Victoria (8 page)

1 October

Lehzen and I costumed two new dolls, one as the singer Maria Malibran in her role as Mathilde in
William Tell
, and the other as Lady Durham dressed for the opera. We have started a list of all the dolls we've dressed so far. There are 46 of them. I don't count the first four, for they are so untidy now, I show them to no one. I was only learning to sew then – my stitches were but three to the inch.

8 October

O'Hum's birthday this month. I cannot think what I ought to do for a gift. For my birthday, he and Mamma gave me my red plush saddle for Rosa. But I haven't enough money to do so much.

9 October

I have had an idea. I am painting a portrait of Victoire for O'Hum's gift. Mr Westall says I do a nice likeness when I set my mind to it. Toire sits v still, and when she wants to make a remark, she whispers, as if her face will not move so much if she does not speak normally. She says, “Are my eyes open wide enough? I don't wish to appear drowsy. But perhaps it is more effective to look dreamy and thoughtful. Does my hair appear smooth? The weather is so damp today, I'm sure it could not be as sleek as it ought to be. Oh, do make my frock blue! Yellow is not my best colour.”

I wonder if she's ever been told that a picture is better than a thousand words.

10 October

I fear I have become impatient with my painting, as well as with Toire. I recall our visit to the British Museum to see Lord Elgin's collection of Greek sculpture from the Parthenon of Athens. Now I feel painting is a poor, flat thing compared to statues. If I were a real artist, I'm sure I should learn to sculpt.

And to think that Uncle Leopold might undertake to govern Greece, so rich in Classical art. Yet I cannot bear the thought of his going away.

31 October

Oh, Feo, how can such things come about? What did we ever do, to deserve such bitter pain? Life will never be sweet, never. I hate Captain Conroy. It is only today that it has become calm again. But it is a terrible calm, like a church after a funeral.

Captain Conroy's birthday – oh, fie on the day. Mamma gave him one of my Duke Papa's field watches as a gift, and I wish she had not done it. She said it was because he was so devoted to Papa and shared her memories of him better than others do. I thought that was unfair, for I can't help not remembering, and I'm sure my Papa's own brothers and sisters remember him as well as Captain Conroy does, probably better. But she as good as admitted he told her himself he'd like to have it, and, as she said, she could not very well turn down a request that revealed such loyalty and devotion.

I gave him the picture I painted (as well as some tobacco in a very handsome tin I bought with my own pocket money). Toire and I stood there while he inspected it, and he said, “Oh, hmm, very nice, very nice indeed. Tell Westall he's done a good job on you, Your Highness. You've a great deal of talent, not all little girls do.” But he didn't say it was pretty, and Toire was let down.

I would feel more sympathy toward her if she had not been so grumpose to me all day afterward. It was not my fault and I did make her frock blue and even put blond lace on the sleeves, which came out well.

There is just something about O'Hum's sensibility to gifts. Toire gave him
savon bergamot
, a pleasant, manly soap. Uncle Sussex recommended it, and it was a v nice choice, I would have thought. O'Hum said, “Oh, hmm, thank you, m'girl,” nary a word more.

A great many guests came to dinner. He had to hold forth – every opinion of his own was awesome for cleverness, and no one else had information he would admit was correct, but he was entirely wise about everything, and he would explain why. It was all his especial friends and people for whom he does favours. They all drank a great deal of wine and said, “He's a capital fellow.” Someone I overheard but did not see, for he was behind the Chinese screen – and I am glad not to know who is such a traitor – said, “If only Sir John had the management of the Throne, he'd whip it all into shape, would he not?”

Feo, this makes me ill, remembering.

Later

Mamma was having a pleasant evening at first, I believe. There was pheasant and saddle of venison and crown roast of pork and a great lot of other stuff, everything O'Hum likes, and six wines. When Mrs MacLeod took Toire, and Lehzen and I went up to bed, Mamma was full of cheer and had roses on her cheeks.

I went to sleep for quite a while, I thought, but something woke me v late at night. I'd taken a nap in the afternoon because of the party, so I was all at once v much awake, not at all sleepy. So I thought I'd write, since I have so little time for it these days. I had put my diary in the red drawing room behind the inlaid cabinet full of little ivory elephants that General Clive brought home from India, and I crept out of bed to go and get it. Lehzen must have been deep asleep, for she said nothing to me. And she does snore a bit, not loudly, but one can hear her. I was halfway down to the corner of the corridor when I heard Captain Conroy's voice up ahead, and I saw there was a crack of light around the door into the card room. I thought at first that he'd stayed up playing whist and was arguing over the game.

“What SHE likes, is it?” he was saying. “NEVER a woman who knew what she liked nor would shut her mouth blathering about what SHE likes, what SHE likes!”

Then – oh, Feo, I heard Mamma's voice, and she did
not
sound calm.

“Lower your tone,” she said. “Don't talk to me so.” But she did not sound firm. There was a different quality in her voice. I think she was distressed and agitated.

I came close to the door, thinking I would fling it open and say they would cause me a bad dream. But as I approached, I heard some piece of furniture scraping suddenly across the floor, and Captain Conroy saying, lower, but very angrily, “Always what SHE likes, but who does the work, I ask you!” Then I heard more scraping, and a thump against the wall.

I thought Mamma might not like me to intrude on a private quarrel, but this did not seem usual. So, although I was terrified, I stepped up to the door and peered into the room.

Oh, Feo. He had her pushed against the wall in the corner, and was holding her there. She twisted and tried to escape him, but he held her fast against the panelling, and kept saying, “SHE wants, does she, does she? But who's the one who does the work, eh?”

I could tell he might harm her. I was sure of it.

But here is the problem: I didn't know if he meant what
Mamma
wants, or what
I
want. For they are both always looking out for my interests, they are always telling me. So I thought if I went in, he might turn on me, too, and Mamma would be worse off.

I was such a coward. I am ashamed of it now. I am not like my Papa. I ran back down the corridor to Mamma's antechamber. De Spaeth was there, sitting up reading, waiting for Mamma to turn in. I was trembling and weeping (I realized later) and could hardly speak sensibly, but waved my arm, pointing, and said, “He's hurting her, stop him hurting her!” And de Spaeth leapt up from her chair and said, “An assassin, a robber?”

“The Captain!” I told her. “Sir John!”

But de Spaeth did not seem to understand me. At least, I thought, either she didn't understand or she just didn't believe me. She said, “Your Highness, you should be in bed!”

I said, “A good thing I'm not! The Captain is attacking Mamma! Stop him!” But she seized me by the hand and brought me into my corner of the bedchamber and tucked me in (so tight I could scarcely breathe) before she went to help Mamma, and I was furious at her. She is not a good hand in an emergency! I would never have thought it of her, but she was
slow
, Feo! If I had been Uncle Billy, I would have been roaring at her, “
Put on more canvas, by God!
” Had it been an
assassin
, Mamma would have been murdered by that time!

But that is only the first part of the terrible story, and now I must go to sleep. I will try to write the rest tomorrow, for the world is upside down.

1 November

The sadness drags on.

I meant to stay awake until I heard Mamma come in to her end of our suite. But, abed, in the darkness, I could not tell when I drifted off.

In the morning, Lehzen had to wake me up for breakfast. Mamma was indisposed and so was de Spaeth, I thought. The Captain had gone out to the country shooting with Count Zichy's equerry at someone's private park. It turned out later that, besides my Papa's watch, Mamma had given him a weimaraner bird dog we are not to be permitted to spoil.

Before my lessons, I went to Mamma's door with a posy of asters and chrysanthemums I picked while Lehzen and I gave Fanny and Dash their exercise. I thought it likely she was awake, but she was not. Mrs MacLeod said she and de Spaeth sat up talking about old times until dawn and were just going to bed when she came up to supervize the maid, Lutie, who was stirring up the fires.

Everything seemed so natural and slow, I was like to doubt it all – some sort of nightmare no one else recalled.

Only, Lehzen seemed distracted, and excused herself from the room while Mr Westall had Toire and me sketching seashells, in the style of his father's South Sea Islands pictures. My palm trees appear too flat, for I do not do them from life.

Then Mamma was at luncheon but de Spaeth was not, and when I asked why, Mamma said, “I think you
know
.” But I did not.

Aunt Soap made several attempts to gossip about the dinner party, but Mamma pleaded her headache and did not take up the conversation. So eventually Aunt Soap withdrew to go visit Uncle Sussex, and Mamma told me to go with her and read some Aesop. Mamma also said to send Lehzen to her while I was in the library.

Aunt Soap said, “Go over by the globes, there's a good child,” so she could tell Uncle Sussex what she had in a note from Aunt Adelaide. When they don't tell me all they have heard about Aunt Adelaide and I know they are speaking of her, I always wonder if she has had another unfortunate infant. It is not fair all her children should have died, for she and Uncle Billy
like
having little children about. Uncle says, “Well, it keeps one young to bide with young ones whenever one can, for one can't always, after all.”

But Aunt waited to get into the letter until I was at the table by the globes, where I could not hear.

I wonder if I am turning into the sort of person Toire is, eavesdropping and tattling on what I think is wrongdoing.

Later

It is a good thing it's shooting season. The Captain goes out hunting, and I am free to write. Lehzen is terrified, though, and I will explain why, if I can only write a bit longer today.

I did not suspect what a change in our life was already coming about! How bitter, now, my self-blame!

When I returned to the white parlour, there were Lehzen and de Spaeth, sitting, prim and correct, on the pink satin chairs, and de Spaeth said, “Your Highness, you will envy me when I tell you where I am going.”

“Where?” I said, thinking she must mean to some performance that evening or for a weekend party at one of the pretty places we'd stayed at in our recent travels.

“Hohenlohe,” she said then, in a very quiet and decisive voice. “To Princess Feodora. She will have use for my training when she has a baby.”

I could not believe what I was hearing! Kensington Palace has always had dear de Spaeth here for Mamma! I looked at her more closely and could not see that she had been weeping. But she does not get little purple speckles under her eyes as Aunt Soap does from the exertion of tears, and besides, she is v deft with cosmetics when she
chooses
to be. But even so, I thought she
had
been weeping. How could she not? She has been Mamma's lady-in-waiting since Mamma was married to
your
father, Feo! We are her life! I am sure she thought England had become her home! I know she will be glad to be with you, but Mamma is her best friend – or was.

Then the horror of the situation truly struck me, for I saw that not only was the dear Baroness to go – it was not even something she would choose for herself. Surely, she has been ordered away.

And this is why Lehzen is so nervous. If de Spaeth can be sent away, who's been here
forever
, WHAT ABOUT LEHZEN?

I must be very,
very
careful.

I hope Uncle Leopold will come visit us v SOON.

2 November

The saddest of mornings. It is my Papa's birthday, and dear Baroness de Spaeth has gone. She did not even oversee her own packing, and has taken only her travelling bags and trunk. Mrs MacLeod will see to the rest. It is so unkind – no, it is more than unkind. It is cruel.

De Spaeth and I had not been alone together this whole time, so I was not able to ask her what she said to Mamma that night. I do not know if Mamma knows it was I who sent the Baroness in to the card room. I tried to speak with Mamma yesterday, and then again this morning. She is v stiff and distracted with me.

I asked her, “Without our de Spaeth, who will take care of you?” She said that she has other ladies – as if she were saying she has other bonnets.

I told her I would not stand for her being hurt! I looked her in the eye when I said it, so she'd know I know how Captain Conroy treats her.

“The Baroness is not my mother, Vickelchen,” she said coldly. “After twenty-five years, she sometimes forgets that. And Lehzen is not
your
mamma. You obey her because you would obey me. That is all.”

I did not like this talk. Mamma seemed to be bending away from all that has happened, erasing and rewriting so it agrees with her better – so it will agree with Captain Conroy. Everything has to agree with him. I hate him.

However, what she was saying about Lehzen made me think twice before saying more. I gave her a very cold, hard look, though, and I did not walk away. I insisted that she should not send de Spaeth away, that it is a very, VERY bad idea.

I thought perhaps she was reconsidering, for it was a long moment before she spoke again. But then she said, “You and everyone else will think I sent her away. Let them think it. She was very improper in a particular way she spoke to me recently. She has gone too far. I cannot tolerate such intrusion and such selfishness from one of my ladies. But I did not cast her off.”

“Then you should stop
him
from doing so,” I told her.

“Is that what you think? You are still so young,” Mamma said then, and her tone was not entirely gentle. “De Spaeth saw it was time for her to leave, and she has gone. If your father had lived through our first year here, she would have gone back to Germany before this, child. Your father would not have permitted her to be so outspoken. But I had only known him a little when we married, and I did not live in England for even a year before he died. If it had not been for Sir John, we should none of us have done well. You should remember that and learn to be grateful to those who want the best for you.”

“I am grateful to the Baroness,” I said. “I had thought it a lesson you meant to teach me by example.”

Then I curtsied. I did not ask to be excused, but I left her there. I was
very
angry, and feared if I did not go, I would say things I should be sorry for later.