Jean Plaidy - Victoria in the Wings

And he had gone out of his way to charm the child which he had done easily for Victoria, being very young, was naturally susceptible. One could not blame the child, although she had thrown her teaching to the winds and responded to him in what could be called a somewhat unbecoming manner. He, being the man he was, had been charmed by her natural manner, and that was to the good, because the King undoubtedly liked her. But it was a tricky situation and she could not help being full of misgivings.

And what if they were to kidnap the child?

She went to Victoria’s room; the child was drowsy. It had been a day full of excitement.

‘My darling,’ said the Duchess, kissing her forehead.

‘Hello, Mamma.’

‘You are very sleepy, my dear.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘You will have to be careful. You must remember that your Uncle George is the King. You should let me know at once if he makes any suggestion and asks you if you would like to live at Windsor … or …’

Victoria’s lids had fallen over her eyes. She was asleep.

She looked so young – little more than a baby, thought the Duchess tenderly. Oh, my precious lovely child, may God preserve you and bring you safely to your crown.

She leaned over and kissed the smooth brow. Victoria opened her eyes and said: ‘I think he liked Feodore … very much.’

And that gave the Duchess something further with which to concern herself.

The King was restless that night. Sleep had deserted him. The child with her youthful freshness had been charming. How delightful was youth! He had not seen her very clearly until she was set on his knee and put her face close to his while she kissed him. Then he had been aware of a smooth unblemished skin, a delicate pink in the cheeks, the clear wondering eyes. Oh, how beautiful was youth – and only appreciated by the aged! And that little one would one day be the Queen – providing Adelaide didn’t have a child which was becoming more and more unlikely with every passing week.

No, it was almost a certainty. And one day that fresh pinkness would fade and she would be a mass of corrupting flesh like the great bulk which lay in this bed. But perhaps not so; perhaps she would lead a different life. I am so because of the way I have lived, he thought.

His fingers closed about the miniature of Maria Fitzherbert which he wore round his neck.

It could have been different.

Thinking of Maria he remembered the charm of Victoria’s sister. What a little beauty – eighteen years old! There were days when he felt well enough to marry again.

Someone young and luscious like Feodore would make him feel young again. Why not! He would discuss it with Ernest who had now settled at Windsor and was in his confidence.

Marriage – with a beautiful young girl like Victoria’s half-sister Feodore.

It was a happy note on which to fall asleep.

Lady Maria Conyngham – Elizabeth’s daughter – and Lord Graves, on the orders of the King, had brought a pony carriage with four lively grey horses to the door of the Lodge. They were going to take Victoria for a drive to the Sandpit Gate.

Lord Graves explained that the King had thought Victoria would be particularly interested in the animals for he had set up a zoo there.

Victoria was wild with delight but the Duchess of Kent was displeased because Maria Conyngham was going with them and she thought it was most unseemly that the daughter of the King’s mistress should be in Victoria’s company.

Victoria enjoyed the animals very much, particularly the giraffe and the gazelles, and she thought how wonderful it was to be a king and own a zoo.

She said so to Lady Maria who laughed and replied that the King would be delighted that his animals had given the Princess Victoria such pleasure.

‘I shall tell him myself,’ said Victoria and wondered why Lord Graves looked so sad. Later she learned that it was because his wife was having a love affair with the Duke of Cumberland – another uncle of whose wickedness Victoria was in time to learn a great deal.

It was a very pleasant day and Victoria was tired out when she returned to Windsor Lodge and her anxious Mamma.

The next day she was walking with Mamma and a few attendants when the King drove up in his carriage. She was enchanted by the speed with which the glittering equipage galloped towards them and the suddenness with which it pulled up. It could not be mistaken for anything but a royal vehicle.

Her mother grasped her hand firmly, but the King called a greeting; then his eyes rested on her and he smiled as though they were old friends.

‘Pop her in,’ he shouted.

Victoria felt Mamma’s hand tighten on hers and for a moment she thought Mamma was going to refuse to let her go. Then she was lifted up and put between the King and Aunt Mary, the Duchess of Gloucester, who was the only other occupant of the phaeton.

They whisked away, leaving Mamma standing there looking somehow forlorn, but she soon forgot them because there was no doubt that it was very exciting to be in the company of the King.

Aunt Mary was kind too and asked her how she was enjoying her visit to Windsor; and she very quickly found that in the company of Uncle King one could forget what should be done and do and say what came naturally. She told him this and it amused him.

‘It’s far more comfortable here than in Kensington,’ she said. And she added, ‘You are a comfortable person in spite of being a king.’ Which made him and Mary laugh.

He seemed much younger than he had when he sat in his chair. His body was more like a body and his cheeks were a less painted pink. He really looked very fine, if you did not look too closely; and although he was so kind and said such funny things, he always seemed like a king – but in the nicest possible way.

He could imitate people in a manner which made her laugh; and because it made her laugh he did more and more of it.

Riding in the King’s carriage with him and Aunt Mary, who clearly loved him dearly and thought he was wonderful, was even more enjoyable than visiting his menagerie with sad Lord Graves and flighty Lady Maria.

They drove round Virginia Water and then the King said he would take her to his Fishing Temple; here they went on a barge and she sat beside the King while he fished and the band played, starting off and finishing with ‘God Save the King’. The Duke of Wellington was there and the King presented him to her. A very important gentleman and, thought Victoria severely, very much aware of it and anxious that everyone else should be too. He was by no means as charming as Uncle King – but then no one else could be as charming as that.

When they arrived home Mamma must be told all that happened. She listened avidly and wanted to know everything the King had said to Victoria and what Victoria had replied. It was not easy to satisfy Mamma’s demands, for when one was enjoying oneself, as she pointed out, one did not think what one was saying nor did one make a point of remembering what others said.

‘I think, Mamma, that Uncle King is the most charming gentleman in the world.’

The most charming gentleman in the world! thought the Duchess. He is setting out to win her. For what purpose? What but to take her away from her mother because charming as he might be to Victoria and correct in his manner towards the Duchess, that did not entirely hide the fact that he did not like her.

Oh, to be back in the comparative safety of Kensington Palace! Now that Victoria is growing up there are dangers on every side.

The wicked Duke of Cumberland was the King’s confidant. He was capable of anything. A rogue and a roué … and even worse, a murderer!

What plans were being made for her precious Victoria?

The King was determined that Victoria’s visit to Windsor should be a memorable one. They must, he said, think up amusements for her. What would be most likely to entertain a child? Something gay and colourful; music, dancing.

There should be a party in the conservatory. Troupes of dancers should be engaged. Victoria should sit beside him and he would make sure that she enjoyed the entertainment.

She did. It was wonderful. Now and then she laughed with delight. The King watched her with the utmost pleasure. He had not felt so contented for a long time.

She loved the band. She thought: When I’m Queen I’ll have a band in all my houses; and they shall play all the time. One thing she had learned from the visit was that it was very exciting to be a ruler. Everyone wished to please you, and you could make everyone so happy by giving them rides and parties.

He was leaning towards her.

‘I believe you are enjoying the music.’

‘I am, thank you, Uncle King.’

‘It’s a custom in our family. Even my father loved music.’

Even? thought Victoria. Why even? His father was her grandfather but she heard very little about him. He had been the King when she was born so it was not so very long ago. She must remember to ask Fräulein Lehzen why she did not hear more of King George III. At least now she knew he liked music.

‘But he would listen to nothing but Handel. Handel has always been a great favourite in the family.’

She was aware of that for she too had been taught to like Handel – only they called it appreciating it.

‘Now tell me,’ he said, ‘what would you like the band to play? They shall play whatever you wish.’

She smiled at him, loving him dearly because he was so comforting to be with.

‘I should like to hear it play God Save the King.’

The King was a shade more pink. She had made the right choice, she knew; and she was very happy.

‘The Princess Victoria will ask the band to play what she most wants to hear,’ said the King; and everyone waited for her to speak.

‘God Save the King,’ she said in a very clear voice.

The King leaned towards her and pressed her hand.

‘That, my dear,’ he said, ‘was a very charming thought of yours.’

There was amusement throughout the conservatory.

‘The Princess Victoria is a diplomat already,’ it was whispered.

The wonderful visit had to come to an end.

There was the final leave-taking which was rather like the opening ceremony. There was the King seated in his chair with Lady Conyngham beside him. There was Victoria making her curtsy.

‘Now tell me,’ said the King, ‘have you enjoyed your visit?’

‘It was the most exciting visit of my life,’ replied Victoria truthfully.

‘Tell me which part you enjoyed most?’

She did not have to think long. ‘The best part,’ she said, ‘was when I was walking with Mamma and you came along in your splendid carriage and you said “Pop her in”.’

‘Did I indeed say that?’

‘Yes indeed you did. “Pop her in”, you said, and I was popped in.’ She laughed and he laughed with her. ‘And we went riding off to Virginia Water and we drove faster than I have ever ridden and the harness jingled and it was such a splendid carriage and we talked and laughed – and that made it the best part of the visit.’

There was no doubt that Victoria knew how to charm the King as readily as he knew how to charm her.

WILLIAM HAD BEEN acting oddly since the death of Frederick; he was making the most indiscreet comments and it was quite clear that the fact that he was the heir apparent to the throne had gone to his head. He talked freely of what he would do when he was King; he was continually inspecting the house which was being built for him; and would drive back and forth from Bushy every other day to see how it was progressing. He was enchanted with it; it was going to be a novel building with its Ionic and Doric columns and its three impressive storeys.

He dreamed of a house even more grand than Carlton House, but he would have no oriental touches in his house. It should be a fine house; a magnificent house; but a sailor’s house.

The only subject which could lure his thoughts from the royal grandeur which he was sure would soon be his was the affairs of his children. Augustus had just taken Holy Orders and he was a little disturbed about this.

He discussed the matter with Adelaide who was only too pleased to be able to talk of something other than his accession to the throne.

‘Augustus has not the temperament for a priest,’ he said.

‘I am sure he will make a very good one,’ insisted Adelaide. ‘After all, one does not need to be melancholy to be a man of the church. And if Augustus’s approach is a little light-hearted, that is better than being sorrowful.’