‘I have certainly not forgotten,’ said the Duchess coldly. ‘It is for this reason that I have had to protect my daughter for so long.’

‘Well, I trust now that she is growing up we shall see more of her. The King would like to see her at Bushy.’

‘If His Majesty wishes to see her, he knows what he must do!’

Adelaide was amazed that the Duchess could speak so of the King. No wonder William disliked her.

‘I … don’t fully understand,’ said Adelaide hesitantly.

‘His Majesty is surrounded by his bastards at Bushy. I think it would be extremely unsuitable for the … er … Heiress Presumptive … to mix with them.’

‘They are the King’s own children, and he as King has them living with him en famille.’

‘I should never allow Victoria to come into contact with these people.’

‘But the King wishes to see more of her and as he has no intention of dismissing his own family, it is almost certain that she will.’

‘I cannot allow it.’ The Duchess was imperious. Any observer would have thought that she was the Queen, Adelaide the Duchess. She began to walk about the apartment, her bracelets jingling, her impressive bosom heaving, so that the jewels with which she loved to adorn herself glittered in fiery defiance. ‘Nor,’ she went on, ‘do I think that I should be expected to live in these apartments which are entirely inadequate for the Heiress to the throne. I am living under the same roof as that Buggin woman. Oh, I know she has rented Niddry Lodge on Camden Hill there, but she is more often in the apartments of the Duke of Sussex. Buggin! My daughter is expected to live at close quarters with a woman named Buggin.’

‘She is hardly responsible for her name.’

‘She is entirely responsible. She married it! As the daughter of the Earl of Arran she should have known better.’

‘Augustus seems to be delighted with her.’

‘Augustus has no right to be.’

‘Perhaps he will marry her now that Augusta is dead. He swore that he couldn’t, you know, while he had a wife living, and although Augusta was not recognised as his wife he always regarded himself as married to her, even after they separated. I think it rather noble of him.’

The Duchess looked with scorn at Adelaide. How mild she was! She had no jealousy of herself which the Duchess could not understand when what Adelaide desired above all else was a child, and she, the Duchess, had her healthy Victoria, Heiress Presumptive to the throne.

‘Noble!’ snorted the Duchess. ‘Living with the Buggin woman, which is what he is doing. It’s most irregular. But what I find so disturbing is that he should be doing so under the same roof as Victoria.’

Oh dear, thought Adelaide. The Duchess of Kent was in a truculent mood. She had better leave her and decide later what should be done. She must be careful not to tell William too much. He was always annoyed with the Duchess; and indeed the woman did give herself airs. But if he knew she was going to set herself up in deliberate defiance he would become very excitable, which was just the state he must most carefully avoid.


* * *

When the Queen had gone the Duchess sat at her table and wrote to the Duke of Wellington.

Now that King George IV was dead and his brother had become King William IV, this meant that the Princess Victoria was heiress to the throne. (She would not use that horrible word Presumptive.) She believed that it was quite unsuitable for the heiress to the throne to be living in comparative penury. She believed that an income should immediately be settled on her, and that her mother should become the Dowager Princess of Wales.

When she had written the letter she took it to Sir John and showed it to him.

He smiled. His tempestuous Duchess was indeed a handful, but he liked her for it; and as long as he could guide her, he had no objection to her arrogance towards others.

The request was absurd, he knew. Her husband, the Duke of Kent, had never been the Prince of Wales and so it would be quite irregular to bestow a title on her to which she had no right.

He imagined the Duke’s face when he received such a demand.

Should he advise her to send it? Why not? It would estrange her farther than ever from the King, and Conroy’s one fear was that the Duchess would become friendly with her late husband’s family. If she did so, they might turn her from Sir John. It was bad enough to have Leopold as a rival, for while Leopold was so close to her, Conroy could never have the complete control he longed for. He always had to be wary of Leopold. But he was determined that no other members of the family should attempt to oust him from his position.

‘It is as well to let the King know through Wellington that you are conscious of your position,’ he said; so the note was sent.


* * *

When Wellington received the Duchess’s letter he said: ‘The insanity in the royal family has spread to the Duchess. She is certainly mad to think for one moment that such a possibility could be considered.’

‘Madam,’ he wrote, ‘your request is not admissible.’

When the Duchess received his cold reply she was furious. She went with it at once to Conroy.

‘This man Wellington gives himself airs. Because he won a battle he thinks he can rule the country. Who is he? Arthur Wellesley! He thinks because he was present at the Battle of Waterloo that entitles him to insult me. It was very likely Blucher who was responsible for that victory. And because of it, he thinks he can command us all. And what of his relationship with Mrs Arbuthnot? I have heard that he neglects his Duchess shamefully for that woman. The Duchess of Wellington may be a fool but it is nothing to his credit that he should treat her as though she does not exist. And this is the man who dares tell me I have no right to the title of Dowager Princess of Wales.’

Sir John let her run on. Let her start a feud with Wellington; the more trouble she had with other people, the more friendly she would be towards her dear Comptroller of her Household.

But in due course the Duchess admitted that there had been no hope of her receiving that title. Yet, Sir John assured her, it was as well to let them know that she was aware of the dignities of her position as mother to the Heiress of the throne. Presumptive? No! Apparent! Victoria was going to be Queen.


* * *

Very soon after the Duchess was in a state of elation. The Lord Chancellor, Lord Lyndhurst, presented a Bill in Parliament that should create the Duchess of Kent Regent in the event of the King’s dying and her daughter’s ascending the throne as a minor.

The Duchess was delighted. Wellington might have treated her without due respect; Lord Grey might have referred to her as a tiresome devil; but Lord Lyndhurst had put her case to Parliament and Parliament had seen the reason in it.

Nor was Lord Lyndhurst the only one, for the Bill was passed. The Duchess would be Regent of England; Parliament had added £10,000 to her income, to be used for the education and household of the Princess Victoria.

This was triumph.

The Duchess summoned Victoria to tell her what had happened.

‘We must never forget your position,’ she told Victoria. ‘The death of your Uncle George has brought you right up to the throne. And when your Uncle William dies, as you won’t be old enough to govern, I shall be the Regent.’

‘But, Mamma, suppose I am old enough before Uncle William dies.’

‘Victoria, you say the most surprising things.’

‘Is it surprising? People do live longer than is often thought. There was Uncle George. His death was expected long before it came.’

The Duchess looked pained. Victoria was beginning to be too self-assertive. ‘When William dies,’ she insisted, ‘I shall be Regent.’

Victoria felt a little indignant. The idea of the Duchess as Regent was not very pleasant to her. As a daughter she had had to do exactly as Mamma said; how disconcerting if, as Queen, she should find herself in the same dilemma!

But once she was eighteen she would be of age. That day was a long way ahead. Seven years. She secretly hoped that Uncle William would not die before that time.

The Duchess dismissed her. She gave herself the airs of a Regent already.


* * *

Victoria wept when she said good-bye to Baroness Späth.

‘Darling Späth. I shall miss you so.’

Poor Späth dabbed at her eyes and embraced the Princess.

‘It breaks my heart to leave you.’

‘But you will be with dearest Feodora,’ said Victoria, because she felt that heartbroken as she was she must at all costs comfort poor Späth.

‘Ah, yes, but my heart will be with you.’

‘You’ll love the little babies. Imagine Feodora with two babies now. I know she loves them dearly; she shows it in her dear letters. Little Charles is such a handful now and you will be so useful to her.’

‘I daresay she is surrounded by useful people.’

‘But she always had a special feeling for you; besides she will be able to talk to you of me, which I am sure is what she will very much enjoy.’

‘My dearest Princess, make sure that the Baroness Lehzen is not sent away.’

‘Lehzen!’ cried Victoria in horror.

‘It may be that those who decided to be rid of me may wish to see her out of the way, too.’

At the thought of losing Lehzen Victoria felt sick with horror. Dear Späth was bad enough, but the old Baroness was a bit of a fool though a dear one. But Lehzen was as close to Victoria as her own mother – oh much closer than that if the truth must be known. Lehzen was second only to Uncle Leopold.