Виктория Холт - The Widow of Windsor

He told his friends that the house party was over. He thought George needed quiet and he certainly could not have that with a house full of guests. He was going to take George to London.

No sooner were they installed in Marlborough House than the doctors diagnosed enteric fever.

Bertie was distraught; but at least it gave him the chance to send for Alix.

The thought of her beloved son in danger brought Alix with the girls in great haste back to London. By this time George was beginning to recover and there was great rejoicing. Bertie, delighted to have Alix back, had no desire to see Lady Brooke – in fact he had no desire to be anywhere but in the heart of his family.

Alix was happy; but experience had taught her that it was a state of affairs which would not last. Bertie would continue to be the kind, tender and considerate husband; but nothing could wean him from his pursuit of beautiful women.

At the end of that year Alix had a surprise which made her very happy. Eddy had been spending a few days at Luton Hoo where the Danish ambassador and his wife were having a house party. Alix’s old friend Princess Mary of Teck was there with her daughter May. May was a forthright girl, quite attractive and of course royal. She had naturally been a friend of Alix’s children all her life for Alix and Mary had never forgotten those early days at Rumpenheim, and often talked of them.

So what a pleasure it was when Eddy wrote that he had asked May to marry him and she had agreed.

Bertie was all for celebrating the occasion, when Alix reminded him that it would first be necessary to get the Queen’s consent.

‘She’ll give it. She’s fond of May,’ said Bertie.

‘Yes, but no one must be told before she has given it. You know how she hates to be left out of these matters.’

So Bertie went to see the Queen at Windsor.

Memories of Tranby Croft still rankled and the Queen’s greeting was cool, but when he told her that Eddy wished to marry May of Teck she smiled.

‘An excellent arrangement,’ she said. ‘Dear Eddy needs a strong wife and he’ll get one in May. She’s well educated and of good character. I believe she helps her mother who is devoted to good works. A good steadying influence.’

The engagement was announced and there was a house party at Sandringham to celebrate it.

How different, thought Bertie, from what it had been like recently! All the damage occasioned by the fire had been put right and it was just like the old Sandringham, with the clocks half an hour fast and Alix still not being punctual. Bertie chided her affectionately and they laughed about her inability to overcome it.

‘I’m glad you have it,’ said Bertie. ‘It’s just a little something to set against all my sins.’

Alix was happier than she had been since the early days of her marriage. Her darling Eddy – whom she could not help loving more than any of her other children, perhaps because he was her firstborn, perhaps because he was a little simple and not as clever as his brothers and sisters and therefore seemed to need her care – now had dear capable May to look after him; and it was wonderful to think that Mary’s daughter and her son should be united. It brought those early days at Rumpenheim into greater significance. And in the far distant future Eddy would be King of England and May Queen.

It was a bitterly cold winter and one or two people at the house party developed influenza. This was a particularly virulent type and quite a number of the guests were smitten with it. Princess May had a bad cold and her mother insisted that she remain in the house. It was not long before Eddy caught it.

Alix was an excellent nurse and she did not realise at once that this was any more than an ordinary attack but in a day or so the doctors began to show some alarm and it was clear that Eddy had something more than ordinary influenza. They were soon talking about the approach of the crisis; and then it became widely known that the Duke of Clarence was very ill indeed.

Alix was frantic. Her best-loved firstborn was in danger. Eddy lay listlessly in bed; he had never had a great deal of mental or physical energy and now it all seemed to have deserted him.

The crisis came; Eddy did not rally. It was incredible. He could not be dying. He was a young man who had just become engaged to be married.

She stood by his bed and saw life slowly ebb away. She felt numb with misery. Eddy … gone.

The nation was stunned. He was so young. He had not been sickly. It had seeped out that he was no intellectual giant and that his inability to learn had worried his family and tutors. But death was the last thing that had been expected.

She knew that some zest had gone out of her; nothing would ever be quite the same again. She had lost her beloved son; her husband was not what she had dreamed romantically that a husband should be; she could not view the future with any great joy. She loved the simple life; her happiest days had been spent at Sandringham with her family, without the crowds of noisy smart people with whom Bertie so liked to surround himself; that life was not for her. The Queen was growing old. Surely even she could not live much longer and when she died great responsibilities would descend upon her and Bertie.

There was another one whose life would be changed; her son George. Dear George, who had always been such a devoted son and had longed so much to have the place in her heart which she had given to Eddy! George had always been so much more worthy – a good boy, hard-working, not really clever – only seeming so in comparison with Eddy – and now he had taken a step towards the throne.

She asked George to come to her and when he did she embraced him tenderly.

‘Darling George,’ she said, ‘you know what this means? We have lost dearest Eddy and you are now the eldest son.’

‘I know, Mother dear. I shall have to work hard. I shall have to try to be worthy.’

She smiled at him. ‘My dear, good, quiet George, you will be worthy. That is one thing of which I have no doubt whatsoever.’

How she wished that the funeral could be quiet. She told Bertie that it would be a comfort if their dear boy could be buried in Sandringham churchyard. He had loved Sandringham, as they all had.

Bertie shook his head. ‘There’ll have to be a grand funeral in St George’s Chapel. Don’t forget Eddy was in line for the throne. But we’ll have a memorial service in Sandringham and that will be the family occasion.’

The Queen was horrified. Eddy dead. How tragic! Poor dear sweet Alix! The Queen embraced her when she came in answer to a summons.

‘My dearest child, my heart bleeds for you.’

Dear sweet Alix! How lovely she looked in black! The colour suited her. She was a beautiful woman and seemed to look elegant on every occasion.

‘Dear Mama,’ said Alix, ‘you must not go to the funeral.’

‘I should be there, my dear child.’

‘No, no, Mama. These bitter winds are dangerous. It is standing about in the cold at funerals which causes many people to be ill.’

The Queen allowed herself to be persuaded. She disliked those occasions in any case and to tell the truth Eddy had not been a great favourite of hers. She preferred George; and she had felt some anxieties about Eddy’s being King when she and his father were gone. She did not think he had the stamina nor the sharp mind to be a good ruler. When she considered the manner in which one was beset on all sides by politicians she realised fully the special qualities required by a monarch. Eddy definitely lacked these; Bertie had a certain dignity which would carry him through; besides he was going to be very mature before the Crown came to him. George could be moulded; George was very much aware of his duty. He was brighter than poor Eddy had been. She mourned for the poor boy but mostly for dear sweet Alix who was clearly so stricken.