‘Darling Aunt Louise,’ murmured the Queen, but nothing of course could compare with the loss of That Saint. ‘A year ago he was with us … I had no idea … Oh, Uncle.’

Lenchen whispered: ‘Bear up, Mama,’ and she looked at her sister Louise and sighed. Afterwards she said that she wanted to remind Mama – if it could have been possible to make such an observation, which of course it wasn’t – that they had come to discuss a wedding not a death.

Leopold led the Queen to the room which had been prepared for her and all the time she was weeping and talking of the perfections of her beloved Albert.

The Queen retired to her room and said that she would take her meals there in solitude.

‘The Christians will be here tomorrow for luncheon,’ Leopold reminded her. ‘And they are bringing Alexandra with them.’

The Queen nodded without much interest. ‘I find it hard to consider a wedding at such a time,’ she told Leopold. ‘What a sad occasion Alice’s was! And how different it might have been! As for Bertie … I can scarcely bear to think of him. When I think of that angel’s going to Cambridge in that bitter weather and catching his death …’

The Queen broke down again. But she did brighten up a little when she heard that Walpurga Paget was joining them at Laeken. Walpurga had been loud in her praises of Alexandra and had played quite a large part in bringing Alix to the notice of the British royal family. So it seemed fitting that Walpurga should be present. Moreover the Queen had always liked her. Wally was a born gossip and so at heart was Victoria; it was only because Albert deplored the habit that she had succeeded in hiding her love of it.

The next morning Leopold was eagerly making his preparations. He was very anxious for the marriage to take place and he was delighted that it should be he who had arranged the meeting. He was going to do everything he could to get the betrothal formally settled. It was a little depressing that the Queen made such a show of nursing her grief. A little solemnity yes, a little wiping of the eyes, a very proper expression of grief, all that was permissible, and moreover necessary, but the Queen’s attitude was positively morbid.

The Danish family arrived and Leopold chuckled to himself to notice the good looks of Alexandra. There were very few Princesses who could compare with her. That abundant light brown hair, the way she carried herself so that her simple clothes appeared to be the height of elegance, her manner which was neither deprecating nor bold, made her a charming creature. And Victoria had always been attracted by beauty in either sex. Surely she must admire Alexandra.

Leopold welcomed them effusively. He conducted them to the apartments where he had decided that the encounter should take place. He despatched one of his gentlemen to the Queen’s apartments to tell her that the guests had arrived and were awaiting her pleasure.

To his dismay the Queen sent a message that she was so overwrought by the memories of the past which her meeting with her uncle had evoked that she felt unable to meet anyone at the moment.

Oh dear, thought Leopold. This is a slight to the royal family of Denmark. And what of the luncheon? He had better set it back an hour to give the Queen time to compose herself.

‘Her Majesty is bowed down with grief,’ he explained to his guests. ‘Her bereavement is comparatively recent.’

But there was a further shock. The Queen discovered that she could not face the luncheon at whatever time it was to take place; she would take hers alone in her room.

This was an anticlimax. Leopold inwardly cursed, considering all the elaborate arrangements which had gone into the preparation of that luncheon. And what were Prince and Princess Christian thinking? If they were not so eager for the marriage they might go off in a huff.

How different was the meal from how Leopold had imagined it would be. Conversation was stiff and the poor Princess was obviously nervous. If we are not careful we shall have her making a poor impression on Victoria when Her Majesty does deign to see the poor girl, thought Leopold.

Even Walpurga was uneasy.

The luncheon seemed interminable but at least Victoria could plead delay no longer and Leopold suggested that Walpurga should go to the Queen and beg her to come and meet the assembled company.

‘You will know how to handle the matter, my dear,’ he said.

Walpurga agreed that if anyone could she could and fearlessly went to the Queen’s apartment.

The Queen held out her arms to her favourite and embraced her. ‘My dear, dear Wally, I am pleased to see you. You are a young wife. And how is Augustus? Oh, you fortunate fortunate people … I remember so well when He came to Windsor … He was so beautiful. I never saw anyone as beautiful as that angel …’

The Queen held her handkerchief to her eyes and wept bitterly.

Walpurga knelt. ‘Dearest Majesty,’ she said, ‘I understand.’

‘Do you, my dear? Do you? Does anybody?’

‘I try to, Your Majesty, but I suppose nobody can really understand your great sorrow.’

The Queen enjoyed this kind of talk and Wally well knew it. If anyone suggested that the Queen had a devoted family and should count her blessings they would be immediately out of favour. Her Majesty was best comforted by pointing out the magnitude of her loss, the saintly qualities of the Prince Consort, the harmony which had existed between them and was now alas lost – and no mention of course of the occasional squabbles when Victoria had felt it necessary to remind Albert that though he might be the Saint she was the Queen.

‘Such a wonderful man, Wally, and never appreciated by the people nor by my ministers.’

‘By no one really but Your Majesty, but then you were the one who was the closest to him. He was your life and you were his.’

‘How true, my dear. I think you have a glimmering of understanding. When I think of the dreadful day … His dear face was so white and strained. And the last time I looked on that beloved face he was as beautiful as an angel. It was as though all the cares had been smoothed away.’

Wally covered her eyes with her hand.

‘Dear child,’ said the Queen. And she went on enumerating the virtues of Albert and continuing at even greater length on her own misery.

‘I don’t feel I can face the world, Wally. I constantly think if he were here … and then it all comes back afresh. He is not here.’

‘And Your Majesty has to go on as he would wish. Oh, I can understand the tragedy of it all.’

‘Everything he wished, everything he planned shall be carried out.’

It was Wally’s chance and she seized it. ‘He thought very highly of this match between the Prince of Wales and the Princess of Denmark. I had the honour to sit next to him when Your Majesty graciously allowed me to join the royal table and he spoke of this match then.’

The Queen nodded.

‘I believe he would have been pleased with the Princess. I think her quiet manner, her good upbringing … all that would have carried weight with him. When Your Majesty has seen for yourself …’

The Queen sighed.

‘Would Your Majesty care to see the Princess and her family now?’

Victoria nodded. ‘Give me your arm, my child.’

Wally did so with alacrity.

The Queen entered the room in which the guests were assembled. Her flowing black robes and her widow’s cap gave a sombre note to the proceedings – but not more so than the Queen herself. Her lips were turned down; there was no smile on her face at all.

Alix was surprised at herself. She was not afraid of the Queen. She felt sorry for her. Poor Queen of England who was nursing her grief and wanted to go on doing so; who was torturing herself, turning her back on the consolations of life.

Victoria looked at the tall graceful girl with the lovely hair, the graceful carriage and innocent blue eyes.

She is charming, thought the Queen, so simply dressed, such exquisite manners and surely that was compassion in her lovely eyes?

And the Princess’s father. This was the man who had once sought her in marriage. He was handsome and his daughter had inherited his charm. What an extraordinary situation! Bertie’s bride-to-be, the daughter of the man who might have been the Queen’s husband. Yes, she liked Prince Christian and she liked his daughter.

And Princess Christian? The Queen looked at Louise severely. A domineering woman, she had heard; and no woman should domineer over her husband. It was the wife’s place to be subservient. Albert had felt that very strongly. In the beginning of their life together she had been very foolish and Albert had had to be very patient. She had in time learned the lesson which all women had to learn, but of course it was more difficult for queens.

I believe she paints her cheeks! thought the Queen. How shocked Albert would have been. He hated any form of artificiality.

The Queen’s manner was cool as she addressed Alexandra’s parents.

‘I can make no promises,’ she said, staring at Louise’s painted cheeks. ‘Everything will depend on whether the Prince of Wales feels sufficiently affectionate towards your daughter to accept her as his wife.’

Leopold was on tenterhooks. If only Albert had been here he might have made her understand that Prince and Princess Christian were proud and dignified. They wanted this marriage, true; and so did the Queen’s ministers – and so had Albert – but they would not wish Alexandra to marry if she did not wish to, so there was no need to stress this point.

The Queen looked severely at Alix. ‘You are young,’ she said, ‘and ours is a house of mourning. I do not believe it will ever be anything else. You never knew him and you cannot therefore understand what we have lost.’ She turned away to wipe her eyes and Leopold chose the moment to slip his arm through hers and ask if he might lure her away from the company for a while.

She showed her eagerness to be lured. The interview was over, leaving a rather bewildered Prince and Princess of Denmark with their daughter strangely enough slightly less so.


* * *

In their apartments Louise declared: ‘She was quite insulting.’ ‘She didn’t mean to be, of course,’ Christian defended her.

‘She may be the Queen of England but you will one day be the King of Denmark. She seems to forget that. Poor Alix!’

‘Alix, my dear,’ said Christian, ‘if you wish to abandon this marriage you have only to say so.’

‘Oh no, Papa. I shall not be marrying the Queen.’

‘She will always be there.’

‘Bertie is quite different.’

‘Indeed yes,’ said Christian uneasily.

‘She kept staring at me as though there was something abnormal about me,’ complained Louise.

‘That’s because you’re my wife,’ replied Christian. ‘She might have been once but she married the incomparable Albert instead.’

‘Surely no one is as good as he is made out to be?’

‘He was in her eyes,’ said Alix.

‘She doesn’t seem to have upset you as she has the rest of us,’ said her mother.

‘No, she didn’t upset me. I think I could understand her.’

As Louise said to Christian when they were alone, Alix was so eager to take Bertie that she would accept his mother at the same time.

Alix put on a black dress for dinner.

‘My dear child,’ said Louise, ‘you look as though you’re in mourning.’

‘She is,’ replied Alix, ‘so perhaps we should be in sympathy with her.’

Louise said: ‘Well, it is becoming. It shows up your skin and hair to perfection, and simplicity can sometimes be more effective than fuss and feathers – as Countess Danner might learn.’

The Queen did not appear at dinner but afterwards she joined them.

Her eyes lighted up with pleasure when she saw Alix in her black dress. She understood the gesture at once.

‘My dear child,’ was all she said, but there were tears in her eyes.

And there was no doubt in the minds of all observers that Alix had come through the trying ordeal very well indeed.


* * *

The Queen had shown her approval. She complained that Princess Louise was deaf and therefore difficult to talk to and that she painted her cheeks and she did not care for what she had heard of her; but Alexandra was charming and so was her father, though of course Denmark was not the most important of countries. However, Bertie might go on with his courtship.