Виктория Холт: Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria

That this was a most important visit was obvious. Mama might express her contempt for all my paternal uncles—the King among them—but when all was said and done he was the King and we were all—even Mama—his subjects.

Lehzen tried to prepare me.

At Windsor Lodge, where I should be presented to the King, I should meet a lady in his company whom it would be quite important not to offend.

“A lady? Do you mean the Queen, Lehzen?”

“Well no… not the Queen, a lady. Lady Conyngham. She is a very great friend of the King.”

“I do know that the King and Queen don't like each other very much.”

Lehzen looked alarmed. “You must never say anything about that.” There were times when she was afraid she had told me too much. I was beginning to recognize signs like that.

“You may be surprised when you see the King,” she went on. “He is rather old.”

“Yes, Lehzen, I know. Mama has often said so.”

Lehzen looked even more alarmed. “You must guard your tongue. It would be wise to speak only when the King speaks to you and then only answer what he asks.”

I was beginning to feel more and more nervous.

“Don't worry,” said Feodore. “Say what is natural to you. I am sure that will be all right.”

Dear, comforting Feodore!

When we were riding in the carriage on the way to Windsor Lodge, Mama was giving instructions. “I hope you have practiced your curtsy. You must be grave. Do not laugh in that really vulgar way you seem to be developing … showing all your gums. Smile. Just lift the corners of your mouth … and remember that although he is the King, you are royal too.”

“Yes, Mama…Yes, Mama…”

I really was not listening. I was admiring the countryside and wondering what Uncle King would be like, and why there was all this pursing of the lips when Lady Conyngham and her family—who seemed to live at Windsor Lodge with the King—were mentioned. I would ask Lehzen. No, not Lehzen. She could be reticent at times. I would ask my other governess Baroness Spath…or Feodore. How wonderful to have such a dear sister who was so much older—grown up and yet not exactly a grown-up. Yes, I would ask Feodore.

My hand crept into hers and she pressed it reassuringly. I loved her so much and thought: We shall always be together.

We had arrived.

At length the great moment came and I was ushered into the presence of the King.

I saw a figure so huge that even the very large and ornate chair in which he sat seemed too small to hold him and he flowed over it as though someone had tried to pour him in and spilt some of him. The analogy made me want to giggle. I restrained myself severely and swept the most profound curtsy I had ever made in my life. It was effective, I am sure. It should have been. I had been practicing it ever since I had known I was to meet him.

“So this is Victoria.” His voice was soft and really musical, and I loved music. “Come here, my dear child.”

So I went and looked up into that huge face; his cravat came right up to his chins and his cheeks seemed to wobble. He had beautiful pink cheeks and his hair was a mass of luxuriant curls. I thought: Some parts of him are so beautiful.

He was watching me as intently as I was watching him.

Then he said, “Give me your little paw.”

Paw! What a strange name to give a hand! It seemed very funny and I forgot Mama's instructions and laughed.

He took my hand in his, which was very large, white, and sparkling with rings.

He laughed with me, so at least he was not annoyed.

“Such a pretty little paw,” he said. He turned to the lady who was standing close to his chair. She was very beautiful though rather fat— but not nearly so fat as the King. Perhaps it was her clothes that made her seem so splendid. He said, “Lift her up, my dear. I want to see her closely.”

So I was set on his knee, which was soft and wobbly like a feather cushion. It was an odd sensation to be so close to his face. I was fascinated by the delicate pink of his cheeks and the curls of his hair, which looked as though they belonged to a young man, and yet the pouches under his eyes made him look like an old one.

He looked at me as though he found my appearance interesting and because of his lovely voice and his kindly looks I began to wonder why Mama hated him so much. He was not nearly so awe-inspiring as I had expected him to be. He seemed as though he wanted to please me as much as I wanted to please him.

He said how delighted he was that I had come to see him. “It was good of you,” he added.

“I was told I must come,” I said.

Then I felt that was the wrong thing to have said because it sounded as though I didn't want to. I went on hurriedly, “I was so excited. But there was a great deal to remember…so I hope I do not do anything wrong.”

He laughed. It was a very friendly laugh. He said, “My dear little Victoria, I very much doubt that anything you did would be wrong in my eyes.”

“But I do do things which are wrong…”

“Perhaps we all do…now and then.”

“Even you, Uncle King?”

There! I had said it! Mama would be listening. Oh dear, there would be a lecture.

He was smiling still. “Yes, even Uncle King.”

“Of course I should have said Your Majesty.”

“Do you know, I like Uncle King better.”

“Do you really…Uncle King?”

Then we both laughed again. I was so relieved and I quite liked sitting on his blubbery knee and watching his old-young face and wishing my hair curled as beautifully as his did, and thinking how different he was from what I had expected.

“You look rather pleased,” he said. “I believe you are enjoying your visit and finding Uncle King not such an old ogre as you may have been led to believe.”

I hunched my shoulders and nodded, for that was exactly the truth.

He asked me questions and I told him about the dolls and how I was rather pleased that Queen Elizabeth's skirt was torn and had been for several days and Lehzen had not noticed it yet. “She was so vain,” I said. “She deserved it.”

He agreed.

Then he said he must give me a little memento of our meeting. I was not sure what that meant but guessed it was some sort of present, and so it proved to be for he said to the plump lady, “Bring it, my dear.”

She brought a miniature of a very beautiful young man set in diamonds.

“It is lovely,” I cried. “What a beautiful young man.”

“You don't recognize him?”

I looked puzzled. I lifted my eyes to his face. The plump lady was nodding and trying to tell me something. I did not understand.

“I daresay I have changed since that was done,” said the King sadly.

Then I knew. I looked closely and I did see a faint resemblance between the face in the picture and that of my benign young-old Uncle King.

I smiled. “It is you …Uncle King. It was because it was so small and you are bigger now …I didn't see it at first.”

It was a little late, but he did not seem to mind so much after all.

He turned to the fat lady. “Pin the miniature on her dress, my dear.”

The fat lady, perfumed and silky, leaned over and smiling at me, obeyed.

“There! That will remind you of this day.”

“Oh, I should not have forgotten… not ever.”

“You are a very nice little girl,” he said. “I have given you a present. What will you give me?”

I thought hard. One of the dolls? Queen Elizabeth perhaps…we could mend her skirt.

He said with a smile, “A kiss would be very nice.”

That was easy. In spite of my disapproval of Queen Elizabeth I was glad I was not going to lose her. He put his face forward and I was so happy because the visit, which I had been dreading so much, had been so easy, and because he was kind and hadn't minded in the least being called Uncle King; and partly because he had been a little hurt because I had not recognized him as the beautiful young man in the picture, I put my arms around his neck and kissed him twice.