Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria by Jean Plaidy Page A

plants.”
    “And getting her feet wet.”
    “I always made sure she changed her wet things.”
    Spath began to whisper and I could not hear so well but I did gather that they were talking about my brother Charles.
    Then I realized that I was eavesdropping, which was a very illmannered thing to do; and if I were caught I should be severely scolded, so I slipped away. I went to the dolls and explained to them that sometimes in the interest of knowledge it was necessary to listen to what was not intended for one's ears.
    I thought Lady Jane Grey looked at me rather sadly as though she deplored my frailty. I shook her a little. Some people were too good.
    Feodore would be leaving soon to stay with our grandmother in SaxeCoburg. She was very sad, but looked just as pretty melancholy as she did happy. She talked a little more freely than normally. I suppose because she was going away. She was a little resentful toward Mama, for she believed that, but for Mama, she might have married the handsome Augustus. His father would not have minded, but there was every reason why Mama and our Uncle Leopold should object.
    “Why are they so set against it?” I asked Feodore.
    “It is all so stupid. It is because they don't accept him as legitimate. They don't accept the Duke's present wife either.”
    “Mama doesn't like her, I know. She calls her that Buggins woman.”
    “That's because she was the widow of Sir George Buggins before she married the Duke. The King would not have objected… nor would anyone except Mama and Uncle Leopold.”
    “I am sure Uncle Leopold was thinking of your good…Mama too.”
    “But they weren't thinking of my happiness. I love Augustus, Victoria.”
    Then she wept and I wept with her. She held me close and said, “There is something wrong with Charles.”
    “What?”
    “He is in love with Marie Klebelsberg.”
    “Is she… unsuitable?”
    “I'm afraid so.”
    “Will they send Charles away?”
    “They can't do that.”
    “Will they forbid him to marry her?”
    “I think Charles may not allow himself to be forbidden.”
    “But he is Mama's son and if she says…”
    “Well, there comes a time when people are old enough and in a position to have their own way.”
    Those words seemed to me full of significance.
    I nodded slowly.
    I said, “I hope Charles marries Marie Klebelsberg. Don't you think, Feodore, that people should marry for love?”
    “Oh, I do indeed, little sister,” she said.
    Then she held me more tightly and again we wept together.

    W HEN FEODORE LEFT I was desolate. Mama said I moped. Lehzen, putting it more kindly, said I pined. I told the dolls how very unhappy I was and that I could not bear to go into Uncle Sussex's garden again, even though I knew his flowers must be missing the benefits of my watering can.
    Life seemed to be all lessons with the Reverend Davys presiding. There was Thomas Steward, who taught me penmanship as well as the hated arithmetic; I learned German from Mr. Barez and French from Monsieur Grandineau. I was quite good at languages and often enjoyed these lessons. I was beginning to learn Italian, which was quite enjoyable. Then there was music with Mr. Sale, who was the organist at St. Margaret's Westminster; drawing with Richard Westall, the academician; and dancing and deportment with Mademoiselle Bourdin. So, with all these excellent people making demands on my time, there was little left for anything else.
    I was often not a very good pupil; the poor Reverend Davys sighed over me, I knew. I wanted to please them but it was so tiresome to do lessons all the time. Sometimes I gave way to fits of temper “storms” as Mama called them. On one occasion, when Mr. Sale was in despair over my performance at the piano, he said, “There is no royal road to music. Princesses must practice like everyone else.” I was so frustrated that I shut the lid of the piano with a bang and said, “There! You see, there is no
must
about it.” Poor Mr. Sale! He