* * *

How fortunate I am in my relations, thought Victoria. There were the dear Württemberg cousins, those other cousins she had not yet met from Saxe-Coburg but of whom she had heard much – they were already dear Ernest and Albert in her mind – and now there was dearest Feodora who was writing to say that her husband – another Ernest – was talking of a visit they might pay to England. Oh, what joy to see darling Feodora and the dear babies. They were increasing rapidly. Little Charles followed by Eliza, then Hermann and now another baby. Victor. Her brother Charles had upset everyone by marrying Marie Klebelsberg and they had a little son. Such fun it was to think up presents for the children. We are a great present-giving family, thought Victoria. Feodora’s letters were a joy; they were full of the antics of the children who already loved their Tante Victoria. But dearest of all the relations was Uncle Leopold.

It was long since she had seen him but she remembered him as being the most handsome man in the world. He wrote to her regularly, stressing the fact that he wanted to help her, to guide her; she was his ‘dear soul’ and he wanted her to turn to him for any advice she needed. She knew now that she would one day be a great Queen; she was very young, and it was likely that she would still be young when the Crown came to her; he wanted her to know that her Uncle Leopold, though he might be far away, was never far off in spirit. She could write her innermost thoughts to him. They were as one. He had believed that he would always be at her side, but fate had made him the King of the Belgians and that had meant that he could no longer live in England. Thank God, they could both wield a pen with some skill. Thus separation need not be an obstacle, although he would give a great deal to be with her, to embrace her once more. Did she remember how she used to sit on his knee and watch his lips as he talked as though she loved the very words which came forth? He was always at the disposal of his dearest Victoria.

‘How fortunate I am to have such an uncle,’ said Victoria to Lehzen. ‘I believe him to be the most noble as well as the most handsome man in the world.’

Lehzen was silent. There were facts about Leopold which Victoria did not know. If he had been so devoted to his niece why had he not stayed with her? He should have said ambition rather than fate had made him the King of the Belgians. He had not behaved with what could be called nobility towards that poor girl Caroline Bauer. She must regret the day when she first saw Leopold King of the Belgians, for as far as Lehzen could gather Fräulein Bauer had been a considerable actress on the German stage and fame and fortune were within her grasp. But Leopold had seen her; he spent many hours with her telling her of his sad life and how he had lost his wife so soon after their marriage and that the only woman whom he had ever known who reminded him of her and who could therefore take her place was Caroline Bauer. She was the niece of his friend and physician, Dr Stockmar and the fact that she had her mother with her seemed to give a respectability to the liaison. He had brought her to England, installed her in a little house and when he visited her would give her an account of his ailments and his sorrows; and then he would expect her to read to him for hours to save his eyes until the poor actress and her mother longed to escape the dreary life to which Leopold had condemned them; and when he decided to accept the Belgian crown they had with relief returned to Germany.

Of these matters Victoria knew nothing. Lehzen often wondered whether it was wise for the dear child to retain her fairytale view of life. Perhaps awakening would come fast enough; perhaps the Duchess herself was breaking it; for Lehzen was fully aware of the changing feelings of Victoria towards her mother.

Meanwhile one of the greatest pleasures in Victoria’s life were the letters from dearest Uncle Leopold. She knew that dearest Aunt Louise was a good wife to him, and in this she rejoiced. It was her greatest hope that she would see them one day, and this, Leopold assured her, was a certainty.

Aunt Louise was going to have a child and how excited that made Victoria.

‘You see, Lehzen, it will make up to him for Charlotte and her dear baby who never lived at all.’

When Louise lost her baby Victoria wept bitterly for her.

‘Dearest Uncle Leopold, how he must suffer! And I suffer with him.’

Tears fell on to the watch cover she was embroidering for him. It was beautiful, with pansies in a lovely mauve shade.

‘It must be done in time for his birthday,’ she told Lehzen. ‘He loves flowers.’

‘Pansies,’ said Lehzen. ‘They are sometimes called two-faces-under-a-hood.’

‘So they are, Lehzen. And that means a two-faced person, which in its turn could mean a deceitful one.’

‘A very appropriate gift for some statesmen,’ said Lehzen.

‘But not for dear Uncle Leopold. I think I like the French name for them better. Pensées. Thoughts. He will know that I have chosen pansies for his watch cover because all the time I am working them I am thinking of him.’

‘And he will be right.’

‘Dear Uncle! I hope he is not too unhappy. Loving people makes one very sad sometimes because one not only has one’s own troubles but theirs also.’

Lehzen was suddenly emotional – which was rare with her.

‘You are a dear good girl,’ she said.

‘Oh, Lehzen, my dear, dear Lehzen, don’t think I don’t appreciate all you do for me.’

Lehzen turned away. She did not want to show her tears. Her darling was growing up. Soon she would have no need of a governess. Victoria seemed to read her thoughts for she said: ‘Oh, Lehzen, you will always be my very dear friend.’

And she was sad again, thinking of those days ahead when she would be grown up and no longer in need of Lehzen’s services. Poor Lehzen!

It seemed that one could not love people without suffering with them. All the same one must be grateful for dear friends and relations.


* * *

‘It will soon be Victoria’s fifteenth birthday,’ said the Queen to the King. ‘Do you remember last year’s ball? It was a great success. Victoria enjoyed it so much. I shall do the same again this year.’

‘Excellent, excellent,’ said the King. ‘Like to see the children enjoy themselves. You remember the ball you gave for those Württemberg boys and how That Woman behaved.’

‘I shall never forget it,’ said Adelaide.

‘Who but Madam Kent would have the effrontery …’ began William, his face beginning to redden.

Adelaide said quickly: ‘It is Victoria of whom we must think. That child has a great capacity for enjoyment, and that is rather pleasant.’

When the Duchess of Kent was told that the Queen was arranging a ball for Victoria’s birthday, she told Sir John that although she had allowed Victoria to write a note of thanks to the Queen, she was determined that the Princess was not going to the ball.

‘But what excuse can you make?’

‘I shall find one. Leave it to me. You know what would happen at this ball … if she went. She would open the dancing with George Cambridge. Leopold has written to me that he feels a husband from our side of the family is essential. It is to be either Alexander or Ernest Württemberg or Ernest or Albert Saxe-Coburg. They are so much more suitable, Leopold says. And I agree with him.’

Sir John agreed with the Duchess. Victoria must be kept in leading strings. She must make him her secretary when the time came, and the Duchess would be Regent if she were under age – if not her chief adviser; and if she had a husband who owed his success to the Princess’s mother he would have to be grateful to her – and Sir John, the Duchess, with Leopold in the background would continue to control the Princess … or Queen as she would then be.

The Duchess soon found her excuse.

‘My poor brother has lost his child. We must go into mourning and that of course means no frivolities for a while.’

She wrote to the Queen. The Princess Victoria was grateful to Her Majesty for offering her a birthday ball but in view of the fact that Kensington Palace was in mourning for the Princess’s little cousin, she could not accept it.

When the King heard this he stormed; and Adelaide was terrified that he was going completely mad. Other people infuriated him temporarily but the exasperation and dislike with which he regarded the Duchess of Kent was perpetual.

‘Let’s forget it,’ said Adelaide. ‘After all, neither of us wants to entertain the Duchess. It was Victoria we were thinking of.’

‘One of these days,’ said the King, ‘I shall tell that woman exactly what I think of her. I’ll banish her from England. Why should the King be constantly insulted by this … this … upstart of a Duchess?’

‘She is the most difficult of women,’ sighed Adelaide, and began to talk about one of the grandchildren to turn his thoughts to a more pleasant subject. And as he was vitally interested in everything that concerned these young people she managed it successfully.

Poor Victoria, thought the Queen when she was alone. She was no doubt going to have a wretched birthday and all because of this stupid idea of mourning, which Adelaide knew full well had been thought up so that the invitation need not be accepted. If Victoria were not the heiress to the throne and it was their duty to bring her forward as much as possible, Adelaide would have washed her hands of Kensington Palace and its most troublesome inmate. But she often thought of that young girl who looked so wistful sometimes.

She wrote to the Duchess of Kent. Since there could be no ball for the Princess’s birthday she would call at Kensington Palace on that day to give the good wishes of herself and the King to the Princess in person.

Who would believe anyone could be capable of such discourteous, ungrateful and arrogant behaviour? The Duchess of Kent apparently could; for she wrote back to the Queen. It was so kind of her to offer to call at Kensington Palace, but being in such deep mourning for her brother’s child the Duchess was unable to receive anyone.


* * *

So there was no ball for the fifteenth birthday; but there was a letter which made Victoria very happy. It was from her sister Feodora, who wrote that she longed to be with her sister on this important day but the reunion would not be long delayed. A few days after Victoria’s birthday, Feodora with her husband and two elder children would set out on the journey to England.

What joy, wrote Feodora, awaited her. Her little sister who had been but nine years old when she last saw her was now a young lady of fifteen. What changes there would be; and she had heard that Victoria had grown very pretty. As for herself she was grown stouter and was really an old Mamma. She feared Victoria would get a great surprise when she saw her; but she would not wait for the day.

The great day turned out to be June 5th. Victoria was up early awaiting the arrival of her sister and her family long before they were due.

She chattered to Lehzen while her hair was being done. ‘Have I changed much, Lehzen? Do you really think I have grown prettier? Of course I am not very tall. But then nor is darling Feodora. Oh, I wonder if she has changed! And how I long to see the dear, dear children.’

Lehzen was moved too. She had been Feodora’s governess before she had been Victoria’s, and she loved the elder sister only a little less than her present charge.

‘You must curb your impatience,’ she said.

Victoria laughed and threw her arms about her governess. ‘And you, my dear Lehzen, are finding it very hard to curb yours.’

At eleven o’clock the visitors arrived at Kensington Palace. The Duchess was there insisting on a little ceremony and that she be greeted first; but her maternal instincts were strong and she was delighted to see her elder daughter. Her love for Feodora being less calculated was more spontaneous and as she embraced her daughter and exclaimed with delight at the children she was genuinely moved.

Feodora’s eyes were on Victoria. They flew at each other and hugged and kissed, tears in their eyes. Tears of happiness, said Victoria, for it was the most wonderful thing to see her darling sister again.

And the babies. They were enchanting. How tall little Charles was – and only four and a half! Who would believe it! He studied his Aunt Victoria very intently. ‘He has heard so much about you,’ Feodora explained.