Victoria Confesses (9781442422469) (23 page)

Dear Daisy knelt beside me and held me in her arms as she
had when I was a young child, stroking my hair and trying to comfort me. But I was inconsolable. I could not stop crying.

Late that morning after the vote was taken, Lord Melbourne came to my sitting room, seeming so very solemn and tired, as though he were in mourning. He stood with his back to the window, regarding me so sadly, and I took his dear hand in both of mine and looked up at him. “Don't forsake me!” I cried, and clung to his hand.

He gave me a look of affection and pity, and finally he managed to say, “No, never.”

He led me to a chair, and we sat side by side, gazing at the pattern in the carpet as though it offered some solace. After a silence during which I strove to calm myself, Lord Melbourne said, “You must try to be as collected as you can, and act with great firmness and decision.”

I nodded, still weeping, and through my tears promised that I would.

When he got up to leave, I was unable to let go of his hand, pleading, “You will come again this afternoon, will you not? And stay for dinner?”

“It would be improper for me to dine with you while the opposition is forming a new government,” Lord Melbourne explained.

I began to protest the unfairness of being deprived of his company by those STUPID Tories whom I disliked so intensely, but he put a finger to his lips to quiet me. “Your majesty, I am about to advise you on an important matter, and I ask you to act on it, even though you don't like it. I suggest that you send for Sir Robert Peel, who served as prime minister when the Tories were last in power and is likely to do so
again.” Without allowing me to interrupt, he continued, “You may find him rigid and awkward in his manner, but I assure you, he is a very able and gifted man. You must show that you are ready to place your confidence in him and his administration.” Lord Melbourne kissed my hand, said, “God bless you, madam,” and left.

Oh, it seemed utterly impossible! I collapsed again in unstoppable tears.

I could neither eat nor sleep, but the following afternoon I braced myself and sent for Sir Robert Peel. He arrived in full court dress: black tailcoat, white satin waistcoat, a ceremonial sword at his side. I received him in my audience room—NOT my private sitting room where I always saw Lord Melbourne.

“I am ready to receive your majesty's commands for the formation of a new government,” Sir Robert said stiffly.

I found him such an odd, cold man, so dreadfully different from the kind and warm manner of Lord Melbourne. Sir Robert seemed shy and rather embarrassed, and I felt a bit sorry for him and made an extra effort to treat him with great politeness. But there was one issue I was determined to make clear between us from the start, and that was the matter of my household. Lord Melbourne had warned me that Peel might ask me to dismiss my ladies of the bedchamber, most of whom were wives and daughters of Whigs, and to replace them with ladies whose connections were with the Tory party.

I told the man now standing uneasily before me, “I trust, Sir Robert, that none of my ladies will be removed.”

Sir Robert nervously adjusted his cuffs. “I assure you that nothing will be done without your majesty's knowledge and approval,” he said.

This answer did not fully satisfy me, but I nodded and said, “Very well then,” and allowed him to leave.

I was determined that
nothing would be done
, period, and when Sir Robert returned I was ready to do battle, should the need arise. At first it did not. He suggested several changes in ministers, and I did not protest, though the ones he proposed were not gentlemen I regarded highly. Then he cleared his throat. “Now madam,” he began, “about your ladies.”

I spoke up before he could say more. “I shall not allow any of them to be taken from me.”

Sir Robert appeared startled. “None of them, madam?” he asked uneasily.

“None. Not a single one.”

“Your majesty, you do understand that many of your ladies are married to my opponents,” he said, looking distressed.

“I know very well to whom my ladies are married, but it matters not one whit, for we never discuss politics.”

“I am not asking you to replace all of your ladies—just some of the senior ladies. The duchess of Sutherland, for example, is known to be very active in Whig politics.”

“The duchess of Sutherland will remain as mistress of the robes,” I informed him. “I am quite familiar with English history, and I know that previous queens have not been required to change their households when there was a change in government.”

“Madam, I beg your pardon, but previous queens have been the wives of kings, and you are a reigning queen.”

“Irrelevant, Sir Robert,” I said coolly. “My ladies stay. All of them.”

He stared at me, his eyes bulging. “I respectfully suggest
that the public needs to see some sign of your confidence in the new government. Replacing a few—I repeat,
a few
—of your ladies would demonstrate your confidence and allow us to go forward.”

“And I, sir, respectfully decline.”

After a long silence—uncomfortable, I thought, for him, though not for me, for I knew I was in the right—Sir Robert bowed and excused himself.

I skipped gleefully to my writing table and dashed off a triumphant note to Lord Melbourne.

I was very calm but very decided. You would have been
so
pleased to see my composure! The queen of England will not submit to such trickery. If this was an attempt to see if I can be managed like a child, it has failed! Keep yourself in readiness, for you may soon be wanted.

I sealed the letter and sent it off, confident that Lord Melbourne would applaud my firmness. But he immediately replied, sounding a note of caution.

It is better to negotiate than to refuse to do so. I feel I must warn you that your defense of your rights could have some very serious consequences. It may be unconstitutional.

I did not wish to hear this, and I would not back down. “They want to treat me like a girl,” I told Daisy, “but I will show them that I am queen of England.”

“Absolutely right, my dear Victoria,” she agreed. “Remember—far better for a queen to be thought high and decisive than to be thought weak. You must stand firm!”

When Sir Robert returned later that afternoon, nothing had changed. He again humbly requested that I give up some of my ladies. And I told him I would not.

I waited nervously to see what would happen next, and passed another night with little sleep. Early the next morning, Lord Melbourne was announced and ushered into my sitting room.

Lord Melbourne was smiling broadly. “You have carried the day, madam! Peel was unable to form a government without your support. He has resigned his commission.”

“And you are once again my prime minister?” I asked.

Lord Melbourne bowed. “At your service, your majesty.”

Yes, yes, yes!
I had triumphed! Lord Melbourne was back in my life and at my side, much more securely than before.

I celebrated my twentieth birthday with a dinner at Windsor, followed by a ball. Among the guests was the
excessively
handsome Grand Duke Alexander of Russia, a delightful man only a little older than I. For that one evening I may have even been a little bit in love with him. Dancing the mazurka with the Grand Duke was SUCH fun! We were all so merry! I danced all night and did not get to bed until three o'clock in the morning.

My mind was once again happy. I never enjoyed myself more.

I had demonstrated my determination to Sir Robert and to Parliament and congratulated myself on my victory. But I soon learned that my trials were far from over. As I went out driving in the park, I was greeted with stares instead of cheers and even a few rude shouts of “Mrs. Melbourne! Mrs. Melbourne!” What were they suggesting? That I had some improper relationship with my prime minister? It quite took my breath away. I learned that even Baron Stockmar had expressed disapproval of what I had done. But I had succeeded in keeping the ladies in my household, and I had dear good Lord Melbourne at my side for many hours each day. I was more determined than ever to stand firm. There would be no weakness in this quarter!

To keep up appearances, I breakfasted each morning with my mother, after which we walked out together
briefly
. I spoke
to Mamma as little as possible, but she had not stopped speaking to me.

“I have received Sir John's letter of resignation,” Mamma informed me. Her voice trembled. “Because of your cruelty and selfishness, he and his family are leaving England. I tried very hard to persuade them to stay here, but they are firm in their decision. They go first to Germany, and then on to Italy.” She dabbed away tears, which I chose not to notice. “I shall miss them dreadfully.”

I, on the contrary, thought this was a cause for rejoicing, though I said nothing.

“Sir John and his wife and children have been my real family for twenty years,” Mamma went on. “You would not be where you are now, Victoria, were it not for that good man.”

I broke my silence. “What are you saying, Mamma—that I would not be queen? How can he possibly take credit for that?” I demanded. “He and his horrid Kensington System, as he was pleased to call his attempts to bully me!” We kept on walking, eyes straight ahead, not daring to look at each other.

“He worked very hard to be sure you got the proper kind of training to prepare you for the responsibilities that are now on your shoulders. And which, from the look of things, you are still too young to handle properly,” she said sharply. “You would have been better to rely on the advice of Sir John as your private secretary than on your beloved Lord Melbourne, who has allowed you to make a fool of yourself with this bedchamber business.”

I refused to speak to her further, and we finished our walk in silence. By mid-June Sir John—that monster, that demon!—and all the Conroys were gone.

“Perhaps now you and your mother can heal your differences,” Lord Melbourne suggested.

I was not so hopeful. “I dislike her,” I told him. “That will not change.”

Even after his departure, Sir John's shadow continued to haunt me in the form of Lady Flora Hastings. I unshakably believed that the two had behaved scandalously. Lady Flora was not recovered from her supposed illness, and I suspected that she might actually have been pregnant, no matter what explanation the doctors had concocted. Mamma and I were obliged to continue the empty ritual of our daily walks, and my mother used these outings as an opportunity to place the blame for Lady Flora's illness at my feet.

“Lady Flora is dying, Victoria!” Mamma insisted. “I see her every day, I spend hours by her bedside. Her fever remains very high, and she eats next to nothing. Meanwhile, Baroness Lehzen with her fine airs and rouged cheeks and your Saint Melbourne continue to spread rumor and innuendo about a pure and innocent woman who is utterly without fault.” The more Mamma spoke of Lady Flora, the angrier she became. She was spitting out her words, her voice shrill. People strolling by paused to stare at us. Even Dashy, who accompanied us, looked alarmed.

“Stop it, Mamma!” I hissed. “You are an embarrassment! And it is not I, nor dearest Daisy, who has always shown me love when you have not, nor Lord Melbourne, the kindest, gentlest man in the world—none of us is responsible for Lady Flora's unfortunate condition. It is Sir John Conroy, who undoubtedly had his way with her, just as I suspect he did with you!”

Shocked, Mamma stopped in her tracks and stood still,
mouth open, eyes wide in disbelief. Dashy and I continued determinedly along the path, leaving Mamma to make her way back to the palace alone. I was shaking. I had said too much, I knew. But there was no way to take back my words. They had been left unsaid for too long.

I had planned to entertain at a ball at Buckingham Palace at the end of June, but Lord Melbourne advised me to postpone it out of consideration for Lady Flora.

“I don't believe she's so very ill,” I said sourly.

“Nevertheless, it would be very awkward if she were to die,” Lord Melbourne said. “There might even be a call for an inquest to determine the cause of death and to hold responsible those who denied the seriousness of her illness. The Hastings family is up in arms. They are looking for someone to blame.”

“It is not my fault!” I insisted. “They can look elsewhere.” But at Lord Melbourne's urging I did decide to postpone my ball. Others, however, saw no reason to delay their pleasure, and that evening I attended a ball to which I had been invited, and I enjoyed myself excessively.

A week later I received a letter from Mamma. I refused even to read her messages but passed them on to Daisy, who let me know if there was something that I absolutely had to know.

“Lady Flora is near the end,” Daisy reported. “The duchess begs you to visit the dying woman.”