Виктория Холт - The Captive of Kensington Palace

His eyes were on Victoria and suddenly his anger passed from him and they were glazed with tears for Victoria was openly weeping; and the Duchess sat very pale and silent, which was very unusual for her.

Adelaide, looking horrified and uncertain, rose and led the ladies from the room.

As soon as they had left the men the Duchess turned to the Queen and cried out that she had been publicly insulted. Never had she been so treated in her life. She would not endure another moment under this roof. Her carriages must be ordered without delay.

Victoria, in tears, was trying to plead with her mother not to be so rash. The King’s displeasure had already been aroused; they must now act with decorum.

‘Oh, how right!’ cried Adelaide. ‘You cannot leave tonight. Please, try to calm yourself. I am sure the King will repent having reprimanded you so publicly, but you must not go tonight.’

The Duchess did not relish a night drive to Claremont so she allowed Adelaide to persuade her not to leave immediately but to wait and see what the morning brought forth.

They retired to their rooms, Victoria in a state of extreme nervousness. She could not understand how her mother could have taken the rooms when the King had forbidden her to do so. It was wrong of her. No subject should ever so flout the Sovereign’s authority.

That night Victoria had moved even farther from her mother; and she was glad on the ride back to Claremont the next day that the Duchess behaved as though nothing unusual had happened, although her lips tightened from time to time so that Victoria knew that she was then remembering the King’s outburst.

‘That damned woman’s gone,’ said the King, ‘and by God, that’s something to be thankful for. The brazen creature. I couldn’t believe it, Adelaide, when I saw those rooms …’

‘Don’t think about it,’ soothed Adelaide. ‘It’s done now. You’ve made your protest and she will think twice before she defies you again.’

‘Not that woman. By God, I could have thrown my glass of wine into her insolent face.’

Adelaide could at least be thankful that he had not done that.

‘She’ll go back to Kensington and think up some way to plague me.’

‘She’s at Claremont now.’

‘Yes, but she’ll be back at Kensington in due course.’

His daughter Sophia came in and Adelaide was glad, for his mood immediately softened.

‘How is my Sophia today?’ he asked anxiously.

‘Very well, dear Papa.’

‘You must take care.’ He was always a little worried when any of his daughters were pregnant. He thought of the difficult times Adelaide had had.

‘I’ll be all right, Papa.’

‘Of course you will. You’re like your mother. She’d be on the stage a few days before the babies were born.’

Adelaide had long since become accustomed to hearing of the perfections of Dorothy Jordan, the mother of his adored children, whom he had deserted a few years before her death. She believed he had forgotten that desertion now; she hoped he had because she knew at one time his conscience had plagued him about it.

‘You’d better stay at Windsor, Sophia, though I’d like you to be near us when we go to St James’s.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s the name of that housekeeper woman at Kensington Palace?’

‘You mean Mrs Strode?’ asked the Queen.

‘Mrs Strode, is it? H’m. She’s getting old.’

‘Poor creature,’ said the Queen. ‘I don’t think she’s long for this world.’

‘The housekeeper at Kensington Palace … it’s a very comfortable post.’

‘She’s really the custodian,’ said Adelaide. ‘Housekeeper sounds as though she is in a menial position. The truth is far from that.’

‘I’m a plain-speaking man, my dear. Custodian, then. It would suit Sophie. Good apartments, good air. I always like the air of Kensington myself.’

‘But do you mean Sophia should take over from Mrs Strode?’

‘In due course perhaps,’ said the King. ‘You’d like that, Sophie.’

Like most of the FitzClarence family Sophia had her mischievous side. She knew what the King was implying.

She might go to Kensington and spy on the Duchess. It appealed to her.

‘I should indeed, Papa.’

‘But you could not of course turn Mrs Strode out,’ said Adelaide quickly. ‘It would be too unkind, particularly as she is so old and ill.’

‘But if she should die,’ said William, ‘and if it should be necessary to find a new custodian at Kensington …’

Sophia laughed; and William laughed with her. Adelaide sighed faintly. It was amazing how his children could put William into a good humour.

At dear Claremont Victoria could forget that horrible incident at Windsor for something wonderful had happened. Uncle Leopold had come for a short visit.

He wanted to talk in person with his ‘dear little soul,’ he said. Letters were all very well, but how much greater understanding could be reached in conversation.

He wanted her opinion of Albert; what exactly had she thought?

It was all true, she told him, what she had written to him. She loved Albert; she loved all her cousins but there was something special about Albert.

He had seemed a little delicate, Uncle Leopold feared, but there was nothing really delicate about him. He had merely grown too fast. He had an alert and wonderful brain. Did she not think so?

She thought Albert the cleverest young man she had ever met.

Uncle Leopold was satisfied.

Oh yes, in her Uncle’s company she could easily forget unpleasantness. He was like her second father, she thought. No, her only father for he was indeed her real father because she had none other.

How grateful she would always be to Uncle Leopold.

Uncle Leopold must go back to his own country and they must go back to Kensington, although they returned to Claremont for Christmas. Since His Majesty , said the Duchess speaking with exaggeration to indicate contempt, thought that the heiress to the throne occupied too much of Kensington Palace they should show that they had another home and that Claremont – the house which belonged to the Duchess’s brother Leopold – was always at their disposal.

The news came that Mrs Strode had died and that the King had appointed Lady de l’lsle and Dudley as the custodian of Kensington Palace.

The Duchess was furious.

‘That woman! At Kensington Palace! And in such a post! How characteristic of That Man. He has no sense of royalty.’

‘Mamma,’ pleaded Victoria, ‘it is the King’s command and there is nothing we can do about it.’

The Duchess studied her daughter quizzically. The child was beginning to criticise her own mother. Could it be that she was taking sides with the King against her!

‘So,’ she said coldly, ‘you have no objection to sharing a roof with … with the bastidry!’

Victoria said, with that newly acquired dignity which was giving her mother and Conroy such uneasy qualms. ‘I think, Mamma, that we must accept the King’s commands.’

William sat at his desk, the letter in his hand, his eyes glazed with memories.

Maria Fitzherbert was dead. Another link with the past had snapped. He felt he was a very old man and there was little time left to him.

Adelaide came in and found him and understanding the cause of his grief mourned with him.

‘She was the only woman George ever loved,’ declared William. ‘What a sad thing that they parted. How foolish George was … not to appreciate the love of a good woman. I thank God, Adelaide, that I have more perception in that respect. I don’t know what I should do without you. I’ve had the love of two good women in my life and that’s a good share, you know.’