Victoria (5 page)

1 June

So lovely. I wish I could just run outside barefoot and roll on the grass the way my little horse, Rosa, does. What good is it, being a princess, if you don't get to run barefoot on the first of June?

I don't want to forget anything that happened at the ball, so I continue.

Mamma had been through the reception line, too, behind me, and had come back to our corner of the ballroom. When she saw my necklace, she pursed her lips, and I knew she thought sapphires were the better present. But I think the sapphires are just something new from some jeweller's shop. I wish my Uncle King hadn't forbidden me to tell that my necklace was Aunt Princess Charlotte's.

But Mamma did say they are uncommonly well-matched pearls.

Then the dancing began, and at first I only watched. But, by and by, Lord Elphinstone led me up for the quadrille, and it was SHEER BLISS. I knew all the figures and steps, and if we did not exactly
romp
(after all, we were at Court!), we certainly did
sail
from one to another. The orchestra played long enough for the whole company to make it through to the promenade before they closed the tune.

For that first dance, my Uncle King led Her Majesty through the first dos-à-dos, and then had Admiral Sir George Cockburn finish the dance with her. His Majesty's gout is very painful when he stands. Admiral Cockburn towered above Her Majesty, though, and they were an odd pair, like a stork dancing with a swan.

Oh, of all places. Here are yet more cows. One may remove the book from the barn, but one cannot avoid the barn in the book.

 

 

 

Guernsey: Rose, Diamond, Winner, Irene

Holstein Friesian: Tully, Nellie, Pet, Penny, Sloe

Ayrshire: Agnes, Nancy

Jersey: Molly, Polly, Dolly

Jersey x Aberdeen: Sukie

Brown Swiss: Vinia

Dutch Belted: Melchett, Livia, Lily

Red Polled: Vashti, Hazel

Red Polled x Aberdeen: Zubadayah

Aberdeen Angus: Bartlet's Bull

Guernsey: Ch Castle Hill Aurylius

Later

Now, sadly, Feo, I must tell you something so shocking, I know it will afflict you to hear of it, though you are so far away. You will blush for me, for this involves VERY BAD BEHAVIOUR of one of my own relations. I am sorry to be so connected. Of course, I mean Georgie Cumbersome. (I suppose I am being vulgar to call him that. But judge for yourself.)

My Uncle King chose Georgie to stand up next with Her Majesty. Georgie led her up to the next dance. But he danced like a bear at the circus, too slowly for the measure, and then he realized they dawdled so the figure was too uneven, and then he galloped to catch up. He cared nothing for Her Majesty Doña Maria's high-heeled satin slippers (she is hardly taller than I am), and he yanked her along as if she were a stubborn donkey, and ended up knocking her right over!

It was perfectly dreadful, for she got a great, purple black-and-blue bruise on her cheekbone, and her skirt had bootblacking on it when she arose, so she retired early.

And that beastly Georgie said it was
her
fault, that she
should
have been watching where
she
trod, and that she had no sense of the music! Then he went off to the refreshment alcove and proceeded to spill a cup of syllabub on his lace cuff, so it looked like a berry netting after a bad rain.

And yet he thinks so well of himself.

Now I am glad Baroness de Spaeth advised against my wearing raised heels, though they would have made me taller for the dancing.

During the rest of the evening, I danced with Prince William of Saxe-Weimar (v good-looking, but shy), Prince Esterhazy (passable dancer), Lord Fitzalan (he will be the next Duke of Norfolk – he was amusing), and the sons of Lord De la Warr (v pale golden hair, bluebell blue eyes), and Lord Jersey (dark curls, blue eyes, v witty, with a handsome nose). It was a good deal of fun to be among so many persons near my own age.

Then, fie, I had to dance with the Disastrous Swine of Cumberland. I saw immediately that he had chosen to refresh himself with grenadine ice, for now his
other
cuff was likewise
defiled
, and I feared for my Honiton lace. I dreaded dancing with Georgie.

“Did you see her – Queenie, there – go down on her precious phiz?” he began. (He meant her face.) “She's a cow. They'll have to put leeches on her face to clear that bruise off,” he said, and he laughed in a nasty way.

“They'll put a caraway poultice on it,” I said. Mamma doesn't let them leech my bruises, but I didn't say that to Georgie. His father, my Uncle Cumberland, thinks Mamma's medical ideas are radical.

Later

I had to cease my writing for a while, as Mamma came looking for the inkwell. That was a narrow escape. Then it was time for breakfast. Now I am writing while Lehzen writes letters. Mr Davys has an appointment with his sister's physician, and will arrive by and by.

What happened next at Uncle King's ball:

Oh, let me remember. Oh, yes:

“Leeches,” George said again when we were partnered once more. He was getting so much out of breath from exertion, spittle was in the corner of his mouth. Georgie is disgusting. “They'll bleed her like they did that strumpet, Princess Charlotte. And your old dad. They say they took a gallon of blood from him, and he died anyway.”

I hate Georgie Cumberland. He is a wicked boy.

Of course, I would not say so. It is important that I remind myself that I know so much better how people ought to be treated and spoken to.

I am older than he is, of course. He is still only nine. By and by, I danced with Uncle Billy, but Georgie had set me so at sixes and sevens, I was quite pouting, I'm sure. I was growing tired, too, as you may imagine. So Uncle danced a bit of a hornpipe to make me laugh. In the darkest spot, my Uncle Billy is like a ray of sunlight. Do you remember him that way, Feo? Probably not. But so he is. He knows how to talk with children.

And I do believe Lord Elphinstone was approaching me again to ask for another dance, only Uncle Leopold stepped up, clicked his heels, and offered me his arm.

Looking closely at my necklace, Uncle Leopold said, “Before you are a year older, you must ask your Uncle King for two more pearls each year you are growing, so it won't choke you to wear that sign of his fondness. You must cause him to remember how quickly girls grow up. That is what you must do, my dear.”

2 June

Lehzen came into the room. Then she went out into the hallway to talk to the laundry maid about starch in the bedding. I took up my big atlas and have it open in front of me, and am writing that way, with my journal inside. It is so awful to be always dreading discovery.

But to continue:

A great row at breakfast. I was still tired from the ball, and so was Mamma. She cannot say anything pleasing about my Uncle King's gift to me. But I'm sure I would get on better with her if it were not for That Man.

The third time Mamma called them “only pearls”, I was growing rather warm on the subject. O'Hum was making it sound as if I had bungled things, to have no more to show for all our trouble – as if a Royal ball were trouble!

“Baroness de Spaeth says pearls are
most
suitable for a child my age,” I said. Mamma said the sapphires would have matched my eyes. Then I was very naughty. “Oh, fie,” I said. “Cannot you say, just as well, the pearls match my teeth?”

“Pert tongue!” That Man said. “The governess shall be instructed to snip it with her scissors!”

Oh, horrid, horrid, horrid! “You are worse than my Uncle Cumberland!” I cried out.

“Your Royal Highness,” he thundered at Mamma, looming over her as he does, “I am sure it would be best for you to tell the princess to be silent, as befits her age!”

So I said what Uncle Billy said in the House of Lords about Uncle Cumberland.

“This is England, not Hanover. Here we say what we like.”

I am afraid I stomped my foot when I said it.

Mamma began to cry, and Lehzen told me I must beg Mamma's pardon. So I said I was sorry, but Mamma shook her head and waved her hand and didn't quite take her face out of her handkerchief as she said, “Yes, yes, of course you are – now.”

Lehzen took me away, and the last thing I heard as I left the breakfast room was O'Hum banging his fist on the table, shouting at Mamma, “Lot of nonsense! Wipe your face, Madame, you'll spoil your looks! Mr Coutts will be here in a quarter of an hour!”

I hate Captain Conroy.

6 June

Bad news has led to good, dear Feo. I am sitting up late writing. Lehzen will not interrupt me. This is what has happened.

I was very sorry to have behaved so badly to Mamma. Truly, I believe she has enough to bear. That morning I acted so bold and common and angry toward her, she retired to the rose sitting room and lay down on the fainting couch and allowed no one to come to her except de Spaeth. I was so ashamed of myself, I felt very low.

O'Hum went off downstairs to meet with Mr Coutts, the banker. I later heard Aunt Soap tell Uncle Sussex that O'Hum was even more irritated when Mr Coutts left. He wanted to buy six new, matched Irish bays for the carriages before we go down to Claremont to visit Uncle Leopold next month. But Mr Coutts would not agree to it.

I admit that gave me some satisfaction. My Duke Papa was a soldier, but I am sure he would never have forgotten himself so as to order Mamma about! Why is it all right for That Man to treat a Duchess worse than we ever would treat Cook or Compton or even Grampion? I do not understand adults very well.

I was miserable and stupid during my lessons with the Reverend Mr Davys. Toire came in, clicking and clacking her knitting needles and counting stitches under her breath, so one could hear her. It is a special talent she has, being quiet noisily. She said to Lehzen, so clearly that I'm sure Mr Davys heard, that Mamma sent her out of the sitting room because my flying into such a passion had given her a headache.

The Reverend Mr Davys said “harrumph” a few times, and then excused himself to go briefly to the lounge to smoke a pipe.

Then Lehzen told Toire she should go upstairs to the unused drawing room until it was time for music lessons. Of course, I could not let
that
happen, because my journal was up there, and I was in agony lest Toire should discover it! No doubt, she could trade it for a whole thimbleful of attention from her father. And then I'd get the whole, cold, North Sea's worth. Not a pleasant thought.

So I pretended to have a coughing fit, and Lehzen sent Toire to fetch me a drink of water. I whispered desperately to Lehzen, to please not send her to
that
room. Lehzen gave me a sharp look, but she is such a kind, wise, dear friend, she saw I had some reason she could not discover just then, but even so, she honoured my request.

In that moment, Feo, I realized, just as you said – Lehzen is my true friend. Even though I had been so wicked at breakfast, she trusted that my heart was changed since then, and she took care of my wish. When Toire came in with my water, Lehzen told her it was too musty upstairs for her lungs, and she would be better off sitting in the window seat of the yellow room. Poor Toire is always glad when she gets attention for her frailties, so she could not very well refuse.

I knew I had not been in the right with Mamma, and I thought that maybe I am just a wicked little girl. I began to wonder if my secret writing might be wrong, though it is such a relief and pleasure to me. Then I thought, a
relief
? But I am always afraid I will be found out!

And suddenly, I knew, Feo, that you would tell me that I ought to explain at least some part of my dilemma to Lehzen. She was sitting there working on her embroidery and looking at me very curiously from time to time, and it smote my heart to think I might cause her more worry by being so wicked. So, before Mr Davys came back to us, I said to her, “Dear Baroness, there is something I want to talk to you about before luncheon. I mean,
privately
.” And she said, “Of course, my princess.”

Toire came in and took the tape measure and went away.

Then the Reverend Mr Davys came back, and we started in on the Hundred Years War, 1337 until 1453. I asked him why it is not the Hundred and Sixteen Years War, and he looked over the top of his spectacles at me and said, “Your Highness, don't you think a hundred sufficient?”

7 June

Now I must continue my story.

By and by, on the day of the unfortunate incident with Mamma, Mrs Anderson arrived to give me my singing lesson, and we all went into the music room. We sang “ 'Twas a Nightingale” until I wanted to throttle the thing and have it in a pie for luncheon. So I sang it once through, “ 'Twas a Topping Gale”, and Mrs Anderson gave me a puzzled look, but as I didn't do it again during the lesson, she made no remark on it.

Then came my piano teacher, Mr Sales, and I practised my scales. I cannot span a whole octave on the keyboard yet, but he says he has no doubt my hands will be large enough by the time I am a young lady of fourteen. It seems a long time to wait.

Then, Toire being at last downstairs working at French sewing, Lehzen and I set about playing dolls until luncheon time. I was making Prince Henry the Navigator and the Black Prince.

Lehzen was making a shield of papier mâché for the Black Prince. I said to her, “Baroness Lehzen, I wish to confide to you a problem I am suffering.”

She behaved in a casual manner. She said she hoped she could be helpful. So,
very
quietly I told her I had hidden something in that drawing room.

Lehzen continued for a moment to look at her gluey layers of parcel paper. I was putting bits of red tinsel on a nice bit of brass the clockmaker replaced and gave me when he repaired Uncle Sussex's library clock. It looks a good deal like a crown and is fortunately the right size for Prince Henry's peg doll head to jam into it tight so it doesn't come off. It does make the Prince too top-heavy to stand by himself, though, unless his feet are set in the pegboard.

“Is it some sort of … pet?” she asked me first. (You see, she does remember your dormouse in the cushion, Feo.) Then she asked how I'd happened to go upstairs unattended. I feared answering because I still did not know what she would do about it. But one cannot lie.

“Oh, you know,” I said, “sometimes one is as good as invisible. I was not unattended, I was only quick. I ran ahead when Fanny chased her ball into the drawing room this morning.” And that was the truth.

Then she asked if what I'd hidden was something valuable. I assured her it is only important to me, but to me, it is beyond value. And I admitted I am afraid that if Toire were to find it, it would become the property of a Certain Person whose purposes are sometimes unkind. She knew I meant O'Hum.

She said she cannot hide anything for me. I said, “I can manage that part.” But if I did not have to be invisible to her as well as everyone else, it would be easier.

I think, really, what with my remarks about invisibility, that she had begun to think I was play-acting. So I suddenly resolved to say all and seek her aid. I whispered to her that it was my diary that I hid. As I said the words, I was overcome with fear, for the thought of doing without my journal made me feel, all at once, empty and choked with feelings.

I thought her expression looked alarmed, yet her voice stayed calm, and she looked directly into my eyes. “It is, perhaps, a sort of – schedule?” she suggested. “Rather,” I said, but it did not seem entirely truthful. “Also memoranda about my lessons, and thoughts about my soul, and what we have for dinner. That sort of thing.”

I told her I
like
to write because it makes my boring days seem more interesting. And then, I don't lose track of my lessons, who wins or who loses the Hundred Years War, or who dances with whom. I told her I believe it is a useful habit.

Well, she said at first, she never thought it prudent to keep a journal. At that, I put my hand on her arm and begged. “Lehzen,” I said, “it is my only privacy. Surely it is my right, if I choose to have it.”

For the longest moment in the history of the world, she waved the shield in the air to dry it. Then, finally, she smiled a bit. “This is England, not Hanover,” she said.

Then she became quite firm, and said I must show her how I manage to be invisible. I was so relieved that she was not angry and will not betray my secret, I suppose, I expect what I said sounded rather saucy. “Sometimes I fly up the stairs so swiftly as to be unseen,” I said, “while you are in the water closet, thinking invisible thoughts yourself.”

“Indeed, Your Highness!” was all she could say to that, because de Spaeth came in.

Then we went down for luncheon. Let me try to recall: We had turbot with lobster sauce, I think, and saddle of lamb, besides a mayonnaise of macaroni, lettuces in vinegar and salt, and peas in cream, and cheesecake with woodland strawberries from Devon. Mamma ate a little lamb, and peas and dessert. And she would not have cider, but only a glass of white spring wine. I told Mamma again that I was sorry and kissed her hand, and she kissed my forehead. I ate two helpings of everything.

What one's meals are like will make a difference to what sort of day it turns out to be.

O'Hum did not dine with us, being out purchasing a good whip for the horses for the drive to Claremont.