Виктория Холт - The Widow of Windsor

‘Little Willie will have to be taught a lesson or two,’ said the Queen grimly. ‘And when I next see him I will undertake to explain to him that this will not do. I am sorry for poor Vicky. You children have given me many causes for anxiety but I must say that I have never had to complain of your lack of respect to me as your mother and your Queen.’

‘Thank you, Mama. It would in any case be impossible to show disrespect to you even if one wanted to – which is equally impossible.’

The Queen smiled. Bertie had a very gracious way of paying a compliment. She had certain things to be thankful for in Bertie and she was really quite fond of him. Of course he was frivolous and not really a good husband to dear sweet Alix because of this obsession of his with women; but he had charm.

‘Dear Bertie,’ she said. ‘And young Willy may be left to me.’

* * *

There came news that the old Emperor had died; Fritz was now Emperor of Germany and Vicky its Empress.

‘How proud dearest Papa would have been,’ said the Queen.

But Vicky was growing more and more uneasy. Poor Fritz was failing fast; he suffered agony and could not speak at all. He was Emperor for a hundred days and then the sad news came that he was dead.

Wilhelm was so triumphant that he made no secret of his elation. Delighted as he was, yet he blamed his mother for his father’s death. He kept her virtually a prisoner and would not allow her access to any of his father’s papers.

Bertie, attending his brother-in-law’s funeral, was horrified at the new young Emperor’s manner and the way in which his sister was treated.

Bertie returned to England and reported to the Queen; she was furious and when Wilhelm’s envoy was sent to her to announce formally his master’s accession she received him with the utmost coldness.

Wilhelm was resentful. Did his grandmother forget that now he was an Emperor he was of equal importance with her as she was an Empress?

Victoria replied that she had certainly received coldly an envoy who came to announce a death in triumph and without a word of sorrow. The announcement was to her most callous and unseemly. Such conduct would always be received with coldness by her.

Uncle Bertie, complained Wilhelm, had not treated him as an Emperor.

The Queen was incensed. Is the Prince of Wales to treat his nephew as his Imperial Majesty every minute of the day? How absurd. They were all members of a family and they should be treated as such; that was with affection and kindness … if they deserved it! She was a Queen and an Empress but she did not expect members of her family to address her as Your Majesty instead of Mama or Grandmama as the case might be. If Wilhelm felt he was going to flaunt the German Eagle in her private drawing-room he had better keep it where it belonged – in Germany.

Bertie and Wilhelm would never like each other, although Bertie would have forgiven past arrogance if Wilhelm had shown signs of mending his ways. But he did not. The fact that he was the German Emperor had gone to his head and he wanted everyone to remember it every minute of the day.

The Queen agreed with Lord Salisbury that the relations of the two countries should not be affected by ridiculous quarrels like this. They would have to be very careful, though, with such a conceited young man sitting on one of the most powerful thrones in Europe.

Bertie was once more in trouble. It had all come about in the strangest manner. He was at this time deeply enamoured of Lady Brooke, a very forceful, cool beauty in her twenties, and was so taken with her that he had scarcely any time for other women. It was like the Langtry affair over again. Frances Brooke – ‘Daisy’ to her friends – was of an unusual character and the Prince was completely intrigued by everything about her. It was the usual pattern; if hostesses wished him to grace their parties invitations must be sent to Lord and Lady Brooke. The former should be there for the sake of convention, of course.

Racing was his second greatest interest. He enjoyed gambling in any form, and his favourite form of gambling, off the racecourse, was the game of baccarat.

Bertie usually attended the most important race meetings so it was natural that he should go north for those at Doncaster. Things went wrong from the start. Normally he would have stayed at the mansion of one of his greatest friends, Christopher Sykes, but Sykes informed him that he was in financial difficulties and not in a position to entertain royalty. Bertie was alarmed and helped his friend out of his immediate difficulty, but understood at once that he could not pay the usual visit. Sykes had friends near by – a wealthy shipowner named Wilson, who could well afford to entertain the Prince of Wales and would be delighted to do so at his home, Tranby Croft.

‘It would be a great honour for him,’ went on Sykes. The Prince, who liked to honour people and had a great respect for rich people who had made their money out of their wisdom and their own efforts, was delighted.

‘Make sure,’ he said, ‘that Daisy gets an invitation.’

It was all arranged and the Prince looked forward to a pleasant stay. The Wilsons might not be of his circle but they were determined that he should lack nothing during his stay with them.

He arrived at the house expecting to find Daisy there. There was a message for him. Her uncle had died suddenly and she would therefore be unable to join the party.

Bertie was bitterly disappointed but after a few moments he managed to hide his annoyance. They would get some good baccarat, he decided, unaffected by Daisy’s disturbing presence.

Among the players, with the Prince taking charge of the bank, were Mr Wilson and his twenty-two-year-old son, Lieutenant-Colonel Sir William Gordon-Cumming of the Scots Guards, Lord Edward Somerset and Berkeley Levett, a friend of young Wilson. They played with Bertie’s counters which he always carried with him on such visits and which were decorated with the Prince of Wales’ feathers. The stakes were high and when the play was in progress, to his horror young Wilson was sure that he saw Sir William Gordon-Cumming cheating. Sir William sat with his hands clasped over a £5 counter. He leaned forward to see what cards Lord Edward Somerset had and – so young Wilson thought – dropped three more counters on to the paper in front of him which meant that, after he had seen Lord Edward’s cards, he had made £20.

Young Wilson was fascinated. He could not believe that he had seen correctly. For the rest of the evening he watched Sir William and was convinced that he was concealing counters in his hands and adding to them or taking them back according to the exposed cards of his friends.

He was so overwrought that he whispered to his friend Levett to watch. Levett did; and he was of the same opinion as Wilson. Sir William Gordon-Cumming was cheating.

When the household had retired Wilson went to Levett’s room and they talked of the matter. Levett said he was sure that Sir William was cheating; but what could he, a very junior officer in Sir William’s regiment, do about it? It was a terrible state of affairs.

Wilson said he would tell his mother and ask her what should be done.

‘For heaven’s sake be careful,’ said Mrs Wilson when she heard. ‘We don’t want a scandal. This is the first time we have entertained the Prince of Wales. Not a word to anybody. They will all have gone in a few days, so let it rest.’

But the young man could not get it out of his mind and he told his brother-in-law, Mr Lycett Green, who was horrified and immediately confided the story to his wife.

There was a conference with Berkeley, Levett and those members of the family who knew, and the Wilsons decided that cheating had been easy because the table they had used had in fact been three whist tables put together. Now if they had a real baccarat table with the proper lines drawn on it, cheating would not be easy.

This seemed the solution. A baccarat table was produced for it was certain that the following night the Prince would want to play his favourite game.

They were right, he did; and much to the dismay of all the people concerned it appeared that Sir William repeated his tricks of the night before. They then decided that this could not be allowed to pass; they were uncertain what should be done, but there were at the house party sophisticated members of high society who could know and they must be told at once. Among them was General Owen Williams, a friend of Gordon-Cumming; and another was Lord Coventry.

‘Good God!’ said the General when he heard. ‘I don’t believe, I won’t believe … But we’ll have to tell William.’

The attitude of Sir William when confronted by the accusation was strange. He did not ask who had seen him cheat though he denied doing so and asked to see the Prince of Wales.

Bertie was his usual bland good-natured self. He couldn’t believe that Sir William had cheated and was ready to believe him. ‘But,’ he pointed out, ‘five people say they have seen you. Five is quite a large number.’

‘I shall leave this house,’ said Sir William. ‘I shall cut those five people dead when I see them.’

‘Well, there are five of them,’ said the Prince, ‘and it won’t do you much good if they let this out.’

Sir William left them, and the Prince had to admit when talking over the matter with Coventry, Somerset and Owen Williams that it was very strange that Gordon-Cumming had not asked who his accusers were.

‘We’d better see them all separately,’ said Bertie, ‘and we’ll decide whether we believe them or Sir William.’