Виктория Холт - The Queen's Husband

In the chapel it was impressive. Lord Palmerston was present holding the Sword of State, and she was fleetingly reminded of Lord Melbourne. Poor Lord Melbourne whom she had once thought she loved before she knew what real love was.

Bertie and Alfred stood close to dear Vicky and the Queen kept Arthur and Leopold on either side of her.

Victoria felt the tears rush to her eyes as Vicky came forward walking between Albert and Uncle Leopold – three people, thought the Queen, who all mean so much to me. Vicky, she was delighted to see, seemed quite calm and dear Fritz so solemn and tender .

‘Oh, may she be as happy as I have been,’ prayed the Queen. ‘May Fritz be only half as good as my blessed Albert and I shall be content.’

As soon as that part of the ceremony was over Vicky was embraced by Albert and the Queen and there was the Duchess of Kent waiting to kiss her. The Prince and Princess of Prussia then kissed Vicky and the Queen kissed Fritz. But the music of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March was filling the chapel and they went to sign the register.

Then out into the streets where the crowds were immense. They cheered the Queen; they cheered Vicky; they even cheered Albert and Fritz. Into the palace to stand on a balcony, to wave, retire and come out to wave again.

Who could believe that these were the people who a short time ago had hissed the Queen when she rode to Westminster?

After the wedding breakfast Vicky and her husband left for Windsor.

How lonely it seemed without their dear daughter! Albert was quiet and withdrawn and the Queen did her best to comfort him.

‘At least they are deeply in love, Albert,’ she reminded him, ‘as we were. And that means so much. She is going to a new country which may seem strange. They will have their difficulties. Even we had those. But they love each other and that means all will be well.’

Albert pressed her hand, too moved to speak.

Two days later the Court went to Windsor. ‘How like my own wedding and brief honeymoon!’ sighed the Queen. It was a pity they could not have a little longer, but there were certain duties to be performed. Fritz for instance had to be given the Order of the Garter and after that it was necessary for the bridal pair to return with the Court to Buckingham Palace.

When they went to the theatre to see The Rivals the audience went wild with enthusiasm; and it was really affecting to hear the fervour with which they sang the national anthem.

‘The people can always be won over by a royal wedding,’ dear cynical poor Lord Melbourne had said; and he had been right.

But the separation was coming nearer.

The Queen and Albert tried to comfort themselves by continually commenting on the love between the young couple, but as the Queen wrote in her diary: the separation ‘hung like a storm’ above them.

Poor Vicky, in spite of her love, was at times in tears.

In a weak moment she clung to her mother and said: ‘I think it will kill me to take leave of dear Papa.’

They wept together.

At last came the dreaded day. The 2nd of February. The Queen arose with a heavy heart. Such a wretched day – cold, dull and misty.

The Princess came to her parents’ room and they desperately tried to talk brightly of anything but the departure, until the Princess had to leave them to get ready for the journey.

Albert had persuaded the Queen not to go to the ship. ‘It will be too heartrending,’ he said. ‘You will not be able to contain your grief.’

She knew that it was true. So Albert would take Bertie and Alfred with him and the rest of the party.

In the audience room the Duchess of Kent, in tears, with the rest of the family, was waiting. It was so hard to say goodbye. Mother and daughter clung together.

Albert said: ‘We must go now.’ And he whispered to the Queen: ‘I shall soon be back with you. It grieves me to see you like this.’

So to the sound of bands the party set off and the Queen ran to her room and throwing herself on the bed wept afresh.

It had started to snow. How dismal it was to stand at the window and look out on the falling flakes; the sky was heavy with more snow to come. But not as heavy as my heart, thought the Queen.

Alice brought little Beatrice to see her but even the baby could not comfort her mother.

‘Yesterday,’ cried the Queen, ‘Vicky was playing with her.’

In due course Albert came back with the boys, and told her that he had waited to see the ship sail.

They tried not to speak of Vicky but their thoughts were filled with her.

It was Albert who said: ‘We have our child. She is not lost to us. Why, soon she will be preparing to visit us. What a day that will be!’

‘Of course,’ said the Queen; and took Albert’s hand. ‘I can bear anything,’ she added, ‘while I have you.’ Albert went to his room and wrote to Vicky:

My heart was very full when yesterday you leaned your head on my breast and gave free vent to your tears. I am not of a demonstrative nature, and therefore you can hardly know how dear you have always been to me and what a void you have left behind in my heart; yet not in my heart, for there assuredly you will abide henceforth, as till now you have done, but in my daily life which is evermore reminding my heart of your absence.

With Vicky married the pressing problem was the future of the Prince of Wales.

‘Ah,’ sighed Albert, ‘if only Bertie had half the brains of his sister!’

‘The trouble with Bertie is that he refuses to work,’ replied the Queen.

There were continual complaints from Mr Gibbs. Bertie would not ‘concentrate’. He seemed to ‘set up a resistance to work’. ‘Could do so much better,’ was the continual report.

Baron Stockmar, who was back in England, was consulted. People who would not work must be made to work, was his verdict, but it was not easy to whip a young man of almost seventeen into submission.

Perhaps it was time to change Bertie’s mode of education. He should no longer have a tutor but a Governor. A stern disciplinarian would be the best choice; someone who would stamp out the inherent frivolity of Bertie’s nature. A course of study should be planned for him which would give him no opportunity of wasting time.

Having mapped out a stringent course for the Prince to follow, Stockmar declared that he must return to Coburg. His health, which had always been one of his major concerns, and the care of which had given him great enjoyment, was failing fast and he felt he must go back to his family to be nursed.

When Bertie heard that the old man was going, he was wild with joy. His immediate reaction was to seize Alice and dance round the room with her.

‘You had better not let Papa see you do that,’ she warned.

‘What does it matter? Everything I do is wrong in Papa’s eyes, so this can’t be much worse than anything else.’

He would no longer have those cold eyes on him criticising everything he did, planning great working programmes (to complete which satisfactorily he would have to be a mathematician, theologian, historian and goodness knows what else), commenting on the way he did everything, discovering that he had a violent temper (what about Mama’s?) and that he was in every way an unsatisfactory person.

It was all really a waste of time because his parents knew that already. But lots of people did not think so. His sisters and brothers for instance; some of the members of the household too, and old Lord Palmerston had winked at him once when his mother was telling him how her eldest son had failed to do this or that; and he had heard the Prime Minister say that he was of the opinion that the Prince of Wales was a very intelligent young man.