Виктория Холт - The Widow of Windsor

The Queen looked from one to the other in astonishment. That her doctor and the Keeper of her Privy Purse should decide on what servants she should have was incredible. Had they gone mad?

Dr Jenner said: ‘Of course if Your Majesty does not approve, Brown can be sent back without delay.’

‘Brown!’ said the Queen, her voice changing without her realising it.

‘John Brown, M’am, to whom we both feel we can entrust Your Majesty’s safety in the Highlands – so why not in the South as well.’

The Queen smiled. ‘Brown,’ she said, ‘is a very good and faithful servant.’

‘Your Majesty should get out more. He could drive you, or ride with you, as Your Majesty wished.’

‘It is quite a good idea,’ she admitted.

And when they had gone she felt elated. He really was the perfect servant.

Very soon he arrived and she asked that he be brought to her at once.

‘So here you are, Brown,’ she said. ‘I hope you’re going to like the South. I am sure you will find it very interesting.’

‘It’s nae the Highlands,’ said Brown.

‘Of course it is not the Highlands. But I’m very glad to see you here. I hope you are pleased to come.’

‘I’ll nae be knowing that till I’ve tried it,’ said Brown.

* * *

How she laughed when she was alone. He was so blunt. Of course he was so faithful, so loyal, no respecter of persons, not even that of the Queen, whom he would guard with his life. Albert had always said that he was the best gillie he had ever had – he and Grant that was, and Grant had been the head gillie.

Albert would be very pleased that she had this good and faithful servant with her at Osborne. After all, Jenner and Phipps were right. Why keep him in Scotland? Why should he not be with her wherever she was.

Everyone was noticing the change in her. She smiled more frequently; those about her were astonished by the calm manner in which she allowed Brown to discard ceremony. She would smile at him, admiring his firm chin. She had always admired firm chins and remembered how she used to study her own in the looking-glass until the Baroness Lehzen reproved her vanity. ‘It’s not vanity,’ she would say. ‘It’s the opposite. I dislike my chin. It’s so weak.’ It was the family chin, of course. Some of her uncles had had it; some of her children had it; so she could not be surprised that she had it. No wonder she admired Brown’s chin.

‘Brown,’ she said one day, ‘one can see you’re an obstinate man, by the way in which your chin juts out. It betrays a firmness of purpose.’

Brown fingered his chin and gave her that look which so amused her because it was half contemptuous, half protective. It made her feel that she was a woman rather than a Queen – a very pleasant feeling at times.

‘Ye manage to be an obstinate woman,’ was his comment, ‘with no chin at all.’

So very funny! ‘Really, Brown, you are amusing.’ She was frequently laughing now. Sometimes she pulled herself up sharply and thought of Albert. Then she would go to her room and read her journals and brood on the past until Brown said that she was looking sickly and he’d saddled Flora and it was time they were riding.

There was no doubt at all – Brown made all the difference.

The Queen was secretly dismayed. For several hours of the day she would not even think of Albert. It had happened since Brown had come to Osborne and she realised how right they had been to send for him. Now of course when she went to Balmoral he would go with her, and if she had to go to London he would be there. The prospect of going to London was not nearly so distasteful when she considered that Brown would be there.

Brown was so reliable, so courageous, so amusing, with his dour Highland ways, such a relief after ordinary people. Of course, none of the people who surrounded her appreciated him and they were astonished by what she ‘put up with’ (as they expressed it) from a servant.

‘Brown is no ordinary servant,’ she would say with a laugh. ‘One does not get devotion like that from ordinary servants, I do assure you.’

He looked after the horses and the dogs, but that did take up a great deal of his time and she really needed him to have a more personal post. He was to have a salary of £120 a year – rather large, it was true, but the man needed some compensation for leaving his home. How amusing it was to see his delight when she talked of going to Balmoral. She had arranged that each morning he should come to her room to receive the orders for the day. She looked forward to seeing him and hearing his dry comments on the weather – always so amusing. He had a contempt for the South of which he made no secret which showed how loyal he was to his native land.

Bertie and Alix didn’t like him. Poor Bertie, he was so superficial he could not see the sterling worth of Brown. She was afraid that he was mixing with the wrong sort of people and Lord Palmerston had hinted to her that Bertie’s gambling debts were reaching alarming proportions. She did not believe Parliament would increase Bertie’s allowance, and she could understand their being reluctant to do so. What would he spend the money on? Horse-racing and fast women.

Poor Alix, the Queen was afraid she had to put up with a great deal, and Alfred was turning out to be almost as bad as his elder brother. Who would have thought that with the example Albert had set them they could behave as they did.

So it was natural that Bertie and Alfred should not appreciate Brown. Alice from Darmstadt had written that she thought it an excellent idea that Brown should have come South. It must mean a great deal to dearest Mama to have a servant about her on whom she could rely.

As for Lenchen she was very much aware of the virtues of Brown. She remarked to her mother that his blue eyes were so penetrating and missed nothing and how well they went with that curly beard. He was so strong too. Lenchen at least appreciated John Brown.

* * *

June had come and Alix’s confinement was near. She had been quite well and after a reception went to a concert. During it she began to experience mild pains and was eager to get back home. She went to bed immediately and very shortly after another son was born.

The Queen was delighted. Two boys in such a short time was excellent and it seemed as though Alix was going to be as fruitful as she was herself, always a comfort for a Queen – which Alix would one day be, of course. Although one could have too many. She often thought of those seemingly perpetual pregnancies when she remembered she had been a little irritable and rather a trial to poor Albert.

The new baby was of course much stronger than poor fragile little Eddy; and it was so pleasant to see dear sweet Alix sitting up in bed looking so pretty and happy too, because there was no doubt that Alix was born to be a mother.

The baby was to be called George.

‘George!’ cried the Queen. ‘Why George?’

Alix explained that the Cambridges had always been great friends of hers in the days when Cousin Mary came to Rumpenheim and Alix was only three years old.

‘Poor Mary Cambridge,’ said the Queen. ‘So large and still unmarried.’

‘I thought it would please them to call the baby George after the Duke.’

‘Poor George!’ said the Queen. ‘There was a question at one time of my marrying him.’

‘As there was of my father,’ said Alix with a smile. ‘There were so many eager to marry the Queen of England.’

The Queen admitted this. ‘And how fortunate I was to have succeeded in marrying the most perfect angel that ever existed. But then his very virtues make me miss him all the more.’

Alix hoped the Queen was not going to lapse into one of her monologues on the virtues of Albert, which Bertie had said had become slightly less frequent since the arrival of Brown. At least, he added, that was one good reason for bringing Brown south. Bertie was so irreverent.

Alix talked about the beauties of little George and how it was easy to see even at this stage that he was remarkably intelligent.

The Queen smiled fondly. Little babies were not a subject she greatly enjoyed. So his names were to be George Frederick Ernest. But she thought that every member of the family should bear Albert’s name.

Alix said that Albert could be added, of course.

‘A pity Bertie did not think of it,’ said the Queen severely. ‘Of course I should have preferred Albert to come first.’

‘His brother is Albert Victor,’ Alix reminded her.

‘Of course. Well, second perhaps. George Albert and the rest … if he must have George.’

‘Bertie says George is a King’s name and that there have been four of them recently in succession.’

‘But this little fellow won’t be King and as Eddy is called Eddy, he might have had Albert first.’

But she was not talking with her usual vehemence and Alix sensed this.

‘I do believe,’ Alix said afterwards to Bertie, ‘she talks of the Prince Consort out of habit now rather than sorrow.’

Which, said Bertie, was slightly more bearable.

* * *

In spite of the assiduous care of John Brown life was a little trying. There was constant anxiety about Bertie and the life he was leading; she had heard many stories of the scandals surrounding her uncles and their debts and the troubles they had got into with women; she greatly feared that Bertie was following in their footsteps. The people were displeased about her seclusion. There were pieces constantly appearing in the papers. Some of the ill-mannered politicians were not averse to standing up and pronouncing tirades against her. It was to say the least annoying.