounts of her weakness which were so false.’

The Duchess had turned pale. ‘Nor can I forget them,’ she said.

‘Who started those rumours? Who saw that they were circulated?’

The two women looked at each other and it was Adelaide who spoke first. ‘I believe it to be the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland.’

‘My dear Adelaide … sometimes I am terrified.’

‘I too. And there is William. Those reports about him. Oh, it is so clear. They want William put away.’

‘And Victoria?’ said the Duchess.

‘I don’t know, but I fear some evil. I beg of you, never let the child out of your sight. Keep her with you or that good woman Lehzen … all the time.’

The Duchess had put her hand to her heart. ‘Oh God, it is a terrifying thought.’

‘It is not, alas, so unusual. Crimes have been committed for a crown before. How I wish we were not so close to it. I can see great danger.’

‘I shall see that the child is guarded night and day.’

‘My thoughts will be with you.’

‘My dear, dear Adelaide!’

‘You know I love her as though she were my own daughter.’

The Duchess nodded. ‘If you should discover anything …’

‘Never fear, it is my concern too. Both for William and the child.’

‘They shan’t succeed.’

‘No,’ said Adelaide firmly. ‘We shall protect them and there is none who could do it as we can.’

‘She is coming back now.’

Victoria came in wearing the dress with the hand-embroidered flowers.

‘It is most becoming,’ said the Duchess.

Victoria turned round smiling, but she was not thinking of the dress so much as she pretended; she was wondering what they had been discussing while she had been out of the room. It was something frightening. She could see it in their faces. And she believed it concerned her.

Yes, there was certainly something mysterious going on.

They were afraid for her. It was obvious. If when she was riding her pony in the park she tried to stray a little from her attendants they were immediately beside her.

Orders, she thought.

And then Mamma’s sleeping in her room; and the Baroness’ sitting there until Mamma came. That was the most unusual thing of all.

Could it be that she was in danger?

She thought a great deal about the Princes in the Tower. They had been kept there and suddenly they disappeared, stifled in their beds and their bodies were buried under a stair.

What if someone was trying to murder her?

She told it to her dolls; she wondered whether Lehzen could make the little Princes for her. Mamma said she was getting too old for them, but they were not ordinary dolls. They had been with her so long; they were her family; besides, many of them actually represented her ancestors.

Thinking of her dolls she decided to visit them; and she rose and went to the head of the stairs. The apartments occupied by her mother’s household were on two floors and the staircase which led from one to the other was a spiral one. She had always felt it was rather an exciting place because it twisted so and if anyone were coming up and you were going down, if they were silent-footed you would suddenly find yourself face to face with them.

You could stand on the staircase and look right up to the little window in the roof at a patch of sky; she had always found that fascinating.

But now as she started down the staircase she was thinking of the little Princes in the Tower. Under a stone stair, she had heard, they found their bodies years later. What had they felt when they woke up in the night and saw murderers at their bedside? Did they scream out? Or were they too terrified to open their mouths? Or were they just suffocated in their sleep?

Poor little boys! Had they any suspicions on that last day when they heard the hammering going on close by that it was their murderers preparing the secret hiding-place which was to be their grave?

They were murdered because someone wanted what was undoubtedly theirs – a crown. It was that same crown which would be Victoria’s one day if no one took it from her.

Why was she standing here, looking up at the skylight? She was trying to frighten herself.

And then … she thought she heard a step on the stair behind her. She caught her breath and gathering her skirts in her hand she sped down the stairs.

At the foot of the staircase she almost fell into the arms of Baroness Lehzen.

‘What has happened?’ demanded the Baroness.

Victoria was too frightened to pretend.

‘I … I thought someone was coming after me … on the stairs.’

‘Nonsense,’ said the Baroness. ‘Who would want to come after you on the stairs?’

But they could not deceive her. The Baroness was frightened … even as her mother was.

And after that there was a new edict.

Victoria was not to go up and down the stairs alone. Someone must go with her. The Baroness Lehzen, if possible, or the Duchess’s own lady-in-waiting, Baroness Späth.

‘Not to go up and down stairs without someone to hold my hand!’ cried Victoria.

‘That,’ replied the Duchess coldly, ‘is exactly what I said.’

‘So now I know,’ Victoria told her dolls, ‘that they are afraid someone is going to kill me and the reason is the same one that brought death to the little Princes in the Tower.’

She could not really believe it would happen because it was impossible to imagine a world without Victoria.

The Duke of Cumberland was thinking a great deal about his niece. William was not so important. William would provide his own evidence he was sure; and in any case his brother was six years older than he was and suffered from gout and asthma, and these in addition to his mental aberrations made the Duke of Cumberland feel confident that he could not long stand in the way.

It was different with Victoria, the precious child who was hardly allowed to put one foot before another without someone to stand on guard.

It had been a mistake to try to make her out to be delicate. Madame Kent had soon put an end to that by parading the healthy little brat for all to see. He knew from friends in the Kent household that the child was never in her bedroom alone and that now a rule had been made that she was not even to walk up and down stairs on her own.

It was clear that she must be removed from Kensington Palace and the eagle eyes of her mother and that other watchdog, Lehzen.

He was determined to get her away from her guardians and he saw a way of doing it.

The rumours about the Duchess and the Controller of her household, Sir John Conroy, must persist; but it might be that he would not succeed in persuading the King through them, though they could serve to convince others.

With the King he had another method.

When they were together he talked often of the Princess Victoria.

‘I have seen that the child made a deep impression on you, George.’

‘I found her amusing.’

‘You should see more of her.’

‘Yes, I should like that.’ But would he? What would a mass of corrupting flesh look like in the clear sighted searching eyes of youth?

‘I think it is not good that she should be brought up in the way she is. A household of women … German women. There is her mother who can scarcely speak English and Victoria speaks German to her. And then there are the Lehzen and Spath creatures. All German. I believe she speaks English sometimes, but I have heard many people murmuring about that household. There seems to be a barrier between you and the child.’

‘There is no barrier.’

‘How often do you see her? She should be here at Windsor. She should be your close companion. Why, you hardly know the child.’

The King was thoughtful.

‘I believe,’ said the Duke of Cumberland, a nerve twitching in his cheek, ‘that you are considering having Victoria brought to Windsor.’

The Duchess of Kent was in a panic.

She sent for Sir John Conroy. ‘What shall I do? The King has made no commands yet, but I have heard that he intends to. He wants Victoria to go to Windsor.’

‘You must resist at all costs.’

‘I know. I know. But what if he should command? And at Windsor is … Cumberland.’

‘The child must not go. You must have a breach with the King rather. I would not answer for her life if she left Kensington. Here we can protect her, but she must not leave us. The Princes who were murdered in the Tower were taken from their mother. It must not happen to Victoria.’

‘It shall not. I’ll take her out of the country rather.’

The Duchess of Clarence called. She embraced the Duchess of Kent fearfully.

‘You have heard the rumours,’ said the Duchess of Kent.

Adelaide nodded. ‘She must not go. You must not let her out of your sight.’

‘I have determined not to. Anything … anything … rather than allow it. I am so terrified.’

Adelaide said: ‘When William comes to the throne she will be safe. He will be King and I know he will protect you. But … now … it is Cumberland they say who rules, for the King is so ill he hardly knows what is going on about him. I know him for one of the kindest of men. I am sure he would be horrified if he knew what was in our minds.’

‘It is as though an evil familiar has taken possession of him.’

‘It is exactly so. I do not know the source of Cumberland’s power over him, but it exists and while he lives we shall have to fear Cumberland.’

‘My dear Adelaide,’ said the Duchess, ‘I live in terror. What if the King should send for her?’

‘I think it is a matter for the Prime Minister. I will approach him and see what can be done. I will tell him that you will never give up Victoria and I am certain that the people would be on your side.’

‘You will speak to the Prime Minister?’

‘I do not like him. He treated William very brusquely over the Lord High Admiral affair but I believe him to be an honest man and that he will do what he believes to be right.’

‘Oh, Adelaide, you are a great comfort to me. I know why Victoria loves you so dearly.’

Adelaide had shed her meekness. One of her children was threatened and she was going to save the child.

The most angry and frustrated man in England was the Duke of Cumberland.

The Duke of Wellington had called on the King that day and had a meeting with him alone. Had Cumberland known that the Duke intended to call he would have made sure that he did not see the King; but Wellington had called unexpectedly and it was not until after the interview had taken place that Cumberland learned what had happened.

The King had invested his brother with the office of Gold Stick which meant that he had great authority at Windsor and no one was allowed to write to the King unless their communications passed first through his hands.

‘I have the authority of His Majesty,’ he announced; and indeed it seemed that Cumberland was in all but name the King.

Wellington had known this. It was his reason for coming unannounced.

Cumberland lost no time in discovering what had been the purpose of Wellington’s call.

‘It was just the matter of Victoria’s leaving Kensington,’ said the King.

Just the matter! It happened to be one of the most important matters in the world to Cumberland.

‘The Duchesses of Kent and Clarence have heard that we had a mind to bring her here. They are very much against her leaving her mother.’

Cumberland laughed shortly. ‘Of course they are. They are a couple of foolish women.’

‘I do not think they are foolish. In fact I believe Adelaide to be a most intelligent woman. She was very insistent. She said that it would break Victoria’s heart to leave her mother. They are devoted.’

‘She does not realize that the child must be brought up to be the Queen … which she may well one day be.’

‘I do not wish her to be unhappy.’

‘She would be completely happy here.’

‘Here, Ernest? What are you thinking of? In the Lodge? In the Castle? In the Cottage? It is no place for a child.’

‘By God, George, this is no ordinary child. It is the Queen.’

‘That is what people forget of royal children. They are destined to be human beings as well as kings and queens. I remember our upbringing. I think it was responsible for my wildness as a young man. No. The child is happy. She shall stay where she is.’

‘George, you should consider …’

There were times when the King could be very regal. ‘I have discussed the matter thoroughly … with Wellington, who is of my opinion. Victoria shall stay at Kensington.’

‘I am sure when we have discussed the matter …’

The King was peevish. ‘My dear Ernest, I have already told you that the matter is settled.’

There was no arguing with him. Wellington had convinced him and they had decided this matter so vital to Cumberland’s plans without him.

Rumour had defeated him. The order should have been given, the child removed before anyone knew that it was his intention to bring her to Windsor.

Another plan foiled.

But there would be others.