I was outraged. More so because it was true that I was putting on a little weight.

“It is good for you, my darling,” consoled Lehzen, “you need nourishment.”

Lord Melbourne was less comforting. “You must take more exercise,” he advised.

“I do ride and I do not greatly care for walking.”

“Sometimes it is necessary to do what we do not greatly care for.”

“Walking…in the cold wind! I really do dislike it. My hands get so cold, and so do my feet.”

“You should walk faster. That would keep your feet warm and you should wear gloves.”

“My hands get so red in the cold. That is why I wear my rings to hide the redness—and then I cannot get my gloves on because of the rings.”

“An absence of rings could mean a presence of gloves. Wouldn't that be wiser?”

I sensed a lack of sympathy in Lord Melbourne, and I had a feeling that he was a little critical of my increasing weight.

But that was unfair. He was as good and kind as ever. He was really worried, that was what it was. He greatly feared that a situation would arise when he could no longer continue in government. Then I should have another prime minister—which Heaven forbid.

It may be that fear was at the root of my discontent. I became fractious and my temper would flare up at the least provocation. Lehzen begged me to guard against it.

I was not quite so fond of the Duchess of Sutherland whom hitherto I had liked so much, and it was because she looked so elegant always and had so much to say that was witty and amusing. It seemed to me that she contrived to sit near Lord Melbourne in order to say it; and she quite monopolized him.

He had important Whig friends and was constantly in demand. There were many dinners he attended, and to which I could not go.

When I complained to him he would always brush the matter aside with that nonchalance that was so much a part of his character, and I always had the impression that he did not find our absences from each other so hard to bear as I did.

He was constantly at Holland House and had a great admiration for Lady Holland. Of course, people like Lady Holland and the Duchess of Sutherland were women of the world and would be able to converse with Lord Melbourne in a manner more suited to him than I was. Once I asked him about this and he said that he thought the conversations he had with me were very suitable for a queen and her prime minister.

“But I am much more fond of you than Lady Holland could ever be,” I cried.

He looked at me with that wonderful gentle expression, with the tears gathering in his eyes and nodded; so that for a time I was happy again. And when I persisted and asked if Lady Holland attracted him more than I did, he said very calmly and sweetly, “Oh no…”

But the real trouble came from Mama. The ladies of her household were continually making mischief with those of mine; and just as Lehzen was the most important of those in my household, Mama's special favorite was Flora Hastings.

I had never liked Lady Flora. Lehzen hated her; and with good reason. She never lost an opportunity of plaguing poor Lehzen, and was constantly making references to German habits and laughing about her fancy for caraway seeds.

Lady Flora was not young. I think she must have been about thirtytwo years of age. She was unmarried and not unattractive to look at. It was just her manner that was unappealing. She was rather elegant and quite vivacious; she wrote poetry and people said she had a way with words, which often means a venomous tongue. She could really make people cringe when she attacked them verbally. She was rather like Sir John Conroy in this; in fact she was a great friend of his, and I had heard it whispered—although I must admit among her enemies—that there was more than friendship between her and that odious man.

Lord Melbourne did not like Flora Hastings either. She belonged to a family of staunch Tories and, being a Whig, Lord Melbourne regarded the entire Hastings clan as enemies. He said Lady Flora was typical of them and he was not surprised that Lehzen disliked her.

He did not like Mama much either; and if it had not been for the fact that she was my mother and he had such perfect manners, he would have said a great deal more than he did. There were occasions, however, when he was goaded into making observations about her. I loved to talk to him about how I had been treated during my childhood, of how I had been pushed aside again and again and how it had embarrassed me.

“The Duchess's real feeling was not for you but for power,” said Lord Melbourne. “I fear she was not really strong-minded or she should have understood the futility of her actions; nor had she as much real affection for you as she feigned to have.”

How right he was!

One day when I was talking with Lord Melbourne in the closet where we discussed state matters and had those delightful personal conversations, Mama came in without warning. She had a conspiratorial look on her face—almost as though she thought she was going to surprise us in a most unpleasant way.

I was really quite angry.

I said, “I am engaged in business with the Prime Minister. I think it would be better if you made an appointment when you wish to see the Queen.”

Mama looked stunned but she made no attempt to argue; she just disappeared.

Lord Melbourne was looking at me, half amused, half admiringly.

“The Duchess should know that when her daughter refers to herself as the Queen she is going to be very firm indeed.”

And after that what I thought of as the war between our two factions seemed to become more fierce.

The ladies of the households became quite spiteful with each other; and Lehzen and I used to talk sometimes indignantly, sometimes laughingly, of the little battles that went on.

All the same I would rather not have had it so.

Meanwhile Sir John Conroy stayed on and I suspected that he set a great many rumors in progress, such as the fact that I was getting fat. There was another more pernicious one that I did not hear much about until later. This was that my friendship with Lord Melbourne was very close indeed— closer than the relationship between the Queen and her Prime Minister should be.

It was just after Christmas of that year 1839. That lovely morning when Lord Conyngham had come to me and told me I was Queen seemed more than eighteen months away. So much had happened since then. There was one matter that I had tried not to think too much about, but it would keep forcing itself into my mind. This was my changing attitude to Uncle Leopold. All my life until I became Queen, he had been the one I had looked up to perhaps more than any other. He had been the father I had never known. I had sought his advice on every occasion. I had strived to please him. I had believed everything he had told me. He had been more of a god than a man as far as I was concerned.

Now that had changed.

Ever since I had ascended the throne I had begun to detect something in Uncle Leopold's letters that made me very uneasy. It was quite insidious at first, but as time passed it became more and more obvious. Uncle Leopold wanted to manage the affairs of Europe and I was in a very powerful position. He had always exerted a great influence over me, so naturally he thought to use me now.

There was one sentence in one of his letters which seemed of special significance: “Before you decide anything important, I should be glad if you would consult me; this would also have the advantage of giving you time …”

I wrote back assuring him of my love and devotion, which I certainly felt, for I was not the sort of person who could dissimulate. Pretense was quite alien to my nature. In fact one of my faults was in betraying my feelings too openly. So I still did feel a great affection for Uncle Leopold and I never never could forget all he had been to me in my childhood; but the young Princess Victoria sheltered in her palace prison was not the Queen of England, and it was her task—with the help of her own government—to manage the affairs of her country.

Uncle Leopold wanted everything done in a way that would be advantageous to him.

There came the time when he was maneuvering with France and Holland for the rights of Belgium, and he wanted England to come down in his favor. He needed English support and he could not understand why England remained neutral. A little persuasion from me might save Belgium, he wrote.

All I want from your kind Majesty is that you will occasionally express to your ministers—and particularly to good Lord Melbourne— that as is compatible with the interests of your dominions, you do not wish your Government should take the lead in such measures which might in a short time bring in the destruction of this country as well as that of your Uncle and his family …

I was very upset when I read this letter. I showed it to Lord Melbourne who read it and nodded his head. “Leave it to me,” he said; and of course that meant: Leave it alone.

I waited for a whole week before replying and then I assured Uncle Leopold that he was very wrong if he thought my feelings for him could change. But at the same time I skimmed over the subject of foreign politics. All I said was that I understood and sympathized with his difficulties and he could be sure that Lord Melbourne and Lord Palmerston were very anxious for his prosperity and that of Belgium.

I had to make it clear to Uncle Leopold that he could not command me. I loved him dearly but I could not allow my affection to interfere with my country's foreign policy.

All this was distressing and added to my feelings of unrest.

It was in the middle of January when Lehzen came to me in a twitter of excitement. She said, “I have something really rather interesting to tell you.”

“Well, what is it?” I asked.

“It's… Scotty …” Scotty was a name that had been given to Flora Hastings by her enemies—I supposed because of her origins.

“Oh dear, what fresh mischief has she been up to?”

“Your Majesty may well ask. I think this is going to be rather amusing and not a little shocking. You know that she has for a long time been very friendly with that man? The Duchess has been quite jealous at times and so has the Princess Sophia.”

“It is past my understanding why these women think so highly of him.”

“He is supposed to be good-looking and they like his slimy way of talking.”

“I cannot understand how anyone could. But what is this about Flora Hastings?”

“You know Conroy went to her mother's house with her for Christmas.”

“Yes, in Scotland. Loudon Castle, wasn't it? I suppose he was a member of the house party.”

“She came back in the post-chaise with Conroy. The two of them would have been… alone.”

“She would have liked that. It must have given them one or two intimate moments.”

“So it seems,” said Lehzen.

“Oh come on. What are you trying to tell me. Really, Daisy, you can be most perverse at times.”

“I don't know whether I should tell you.”

“You know you are longing to tell me. I command you to get on with it.”

“Well, she arrived back after her most delightful post-chaise journey and complained of feeling ill; and there was a distinct change in her appearance.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“She was a little larger below the waist than it is good for an unmarried lady to be.”

“Oh, no. I can't believe it. Not Lady Flora.”

“Even Lady Flora has her foolish moments. She went to see Dr. Clark. She complained of pains and there was this significant protuberance.”

“What was it?”

Lehzen looked at me and raised her eyebrows.

“Oh no! It couldn't be.”

Lehzen shrugged. “Dr. Clark gave her rhubarb and ipecacuanha pills and she said they relieved her and the swelling had gone down. But that did not seem to be the case. Such swellings do not disappear until the appointed time. And now the truth has come out as such truths must. Dr. Clark told one of the ladies that Lady Flora Hastings is pregnant.”

“What a scandal! What will Mama do?”

“The Duchess is in a difficult position. If Sir John is responsible for Lady Flora's condition, the Duchess will have to do something about that.”

Lehzen laughed, already enjoying Mama's discomfiture.

I said, “Should not Mama be told at once?”

“Lady Tavistock does not feel that she can approach the Duchess who, as Your Majesty knows, might well refuse to see one of your ladies.”