He thought affectionately of the family at home – the sisters and brothers – and whenever he could find exotic articles, the sort of things they wouldn’t have seen before, he bought them to take back to them. Vicky was interested in flowers; these he collected for her and dried them so that she would have some sort of idea of the kind of flowers that grew in far-off places.
During the tour poor General Bruce fell ill and it soon became clear that he was suffering from a fever which he had contracted in some foreign place.
The Queen was most concerned because Albert had chosen him to be Bertie’s mentor and therefore she regarded him as the best possible choice for the role.
Bertie was less concerned; he remembered what life had been like under General Bruce, not always very pleasant, and although the General had changed his attitude towards him a little as he was growing older, Bertie had very much resented the restraint he had put on him.
He was finding that little had changed while he had been away. His mother was as mournful as ever. He had hoped that a lapse of time would have lessened her grief. But not so; it was as fresh as ever and her presence in her black mourning garment and widow’s cap made gaiety impossible.
The children were delighted with the gifts he had brought. They shrieked with delight as they dressed up in the strange garments he had brought for them. Alice smiled quietly and when their mirth grew too noisy she reproved them gently.
‘Don’t let Mama hear you laughing so much.’
So it was a rather grim home-coming.
Alice was a little unhappy because Prince Louis could not provide her with a home just at first. There was some wrangling going on about finding a palace for the pair which, considering he was heir to the Grand Duke of Hesse-Darmstadt, was, said the Queen, remarkable. However, it did mean that Alice would not have to leave her immediately; but she would be a wife and that would change her a little. With a husband beside her she would have less time to devote to her stricken Mama.
‘Lenchen will do all for you that I have done,’ Alice consoled her. ‘She is growing up fast.’
‘Dear child! She tries hard. But there is no consolation for me, Alice. It lifts my spirits a little, though, to realise what satisfaction it must be to you to know how much dear Papa enjoyed your reading to him only a little while before he was taken from us. Do you remember the day when nothing would please him … not even Sir Walter Scott?’
Oh dear, thought Alice, she will go on talking about scenes from the past and work herself into such a state of misery that she will be ill.
‘I remember, Mama,’ she said; and began to talk about the possibility of Bertie’s marrying.
But it was so easy for the Queen to lead the conversation back to the happy days of her married life and the terrible loss and the certain knowledge that there could never again be any joy in her life.
Then there was more sorrow when General Bruce died.
The Queen felt this to be a terrible blow.
‘Poor Bertie. What will he do now? Where will he turn? He has lost the dearest of fathers and now that good and honest man who was chosen to care for him and advise him has gone. He has sacrificed himself for Bertie for if he had not accompanied him on his travels he would never have caught that dreadful fever. Another death! Another valued life gone!’
‘Now,’ she confided to Alice, ‘there will be the task of finding a new governor for Bertie. Oh, if your dear father were here how easy it would be. What a burden he took from my poor shoulders. Every day I realise more and more the tragic depth of my loss.’
Alice’s wedding day was approaching.
‘Is it a funeral or a wedding?’ the Prince of Wales asked his favourite sister.
‘Poor Mama,’ said Alice. ‘She cannot forget Papa’s death even on my wedding day.’
‘The people won’t like it … a private wedding with no processions and no rejoicing!’
‘Bertie, how could we have rejoiced so soon after dearest Papa’s death?’
Bertie smiled at her affectionately. Poor Alice! She had borne the brunt of looking after the Queen while he had been enjoying life in the Middle East.
‘It’s no use living in the past,’ said Bertie. ‘Once you get away you’ll feel better.’
Alice gave him her quizzical smile. ‘It’ll be your turn next, Bertie,’ she said.
He agreed.
The dining-room at Osborne had been turned into a chapel. The Queen sat near the altar under the Winterhalter picture of the family. She had made no concessions to the occasion and was wearing her widow’s black with the cap which Princess Beatrice did not care for.
The Archbishop of York read the service and the Queen felt drawn to him because he was so clearly moved. She knew that his wife had died about three years previously and he was still mourning her. Before the ceremony they had talked of their dead and wept together.
The Queen sat forlornly thinking of how different it should have been. A fine wedding in London with dear Albert, splendid in uniform, leading Alice to the altar.
This, she thought, is like plunging a dagger into my already bleeding heart.
When the married couple left for their honeymoon, which was to be spent at Ryde, she would send for Lenchen and tell her about her own wedding all those years ago and how nervous she had been, how young and inexperienced, how their father had looked as handsome as a god and even then she had not known what a blessing was being conferred on her.
My only consolation now is to do what he would have wished, she told herself.
So now she must concern herself with Bertie, for Albert had constantly said during that last year they had had together: ‘Bertie must marry. His nature is too ardent for him to remain a virtuous bachelor. His only hope is a good woman.’
A good woman. Princess Alexandra? There must be no delay. But she must make sure first that Princess Alexandra was the right wife for Bertie.
Bertie himself was thinking: What a wedding! More like a funeral. Poor Alice. She’ll be better off, though, with a husband and a life of her own. Poor Lenchen. It’s her turn now to look after Mama. And my turn for marriage! What will it be like to have a wife? He was quite eager to find out.
He kissed his sister after the ceremony. ‘Bless you,’ he said.
‘Oh, Bertie … dearest Bertie.’
Her eyes smiled into his.
Your turn next, they said.
Chapter III
THE FAMILY AT THE YELLOW PALACE
Seventeen years before the death of the Prince Consort, there was great expectation in the Yellow Palace on the Amaliegade Street in Copenhagen where Prince Christian and his wife Louise were expecting their second child. Their son Frederick, known as Fredy, was just a year old.
Christian and Louise were poor; the Yellow Palace did not belong to them and it was only by the grace of King Christian that they were allowed to occupy it; but they were in love and happy. Christian was not ambitious; Louise was more so; but in these early days of marriage her great desire was to have a family and live for them. So, in spite of the expense of a new baby the child would be warmly welcomed into the household.
Louise stood at the window, with little Fredy beside her, watching Christian leave for the barracks. He was tall and handsome and if he were poor she did not care, for besides being extremely good looking he was kind, gentle and as anxious as she was to bring up their family in a proper manner. They had often talked about the children they would have. Theirs should be a happy family, although of course the children would be reprimanded when necessary, even punished – but only in a manner which would be good for them.