The Captive of Kensington Palace (20 page)

She should take care.

‘A foreigner is not a very competent judge of English liberties, and politics are not the proper field for female enterprise and exertion,’ said an observer in
The Times
.

She was constantly compared with Marie Antoinette.

‘I bid the Queen of England remember that in consequence of the opposition of the ill-fated woman to the wishes of France, a fairer head than ever graced the shoulders of Adelaide, Queen of England, rolled on the scaffold.’

‘They hate me,’ she cried. ‘They hate me because I am a foreigner.’

The King recovered. She felt happier when he was well. He made less of these matters than she did.

‘Lot of stuff,’ he said. ‘It’ll pass.’

When they went to the play they were received in the theatre by silence but when they drove home mud was thrown at their carriage and a stone broke the window.

Adelaide was trembling and William was red with fury.

‘This is an inconvenience,’ he shouted. ‘If people are going to throw stones through the windows of my coach it will constantly have to be repaired and I’m always going somewhere.’

The uneasy weeks went on. There was undoubtedly revolution in the air. And in due course the Reform Bill was passed through the Commons and was rejected by the Lords.

The Duchess of Kent and her Comptroller were watching events with great attention.

The Duchess’s great fear was Adelaide’s friendship with Earl Howe.

‘For,’ as she whispered to Sir John, ‘what if she should have a child by that man? What fearful complications! What a terrible thing!’

‘I’m sure she will never do that. She is far too prim.’

‘Of course if she did become pregnant
I
should want to be very sure who was the father.’

Lights of cupidity were in the Duchess’s eyes. Suppose the dreaded event should come to pass. Suppose Adelaide was with child. She would swear that it was Earl Howe’s. There would be a revolution. There would have to be. It would be the only way to get Victoria where she belonged … on the throne.

Sir John smiled at her indulgently. ‘Don’t let us face this terrible fact until it has happened,’ he said. ‘I am convinced that it never will.’

‘Dear Sir John, such a comfort. But I do declare I shall have to make the King see reason. I believe he thinks of nothing but how to mortify me.’

‘He may well be equally concerned with the trouble over the Reform Bill,’ suggested Sir John with that irony that always passed over the Duchess’s ornate head.

‘And serve him right. I hear they threw mud at his carriage. He is really most unpopular. And can you wonder at it. A foolish old man. And they
hate
Adelaide. She becomes more and more unpopular.’

Sir John said that the people did not like German ladies and the Duchess agreed, seeming to forget that she was one.

‘And now that Buggin person. Because she changes her name to Underwood does that alter the fact that she is a Buggin?’

‘She was an Underwood before her marriage.’

‘But she is a Buggin now; and even though the Duke of Sussex has gone through a ceremony of marriage with her that does not make her his wife. She will never be accepted. Victoria will never receive her. I shall see to that. And I am expected to live at Kensington Palace under the same roof with a Buggin!’

‘The Duke I have heard dotes on her and likes to smother her with jewels.’

‘Then she must look like a decorated barrel. She is so short and fat. I wonder what he sees in her?’

‘I was going to suggest,’ said Sir John, tactfully changing the subject, ‘that since the Princess is so refreshed by sea breezes we take a little trip to the sea.’

‘What an excellent idea. I should enjoy to get away from Kensington for a while. People talk of nothing here but reform. And the people in the streets are getting so disgusting. So many dirty people standing about and they come too close to the Palace to please me.’

‘Then let us take a little trip. It is as well for the Princess to be seen about the country. She should travel like the heiress to the throne. And whatever objections there are the royal standard should fly over her residence and the guns give the royal salute.’

The Duchess nodded.

Trust Sir John to soothe her.

As the Reform Bill had been passed through the Commons – though it still had to go through the Lords – William decided that his coronation should take place.

The people were always beguiled by ceremonies; and it would be a change to have a bit of pageantry in the streets. They might well find it much more to their taste than a lot of sordid riots. Earl Grey applauded this decision; he felt it would do a great deal of good in conjunction with the fact that the Bill’s passing through the Commons had put the people in a good mood.

‘Mind you,’ said the King, ‘I don’t care for too much ceremony, I don’t want any Bishops kissing me, and I think that we don’t want to spend too much money on the business.’

‘If it is going to please the people it should be done in appropriate style, Sir.’

‘I’ll not have money wasted,’ said the King.

The people were of course delighted at the prospect of a coronation. The disgruntled Tories said that it was a great mistake to try to economise on this, and they would not wish to attend a coronation which was tawdry and over which there had been obvious economy.

‘All right, all right,’ said the King. ‘And what do they propose to do about it?’

Wellington told him that his colleagues would not attend unless a required amount of money was lavished on the necessary details.

‘By God,’ cried the King. ‘So they’ll stay away, eh? That’s good news. It’ll avoid the crush.’

There was no way of making a King of William.

Then came trouble from the Duchess of Kent.

She wrote to the King to say that she was delighted to hear he had at last agreed to be crowned. He would, of course, wish Victoria to take her rightful
place
immediately behind him.

When William received this letter he was furious. He went into Adelaide’s sanctum where she was enjoying a pleasant
tête-à-tête
with Earl Howe.

‘That woman!’ he cried. ‘That damned woman!’

‘Is it the Duchess of Kent?’ asked Adelaide.

‘Is it the Duchess of Kent! Of course it is that damned irritating woman.’

‘What is the trouble now?’ asked Adelaide.

‘She’s giving me instructions about the coronation. Her daughter is to walk immediately behind me, to show everyone that she is second only to the King. Did you ever hear such … such … impertinence.’

‘William, my dear, I beg of you to sit down,’ said the Queen. ‘The Duchess is merely being her tiresome self.’

‘And if she thinks I’m going to have that … that chit …’

‘She is only a child.
She
should not be blamed.’

‘I don’t blame her. Nice little thing. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her mother poke her interfering finger into royal affairs. Certainly not, I say. Certainly she shall not walk immediately behind me. Every brother and sister of mine – and I’m not exactly short of them – shall take precedence over Victoria.’

‘Is that right …’ began Adelaide. ‘I mean is that the way to treat the heiress presumptive to the throne?’

‘It’s the way I am treating her,’ said the King. His lips were stubborn. ‘That child will come to the coronation and walk where she is told.’

‘Oh, it is monstrous!’ cried the Duchess. ‘If I were not so
angry
I should faint with fury.’

‘Pray do not do that,’ said Sir John. ‘We need all our wits to deal with this situation.’

‘Victoria shall not be
exposed
to indignity, which she would be if she followed those stupid old aunts and uncles of hers.’

‘She must not do it.’

‘Then how … ?’

Sir John smiled, delighted that once again the Duchess was at loggerheads with her family. The more isolated she was, the more power for Sir John. As it was he was almost constantly in her company; his home was Kensington Palace, and to give respectability to the situation, Lady Conroy and the children were there also. His daughters Jane and Victoire were the companions of the Princess Victoria and he endeavoured to arrange that she saw as little as possible of the young people of her own family. The fact that the King had said she must make more public appearances had worried him; he had had visions of Victoria’s affection for the Queen – which was already considerable – being a real stumbling block. So he welcomed controversies such as this and encouraged the Duchess in her truculent attitude.

‘If the King will not give her her rightful place,’ said Sir John, ‘she must refuse to attend the coronation.’

‘The heiress to the throne not present at the coronation!’

‘If it is regrettably necessary, yes. The people will notice her absence and they will blame the King for it. Moreover, the King wishes Victoria to be under the charge of his sisters and not to walk with you, which is significant.’

‘Significant,’ cried the Duchess.

‘It means that on this important occasion he is taking your daughter from your care. Don’t you see what meaning people will attach to this?’

‘I do indeed and my mind is made up. Victoria shall
not
attend the coronation.’

‘I should write and tell His Majesty that you believe you should stay in the Isle of Wight as to leave it now might be detrimental to your daughter’s health.’

The Duchess nodded sagely.

‘This will show the old fool,’ she said.

‘Let her stay away,’ growled the King. ‘I tell you this, Adelaide: my great hope is that I live long enough to prevent that woman ever becoming Regent.’

‘Of course you will. There are many years left to you.’

William’s eyes glinted. ‘God help the country if she was ever Regent. I’m going to live long enough to see Victoria stand alone.’

‘You will if you take care of yourself.’

He smiled at her, his eyes glazed with sudden sentiment. ‘You’re a good woman, Adelaide. I’m glad I was able to make a Queen of you.’

‘It’s enough that you are a very good husband to me.’

William was pleased. Momentarily he had forgotten that maddening sister-in-law of his.