Albert, who had had a desk brought into her study and placed beside hers, had been reading the documents which had been arriving at the palace and she found how comforting it was to discuss these affairs with him. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I can be of real use to you.’
‘Dear Albert,’ she murmured, ‘that will be a great comfort.’ It was amazing how dependent pregnancy made her feel and what pleasure she took in seeing that handsome face so near her own. She could tell him of her fears of the government’s collapse and he could soothe her by replying that if the government did fall it was her duty to be just towards any new government which the country might desire.
‘I could never accept that dreadful Peel man,’ she said.
‘But my dear love is a queen and would never forget that, and, however difficult you found it, remember I should be there to help you.’
‘Yes, Albert,’ she said meekly.
It was very comforting to talk to Albert about that wicked man Mehemet Ali who was causing all the trouble. But the French were being their usual difficult selves and once again Uncle Leopold was deploring the English attitude towards that country.
England with Russia, Prussia and Austria had delivered an ultimatum to Mehemet Ali insisting that he leave North Syria or be ejected by force. France, although deeply involved, and committed to help, stood aloof, which made the situation a very dangerous one, and conflict in Europe must of course give greater cause for alarm than what was happening in the East.
Uncle Leopold wrote that while he did not think France had acted wisely he could not help adding that England had behaved harshly and insultingly towards France. Victoria was able to reply that no one but France was to blame for her unfortunate position, for that country was committed to join the allies and had refused.
Still, she wrote, though France is in the wrong, and
quite
in the wrong, still I am most anxious, as I am sure my Government also are, that France should be pacified and should again take her place among the five great powers …
Albert, who sends his love, is much occupied with Eastern affairs and is quite of my opinion …
It was comforting to be able to write that. Uncle Leopold had always been anxious that Albert should have the opportunity to advise her. Well now he had, and he was on her side. Not that Albert’s opinion could weigh against that of Lords Melbourne and Palmerston; but there was no doubt that Albert could offer his opinions, which Lord Melbourne said were balanced and reasonable.
As the weeks passed there were continually dispatches from the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary; and they and other Ministers were calling frequently at the palace. The oriental controversy aggravated by the intransigent attitude of the French was the matter of the moment.
‘When the baby is born it ought to be called Turko-Egypto,’ said the Queen with grim jocularity.
It was November and, although the baby was not expected before the beginning of December, three doctors – Sir James Clark, Dr Locock and Dr Blagden – together with the nurse, Mrs Lilly, were all installed in the palace. As Dr Stockmar was also at Court Albert had asked him to be ready to assist if his services should be needed.
Three weeks before the expected time the Queen’s pains began. In spite of previous apprehension she was quite calm. Albert remained in the room with the doctors and Mrs Lilly and Victoria’s greatest concern was that the pain would be so great that she might be unable to restrain her cries. That, she feared, would be most undignified, for waiting in the next room were the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Prime Minister, Lord Palmerston and other important Ministers and gentlemen of rank. Close by, but in a separate room, were members of her household. It was the public nature of the proceedings which was so undignified, but this did make her determined to exert the utmost control.
Albert was a comfort. She sensed his anxiety. Dear Albert, everything must go well for his sake.
How wonderful it would be if she could produce a dear little boy exactly like his father – and what was more important was that he should be as good.
After twelve hours of labour the baby was born. The Queen lay back exhausted but triumphant. Albert came to the bed to hold her hand.
‘The child?’ she asked.
‘Is perfect,’ answered Albert.
‘A boy?’
The doctor answered. ‘It is a Princess, Your Majesty.’
There was a moment of disappointment. Albert pressed her hand warmly.
‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘The next one will be a Prince.’
‘My dearest,’ said Albert, ‘we should not be sad because we have a little girl. It is a poor compliment to you. Why, this child could become a queen as good as her mother.’
‘Dear Albert. Then you are not displeased?’
‘If you get well quickly then I am content,’ said Albert.
Mrs Lilly had washed the little Princess and placed her naked on a velvet cushion. Then she walked with her into the room where the members of the government had been waiting.
‘Here is Her Highness the Princess Royal,’ she announced.
The old Duke of Wellington came forward to peer at the child.
‘Oh,’ he said in a tone of mild contempt, ‘a girl.’
Mrs Lilly glared at him. ‘A Princess, Your Grace,’ she said sharply, for she would have the old gentleman remember that although the precious child was a girl she was as royal as any boy could be.
Chapter IX
IN-I-GO JONES
The baby was to be named Victoria after her mother, and the names Adelaide Mary Louise were added. The Dowager Queen was delighted that the child was called after her; she was so happy, she told the Queen, that she had experienced the blessing of motherhood. Poor Adelaide, how she had always longed for a child of her own; but being of the sweetest of temperaments she would not grudge anyone else the happiness which she had missed.
‘Aunt Adelaide will be ready to spoil the child,’ said Victoria to Albert.
‘That must not be allowed,’ replied Albert. He was determined to be a good father and that did not include spoiling his offspring.
It was rather awkward that she had the same name as her mother, but Albert had wished it – ‘Such a delightful compliment,’ said the Queen – and she herself had thought it appropriate, so the child was Victoria.
‘She is like a little kitten,’ said the Queen and from then on the child was called Pussy and sometimes, to vary it, Pussette.
Victoria discovered that although she had enjoyed racing up and down the corridors of Buckingham Palace with the Conyngham children or those of the John Russells, she was not so fond of little babies. She was delighted, of course, to be a mother and so quickly to have produced a child (it was only nine months since her marriage) but that did not mean that she wanted to spend all her time in the nursery. She was no Aunt Adelaide.
A wet nurse was procured with other nurses and the Baroness Lehzen decided that the nursery was a place in which she should reign supreme. Victoria was delighted that dear Daisy should superintend the baby’s domain and returned to her everyday life.
The oriental situation had taken a turn for the better. Mehemet Ali had given up his claims to Syria on the intervention of the allied fleet and stated that he would relinquish the Ottoman fleet if the allies would give him possession of the Pashalik of Egypt.
‘A very happy end to the year,’ commented Victoria to Albert. ‘The crisis over and a baby in the nursery.’