Виктория Холт - The Captive of Kensington Palace

‘There is only one safe way. I don’t see why we shouldn’t do it. Introduce the Salic law which excludes the right of females to inherit the throne.’

The Duchess caught her breath. ‘Is that possible?’

‘All things are possible.’

‘With Ernest, Duke of Cumberland,’ she added lightly.

‘The Orange Lodges are against the female succession.’

‘I see,’ said the Duchess. ‘And you are their Grand Master.’

Cumberland’s one eye was shining with purpose.

‘This could mean civil war …’ she began.

He leaned closer to her. ‘Who’s afraid of war … for the right cause?’

‘Do you think it would come to that?’

‘I’d have the support of the Lodges. It’s to their advantage to see me on the throne … rather than that girl. Why, her mother and Leopold would rule the country. I’d never have that. Nor would the Lodges.’

Frederica wondered how powerful the Lodges were. They had been formed by the Peep o’ Day boys, those Ulster Presbyterians who had formed a union to fight the Catholics. Cumberland who, professing to be an ardent Presbyterian, had been elected their Grand Master, had never neglected them and was certain of their allegiance. Obviously they would prefer to see him on the throne than this little girl, with her ridiculous mother as Regent, aided by that hypocrite of a Leopold.

‘You think they would make an effective force?’

‘There are 145,000 members in England alone; and the Irish would be ready to come in.’

‘It’s an ambitious scheme.’

‘We need an ambitious scheme.’

‘I would rather see Victoria go into a decline.’

‘She’s as plump as a partridge they say, and full of blooming health.’

‘It’s a different story with Clarence.’

‘Oh, he won’t last. He’s half mad, I tell you.’

‘I wish I could be sure it was true.’

‘Well, you see Adelaide. What do you learn from her?’

‘You know Adelaide. She would keep her mouth shut if she thought anything she said might be detrimental to him. Your Orange Lodge is the best idea – but wars don’t always go as one hopes.’

Cumberland nodded. He would only wish to resort to war if all other methods failed.

What ill fortune that he had not been born earlier. If only he had been the third son instead of Clarence, or even the fourth.

His elder brother Frederick, Duke of York, was safely dead; William was destined for the strait-jacket; Edward of Kent was dead and if it were not for that wretched little girl at Kensington Palace … It was the old wearying theme.

The door opened and a young boy looked in.

The Duchess’s face softened. She held out a hand: ‘George, my dear.’

Cumberland watched his son and was proud of him. It would not have been possible to find a more handsome boy; nor a more honest and upright one. He was a continual source of surprise to his parents who marvelled that they should have such a son. He was a few months older than Victoria and whenever he looked at his son the Duke ground his teeth in fury that that girl at Kensington came before this beautiful boy whom he wanted to see on the throne when he himself was forced through death to vacate it.

‘You look pleased,’ the Duchess was saying, her voice gentle as it rarely was. ‘Has something pleasant happened?’

‘I have an invitation from Aunt Adelaide.’

How the children loved that woman! She was harmless enough, more suited to be the mother of a large family than a Queen of England – which she would be if William didn’t go mad before George IV died.

‘And you wish to accept it?’

‘May I?’

‘I believe you would be a little sad if I said no,’ smiled the Duchess.

‘Well, Mamma, I should. Aunt Adelaide’s parties are so amusing. She thinks of the most exciting things for us to do.’

‘And your cousin Cambridge – how do you like him?’

‘Very much, Mamma.’

‘I expect he misses his family.’

‘He did at first, and now Aunt Adelaide is like his mother. I think he is beginning to feel that Bushy is his home.’

The Duke said: ‘I trust she remembers that you take precedence over your Cambridge cousin.’

‘There is no precedence at Bushy, Papa. We never think of it. It’s great fun there.’

‘Well, don’t forget, son, that you come before him; and if there should be any attempt to set him ahead of you … at the table shall we say …’

‘There couldn’t be. We just sit anywhere.’

The Duke shrugged his shoulders.

‘It’s all right while they’re young,’ said the Duchess. She turned to her son. ‘So your Aunt Adelaide has written to you, not to us?’

‘She always writes to me, Mamma.’

‘It is a little odd. But that’s your Aunt Adelaide.’

He smiled and he was so beautiful when he did so that the Duchess, hard as she was, was almost moved to tears.

‘Oh yes,’ he said ‘that is Aunt Adelaide.’

‘So you want our permission to accept.’

‘Yes, Mamma.’

‘Then go along and write your letter and when you have written it bring it back and show it to me.’

He went off and left them together.

‘So,’ said the Duke, ‘he goes off to mingle with the bastidry.’

‘It’s true. But he’ll come to no harm through them. Remember William and Adelaide may well be King and Queen.’

‘That’s true enough and it does no harm for George to be on good terms with them.’

‘What will happen if William gets the Crown? What of the family of bastards?’

‘They’ll plague the life out of him, I’ll swear.’

‘William is a fool over his bastards.’

‘That’s because he can’t get a legitimate child.’

‘But we are wise to let our George go to Bushy. You can imagine what would happen if we didn’t. Adelaide would become too fond of George Cambridge and you don’t know what schemes might come into her head.’

‘Schemes? How could Adelaide scheme?’

‘It may well be that Adelaide thinks George Cambridge might make a suitable husband for Victoria. Oh, I know you don’t think she will ever grow up to need a husband, but we have to take everything into consideration. What if Adelaide makes a match between young Cambridge and Victoria? What I mean Ernest is this: Suppose Victoria does come to the throne … suppose there is no way of stopping her, then her husband should be our George, not George Cambridge.’

The Duke was silent. He could not with equanimity let himself believe that Victoria would come to the throne; but he saw the wisdom of his wife’s reasoning. Consort would be the second prize if it should prove to be impossible to achieve the first.

The Duchess went on: ‘George must accept Adelaide’s invitation. I know we are determined that – if it is humanly possible – Adelaide shall never be Queen of England, but just suppose she is. Then she will be powerful; she leads William now. What she says will be the order of the day. So … as my second string … if George can’t be King of England he shall at least be the Queen’s Consort.’ The Duke regarded his wife shrewdly. She was right of course. He was going to fight with all his might to keep Victoria off the throne but if by some evil chance she should reach it, his George should be there to share it with her. ‘Oh yes, it is well to be on good terms with Adelaide,’ he said. The Duchess nodded. They saw eye to eye. Let him have his little philander with Graves’s wife. What did it matter? What was fidelity compared with the ability to share an ambition?

It was very lonely in Kensington Palace without Feodora, but true to her word the older sister wrote regularly to the younger one and it was the delight of those days to have a letter from Feodora. Victoria read them all again and again and could picture the fairy-tale castle which was Feodora’s home. It was Gothic and seemed haunted; there were so many dark, twisted little staircases, so many tall rooms with slits of windows from which Feodora could look on Hohenlohe territory. Her husband was very kind and she was growing more and more fond of him.