And now during this brief respite – this hour of being alone – she must consider her new position and always remember that she was the Queen. Everyone must realise this – and by everyone she meant Mamma, for Mamma was the only member of the household who would question her right to command. It was unfortunate because it was one’s duty to love one’s parents and Victoria wanted always to do her duty, so she must remind herself of her mother’s behaviour during the last years when she had deliberately kept Victoria from Court and had prevented her learning so much which would have been useful to her; and it was not as Mamma implied, that she did not wish her to meet the illegitimate FitzClarences but because she feared that her Uncle William and her Aunt Adelaide might have had too much influence over her. And so Victoria had come to the throne knowing little of Court life and had it not been for the presence of dear, good, kind Lord Melbourne, she would have been lost indeed. Nor was this the only grievance against her mother. She hated to think of what the Duchess’s relationship was with Sir John Conroy, for that man was allowed a familiarity which suggested that he could scarcely be merely her Comptroller of the Household. Lehzen became very significantly silent when the matter was referred to and she must not forget that her mother – she was sure on the advice of That Man – had tried to banish Lehzen to Germany as they had dear old Baroness Späth.

She was, of course, reminding herself of all this so that she could justify herself in what she was about to do. ‘And to think,’ she said aloud, ‘that I, the Queen, have reached the age of eighteen and never had a bedroom to myself.’

She summoned one of her servants and noted with pleasure the awe in the woman’s eyes. She no longer served the Princess but the Queen.

‘My bed is to be removed from the Duchess’s room,’ she said, ‘and this must be done without delay. It should be put in the room next to that of the Baroness Lehzen.’


* * *

The Duchess was in angry tears. In vain Lady Flora Hastings tried to comfort her.

‘When I think of all I’ve done! The ingratitude! From the time her father died I have sacrificed myself …’

Lady Flora made soothing sounds as she thrust the smelling salts under the Duchess’s quivering nose.

‘Perhaps at first she is feeling her power, Your Grace,’ suggested Flora. ‘She is so young.’

‘It is for this reason that she needs me. And to flout me in this way! First she wants to be alone. Then without consulting me she has her bed removed from my room. Why did I watch over her as I did? Because I cared so much for her safety! Why, Flora, there was a time when we feared for her life. That rogue Cumberland was capable of anything. And because I gave my life to her, now I am despised and flouted.’

‘She cannot despise Your Grace.’

‘There is no knowing what she will do. If Lord Melbourne tells her to be cruel to her mother, she will. She was always ready to be led by men. It was the same with my brother Leopold. She doted on him – still does. He only has to say something is so and she believes him.’

‘His Majesty always had her good in mind.’

‘I’m not so sure, Flora. Leopold always wanted to rule. He’s my brother, yes, but he sent Stockmar over and I must confess that I am not all that sure of Stockmar. There is only one man whom I can trust.’

Flora nodded. She shared the Duchess’s admiration for Sir John Conroy.

‘If Her Majesty were not so much under the influence of the Baroness …’

‘Ah!’ snapped the Duchess. ‘There you have it. The Baroness gives herself airs, and these have become more intolerable during the last weeks.’

‘The Baroness, Your Grace, is a woman of low birth and this is often apparent. It seems incongruous that the Queen’s confidante – who advises her against her real friends – should be the daughter of a pastor!’

‘We bestowed the title of Baroness on her when she had proved herself a good nurse as it was unseemly that an untitled person should wait on a Princess – as Victoria was then.’

‘She has the title but not the dignity of a Baroness,’ commented Lady Flora.

‘Sir John always wanted to be rid of her, but Victoria went into a storm at the merest mention of her departure and although she was malleable in some ways she was adamant in this.’

‘The pastor’s daughter always had a great influence with Her Majesty.’

‘Has, Flora, has!’

‘But Your Grace will not allow her influence with the Queen to supersede your own?’

‘I had thought that impossible, Flora, but to move her bed … without consulting me!’

‘If Her Majesty wishes to be alone she will not want the company of the Baroness.’

‘That’s true. But I feel there is a special animus towards me.’

‘Forgive me, Your Grace, but surely not towards her own mother!’

‘Victoria can be so stubborn and she is in the hands of these people. I had to protect her from that old buffoon William and insipid Adelaide. Heaven knows what ideas they would have put into her head … and now this!’

The Duchess was so distressed that Lady Flora suggested calling in Sir John, to which the Duchess readily agreed.


* * *

Without question Victoria’s bed had been removed.

I am truly the Queen! she thought triumphantly.

Lord Melbourne was asking if she would do him the honour of granting another audience.

‘With the utmost pleasure,’ she cried.

And there he was, her good Prime Minister, tears in his eyes, as he congratulated her on her performance at the Council meeting.

‘One would have thought Your Majesty had been attending Council Meetings every day of your life.’

‘If I did well it was entirely due to my Prime Minister’s thoughtful instructions.’

‘Everyone is commenting on your magnificent performance. You were every inch a queen.’

‘I fear there are very few inches. How I wish I were taller!’

‘Your small stature is very appealing, Ma’am. It but adds to your dignity. Now have I your permission to mention a little business?’

‘Pray do, Lord Melbourne.’

‘I must be brief as others of Your Majesty’s servants are waiting to present themselves. I hope you will give me permission to call on you later. This evening at half past eight o’clock would be agreeable to me if that suited Your Majesty.’

‘It would suit me very well, Lord Melbourne.’

‘Then we can talk comfortably, if Your Majesty wishes.’

She glowed with pleasure. What could be more enjoyable than a comfortable talk with her dear Prime Minister?

‘Your Majesty will wish to name your physician. Perhaps Sir James Clark? If you find him to your taste.’

‘I do indeed.’

‘And your Master of Horse – Albemarle perhaps?’

She was ready to think that anything Lord Melbourne suggested must be for the best.

‘Lord John Russell is waiting for an audience. So is the Archbishop of Canterbury. I fear Your Majesty is being overwhelmed by these duties.’

‘By no means, Lord Melbourne. Indeed, if I were not so sorrowful on account of Uncle’s death, I could feel stimulated … elated almost.’

Lord Melbourne’s eyes glazed with the inevitable tears and she thought: Oh, you dear good man!

‘Your Majesty was born to be a queen,’ he said with emotion.

‘Did you know, Lord Melbourne, that before I was born a gypsy told my father that his child would be a girl – he hoped for a boy of course – but, said the gypsy, a girl and a queen.’

Lord Melbourne did know of course. Lord Melbourne knew everything.

He added: ‘And I will tell Your Majesty something else. She also said: “A great Queen!” and now it is my turn to make a prophecy. It is this: Hers will be fulfilled in its entirety.’

How happy he made her feel and how sad that this interview must be short! And though worthy, how dull were Lord John, Albemarle and the Archbishop in comparison with dear Lord Melbourne!


* * *

The long day was drawing to its end. So many duties had been performed; she had seen all her important ministers and all alone (as I shall always see my ministers in future, she assured herself). She fancied that she had (prompted by Lord Melbourne, of course) made a favourable impression; she had written several letters and noted the day’s events in her Journal.

‘And now,’ she announced to the Baroness Lehzen. ‘I will take my dinner alone upstairs.’

No one questioned her order. How glorious to be a queen!

After dinner Baron Stockmar called and congratulated her on the day’s activities. She had done well and everyone was applauding her.

‘Lord Melbourne has already told me,’ she assured the Baron; and she could not help thinking how much more graciously and with what telling compliments and without ridiculous flattery. Of course, one could not expect poor Stockmar to compare with Lord Melbourne. Poor Stockmar? It was the first time she had ever thought of him thus. It must be because she was comparing him with the incomparable Lord Melbourne.

‘It is a great credit to yourself and to us all,’ said the Baron.

She wished they would not keep reminding her of all they had done for her.

The Baron went on: ‘You will have had time to think of that matter we discussed earlier today?’

‘Which matter?’

‘We agreed that you would need a secretary.’

‘My dear Baron, I have had no time to think of anything but my duties this day.’