Jean Plaidy - Victoria in the Wings

‘My dear,’ replied the Duke coldly, ‘don’t you think that had he done so I would have prevented him at all costs?’

The Duchess replied that she hoped it would be a lesson and that in future he would choose women with less mischievous husbands.

‘What’s done is done,’ he said. ‘No useful purpose is served by recriminations.’

‘But it has drawn attention to us. It has revived old scandals. And what of the Princess Victoria? They are saying now that she is a healthy child and the rumours about her delicate health were false. Soon they will be asking who started these rumours.’

‘Not they. They’ll have forgotten them.’

‘And William?’

‘I’ve kept a watch on William. He would have been in his strait-jacket now if Adelaide had not cosseted him and kept him quiet at Bushy.’

‘We have to watch Adelaide. I don’t trust those quiet people. So self-effacing! Always working for the good of others! She’s devoted to Victoria as well as William. The good woman is in fact a universal mother. She’s even taking our own George under the maternal wing. He dotes on her.’

‘Adelaide is of no importance.’

‘She could in a few weeks’ time be the Queen of England.’

‘Let us leave William and his pretensions alone for a while. He’s old and probably on the verge of madness. It’s the child who is important to us.’

‘And now we hear nothing but reports of her good health. No one believes that she is a delicate child and if she were suddenly to go into a decline suspicions might be aroused.’

‘She’s guarded like a prisoner. Her mother scarcely lets her out of her sight.’

‘What do you expect after those rumours? It was too early to start them.’

‘Perhaps. But if Victoria were taken from her mother’s care …’

‘There would be an outcry.’

‘Not if there was a very good reason for her being taken away.’

‘What reason could there be for removing the child from her mother.’

‘The Princess Charlotte was prevented from seeing her mother during the Delicate Investigation. Why? Because Caroline was suspected of immorality.’

‘The Duchess of Kent is no Caroline.’

‘Who said she was? But Caroline is not the only woman who has strayed from the paths of virtue. Imagine our Duchess – not so old, luscious, alone. What would be more natural than that she should take a lover?’

The Duchess began to laugh.

‘I see your reasoning.’

‘And you find it worthy of me?’

‘Completely worthy.’

‘There is a ready-made situation.’

‘And the gentleman in the case?’

‘Surely you don’t need to ask. John Conroy – her controller and adviser – such a handsome man! I believe the Princess Sophia finds him most attractive. The Duchess of Kent certainly does. Now you must admit that it would not be proper for our future Queen to be brought up in an immoral household.’

‘You will have to act more subtly over our immoral Duchess than you did with her delicate daughter.’

‘You will see,’ said the Duke, smiling his evil smile.

It was pleasant riding one’s pony through the grounds at Claremont; in fact Claremont, thought Victoria, was one of the most lovely places in the world. Here, Cousin Charlotte had walked with Uncle Leopold. She supposed that Charlotte was her aunt in a way, because she had married Uncle Leopold; but royal relationships were so complicated. People could be cousins and aunts at the same time.

Here Charlotte had made plans about her baby. Oh yes, it was having a baby which had killed her. Louisa Lewis had let that out. Mamma would be cross if she knew, for Victoria was not supposed to know anything about having babies.

She was watched all the time. It was very strange that they allowed her to ride her pony alone. But then she was only in the grounds of Claremont. And I am thankful for a little freedom, she thought.

Something strange was going on.

Feodore had left her and she was sad because Feodore was so pretty and charming and they had always been together. Feodore had been one of her admirers. But Feodore herself was admired – by men. Which, said Mamma, was dangerous. So Uncle Leopold, who always seemed to decide what should be done, had said that it was time that Feodore was married. So poor Feodore, weeping in bed at nights and hugging Victoria and saying that she never never wanted to leave her little sister, had to prepare to leave Kensington and go away to marry the Count Hohenlohe-Langenburg. Poor Feodore. How frightened she had been!

‘Lucky Victoria,’ she had said, ‘when you marry you won’t have to go away … and you will be a Queen who will chose your husband.’

Yes, thought Victoria, she was very lucky.

But sad as Feodore’s going had made her, her sadness had nothing to do with the strangeness.

And Lehzen had now become a Baroness. She supposed they thought a mere Fräulein was not good enough to be the close companion of a Queen.

But it was nothing to do with that either.

No, the strangeness was in Kensington Palace. Mamma had taken to sleeping in her room which was odd; and before Mamma came to bed the new Baroness sat there doing her needlework.

‘Why do you sit there?’ Victoria wanted to know. ‘I used to be all alone in my room.’

‘Do you not wish for a companion?’

Victoria was usually precise. ‘I was not thinking of whether I liked a companion but asking why it was thought necessary to give me one.’

‘Her Highness the Duchess has asked me to bring my needlework in here and sit until she comes to bed.’

‘I see,’ said Victoria, ‘that it must be because she does not wish me to be alone.’

‘The Duchess thinks constantly of what is best for you.’

‘I know,’ said Victoria.

‘And knowing it, it would be wise to accept it without question.’

How could one accept anything without question? Victoria wondered. For if one did, how could one expect to discover what everything was about?

But it was very pleasant at Claremont – Charlotte’s Claremont, where she might have had her little baby and if he had lived – for Louisa Lewis had let out that the child was a boy – Victoria would not have been as important as she was at this moment; in fact there might not have been a Victoria at all. What a gossip Louisa was! She loved to tell stories of the family; so Victoria knew of all the urgency of getting her uncles married when Charlotte had died, including her own Papa.

A world without Victoria? Impossible! she thought. So poor Charlotte had to die.

It was hard to imagine death in Claremont; but death could be anywhere … even in Kensington Palace. Death! Mystery! Something strange was happening and it was all about her. It concerned her.

She was suddenly alert. She had seen a figure moving among the trees. Who was it? Not Mamma, for Mamma was seated on the lawn; she knew exactly where Mamma was. Someone was watching her.

Her heart began to beat faster. Who was watching her? And why? And all this mystery was a little frightening. It made one wonder if something really dreadful was about to happen.

She could ride quickly back to the lawn and Mamma – or she could go closer to the trees and look. She hesitated for a second. She was on her pony; she could always gallop away or call for help.

She galloped over to the trees.

‘Who is there?’ she called.

She was relieved yet a little disappointed. It was only a young woman who stepped out from among the trees.

She curtsied as Victoria pulled up.

‘Who are you?’ she asked.

‘I am Dr Stockmar’s niece.’

Victoria knew Dr Stockmar; he was Uncle Leopold’s physician and Uncle Leopold was very fond of him and talked to him for hours of his rheumatism.