Victoria Confesses (9781442422469) (14 page)

Uncle Leopold, too, wrote to me about his Coburg nephews. I knew that my uncle was a great champion of Albert, the younger of the two; his seventeenth birthday was in August, three months after mine. “I think Albert would suit you very well, Victoria. I have given this a great deal of consideration, and I believe it would be a fine match. But you will soon judge that for yourself.”

Ernest, a year older, would not do, my uncle explained, because he was heir to his father's lands and titles.

Unfortunately, as Mamma and Uncle Leopold were arranging for the visit of my Coburg cousins, King William had some definite ideas of his own. He had invited another King William—this one king of the Netherlands—to come from Holland with
his
two sons, Prince William and Prince Alexander of the house of Orange. My uncle the king made no secret that he favored such a match, and that made Uncle Leopold furious.

“I am astonished at the conduct of the old king!” he wrote. “He has informed me that it would be highly desirable to put off the visit of your mother's relatives for another year!”

My Coburg relatives were already on their way, Mamma informed the king. It was too late to stop them.

The Oranges arrived. King William and Queen Adelaide put on great entertainments for them, and there was a grand fête at St. James's, which I, of course, attended. It was clear to me, as it must have been to everyone, that the two boys from Holland were not at all prepossessing. Both were VERY plain and looked heavy, dull, and frightened. I dismissed the idea of any sort of match almost as soon as I met them.

“So much for the Oranges, dear uncle,” I wrote to Uncle Leopold, who must have been relieved. He made it clear that he set a very high store by his two nephews, and because I valued his advice above all others, I took this visit seriously.

The Oranges had departed, and now the Coburgs arrived. I put on one of the dresses dear Aunt Louise had given me, a pale blue silk trimmed with blonde lace, with very full sleeves puffed up with plumpers, as was the fashion. While my hair was doing, Daisy read to me—a good thing, because I was excited and even a little nervous. Then, at a quarter of two in the afternoon, a servant came to my apartments and announced, “The gentlemen are in the Great Hall, madam.”

Daisy smiled encouragingly as she held my hand and we descended two long flights of stairs. Uncle Ernest and his sons were waiting to be presented. I immediately liked what I saw.

Both boys were very tall. Ernest had dark hair and fine, dark eyes and eyebrows, a most kind, honest, and intelligent expression, and a very good figure, but I saw at once that his nose and mouth were NOT good. Albert was just as tall, somewhat stouter, but EXTREMELY handsome. I found myself staring at him—he was that good looking! His hair was about the same
color as mine, his eyes were large and blue (like mine!), and he had a beautiful nose and a very sweet mouth and fine teeth. I could not stop smiling at him and wondered if he might think my teeth were too small or too much of my gums were showing.

After the formal greetings were complete, I returned to my apartments and sent word to our guests that I would receive them in my sitting room at four o'clock. Then I looked for ways to amuse myself, anything to occupy my mind until the appointed hour. I played the piano and practiced some of the singing exercises that Signor Lablache had assigned. I leafed through my sketchbook and examined some of the drawings I had made of my favorite singers. I stared out the window at the rain-swept garden. I checked the time.

“Is my hair all right?” I asked Daisy, who was hovering nearby.

“You look lovely, Victoria,” she replied calmly. “Very lovely indeed.”

Soon the three of them, father and sons, arrived. We sat side by side like birds on a fence, leafing through my collection of drawings and speaking of them in a most educated way. It was obvious that these cousins were much more men of the world than any of my other cousins. Ernest and Albert spoke English very well, and I continually stole glances at Albert, seated next to me. The charm of his countenance was his delightful expression, full of goodness and very clever and intelligent. Oh, I would enjoy this visit VERY much!

The next few days passed TOO quickly. My cousins and I went on walks together—Albert was particularly fond of the natural world—with Daisy and Lady Flora trailing along behind us. Albert and Ernest were both excessively fond of music and
took turns playing the piano. They both drew very well, particularly Albert. At dinner I sat between them, and there was seldom a pause in the conversation except when I was chewing and chewing and chewing, as per doctor's orders, which I confess I did not always follow. The more I saw these two brothers, the more I was charmed by them, and the more I loved them.

But one thing I discovered about Albert that I considered very strange: He retired every night at an excessively early hour, as though he were scarcely out of the nursery. Mamma had prepared a vast number of entertainments that seemed to tire Albert before the evening had scarcely begun. When concerts went on until one or two in the morning, which was certainly not unusual, he looked truly miserable. On the night before my birthday, Mamma gave a grand dinner party at Kensington. Albert approached me as I was talking to an important gentleman, Lord Melbourne, the prime minister, and said in a trembling voice, “Your highness, I beg your kind indulgence, but I must excuse myself.”

He did not explain why, as that would not have been required or even proper. I learned later that he was simply fatigued and had gone to bed. It was only half past nine!

The next night my birthday ball was held at St. James's. Everyone was there—and by “everyone” I mean three thousand people. The dancing began. But after dancing only two quadrilles, Albert turned as white as ashes, looking as though he might faint.

Albert left the ball with his valet and was taken back to Kensington by carriage. Two days later he suffered a bilious attack that kept him a prisoner in his room. Soon he recovered and was out among us again, but he appeared pale and delicate. I did wonder at his apparent lack of vigor.

The week after my birthday Mamma gave another large ball, this one at Kensington, and Albert and I danced together for the first time. He was quite graceful, and he seemed to enjoy some of the more spirited dances. But when I led off an English country dance at the conclusion of the ball at nearly four o'clock in the morning, Prince Albert was nowhere to be seen.

The last week of my cousins' visit was perhaps the best. On two of our outings we attended the opera and took lunch with the Lord Mayor of London. Most rewarding, in my opinion, was this: Albert and I were playing the piano and singing duets when Signor Lablache arrived for my lesson. He entered my apartments swirling a cape, his comical eyebrows executing a little dance. He had scarcely been presented to dear Albert when he burst out singing
Non più andrai
,” Figaro's aria from the second act of
The Marriage of Figaro
. Signor Lablache did that to tease me, for he knew I was not fond of Mozart's operas, and he considered the Austrian composer to be the greatest.

Albert appeared to agree with my singing teacher. “Signor, it has been my greatest pleasure to hear you in the role of Leporello!” he said, referring to Lablache's best-known role. Then Albert actually sang a bit of Leporello's famous aria, a long, humorous description of all the women that Don Giovanni had loved. So delightful!

It was a wonderful solo for a bass voice, and dear Albert was a tenor, which was completely out of character and made it VERY AMUSING indeed. He had us all laughing. Albert, so full of fun!

That very evening we were privileged to hear Signor Lablache and my other favorite singers perform at the home of Sir John and Lady Conroy. Naturally, Victoire and Jane
were both present, but while Jane was her usual retiring self and barely noticeable, Victoire on the contrary seemed determined to attract as much notice as she could. She had taken to dressing most unappealingly, laying on far too much lace, too many ribbons, and a profusion of jewels and curls. Lady Elizabeth Conroy was as bland as ever, but Victoire seemed to take after her father and chattered on endlessly in a way that was NOT AT ALL AMUSING. I wanted to kick her, but as that was not possible, I smiled stiffly and uttered not a single word.

Alas, on the tenth of June the delightful visit came to an end, and my beloved guests prepared to return to Germany. We had our last HAPPY breakfast with this dear uncle and those beloved cousins, whom I loved so VERY, VERY dearly, much more dearly than any other cousins in the world. I loved Ferdinand and also good Augustus, but I loved Ernest and Albert
more
than them. Oh yes, MUCH more!

Even dear little Dashy loved all of them, but especially Albert, who tossed him balls and played tug-of-war with his favorite toy.

“What shall you do now?” I asked them as they prepared to leave.

“We are on our way to London,” Ernest replied.

“Then I will proceed to the University of Bonn for studies in philosophy, law, and economics,” Albert said, adding with a smile, “with time left for fencing, I trust.”

I embraced both of my dearest cousins most warmly, and at eleven o'clock they left us. I cried bitterly, very bitterly, when they left, but this parting was not so difficult for me as some of
the earlier ones had been.
Perhaps I am growing up and have better control of my emotions,
I thought as I climbed slowly up to my rooms. I comforted myself that it was VERY likely I would see my dear uncle and my two VERY DEAR cousins again at some future time.

I wrote immediately to Fidi to tell her exactly how I felt about dearest Albert and dearest Ernest. They are so natural, so kind, and so well informed! So well bred, so truly merry in a childlike way, yet very grown-up in their conversation. It was delightful to be with them. I cannot say that I love one more than the other, because I love them both so VERY MUCH.

It was true, I did love them BOTH. But I also wondered how Albert in particular felt about me.

Life was excessively dull after the departure of Albert and Ernest, though I did try to improve the time. Uncle Ernest had given me a beautiful parrot, which I named Norris for the lovely castle where we often stayed on the Isle of Wight. I determined to teach Norris to talk, but my efforts to get him to say “pretty bird” were so far unsuccessful. In a very short time dear Albert had taught sweet little Dashy to roll over and to sit up and beg and to speak. Norris stared at me silently with a baleful eye.
No doubt Albert would have the bird fluent by now,
I thought glumly.

Daisy arrived during Norris's lesson and proposed an outing. “Come, my dear Victoria,” she said. “We shall take a carriage to Hampstead Heath for a vigorous walk. It will do us both a world of good after so many days of dinners and concerts and balls.”

“I'm in no mood for a vigorous walk,” I protested. “The day is much too hot even for a not-so-vigorous walk.”

“May I remind you,” Daisy said firmly, “that Dr. Clark has emphasized the importance of exercise.” She folded her arms and waited.