Виктория Холт - The Widow of Windsor

‘He was a great favourite of dearest Papa and that is something I can never forget,’ said the Queen.

‘Dearest Papa did not live long enough to know what a grandson he had. Otherwise he might not have been quite so fond of Wilhelm.’

‘There was his poor arm,’ said the Queen tolerantly. ‘I am sure that has been very difficult to contend with.’

‘Vicky did everything she could for him. He could at least be grateful, but he treats her abominably. And do you know, Mama, I believe he has designs on England.’

‘Designs on England! Good gracious, Bertie, whatever do you mean?’

‘I mean he would like to oust me … us … from the throne.’

‘Oust us from the throne.’ All the Queen’s Majesty descended upon her. Bertie thought: She may think she likes to live in seclusion; she may imply that she would gladly relinquish her crown; but just try suggesting it! ‘Why, Bertie, I never heard such nonsense.’

‘But, Mama, Wilhelm has become so arrogant that he is capable of thinking such nonsense. I sent him a kilt and everything that goes with it in Royal Stuart tartan. He asked for it because he said he wanted to wear it at a fancy-dress ball. And do you know, Mama, he had the temerity to have a photograph taken in it and wrote underneath it: “I bide my time.” This he had distributed widely.’

‘Little Willie will have to be taught a lesson or two,’ said the Queen grimly. ‘And when I next see him I will undertake to explain to him that this will not do. I am sorry for poor Vicky. You children have given me many causes for anxiety but I must say that I have never had to complain of your lack of respect to me as your mother and your Queen.’

‘Thank you, Mama. It would in any case be impossible to show disrespect to you even if one wanted to – which is equally impossible.’

The Queen smiled. Bertie had a very gracious way of paying a compliment. She had certain things to be thankful for in Bertie and she was really quite fond of him. Of course he was frivolous and not really a good husband to dear sweet Alix because of this obsession of his with women; but he had charm.

‘ Dear Bertie,’ she said. ‘And young Willy may be left to me.’

There came news that the old Emperor had died; Fritz was now Emperor of Germany and Vicky its Empress.

‘How proud dearest Papa would have been,’ said the Queen.

But Vicky was growing more and more uneasy. Poor Fritz was failing fast; he suffered agony and could not speak at all. He was Emperor for a hundred days and then the sad news came that he was dead.

Wilhelm was so triumphant that he made no secret of his elation. Delighted as he was, yet he blamed his mother for his father’s death. He kept her virtually a prisoner and would not allow her access to any of his father’s papers.

Bertie, attending his brother-in-law’s funeral, was horrified at the new young Emperor’s manner and the way in which his sister was treated.

Bertie returned to England and reported to the Queen; she was furious and when Wilhelm’s envoy was sent to her to announce formally his master’s accession she received him with the utmost coldness.

Wilhelm was resentful. Did his grandmother forget that now he was an Emperor he was of equal importance with her as she was an Empress?

Victoria replied that she had certainly received coldly an envoy who came to announce a death in triumph and without a word of sorrow. The announcement was to her most callous and unseemly. Such conduct would always be received with coldness by her.

Uncle Bertie, complained Wilhelm, had not treated him as an Emperor.

The Queen was incensed. Is the Prince of Wales to treat his nephew as his Imperial Majesty every minute of the day? How absurd. They were all members of a family and they should be treated as such; that was with affection and kindness … if they deserved it! She was a Queen and an Empress but she did not expect members of her family to address her as Your Majesty instead of Mama or Grandmama as the case might be. If Wilhelm felt he was going to flaunt the German Eagle in her private drawing-room he had better keep it where it belonged – in Germany.

Bertie and Wilhelm would never like each other, although Bertie would have forgiven past arrogance if Wilhelm had shown signs of mending his ways. But he did not. The fact that he was the German Emperor had gone to his head and he wanted everyone to remember it every minute of the day.

The Queen agreed with Lord Salisbury that the relations of the two countries should not be affected by ridiculous quarrels like this. They would have to be very careful, though, with such a conceited young man sitting on one of the most powerful thrones in Europe.

Bertie was once more in trouble. It had all come about in the strangest manner. He was at this time deeply enamoured of Lady Brooke, a very forceful, cool beauty in her twenties, and was so taken with her that he had scarcely any time for other women. It was like the Langtry affair over again. Frances Brooke – ‘Daisy’ to her friends – was of an unusual character and the Prince was completely intrigued by everything about her. It was the usual pattern; if hostesses wished him to grace their parties invitations must be sent to Lord and Lady Brooke. The former should be there for the sake of convention, of course.

Racing was his second greatest interest. He enjoyed gambling in any form, and his favourite form of gambling, off the racecourse, was the game of baccarat.

Bertie usually attended the most important race meetings so it was natural that he should go north for those at Doncaster. Things went wrong from the start. Normally he would have stayed at the mansion of one of his greatest friends, Christopher Sykes, but Sykes informed him that he was in financial difficulties and not in a position to entertain royalty. Bertie was alarmed and helped his friend out of his immediate difficulty, but understood at once that he could not pay the usual visit. Sykes had friends near by – a wealthy shipowner named Wilson, who could well afford to entertain the Prince of Wales and would be delighted to do so at his home, Tranby Croft.

‘It would be a great honour for him,’ went on Sykes. The Prince, who liked to honour people and had a great respect for rich people who had made their money out of their wisdom and their own efforts, was delighted.

‘Make sure,’ he said, ‘that Daisy gets an invitation.’

It was all arranged and the Prince looked forward to a pleasant stay. The Wilsons might not be of his circle but they were determined that he should lack nothing during his stay with them.

He arrived at the house expecting to find Daisy there. There was a message for him. Her uncle had died suddenly and she would therefore be unable to join the party.

Bertie was bitterly disappointed but after a few moments he managed to hide his annoyance. They would get some good baccarat, he decided, unaffected by Daisy’s disturbing presence.

Among the players, with the Prince taking charge of the bank, were Mr Wilson and his twenty-two-year-old son, Lieutenant-Colonel Sir William Gordon-Cumming of the Scots Guards, Lord Edward Somerset and Berkeley Levett, a friend of young Wilson. They played with Bertie’s counters which he always carried with him on such visits and which were decorated with the Prince of Wales’ feathers. The stakes were high and when the play was in progress, to his horror young Wilson was sure that he saw Sir William Gordon-Cumming cheating. Sir William sat with his hands clasped over a £5 counter. He leaned forward to see what cards Lord Edward Somerset had and – so young Wilson thought – dropped three more counters on to the paper in front of him which meant that, after he had seen Lord Edward’s cards, he had made £20.