Jean Plaidy - Victoria in the Wings

‘Go back to bed,’ William told her. ‘And I will join you.’

‘I could not rest … now.’

‘Go back, nevertheless,’ said William, ‘and I’ll join you. I’ve never yet been to bed with a Queen.’

The new King was popular. He was so different from his brother. He went among the people freely; he had no airs and graces. He was the rough sailor.

He was soon in conflict with his brother Ernest, for Ernest was certain that soon the King would be in a strait-jacket and then there would be a Regency for Victoria and he would be a member of that Regency and then there should be no obstruction to his plans.

The first friction came when William discovered his brother’s horses in the Queen’s stables at Windsor.

‘Remove them,’ he said. ‘That’s the place for the Queen’s carriage.’

‘I’ll be damned if I’ll move them,’ retorted Cumberland.

But William was the King and not to be defied; so the horses were removed and Cumberland’s office of Gold Stick taken from him.

‘I am the King,’ said William, ‘and I’ll be the King.’

It was Cumberland who had started those rumours about himself, and Adelaide had told him some nasty stories about his designs on Victoria.

‘By God,’ he said, ‘I am the King and all here had better remember it.’

He took the first opportunity of showing his intentions towards his brother when at a dinner where Cumberland and several others were present the King rose to give the toast.

‘The land we live in and let those who don’t like it, leave it.’

His eyes were on Cumberland when he said that, and he meant: I understand you, brother. There is not room at this Court for you and me. And as it’s my Court and I am the King of it, there is no room for you.

At Kensington Palace the Duchess of Kent rejoiced. ‘He can’t harm her now,’ she told Lehzen. ‘His power is broken.’

‘But Your Highness will wish to guard her all the same.’

‘I do not forget how precious she is, Baroness. Nor must any of us.’

So she continued to sleep in her room and Victoria must not descend the stairs alone. But the tension was lifted. They could breathe more freely in Kensington Palace; and the Duchess of Kent must impress on her daughter more firmly than ever that one day she would be the Queen of England. And that day was not far distant, she was sure.

It was more like a holiday than a day of mourning. On that beautiful July day the sun shone warmly and it seemed that all the inhabitants not only of Windsor but the surrounding country had come out to see the last of George IV.

He was buried in the royal vault with the miniature of Maria Fitzherbert over his heart. And the new King could scarcely contain his exuberance, so delighted was he to have the crown in his grasp at last.

The gentle Queen whispered to him that he must hide his pleasure. It was hardly seemly to show such delight in the death of a brother.

William was puzzled. He had loved old George. But he loved his crown better. He would explain to Adelaide when they were alone.

The bells were tolling; they were firing the salute; even if few cared that this was the funeral of the late King it must be a royal funeral.

It was more than that. It was the passing of an age.

The great Georgian era was at an end. It was William’s turn now – William’s and Adelaide’s – and in the apartments at Kensington Palace the Duchess of Kent put her arm about her daughter and led her to the window.

‘All your life,’ she said, ‘you will remember – this day.’

Victoria had wept; she had been fascinated by Uncle King. But it was long since she had seen him; and she knew what this meant.

One day – and perhaps quite soon – there would be another royal funeral – and a new sovereign would mount the throne.

And then … Victoria.

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