‘Why do you sit there?’ Victoria wanted to know. ‘I used to be all alone in my room.’

‘Do you not wish for a companion?’

Victoria was usually precise. ‘I was not thinking of whether I liked a companion but asking why it was thought necessary to give me one.’

‘Her Highness the Duchess has asked me to bring my needlework in here and sit until she comes to bed.’

‘I see,’ said Victoria, ‘that it must be because she does not wish me to be alone.’

‘The Duchess thinks constantly of what is best for you.’

‘I know,’ said Victoria.

‘And knowing it, it would be wise to accept it without question.’

How could one accept anything without question? Victoria wondered. For if one did, how could one expect to discover what everything was about?

But it was very pleasant at Claremont – Charlotte’s Claremont, where she might have had her little baby and if he had lived – for Louisa Lewis had let out that the child was a boy – Victoria would not have been as important as she was at this moment; in fact there might not have been a Victoria at all. What a gossip Louisa was! She loved to tell stories of the family; so Victoria knew of all the urgency of getting her uncles married when Charlotte had died, including her own Papa.

A world without Victoria? Impossible! she thought. So poor Charlotte had to die.

It was hard to imagine death in Claremont; but death could be anywhere … even in Kensington Palace. Death! Mystery! Something strange was happening and it was all about her. It concerned her.

She was suddenly alert. She had seen a figure moving among the trees. Who was it? Not Mamma, for Mamma was seated on the lawn; she knew exactly where Mamma was. Someone was watching her.

Her heart began to beat faster. Who was watching her? And why? And all this mystery was a little frightening. It made one wonder if something really dreadful was about to happen.

She could ride quickly back to the lawn and Mamma – or she could go closer to the trees and look. She hesitated for a second. She was on her pony; she could always gallop away or call for help.

She galloped over to the trees.

‘Who is there?’ she called.

She was relieved yet a little disappointed. It was only a young woman who stepped out from among the trees.

She curtsied as Victoria pulled up.

‘Who are you?’ she asked.

‘I am Dr Stockmar’s niece.’

Victoria knew Dr Stockmar; he was Uncle Leopold’s physician and Uncle Leopold was very fond of him and talked to him for hours of his rheumatism.

‘Are you staying at Claremont?’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘It is very beautiful, do you think?’

‘Very beautiful.’

‘I haven’t seen you before.’

‘No, Your Highness.’

‘I suppose you know my Uncle Leopold?’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘Do you know who I am?’

‘Certainly. Everyone knows the Princess Victoria.’

‘That is a remark which gratifies me,’ said Victoria. ‘What is your name?’

‘Caroline Bauer, Your Highness.’

Victoria wrinkled her brows. ‘I have never heard of you although I know your uncle … well.’

‘There is really no reason why Your Highness should hear of me,’ was the answer.

And at that moment the Duchess of Kent appeared. Hearing the sound of voices and recognizing one as that of her daughter, she had come hurrying to see with whom Victoria was conversing.

The effect on her was startling. She gave the girl a withering look and said: ‘Victoria, ride at once to the stables. I shall expect to see you in your room in fifteen minutes.’

Victoria, who had been about to present Caroline Bauer to the Duchess, hesitated, thinking that her mother could not have been aware of the young woman’s presence.

But the Duchess said coldly: ‘Pray go at once.’ And as Victoria went she noticed her mother turn away and sweep back to the lawn, just as though the girl were not there, and someone Victoria had imagined.

Life was really growing very strange.

The Duchess looked reproachfully at her brother.

‘Really, Leopold,’ she said. ‘A most distressing occurrence. Victoria came face to face with Caroline Bauer in the gardens.’

‘I am sure Victoria must have been enchanted.’

‘We are not all as besotted as you. And besotted you must be to keep your mistress here … where Victoria is likely to meet her.’

‘My dear sister,’ said Leopold, ‘I doubt Victoria would have thought anything amiss if you had not walked off in a huff and left Caroline standing there.’

‘So that unfortunate creature has been carrying tales of what happened?’

‘You can hardly call it tales.’

‘But, Leopold, is it wise? Think of Victoria.’

‘Victoria will have to learn something of the world one day.’

‘Not such immoral details, I hope.’

‘Well, if she is going to learn the history of the world she will discover much of what you are pleased to call immoral. And she won’t have to go farther than her own family either.’

The Duchess shivered. ‘Leopold, I sometimes wonder what has come over you. You used to be so different! Here … in this house where you lived with Charlotte.’

‘Charlotte would understand,’ he said. ‘It is twelve years since she died. She would not begrudge me this friendship … as you appear to.’

‘I was thinking of Victoria.’

‘An occupation of us all – thinking of Victoria. I must say the child is exceptionally bright.’

He looked at his sister quizzically; he had succeeded in changing the subject. The accomplishments of Victoria were an irresistible bait.

He added: ‘She will make a great Queen.’

‘I pray nothing will interfere with her accession to the throne.’

‘What could?’

‘I am afraid. All these rumours. I sense danger … and I am not sure from where it may come. I never like the child to be alone.’

‘You are fanciful.’

‘It is a great responsibility.’

‘Of course it is, but you have me to help you.’

‘If you can spare the time from … your mistress!’

‘Oh, pray don’t be tiresome. Caroline has nothing to do with this. You ask me why I keep her here in Claremont. Do you ask yourself why I should be in Claremont? I might be in Greece. Did you know the Greeks had offered me the crown? Did you know that I had declined and the reason I had done so?’

‘Because, my dear brother, you did not want the Greek crown.’

‘Because, my dear sister, I preferred to stay in England. I wish to be at hand to stand with you when you need me. And believe me, you will need me, when Victoria is Queen and you are Regent, for she will not be of age, I am certain, when the crown is hers.’

‘You think Clarence will not live another eight years?’

He put his head close to hers. ‘I think Clarence may well be put away. You have heard the rumours?’

‘What if they are but rumours … like those about Victoria?’

‘I don’t think they are but rumours. Clarence is unbalanced to say the least. It could happen … this year, next year. This week. What then? Where would you be without your brother Leopold?’

‘I admit it is a comfort for me to remember that you are here.’

‘Then allow me my comforts, sister. And where is my little niece now? Why is it that you have allowed her out of your sight?’

‘Because she has gone to her room and Baroness Lehzen will be there. While she rode in the gardens Lehzen would have been watching her from the window We never let her far out of our sight.’

‘Little Victoria is safe … with such watch-dogs.’

The Duchess was not sure that she liked the term watch-dog which was somewhat undignified; but she needed Leopold and so she must accept his ways.

John Conroy was delighted with the situation. He was becoming indispensable to the Duchess of Kent who discussed everything with him. The Princess Sophia, who since the death of Queen Charlotte had made Kensington Palace her home, was rather taken with him too.

‘I have a way with the royal ladies,’ he told his wife. She was a meek woman and thought him exceedingly clever; she was ready therefore to allow him to go to work in whatever way he considered best. He had now become Sir John, which pleased him. With Lehzen a Baroness it was only fitting that he too should have a title.

He was indisputably head of the Duchess’s household and since her fears concerning the Princess Victoria he had become even more important to her. In her anxiety she depended on him almost as much as she did on Leopold; and now that Leopold did not seem to be completely trustworthy, she leaned towards him more and more.

He would have liked to discuss his cleverness with Lady Conroy, but she was too stupid; so all he could do was continue in it. One day he would be a rich and powerful man. If George died and William either followed him or was put away, Victoria would be Queen and her mother Regent, and who would be her chief counsellor? Sir John Conroy. One might say brother Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, but would Leopold stay here? Sir John, who flattered himself that he had a finger in foreign affairs, did not think so. Already Leopold had toyed with the idea of accepting the Greek throne and although he declared that he had no intention of taking it, that was not true. He had considered the proposition very seriously. And no wonder. What was he doing here in England? He was at loggerheads with the King and his brothers; he was accepting a pension from England, grudgingly given, he was living at Claremont which must be full of memories of his brief but blissful life with Charlotte; and it was clear that he was only waiting for the right opportunity to leave.