Виктория Холт - The Queen’s Husband

The Queen shut herself into the blue closet to brood alone for a short while, thinking what this meant.

There could be no way out of this. Sir Robert Peel would be her new Prime Minister – and she must say goodbye to her beloved Lord Melbourne, but only she assured herself as Prime Minister. He would remain her dear friend.

* * *

On that hot August day she waited in the blue closet, the scene of so many happy meetings. She had thought of it as their particular sanctum and had always refused if possible to see anyone else there. And now he was coming for the last time as her Prime Minister and she felt very sad.

He came and stood before her; she looked for the tears in his eyes and was certain that she would find them.

She held out her hands; he took them both and kissed them.

‘So it has come,’ she said.

‘It was inevitable. Only Your Majesty has kept it at bay for these last two years.’

‘At least I did that.’

He smiled tenderly. ‘And now, there is the Prince to stand beside you. It will be easier now than then. That is something I remind myself of continually.’

‘I shall never forget,’ she said.

‘Nor I. But this is not the end, you know.’

‘I am determined that it shall not be.’

‘May I give Your Majesty one piece of advice?’

‘You must go on giving me advice for years to come.’

‘Since Your Majesty is so kind I will not hesitate to do so now. I beg of you send for Peel without delay. If you did not it might be construed as a slight. It is my earnest desire to see you on good terms with your new government.’

‘I shall never like Peel. He fidgets. He is nervous and that makes me uneasy.’

‘You will put him at his ease. There is already an understanding between him and the Prince.’

‘Oh, yes, Albert is quite fond of the fellow.’

‘As you will be … in time.’

She shook her head. ‘I shall never forgive him for taking you from me.’

‘I am here still. Perhaps Your Majesty will continue to write to me. I think the loss of those letters would be something I could not bear.’

‘I shall write to you as before and you shall advise me, and I shall always think of you as my dear … dear friend.’

‘And you will lean on the Prince. You will find him strong and shrewd.’

‘I have the best husband in the world, I know.’

‘He will be a great comfort to you and may I say it is a comfort to me to leave you in such good hands.’

She was too emotional to speak and he went on to say that he should not stay. She had not yet sent for Peel. People would know how long he had been with her. They must not be unwise.

She clung to his hands for a moment; then he bowed and left her.

* * *

She went to her room and blinded by tears she collected some of her drawings together – her favourite ones. Some of them he had seen before and admired. They should be his – her last gift to him as Prime Minister. He would understand that by giving him her own work she meant him to have the best that she could offer.

As soon as he received the drawings he wrote to thank her for them.

Lord Melbourne will ever treasure them as remembrances of Your Majesty’s kindness and regard, which he prizes beyond measure.

They will, as Your Majesty says, certainly recall to recollection a melancholy day, but still Lord Melbourne hopes and trusts that with the divine blessing it will hereafter be looked back upon with less grief and bitterness of feeling, than it must be regarded at the present.

* * *

She wept over the letter. She remembered so much from the past: the first day when she had become Queen and he came to cheer and comfort her with his dear presence; she remembered their conversations, his witty, often inconsequential remarks which had amused her so much; she remembered her jealousy when he had spent too much time at Holland House. Then she had been a young girl – a queen it was true – but carefree, as far as a queen could be. She remembered the first summer of her reign. She had never really spent such a joyous summer. Then she had not realised that cares and anxieties went with the pomp, ceremonies, gaiety and the freedom of being Queen.

But that was past; now she was a wife, the mother of one child and soon to have another; and she knew that she had to be wise and strong; and now that she had lost her dear Prime Minister she must try to come to terms with the one she was sure she was going to dislike.

* * *

Almost immediately it was necessary to see Sir Robert Peel. The interview was brief, lasting only twenty minutes but Sir Robert was less ill at ease than he had been on that disastrous occasion two years ago; and very anxious for the Queen to know that he wanted their relationship to be smooth and easy. He was as respectful as she could wish. He said he would give her a list of the members of his cabinet for her approval. There was no hurry over this matter, said the Queen, and she would prefer to study the list at her leisure. Sir Robert left and the Queen sighed with relief.

Victoria immediately sat down to write to Lord Melbourne and tell him exactly what had happened. She ended by writing:

What the Queen felt when she parted from her dear kind friend Lord Melbourne is better imagined than described; she was dreadfully affected for some time after, but is calm now. It is very, very sad and she cannot quite believe it yet. The Prince felt it very much too, and really the Queen cannot say how kind and affectionate he is to her, and how anxious to do everything to lighten this heavy trial; he was quite affected at this sad parting. We do, and shall, miss you so dreadfully; Lord Melbourne will easily understand what a change it is, after these four years when she has had the happiness of having Lord Melbourne always about her. But it will not be so long till we meet again. Happier and brighter times will come again. We anxiously hope Lord Melbourne is well and safe. The Queen trusts he will take care of his valuable health, now more than ever.

She was weeping over the letter when Albert came in.

‘Read it,’ she said. ‘Oh, Albert, I shall have to learn to be without him now.’

Albert took her hands and looked steadily into her face.

‘You will have to put your trust in me now, Victoria.’

‘I do, Albert.’

‘All your trust,’ he answered.

She nodded; but he was thinking of the Baroness who still remained as the shadow between them.

* * *

The Queen was now getting so heavy that her thoughts were largely taken up with her approaching confinement. Lord Melbourne wrote almost as frequently as he had in the past; he called often and so she did not miss him as she had feared she would. Albert admired the new Prime Minister and it was wonderful how he was able to ease the situation between Peel and the Queen. (‘Although,’ she often said, ‘I shall never like him; and as for his ever taking the place of dear Lord Melbourne that is quite impossible.’) Lehzen fussed a good deal and was always insisting that she rest and should not be disturbed. She even tried to get Albert out of the bedroom, but Albert would not accept this.

Victoria was less irritable and not nearly so nervous as she had been before the birth of the Princess Royal. That young lady was however giving them cause for anxiety. Pussy would not eat; and she was always crying. Sir James Clark had said she could not take rich foods and put her on ass’s milk and chicken broth. Albert said he thought this was not enough for the child and Lehzen insisted that if these were the doctor’s orders they must be followed.

‘Certainly they must,’ said the Queen. It was, as Lehzen had said, Pussy’s teeth which were coming through which made her peevish. It was the same with all children.

And on the 9th of November the Queen’s labour began; she had arranged with Albert that ministers and dignitaries should not be told until the birth was imminent. She was not going through what she did last time with people gathered in the next room listening to her cries of agony.

The child was born. She lay back exhausted and triumphant.

Albert, beside her, beaming with pride and joy, had given her the good news.

‘My dear love, we have a Prince of Wales.’

There was great rejoicing throughout the country. All the dreary prognostications of the Queen’s going the same way as her cousin Charlotte were forgotten. Only two years married and she had two children and the second was a healthy boy.

The press could not forgo its lampoons but they were goodnatured. Sir Robert Peel and Lord Melbourne were depicted as the palace nurses – Melbourne holding the Princess Royal and Peel holding the Prince of Wales.

‘My baby’s better than yours,’ was the inscription in the balloon coming from Melbourne’s mouth.

‘But I have the boy,’ was that from Peel’s.

The bells rang; the cannons fired; and the Queen recovered quickly from her confinement.

There was great discussion about the boy’s name.

‘I want him to be called Albert after his father,’ said Victoria; ‘and I fervently hope that he grows up exactly like him.’

Albert was, she realised, not a name that had been used for English kings and she must remember that this lusty child who screamed a good deal to show what a fine pair of lungs he had, was the future King of England. Edward was a name which had been used by kings many times. There had been six already, so it would have to be Edward she supposed.

Lord Melbourne, who was writing as frequently as ever and on as diverse subjects as he did before, attempted to imply that the name of Edward would be more suitable for the future King of England. It was a good English appellation, wrote Lord Melbourne, and has a certain degree of popularity attached to it from ancient recollections. Albert? Yes, that was an excellent name, went on the tactful Lord Melbourne. It was Anglo-Saxon like Ethelred, but it had not been so much in use since the Conquest.

The Queen laughed. Since Lord Melbourne had ceased to be her Prime Minister she was relying so much on her husband; she was, if that were possible, more in love with him since the birth of the Prince of Wales than before.

‘I shall insist that the boy’s name is Albert,’ she said. ‘I know dear Lord Melbourne thinks Edward more suitable; but as I want him to be like his father in every respect, I shall name him Albert – though Edward could come next.’

She sat down to write to Uncle Leopold.

Our little boy is a wonderfully strong and large child with very dark blue eyes but somewhat large nose and a pretty little mouth. I hope and pray he may be like his dearest Papa. He is to be called

Albert

and Edward is to be his second name.

* * *

Baron Stockmar, who considered it his duty to know what went on at Court, was disturbed because of the Queen’s feelings for Lord Melbourne.

He had never approved of the Queen’s almost fanatical devotion towards her Prime Minister, but there had been some excuse because of Melbourne’s position. Now he no longer held that position yet the Queen and he continued to behave as though he did.

People were talking, Stockmar told himself, and this would never do.

He had been visiting a friend’s house when the subject had been brought up and someone had said that there was no doubt that the Queen and her one-time Prime Minister corresponded daily because Mrs Norton, who was known to be a great friend of Lord Melbourne’s (hadn’t he once been cited as co-respondent when George Norton had tried to divorce her), had said so.

Stockmar brooded on this conversation and shortly afterwards found occasion to visit Sir Robert Peel.

He congratulated the new Prime Minister on the ease with which he had slipped into office.

‘I am pleased to see that the Queen is contented,’ said Sir Robert – and added with a wry smile, ‘at least far more contented than I had dared hope in the circumstances.’

Stockmar, who prided himself on his Teutonic frankness, said: ‘The friendship with Lord Melbourne never pleased me. The Queen’s emotions were too much involved.’

‘She was so young at the time of her accession and Melbourne has all the necessary airs and graces to please a young girl. So many of us lack them.’