When they saw me cheers rang out. Flags were waving and I heard the sound of trumpets. I was aware of the crowds, some on the railings and on the surrounding trees, so determined were they to get a good view.

I felt immensely gratified. The ghost of Flora Hastings had passed into oblivion—or almost—and the affair of the Bedchamber Ladies was forgotten. I was the Queen and this was my wedding day.

I heard gasps of admiration as I stepped out in my voluminous white satin gown trimmed with Honiton lace. I lightly touched the sapphire brooch—a present from Albert and therefore doubly valuable in my eyes. My diamond necklace sparkled about my neck and there was a wreath of orange blossom in my hair.

I sat beside Mama and we went through streets lined with people who shouted and cheered as we passed. I noticed that Mama was much less pushing than she used to be. I think she must have learned a few lessons over the past three years; moreover the odious Sir John was no longer there to guide her actions.

I was vividly reminded of my coronation when I had believed that to be a queen was the most wonderful achievement on Earth; and that if one were good, there would be no difficulties at all. What an innocent I had been! And still was, perhaps, to some extent. On solemn occasions like this, one could feel so young…so inexperienced.

I was not yet twenty-one years of age—but three months older than my dear bridegroom. There was so much I should have to teach him about England and the duties of a queen, for he had shown himself—for example when he had thought we could take a long honeymoon—that wise and good as he undoubtedly was, he did not fully understand the duties and responsibilities of being a queen of England.

It was very impressive in the Abbey and I was deeply moved by the ceremony, and I shall never forget the moment when Albert put the ring on my finger. That sealed our relationship. We should be together now for the rest of our lives. So we were married.

Albert and I clasped hands and looked at each other in wonderment. Everything is going to be perfect for ever more, I thought! How could it fail to be with this divine being.

I caught sight of Aunt Adelaide. How she had aged since Uncle William's death! But she looked rather splendid in a gown of purple silk and velvet trimmed with ermine. Emotionally I turned to her, remembering all the kindnesses of the past—the big doll, how she had understood about the dolls as Mama never had, the occasions when she had tried to arrange for me to go to children's balls and parties, because she knew how much I loved them, and how Mama had prevented my going. Aunt Adelaide had always been gracious to Mama in spite of the rudeness she had received, and it was all because she had wanted to help me. Dear Aunt Adelaide! It was distressing to see her looking so old and tired. I embraced her warmly. She clung to me a little, and whispered that she hoped I should have a very happy life.

There was Mama, standing there, waiting to be embraced and told how much I appreciated all she had done for me. I had many faults possibly but hypocrisy was not one of them. No, Mama, I thought, the past cannot be wiped away just because it is convenient to do so.

She approached me holding out her arms. I took her hand and shook it. I knew by the almost imperceptible gasp of those who were watching that my gesture had been observed.

Then I left the Abbey with Albert beside me for the drive back to the Palace, through the cheering crowds—and the gloomy weather did not matter in the least.

The banquet that awaited us seemed to go on and on, but at last came the moment when I could go to my room and be divested of my wedding garments. There I put on a gown of white silk trimmed with swansdown; and I had a bonnet that was so big that I seemed to recede right into it, which was not such a bad thing, for I had to ride through the streets; and when one is feeling emotional one does not want to be seen too clearly.

I came down and there among those who had come to wave us farewell, I picked out the tall figure of Lord Melbourne.

I went to him and as he bowed, taking my hand and kissing it, all my love and tenderness for this dear man surged up in me.

I said, “Lord Melbourne, you will always be there.”

“As long as you need me,” he said, “and while it is possible.”

I nodded.

“You will come to Windsor and dine with us.”

“During the three days honeymoon?” I saw his lips lift at the corners in the way I knew so well.

“Yes,” I said.

He bowed.

I went on rather shakily, “That is a splendid coat you are wearing, Lord Melbourne.”

“I am delighted with Your Majesty's approval. It seems to me to be built like a seventy-four gun ship.”

He made me laugh as he ever could. But I could see there were tears in his eyes.

I must not stay too long talking to him so I moved on. As I did so I heard him murmur, “God bless you, Ma'am.”

And there was Albert beside me.

The carriage was waiting to take us to Windsor and our honeymoon.

Lovers' Quarrels

WHAT HAPPY DAYS THEY WERE! I COULD NOT BELIEVE MY good fortune. Here I was married to the most perfect, divine being. Albert's beauty delighted me. I could not take my eyes from him. Marriage was wonderful during those two days at Windsor.

We rode together; we played duets on two pianos; we walked with the dogs, and just as Eos showed his appreciation of me, little Dashy, Ismay, and Laddie gambolled around Albert as though he were an old friend.

It was so wonderful that rather grand Eos had no objection to my little ones, and I was sure Dashy thought he was a great joke. How I laughed—no doubt showing my gums—and Albert laughed too, though more discreetly.

We loved with excitement and tenderness and I had never been so contented in my life.

Albert loved Windsor. Up to that time, although I had changed my first impressions, the feeling that it was a little gloomy with all those ominous sounding rooks cawing away, had remained. The forest was dark and full of mystery; there were legends concerning it… some of them rather sinister.

It had been Buckingham Palace that I had really loved—the dear, comfortable place with the big light rooms which had been my first home when I had escaped from the captivity at Kensington Palace. Moreover it was London. I could see the Park from my windows, which was all the greenery I wanted; and the streets and crowds of people were close by. There was an excitement about London that had always appealed to me.

But Albert was quite different. He did not like the town and he loved the country. He knew the names of trees and flowers and liked to give me lessons about them. I was not very interested, but I made a show of being so for his sake.

He said how pleasant it was to escape from all the functions, to be able to retire at a reasonable hour and to awake to the freshness of the early morning. He thought staying up half the night dancing was a rather foolish way of going on. The night was meant for sleeping.

“But, Albert,” I cried, “I love to dance and it always seems more exciting after midnight.”

“Then,” he replied, “you cannot feel fresh for the morning. One does one's best work in the early morning.”

I said, “I shall make you change your mind. I should love to dance with you, Albert, until two in the morning.”

He looked so alarmed that it began to dawn on me that my tastes and those of Albert differed a little.

Lehzen was at Windsor and there was a slight change in her attitude. I realized that she did not like Albert very much, and he did not greatly like her, I feared.

Lehzen fussed. She had always fussed. I imagined she wanted Albert to know how devoted she had always been to me, and in the days when I had had such bitter quarrels with my mother, she, Lehzen, had been the one I turned to for comfort and consultation—with Lord Melbourne, of course.

“It is not a good thing for sons and daughters to quarrel with their parents,” said Albert.

“What is not good often happens. And if you know how Mama could be, you would understand.”

“One must have indulgence in such cases.”

I leaped up and kissed him. “You are so good, Albert,” I said. “I do not believe you would quarrel with your mother whatever the provocation.”

Albert looked sad, and I guessed I had been a little tactless to mention his mother, who had been accused of adultery and divorced.

There was a great deal that Albert did not understand about me; but I had no qualms during those days of the honeymoon.

People came down to Windsor, Lord Melbourne among them. How pleased I was to see him!

He told me that it was obvious that I liked married life, and he was delighted for me.

My mother was to leave Buckingham Palace. Lord Melbourne had hoped that the King of Hanover would allow her to have his apartments at St. James's Palace.

“He never occupies them,” said Lord Melbourne, “so it would be no hardship. His Majesty, however, is adamant and refuses.”

“Oh dear,” I sighed. “I fear there will be trouble if Mama stays at Buckingham Palace. I fancy Albert is inclined to believe I have been a little harsh with her.”

“Then he cannot understand the position.”

“No. But I have tried to tell him.”

“I suggest that you rent Ingestre House in Belgrave Square for the Duchess. I gather it is available and the rent is £2,000 a year. Perhaps later a more suitable residence could be found for her, but I think Your Majesty would wish the move to be made soon. Therefore, shall I go ahead with the arrangements for Ingestre House?”

“Oh, please do. I could not bear her to make trouble between Albert and me.”

Dear Lord Melbourne! How good and understanding he had always been to me!

We returned to London and I prepared to be ecstatically happy. How I loved riding and walking with Albert and those cozy evenings when we played duets together. Ernest was often with us; there was a great bond between the two brothers, though Ernest was very different from Albert—much less serious. I laughed a good deal with Ernest. I danced now and then. Albert was a superb dancer, but he always wanted to leave early. I should have liked to dance much more; but I always agreed to retire early when Albert wished it.

Looking back I see quite clearly how different we were and how so much that went wrong was my fault. Albert was too perfect. I remember Lord Melbourne saying once that the saintly people are more difficult to get along with than the sinners because the saints are always attempting to make others as good as they believe themselves to be, whereas sinners have no grudge against the saints, and are quite happy to let them go their way as long as they may pursue the paths of pleasure themselves. He added, “I have always thought that there is a lot of truth in the old saying: ‘There is a little good in the worst of us, and a little bad in the best of us; and it ill behooves the best of us to criticise the rest of us.'”

I thought that was very funny—and true—and it made me laugh out loud. When I laughed loudly Albert always looked across the room at me—not exactly critically—indulgently, perhaps, as one would look at a child who commits some fault that is rather charming but must, nevertheless, be corrected.

We had been brought up differently, I supposed. Albert had been adored by his grandmothers, but he had lived to a strict Lutheran pattern. He was serious by nature. He was talented, and wanted to use those talents. He was the last man on Earth who should have been chosen for the part of consort to a queen.

“Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man wise,” had been one of his maxims. He could not understand why I liked to sit up half the night. There was so much about me that he could not understand; my devotion to Lord Melbourne, and for another thing, my absorbing love for Lehzen.

He was horrified when he heard me call her Daisy.

“That cannot be her name,” he said.

“Actually it is Louise.”

“Then why do you call her Daisy?”

“I wanted a special name for her. She is very special in my life. For so long she was my dearest friend. We used to have wonderful times together and when I was unhappy she could always comfort me. There were times when Mama could be very hard to live with. Do you know she used to make me wear a necklace of holly under my chin!”