‘We have to thank General Bruce for this. And the Prince and I thought that we should like to show our gratitude with some reward … say the Order of the Bath, for instance.’
‘But Your Majesty is forgetting that this is not Bruce’s triumph. It was the Prince of Wales they liked, not the General.’
‘Bertie did what he was told.’
‘Your Majesty will know that there are ways of doing what one is told. It was not what was done but the manner of doing it. No, it is not Bruce to whom we should be grateful but to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.’
‘I like to see services rewarded,’ said the Queen severely.
‘And I can happily say that I am in agreement with Your Majesty. And like Your Majesty I do not care to see rewards given where they are not merited. I hope to have the pleasure of congratulating His Royal Highness on the service he has done to his country but I do not think Your Majesty’s Government would agree to bestow the Order on Bruce.’
‘I shall expect a report on this,’ said the Queen shortly.
Palmerston bowed.
He was laughing to himself as he left her. The Order of the Bath for that old spoilsport! Not if he knew it! He chuckled to think of Bertie’s escape from the ridiculous restrictions they placed on him.
And, he said to himself, no ribbon for Bruce.
The Queen should have known that Lord Palmerston always had his own way.
So General Bruce was not rewarded for his services in North America.
Life at Cambridge, whither the Prince of Wales was sent after his return, seemed more than ever intolerable after the freedom he had enjoyed on his tour. He was getting so tired of General Bruce that on one or two occasions, he couldn’t resist telling him what he thought of him. The Prince’s outbursts of temper were reported in detail to his parents.
Was there no escape? Only time could release him and he longed for the day when he would be independent.
One day he was so bored with the hours of study, so weary of his jailors that he seized an opportunity and left the house.
He had no idea where he was going, but decided that he would first go to London. Then perhaps he could go to stay with someone who would keep him hidden. When he was at Oxford he had been allowed to hunt and had there become friendly with two young men, members of the Oxfordshire Hunt, Frederick Johnstone and Henry Chaplin. They would be at Oxford. He might telegraph them and go there. They could keep him hidden. What a lark! And it would serve them all right.
These two young men had told him how the press laughed at the way he was being brought up. The press was on his side. He believed the people would be. This would show them.
When he arrived at the station two men came towards him; they stood on either side of him.
‘The carriage is waiting, Your Highness,’ they said.
‘Carriage?’ he stammered. ‘What carriage?’
‘General Bruce telegraphed the palace from Cambridge, Your Highness.’
There was the royal carriage. What could he do but get in and be driven to Buckingham Palace?
There he had to face his parents. It was the old question: Whatever can we do with Bertie?
At length they decided to send him to the Curragh Camp in Ireland.
Chapter XXVII
THE BETROTHAL OF ALICE
Disturbing news came from Vicky in Berlin. She was pregnant again. The Queen was angry.
‘Oh, it is too soon,’ she cried, and the Duchess of Kent agreed with her.
Victoria was inclined to be a little short with Albert. Men, she remarked to the Duchess, never really understood what a woman had to suffer. Even Albert was a little obtuse on the subject.
But when Vicky was safely delivered of a baby girl there was great excitement at Windsor. She called the family together and told them that they had become little aunts and uncles.
‘Oh, Albert,’ she said, ‘how I should love to see darling Vicky and the babies! But the two of us together.’
Albert said it must be arranged. It was, and on a lovely September day the Queen and Albert with Alice and a suitable retinue left Gravesend to visit Vicky.
How they enjoyed travelling through Germany on the railway! The scenery was perfect – the river, the red-roofed houses nestling below mountains, the pine forests touched Albert so deeply that his eyes glistened with tears as he passed through his own country. He would never quite recover from the homesickness which beset him from time to time.
At Frankfurt they found Fritz and his parents who had come to meet them, and at the Hotel d’Angleterre other relations were waiting to welcome them.
The next day they resumed their journey. Victoria was watching Albert; she could understand the appeal of this country which could be beautiful, inviting and forbidding all at the same time. Here were the homes of woodcutters and trolls, creatures of the forest who peopled the fairy stories which Lehzen had told her in the past and which Albert would consider too frivolous for their children. How exciting to see the vineyards and the little villages clustering round their churches, the faces of the people tanned by weather. The women wore handkerchiefs tied over their heads, which was a custom among the women of the Highlands. How moving to see their dearest daughter waiting to embrace them.
The Queen could scarcely wait to see the grandchildren.
As soon as they were refreshed they came down to the room which looked out over the streets of the town and the market place and Vicky said they must meet their grandson. Victoria was trembling at the prospect. How great was the deformity? Had Vicky understated it for fear of alarming her mother?
Little Wilhelm came in clinging to the hand of his English nurse. What a little love in his white dress with black bows (for they were all in mourning for Albert’s step-mother, who had recently died). The Queen knelt down and embraced him. He smiled at her. He was plump as a child should be and had a beautiful white skin and sturdy shoulders. She did not want to look too closely at his arm, which a cleverly made sleeve partially disguised. If one did not look too closely it merely appeared that he was holding it rather awkwardly.
‘Why,’ she cried, ‘he has Fritz’s eyes and Vicky’s mouth.’
They all agreed that this was so.
Once the Queen had trained herself not to look too closely at little Wilhelm’s arm she was happy for Vicky. She must not have any more children just yet if that were possible, though.
She whispered: ‘We have to stand together sometimes, my darling. It is a little in all clever men’s natures to despise our poor degraded sex. They think that we poor creatures are born for their amusement. Even dear Papa is not quite exempt.’
She noticed that Vicky and Alice were often talking earnestly together; she hoped that Vicky was preparing Alice, for it was easier sometimes for a sister than a mother to do these things.
How pleasant it was to be abroad with Albert! These holidays had been the happiest times of their lives – and particularly holidays in Germany, that dear country with which, because of Albert, she felt so much in tune. She loved the forests, the red-roofed houses, the costumes of the women and the dear people generally. And Albert was always so happy there.
Stockmar came to see them. How he had aged! He talked of his latest symptoms and then he, Albert and the Queen discussed the subject of the Prince of Wales. Stockmar was a little depressing about this and the Queen was sorry for she could not bear that the visit should be spoilt.
It was wonderful to see Ernest and Alexandrine again, but Victoria noticed that Albert was a little depressed. He and Ernest went for long walks together.