Jean Plaidy - Victoria in the Wings

‘How could one expect a woman like that to live the life of a nun?’

‘She is a handsome woman … and not young.’

‘Ah yes, and they say he’s a very fascinating man. Why the Princess Sophia is in love with him too, I hear.’

‘Sophia! She’s a bit long in the tooth.’

‘Maybe, but some of them are never too old.’

Long-ago scandals were revived about the Princess Sophia. Wasn’t there talk of a child she had had years ago? He must be a grown man now. These things did happen in royal circles.

It was not long before many people accepted it as a fact that the Duchess of Kent was the mistress of Sir John Conroy.

The Duke of Cumberland sat by the King’s bedside. He had a somewhat arrogant habit of presenting himself without permission, which the King half resented. He implied that he came as a brother, and therefore, out of affection, dispensed with ceremony.

The King smiled faintly, feigning pleasure. There was always the vague threat conveyed in Cumberland’s manner. Yet he was so affectionate, so determined to do everything he could to help.

‘Well, George, and how are the pains today?’

‘Agony at times, Ernest.’

‘My poor brother, if the people only knew what you went through.’

There it was. The King shuddered. If the people could see him now in his somewhat grubby silk coat which he wore in bed and the crumpled nightcap hiding his wigless head, what would they say? He thought of cartoons, newspaper comments and shuddered again.

Ernest should have warned him that he was coming; then he would have arisen and have been made presentable.

‘The latest gossip concerns your Swiss Governess.’

The King groaned. ‘That woman! What has she been doing now?’

‘She’s having a love affair with that man Conroy.’

The King laughed. ‘I wish him joy.’

‘Do you think he finds it?’

‘She’s a handsome woman. She might not irritate him as she does some of us. I think she was quite attractive before she became Victoria’s mother. The fact that she has the child has given her false ideas of her own grandeur.’

‘The Princess is a precocious child.’

‘A delightful creature.’ The King smiled. ‘I should like to see more of her. I shall never forget a very enjoyable ride to Virginia Water.’

‘You should see more of her. After all, she is the heiress to the throne.’

‘Don’t harp on that. You make me feel I have to apologize for having outstayed my welcome.’

‘For God’s sake don’t say that, brother. I often wonder what would happen … if you … I can’t speak of it. It affects me too deeply.’

The King wrinkled his eyes in an effort to see his brother’s face. He could not believe Ernest would be greatly affected by his death – at least by affection – but when a man was old and sick and had as he had said ‘outstayed his welcome’ he wanted to believe that when he died there would be some to regret him. And whom could he expect to do that but his own family?

‘And there is William,’ went on Ernest. ‘When I remember our father I tremble.’

‘William is recovered now,’ said the King. ‘It was a momentary lapse. That unfortunate affair of the Lord High Admiral and the fact that Fred’s death put him next in the line went to his head.’

‘I know. To his head … to his weak and foolish head! Things went to our father’s head.’ Ernest came closer to the bed. ‘It would not surprise me if he went the way of our father.’ He raised his eyes piously to the ceiling. ‘Thank God, there are heirs. And that child Victoria would then be the next. She must be prepared for her great position. It occurred to me to ask this question. Should the heiress to the throne be brought up in an immoral household?’

The King was astounded. Ernest of the evil reputation, who had recently been involved in a scandal with a married woman whose husband had committed suicide; who was suspected of practising every vice ever heard of and had been concerned in a violent killing, which could have been murder; Ernest to talk of an immoral household – simply because the Duchess might be having a love affair with a member of her household!

The King, who had also been guilty of many an immoral act, was a little shocked that Ernest could have spoken in this way of the Duchess of Kent. He did not like the woman, but he understood her position. She was a widow, not old, she had an attractive controller of her household. It was in the King’s view inevitable that she should take a lover; and if he had not felt so tired and ill he would have defended the Duchess and asked Ernest why he had suddenly decided to become so virtuous, because it did not become him.

He merely said coolly: ‘I find the Duchess an extremely exhausting woman; her type of looks do not appeal to me, but I certainly would not think of her as an immoral woman.’

One could go so far with the King and no farther. Cumberland knew that. Every action he had to take must be subtle; and the King was no simpleton.

But how could he realize his ambitions while that fat smug child lived on and flourished in Kensington Palace? and how could she cease to do so when she was guarded day and night by her fatter and even smugger mother?

He must be careful though. This was not a matter which could be hurried.

While Adelaide worked in gay-coloured wools on the dress she was making for Victoria, enjoying the peace of Bushy, she was thinking that this could not last. There was change in the air. She could sense it.

One did not need to have special powers to do that. The King was critically ill. The fact that he kept recovering a little because of his strong constitution did not mean that he could go on doing it for ever.

King George was going to die soon and then there would be King William and Queen Adelaide.

But would there?

During the last months she had suffered a terrible fear. She had believed that William was going mad. And yet when she considered his behaviour it was eccentric more than anything else. It had been exaggerated; the rumours had done that.

And who was responsible for those rumours?

Whenever she was in the presence of the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland she felt uneasy. Was it the Duke’s appearance? That scarred face; that void where an eye should have been? Sometimes he wore a patch over it and that gave him a sinister look. It was absurd to judge him by his looks. He had been wounded in the face like many soldiers.

But had he been involved in the Graves’ affair? What had the Duchess of Cumberland thought of that? She gave the impression that she did not care.

She was embroidering the last of the flowers on the dress. This blue would bring out the colour in Victoria’s eyes, she thought. Dear child! She wished that she could see more of her. She feared that the restricted life she led at Kensington Palace was not right for a little girl. There was too much emphasis on etiquette and decorum. Victoria should be allowed to run wild like the FitzClarence grandchildren. Adelaide smiled to think of the pranks they got up to.

Victoria was now spending a few weeks by the sea. The Duchess had decided that she would take her there that she might be seen making the journey; and when she came back she would be so full of good health that the Duchess would wish the people in the Park, where they took their walks, to see it too.

There had been such unpleasant rumours about her health.

Victoria was an interesting child. Such a grown-up letter she had written for Adelaide’s birthday, accompanying some charming presents. Of course it would have been the Duchess of Kent who had chosen the presents, but they had come in Victoria’s name.

Victoria was one of the band of children with whom she had had to compensate herself for having none of her own. The FitzClarence grandchildren, the Cumber lands’ George – a delightful boy – and the Cambridges’ George too. She loved them all, although of course the Duchess of Kent was most insistent that Victoria should never meet any of the FitzClarences which was tiresome and meant that Victoria was often excluded from parties which she would have enjoyed.