Albert was wonderful.
She was growing more and more to appreciate the quiet of the country because there she and Albert could live a more intimate life. They could take walks; they could ride; they could come home and play music or sing duets. Albert – in a laughing way – had undertaken her education. ‘Rather neglected, my love, in some respects.’ Another slight to Lehzen whom she had begun to think of as poor Lehzen. It had been a very dull childhood, she supposed; in fact any part of her life which had not included Albert seemed dull. ‘To think I ever thought that I was happy before my marriage. I did not know what happiness meant then.’
In the evenings Albert read to her from Hallam’s History. ‘You cannot rule a country well without knowing how your predecessors did it,’ said Albert. Previously she would have thought it such a dull book. How different it was, read by Albert.
Lord Melbourne, with whom she corresponded now and then, was delighted that she was so happy. ‘An example to all her subjects,’ he wrote, and she could imagine the tears in his dear eyes as his pen moved over the paper. He was pleased too that she and Albert were reading Hallam together. It was a wonderful education.
Sometimes Albert would go to the nursery and bring Pussy into the bedroom and the dear child would sit on the bed; she looked like a little doll, she was so pretty. ‘Remarkably like her dear Mama,’ said Albert. The Boy, she feared, was not going to be as bright as his sister.
‘Pussy was speaking when she was his age,’ said the Queen.
‘He is not going to be as intelligent as our little Vicky,’ said Albert.
There had been none of the irritable moods at the beginning of the present pregnancy.
‘This little one is behaving well,’ said the Queen.
It was a very happy year apart from the social unrest throughout the country which was making some of her ministers very anxious. As if it wasn’t bad enough to have trouble abroad the people at home had to be difficult. Menacing, Lord Melbourne called them. Wales had joined the bands of troublemakers and there rioters were dressing up in women’s clothes and calling themselves ‘Rebecca and her daughters’; they were smashing toll gates and causing a great deal of uneasiness. The Irish – always troublesome – were agitating; even in dear Scotland there was trouble about private patronage of the Established Kirk; and at home Mr Cobden was quarrelling with Sir Robert over the Corn Laws. It would all have been very distressing if Albert had not been there beside her. Albert was passionately interested in these matters; he was present at her meetings with her ministers; he read all the state papers with her. Her constant cry was: What should I do without Albert?
On April 25th they were delighted when a daughter was born. Three healthy children in four years of marriage. ‘How very lucky we are,’ said the Queen.
She was to be called Alice. ‘A good old English name,’ the Queen declared, ‘and perhaps Maud, and as she was born on Aunt Gloucester’s birthday, Mary after her.
There was all the preparation of the christening.
‘We had better ask Uncle Ernest this time. He was so annoyed because he wasn’t invited to The Boy’s. Perhaps he won’t come all the way from Hanover. I hope not. I never feel very comfortable when he’s around. But I shall insist on darling Feodora’s coming. It will be a lovely excuse to see her again.’
The christening was a great success, although the King of Hanover having rather ungraciously accepted the invitation, arrived late, and the service was over before he put in an appearance.
Alice behaved beautifully and did not cry during the ceremony. In fact, as the Queen remarked to Albert, she reminded her of Pussy. Did he remember how bright Pussy was at her christening, just as though she knew what it was all about?
There was a déjeuner afterwards and the tables were beautifully decorated with gay June flowers. The Queen was happy to see her half-sister and they looked forward to some exciting talks about their respective nurseries. There was so much the Queen wanted to ask darling Feddy because she was so much more experienced a Mama than she was.
The King of Hanover as usual caused a little uneasiness. He had always been extremely ugly, having lost an eye which gave him a most sinister aspect and this may have been due in some measure to the stories which circulated about him, but of course he had been involved in a murder case and he was very unscrupulous and he would have been King of England if Victoria had not lived to claim the throne.
He wanted to see the nursery and when Victoria saw him pick up The Boy in his arms and study him with his one penetrating eye she felt a shiver of alarm run through her. Oddly enough the child was not in the least perturbed and seemed to find this strange great-uncle interesting. Pussy, with her usual intelligence, regarded him curiously, but she showed no fear either. But Victoria could guess what Uncle Ernest was thinking when he held The Boy. This child would one day be King of England and everyone knew that this was a role Ernest had coveted beyond everything.
Soon the guests were departing. Victoria wept to see darling Feodora go and she remarked to Albert how sad it was that royal people had so often to leave their homes. Albert could agree wholeheartedly with that. She knew he often thought of his brother and father with the utmost affection.
Victoria would never say it to Albert but she did think that Albert’s family were not so worthy of his affection as they might be. His brother had led a rather wild life; they had been aware when he was staying with them of very unpleasant evidence of this. As for his father, he too had not been exactly moral and now he was worrying them to give him an allowance. They were so rich, he said, and he was poor. He did not understand what expenses the British Monarchy had to face.
Considering all this it seemed more wonderful than ever that Albert had turned out to be such a good man.
How fortunate she was in her husband.
Uncle Ernest’s visit triggered off a series of rather alarming incidents. People wrote anonymous letters threatening to kidnap the children. Others wrote warning that plots were afoot to do so. Most of them, said Sir Robert, were written by mad people, but one could never be sure.
The Duchess of Kent, to whom Victoria had now become reconciled (Albert wished it), now seemed to have changed her character. She adored the children and Victoria was constantly warning her about spoiling them, but it was gratifying to see the change in her since the departure of Sir John Conroy. She was very happy and always listened attentively to what Albert said, and no longer tried to manage her daughter.
The Duchess was now very concerned about the children’s safety and she was certain that her wicked brother-in-law, the King of Hanover, was a menace.
‘He would do anything to get the throne. He would not stop at murder.’
Albert thought that, while every precaution should be taken, it was unwise to make accusations without firm foundation.
‘Oh, you have no idea, dear Albert,’ said the Duchess. ‘You who are so good cannot conceive the wickedness of some people. When Victoria was a child he set about rumours that she was weak and sickly to prepare the people for her death. I knew that it was his idea to get some of his spies into Kensington and have her poisoned. I would not allow her to be alone for one moment.’ She looked ruefully at her daughter. ‘Oh, I know she didn’t always like it, but everything I did was for her good.’
‘I am sure of it, dear Mama,’ said Albert, so Victoria was becoming sure of it. ‘And don’t worry about the children,’ he went on. ‘I shall see that every precaution is taken.’