Victoria Confesses (9781442422469) (27 page)

Sunday evening was my last as an unmarried woman. Mamma did not think it proper to have an engaged couple stay the night in the same dwelling, but I reminded her that my “dwelling” had
750 rooms, and besides, the rule was foolish nonsense. Beloved Albert and I went over the marriage ceremony together and tried on the ring to be sure it fit. And he gave me a magnificent sapphire brooch as a wedding present.

When I lay down on my bed that night after some VERY long and heartfelt prayers, I thought,
For the very last time I shall sleep alone. Tomorrow my dearest, most beloved Albert will sleep by my side,
and drifted off to sleep.

I awoke in fine spirits on my wedding day, Monday, the tenth of February, to find that we had been blessed with thoroughly unpleasant weather—cold wind and lashing rain. While still in my dressing gown I dashed off a note to dear Albert: “Send word when you, my dearest loved bridegroom, will be ready.”

Mamma came to my apartments with a lovely posy of orange blossoms, and we breakfasted together for the last time. I was not in the least unhappy about that, but Mamma seemed a bit tearful. Our conversation concerned, as always, only the most trivial of subjects—if the rain would stop before the ceremony, whether the trainbearers' dresses were sufficiently modest. Then abruptly my mother leaned close and took my hand. “My dear Victoria,” she whispered, avoiding my eyes, “perhaps we should discuss what you may expect on your wedding night.”

“Not at all necessary, Mamma,” I told her briskly. “I have already spoken to the duchess of Sutherland on the subject, and she has told me
exactly
what to expect.”

Mamma got the injured look she wore so often and said, “I would have thought that conversation might best be had between mother and daughter.”

“Lady Harriet has borne seven children, Mamma. I think you may be assured that I have been correctly informed.”

Lady Harriet had shown no reluctance whatsoever in her discussion of the subject. “I shall tell you what I plan to tell my own daughters when they are about to marry,” she'd said, and proceeded to describe the differences between male and female anatomy, the function of these specific parts, and precisely how the joining of these parts was best facilitated.

“You may rest assured,” Lady Harriet had continued, “that Baron Stockmar has instructed Prince Albert more than adequately. Stockmar was educated as a physician. You have nothing whatever to fear. But perhaps you have questions? You may speak freely and openly to me.”

I hesitated. I did not tell Lady Harriet that I wasn't in the least fearful and in fact looked forward EAGERLY to the hour when my body would be joined with Albert's as passionately and as rapturously as our hearts, but I
was
fearful of the results of that passion: the possibility of conceiving a child. I thought of every horror I had ever heard of a young woman dying in childbirth, as Uncle Leopold's first wife, Princess Charlotte, had, and of the many babies born who had died very young, as Queen Adelaide's had, and Aunt Louise's too.

“I do have a question,” I told Lady Harriet, who leaned forward eagerly. Shyly and with several false starts I asked, “Is there a way to prevent conceiving a child?”

Lady Harriet drew back, shocked and frowning. “My dear Victoria, please banish such thoughts from your mind,” she ordered sternly. “People of quality do not resort to such measures, which most Christians regard as sinful and in violation of God's will. And you must remember that it is your duty to provide the nation with an heir.”

My face grew hot with shame. “I only meant to delay conception for a time. A year at most.”

“Impossible,” she said and rose abruptly. “I beg your pardon, your majesty,” she said, refusing to look me in the eye. “I fear that I can be of no further help to you.” She fairly fled from my presence.

I sighed. There was no one else to ask—certainly not Mamma. Perhaps dearest Albert had raised the subject with Baron Stockmar. I did hope it was something we could discuss.

After my mother had gone, Maggie began doing my hair, brushing it smooth and looping it over my ears. When she had finished, I simply could not resist running to Albert's room to see him for the last time alone, as my bridegroom and not yet my husband. He seemed rather shocked to find that I had once again broken with tradition, but nevertheless was SO HAPPY to see me. We embraced and kissed and could scarcely bear to be parted, even for a little while.

Back in my dressing room, Skerrett and the maids were ready to begin: the corset laced up the back over my embroidered chemise, the white silk stockings fastened above the knee with garters, the layers of petticoats, and finally the rich white satin wedding gown with a very deep flounce of lace. A white wedding gown was not the custom, but I remembered that Mamma had always dressed me in white for my public appearances as a child. Though I disliked many of the habits my mother inflicted on me when I was too young to protest, I had grown to believe that a white gown set me apart as queen. Maggie checked my hair, fastened on the wreath of orange blossoms, and arranged the lace veil. Dearest Daisy carefully added the diamond necklace and earrings and the sapphire and diamond brooch, the deep blue stone the only note of color.

The wind had stopped, the rain had ceased, and the sun was
peeping hopefully through a scattering of fleecy clouds when I climbed into my carriage shortly after noon. With me were Mamma and Lady Harriet, who said she would not have missed this for the world but still avoided my eye. We were driven to St. James's. I had not been granted my wish to have the wedding at Buckingham Palace. Lord Melbourne had persuaded me that the chapel royal was more appropriate, shrewdly guessing that I had wanted a smaller chamber only in order to accommodate fewer guests—nearly all of them Whigs.

Crowds had turned out for my wedding day, though perhaps not so many as had jammed the streets around the palace for my coronation. I waved and smiled and they rewarded me with cheers.

My twelve young trainbearers, dressed in white with white roses and looking very pretty, waited nervously in the Queen's Closet. There was a flourish of trumpets, and then the organ began to play as my procession entered the chapel. Three hundred people (only the merest handful of them Tories!) were gathered to wish me well.

Lord Melbourne carried the Sword of State—he handled it much more deftly than he had at my coronation—and Uncle Sussex escorted me to the altar. All proceeded without mishap, except for the trainbearers who were continually tripping over their own feet. Dearest Albert waited at the altar. Dressed in the uniform of a British field marshal with scarlet jacket and white breeches and stockings, he looked SO handsome, SO dashing! Though I was trembling when I first entered, I now felt very calm and spoke my vows in a clear voice.

As I left the chapel on dearest Albert's arm, I did notice that Mamma looked disconsolate and distressed. Could she not manage to look happy for me on this, the most glorious day
of my life? I shook her hand, but I stopped to kiss the powdery cheek of my dear aunt Adelaide before we proceeded to my carriage for the short journey to Buckingham Palace.

Dearest Albert and I had only half an hour to be alone together before we were to appear at our wedding breakfast. We were very quiet, simply gazing at each other, our hearts and minds at ease. I gave my darling a wedding ring, slipping it on his finger, whispering yet again my deep love for him.

“Victoria, my dearest wife, let us pledge today that there will never be a secret we do not share,” Albert said in a voice rough with emotion, and I agreed, and we kissed and kissed until my husband had to remind me, “Dearest love, we really must go down to join our guests.”

We celebrated our marriage with the most elegant breakfast my cooks could devise. The centerpiece was a magnificent wedding cake that measured three yards around and required four men to carry. I was content with a few bites of cake and a small glass of wine. My desire was not for food or drink—it was to be alone
without interruption
with my beloved Albert.

After the breakfast I changed into my traveling dress, white silk trimmed with swansdown, and Albert came up to fetch me downstairs. We took leave of Mamma, this time with an embrace that was perhaps warmer than either my mother or I had expected, and at four o'clock we drove off. Albert and I alone, and SO
delightful!
We did not have a grand new coach but a rather plain one, with just three other coaches and a few post horses following. Darkness had already fallen, but the crowds that turned out along the roads to cheer for us were so great that we did not reach Windsor until eight o'clock.

We changed our clothes again—dearest Albert dressed in his Windsor uniform—and had a simple dinner in our sitting
room. The servants were VERY discreet and disappeared until dearest Albert rang for them. I was nearly ill with a headache, no doubt the result of the strains of the past few days, and could eat nothing but had to lie down on the sofa after the meal had been cleared away. I NEVER, NEVER spent such an evening! MY DEAREST DEAREST Albert sat on a footstool by my side, and his excessive devotion and affection gave me feelings of love and happiness I had never even hoped to have. He clasped me in his arms, and we kissed each other again and again. His beauty, his sweetness and gentleness—really, how can I ever be thankful enough to have such a
husband
? To be called by names of such tenderness I had never heard before was bliss beyond belief. Oh, this was the happiest day of my life!

And so began our life together.

Our very first real argument burst like a summer storm on the day after our wedding. We rose early, my headache completely gone. At breakfast dearest Albert insisted on opening my boiled egg for me, tapping the shell delicately with the same skillful hands that had touched me so delicately the night before. NEVER had an egg tasted SO delicious! We made plans to go walking after lunch, and my beloved Albert played the piano in his room while I sent off invitations to a few people for dinner that evening. When I'd finished, I joined him, sitting down beside him cozily.

“It's the usual custom, is it not, for newly married people to stay four to six weeks away from society?” dearest Albert asked, in a tone suggesting that was how it should be for us as well. “To become better acquainted and to settle into their new lives,” he went on.

“That is impossible, my love,” I said. “We aren't like other people.” I began paging through some piano duets and propped Schubert's “Serenade” on the music rack. “Here, shall we try this, darling?”

“We can try it once we've finished this discussion,” he said and closed the music book. “I think we should stay here at Windsor for a fortnight at least, Victoria.”

“Three days, dearest Albert,” I told him firmly, reaching out to caress the cheek of this most excellent man. “You forget, my dearest love, that I am the sovereign and that the business of the country can stop and wait for nothing.”

“Victoria, I do not forget for a single moment that you are the sovereign. But perhaps you have forgotten that I am the husband, and that I should have a say in this. In my opinion, we need more time together, alone, at least a week without Lord Melbourne and Baroness Lehzen—”

“I don't think you understand the matter, my love,” I interrupted, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “It has nothing to do with Lord Melbourne or dearest Daisy. Parliament is sitting, and something occurs almost every day for which my attention is required. It's quite impossible for me to be absent from London for a week, let alone a fortnight. Three days is a long enough time to be away from my duties.”

“All right, three days. You are already inviting people for dinner for one of them and have planned a ball for another. Could we not have it just we two, tête-à-tête?”

“Dearest, it's only ten people, very delightful, a nice little party! The ball is larger, it's true, but it will be
such
fun, my first ball as an old married lady! Oh, tell me you're not going to be a
stick
and fall asleep just as everyone is feeling so merry!”

My husband looked at me wearily. “Very well, then—as you wish, Victoria.”

He
did
seem tired. I felt sure this little gathering for dinner would brighten him up, but when he disappeared sometime after midnight, I went upstairs and found him fast asleep. The next night, after the ball, was the same. Still, I was
so
happy to lie beside him and gaze at him as he slept in only his shirt, his face so pure and angelic, his bare throat so beautiful, so perfect, that I could not resist kissing it until he awoke and drew me close. It did seem that our bodies were made for each other. Lady Harriet's description had been accurate as far as it had gone, but now I understood
exactly
what Maggie meant about “melting, just like butter.”