Vicky, to our delight, was now thriving and becoming very amusing. Albert was enchanted by her and I was glad to see that she had a very special feeling for him, calling to him whenever he came into the nursery, running to him and catching hold of his legs. He would lift her in his arms, and I even saw her riding on his back while he pretended to be a grisly bear or a fierce tiger, rousing her to shrieks of terrified delight.

What a happy scene that was! The Boy was growing well, but of course was younger and therefore not so interesting.

I should be glad to have a holiday. It was really rather a strain to be with Lehzen and to know that she would soon be gone.

She was sad, in a resigned sort of way. She made no criticism of Albert now, and it really did seem as though she were looking forward without too much sorrow to her new life, but that quiet melancholy air did distress me.

I was sure her sister would be glad to have her and the children would love her. I remembered so vividly how it used to be between us and how she had thrown herself wholeheartedly into all my childish pleasures.

So it would be delightful to get away for a few short days of holiday alone with Albert.

I thought we should go to Claremont as we often did at these times, but Albert had other ideas.

“I have always wanted to go to Scotland,” he said.

“Scotland! It seems so far away.”

“After all,” said Albert, “it is part of your kingdom. You should put in an appearance now and then. The people expect it.”

So we made plans to visit Scotland.

How glad I was that we did!

It was late August when we left Windsor at five o'clock in the morning, and we reached London in three quarters of an hour and were at Woolwich before seven. People had heard that we should be there and quite a crowd had gathered to see us get into the barge. The Duke of Cambridge; Lord Jersey, as Master of Horse; Lord Haddington, First Lord of the Admiralty; Lord Bloomfield, Colonel Commandant of the Royal Regiment of Artillery; and Sir George Cockburn, Senior Naval Lord, were present as it seemed quite a State occasion. Unfortunately it was raining and we had to go straight to the sitting room. Then we set off, the Trinity House steamer and packet forming our squadron; we were followed by several little pleasure steamboats, their occupants eager to catch a glimpse of us.

It was three days later before we caught sight of the Scottish coast. The Scots gave us a wonderful welcome with bonfires all along the shore.

It was the first of September before we reached our destination, and when we arrived we could not see Edinburgh, because it was shrouded in dim fog. It was a great pleasure to be greeted at the pier by the Duke of Buccleuch and Sir Robert Peel, the latter having made the journey to Scotland to be there on our arrival.

I was enchanted by Edinburgh—quite beautiful and unlike any other city—everything of stone and no bricks at all—and the main street steep, and the castle on the rock right in the middle of the city.

I loved Scotland—partly because Albert was so delighted with it. I thought the people attractive. Quite a number of the girls had long red hair that they wore flowing down their backs. I thought it enchanting. I ate porridge, which I found very good, and I tried another of their Scottish dishes called Finnan Haddies.

What happy days they were, discovering Scotland. I was fascinated by the most unusual dress of the people—the kilts and the tartans; and I soon grew accustomed to the sound of bagpipes. I thought them most romantic.

We traveled extensively and were warmly welcomed everywhere. I was sorry the holiday was coming to an end but I longed to see the children. I did miss them and although I had heard from Lady Lyttelton, who had now been appointed royal governess, that they were well and happy, I thought about them a great deal.

I believe Albert was more than a little sorry when it was time to sail southwards. He stood on deck watching the coastline of Scotland fade away.

His comment was, “An enchanting country. We must visit the Highlands again soon.”

And I agreed most enthusiastically.


* * *

I WAS VERY sad for the time had come when Lehzen was to leave us.

Albert watched me anxiously. I was sure that, right up to the last minute, he was afraid I would find some excuse for her to stay. I was tempted to do so. One cannot easily dismiss more than twenty years of devotion; but I knew in my heart that it was a choice between Lehzen and Albert—and it had to be Albert.

Moreover, since it had been agreed that Lehzen would depart, Albert and I had been so much happier together. There had been scarcely any disagreement. We were growing closer. During the holiday in Scotland everything had been perfect.

My life lay with Albert.

Lehzen knew this and that was why she was going. But the sadness was like a heavy cloud which hung over the household.

Our last day together! We were both aware of it and the slightest thing would have set me crying and I should have been clinging to her telling her she must not go. Lehzen herself was wonderful. She knew it was better for me to turn to Albert. He was a fellow German and she understood him. I believe she would have admired him if she had not been so jealous of him. Lehzen loved me truly… just as Lord Melbourne did. And love is selfless. I had learned that.

When I said goodbye to her she said, “This is the last time. I shall not see you in the morning before I go. Partings are so sad. There is no need to prolong the unhappiness. My dearest one, take care of yourself. You will write to me and I shall write to you. I shall follow your life in all you do. I know you will be happy because you will make those around you happy. You are a dear good girl, and I am proud of you.”

She held me in her arms for the last time, and I went to my bedroom and wept.

In the morning she left.

There was no doubt of Albert's pleasure; but he did understand my feelings and was most kind and sympathetic.

Then I stopped to brood for I discovered that I was once more pregnant.

Rumblings of Revolt

IN APRIL OF THE FOLLOWING YEAR MY LITTLE DAUGHTER WAS born. This was a much easier pregnancy and birth than the others, and I wondered whether one became accustomed to that. That was a happy thought because I seemed to be the sort of woman who would be excessively fertile. In three years I had managed to have as many children.

She was to be Alice Maud, and as she had been born on the Duchess of Gloucester's birthday, she was to be Mary also—after her.

Everything had gone so much more smoothly after Lehzen's departure. Albert had had a thorough examination of the household and had made some astounding economies. I knew that lots of the servants did not like it, for life must have been very easy for them under Lehzen's rule. They grumbled among themselves, I knew. Poor Albert, he was very unpopular with them, but that is often the reward of doing what is right.

For Alice's christening we had to invite Uncle Ernest, although I did so with the utmost reluctance. He was still the bogeyman of my childhood, and I could never feel perfectly at ease when he was in the country. He seemed to be in a state of constant resentment because he had not inherited the crown of England. I did not begrudge him that of Hanover. So why could he not be content now that he was a king? There was conflict between us now because he was claiming Princess Charlotte's jewels. I wore them often for I really had very few of my own—for a queen; and I saw no reason why he should have them, so I refused to give them up. But I thought he might feel a little reconciled if he were asked to act as sponsor for the baby.

My dear sister Feodore was to be another and the apprehension at the prospect of seeing Uncle Ernest was forgotten in the joyous one of having Feodore with me. Albert's brother, Ernest, and Aunt Sophia were to be the other two.

Feodore and I hugged each other; we kissed and studied our faces, entwining our arms as I took her to her room where I sat on the bed and we talked and talked.

“You…my little sister…a mother of three!” she said. “I cannot believe it. I shall never forget the sight of you with your dolls. Live dolls are different, are they not?”

How easy it was to talk to darling Feodore. I was able to tell her of the anguish over Lehzen. She listened and what was so wonderful, she understood.

“I know Lehzen well,” she said. “A wonderful woman…but possessive, and it was only natural that she and Albert should resent each other. Your life, dearest sister, is with Albert … him and the children. It is your family which matters most.”

She loved the new baby who was plump and contented.

“She is a wonderful baby,” I said. “Quieter than the other two. I think she will be a great comfort to me.”

“Vicky is very bright.”

“Indeed, yes. Albert is so pleased with her. I wish Bertie was different. I think he is going to be rather lazy. He just mumbles to himself, shouts, and runs all over the place.”

Feodore laughed. “Bertie is adorable. He is a normal boy. They are the best sort to have.”

“There speaks the wise mother.”

I looked at her lovingly. That lovely willowy figure she had had was no more, for she had grown rather plump; but Feodore would always be beautiful because of her lovely expression. Her face was illuminated by an inner goodness.

She was in complete contrast to Uncle Ernest who radiated malevolence.

He arrived late and after the christening ceremony was over. I wondered whether he did it on purpose. He looked even more evil if less physically able to carry out any wicked intentions. He was rather bent and bald and obviously hard of hearing. Alice behaved perfectly during the ceremony; and everyone said what a lovely child she was.

I had some uneasy moments afterward in the nursery when Uncle Ernest asked to see the children, which I thought rather an odd request, coming from him, for I was sure he was not really interested in them.

Vicky came running up with her usual lack of self-consciousness.

“Where is your eye?” she demanded.

“Lost in action,” replied Uncle Ernest shortly.

“Did someone take it?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Why?”

Albert came forward and laid a restraining hand on Vicky's shoulder. I saw him smile; he thought anything Vicky did was very clever and amusing.

The King of Hanover had turned away. “And where is the boy?” he said.

Bertie came forward. He said nothing and I was aware of Albert's frown. Bertie was such a disappointment to him, which was largely due to Vicky's brightness; they made such a contrast. I was always reminding Albert that Bertie was a year younger than Vicky.

I felt a tremor of alarm when Uncle Ernest picked up Bertie and held him at eye level, studying him intently with his one eye. I imagined he would be thinking that this young boy would in all probability be King of England, a title for which Uncle Ernest had lusted all his life.

I glanced at Albert and saw that his thoughts were the same as mine. I felt that everyone in the nursery was waiting for something to happen. It was a most uneasy moment.

Bertie, however, was unperturbed. He stared at the King's empty eye socket with the utmost fascination.

“Looks a healthy little fellow,” said Uncle Ernest.

“He is,” I told him. “He takes after his father.”

“Can't see it,” said Uncle Ernest. “More like our side.”

Vicky was looking up at him in a rather impatient way because Bertie was getting more attention than she was, which was most unusual.

“I'm not just Vicky,” she said. “I am the Princess Royal.”

But Uncle Ernest continued to look at Bertie, and it seemed a long time before he set him down.

I talked to Albert about the incident when we were alone.

“He really alarmed me,” he said, “when he took Bertie up and displayed such an interest in him. He quite ignored Vicky and was not in the least interested in the baby—although he had asked to see the nurseries.”

Albert thought that the only reason he could have been more interested in Bertie than in Vicky was because the boy was heir to the throne, for if he had a general interest in the children, Vicky would surely have been the target for his attention.

It was very sad having to say goodbye to Feodore, but the visit had necessarily to be brief, for Feodore had many duties in her own home.