was best comforted by pointing out the magnitude of her loss, the saintly qualities of the Prince Consort, the harmony which had existed between them and was now alas lost – and no mention of course of the occasional squabbles when Victoria had felt it necessary to remind Albert that though he might be the Saint she was the Queen.
‘Such a wonderful man, Wally, and never appreciated by the people nor by my ministers.’
‘By no one really but Your Majesty, but then you were the one who was the closest to him. He was your life and you were his.’
‘How true, my dear. I think you have a glimmering of understanding. When I think of the dreadful day … His dear face was so white and strained. And the last time I looked on that beloved face he was as beautiful as an angel. It was as though all the cares had been smoothed away.’
Wally covered her eyes with her hand.
‘ Dear child,’ said the Queen. And she went on enumerating the virtues of Albert and continuing at even greater length on her own misery.
‘I don’t feel I can face the world, Wally. I constantly think if he were here … and then it all comes back afresh. He is not here.’
‘And Your Majesty has to go on as he would wish. Oh, I can understand the tragedy of it all.’
‘Everything he wished, everything he planned shall be carried out.’
It was Wally’s chance and she seized it. ‘He thought very highly of this match between the Prince of Wales and the Princess of Denmark. I had the honour to sit next to him when Your Majesty graciously allowed me to join the royal table and he spoke of this match then.’
The Queen nodded.
‘I believe he would have been pleased with the Princess. I think her quiet manner, her good upbringing … all that would have carried weight with him. When Your Majesty has seen for yourself …’
The Queen sighed.
‘Would Your Majesty care to see the Princess and her family now?’
Victoria nodded. ‘Give me your arm, my child.’
Wally did so with alacrity.
The Queen entered the room in which the guests were assembled. Her flowing black robes and her widow’s cap gave a sombre note to the proceedings – but not more so than the Queen herself. Her lips were turned down; there was no smile on her face at all.
Alix was surprised at herself. She was not afraid of the Queen. She felt sorry for her. Poor Queen of England who was nursing her grief and wanted to go on doing so; who was torturing herself, turning her back on the consolations of life.
Victoria looked at the tall graceful girl with the lovely hair, the graceful carriage and innocent blue eyes.
She is charming, thought the Queen, so simply dressed, such exquisite manners and surely that was compassion in her lovely eyes?
And the Princess’s father. This was the man who had once sought her in marriage. He was handsome and his daughter had inherited his charm. What an extraordinary situation! Bertie’s bride-to-be, the daughter of the man who might have been the Queen’s husband. Yes, she liked Prince Christian and she liked his daughter.
And Princess Christian? The Queen looked at Louise severely. A domineering woman, she had heard; and no woman should domineer over her husband. It was the wife’s place to be subservient. Albert had felt that very strongly. In the beginning of their life together she had been very foolish and Albert had had to be very patient. She had in time learned the lesson which all women had to learn, but of course it was more difficult for queens.
I believe she paints her cheeks! thought the Queen. How shocked Albert would have been. He hated any form of artificiality.
The Queen’s manner was cool as she addressed Alexandra’s parents.
‘I can make no promises,’ she said, staring at Louise’s painted cheeks. ‘Everything will depend on whether the Prince of Wales feels sufficiently affectionate towards your daughter to accept her as his wife.’
Leopold was on tenterhooks. If only Albert had been here he
‘Such a wonderful man, Wally, and never appreciated by the people nor by my ministers.’
‘By no one really but Your Majesty, but then you were the one who was the closest to him. He was your life and you were his.’
‘How true, my dear. I think you have a glimmering of understanding. When I think of the dreadful day … His dear face was so white and strained. And the last time I looked on that beloved face he was as beautiful as an angel. It was as though all the cares had been smoothed away.’
Wally covered her eyes with her hand.
‘ Dear child,’ said the Queen. And she went on enumerating the virtues of Albert and continuing at even greater length on her own misery.
‘I don’t feel I can face the world, Wally. I constantly think if he were here … and then it all comes back afresh. He is not here.’
‘And Your Majesty has to go on as he would wish. Oh, I can understand the tragedy of it all.’
‘Everything he wished, everything he planned shall be carried out.’
It was Wally’s chance and she seized it. ‘He thought very highly of this match between the Prince of Wales and the Princess of Denmark. I had the honour to sit next to him when Your Majesty graciously allowed me to join the royal table and he spoke of this match then.’
The Queen nodded.
‘I believe he would have been pleased with the Princess. I think her quiet manner, her good upbringing … all that would have carried weight with him. When Your Majesty has seen for yourself …’
The Queen sighed.
‘Would Your Majesty care to see the Princess and her family now?’
Victoria nodded. ‘Give me your arm, my child.’
Wally did so with alacrity.
The Queen entered the room in which the guests were assembled. Her flowing black robes and her widow’s cap gave a sombre note to the proceedings – but not more so than the Queen herself. Her lips were turned down; there was no smile on her face at all.
Alix was surprised at herself. She was not afraid of the Queen. She felt sorry for her. Poor Queen of England who was nursing her grief and wanted to go on doing so; who was torturing herself, turning her back on the consolations of life.
Victoria looked at the tall graceful girl with the lovely hair, the graceful carriage and innocent blue eyes.
She is charming, thought the Queen, so simply dressed, such exquisite manners and surely that was compassion in her lovely eyes?
And the Princess’s father. This was the man who had once sought her in marriage. He was handsome and his daughter had inherited his charm. What an extraordinary situation! Bertie’s bride-to-be, the daughter of the man who might have been the Queen’s husband. Yes, she liked Prince Christian and she liked his daughter.
And Princess Christian? The Queen looked at Louise severely. A domineering woman, she had heard; and no woman should domineer over her husband. It was the wife’s place to be subservient. Albert had felt that very strongly. In the beginning of their life together she had been very foolish and Albert had had to be very patient. She had in time learned the lesson which all women had to learn, but of course it was more difficult for queens.
I believe she paints her cheeks! thought the Queen. How shocked Albert would have been. He hated any form of artificiality.
The Queen’s manner was cool as she addressed Alexandra’s parents.
‘I can make no promises,’ she said, staring at Louise’s painted cheeks. ‘Everything will depend on whether the Prince of Wales feels sufficiently affectionate towards your daughter to accept her as his wife.’
Leopold was on tenterhooks. If only Albert had been here he
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