After some weeks, we did ride out together in my father’s pony cart, along the top of the cliff and through the terraces of houses at first, and then down on the hard sand of the beach when the tide was out. Once we trotted nearly all the way to Broadstairs.
‘Are you ready for the cart?’ I asked Victoria one day after luncheon. ‘Or would you rather hear a story?’ I had introduced my well-worn copies of the romances of Sir Walter Scott into the sickroom. Sometimes she spent the afternoon on the sofa, imploring me to go on reading aloud to her from one or another of his chivalrous, adventurous tales.
But this afternoon she ignored me and continued taking her dolls, one by one, from their trunk, laying them out on the carpet and putting one into the dress of another. ‘Surely sixteen years is too old for dolls!’ I scoffed. ‘Do come out for a run.’
‘My babies have been such good friends to me,’ she said in a dreamy voice, speaking to them, not to me. ‘I cannot abandon them now.’ She began to twist a new crown from gold foil for a third doll. She seemed to have reverted to a lesser, younger, weaker version of herself.
‘Are you feeling wobbly again this afternoon?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so, Miss V,’ she said gently. ‘I fear that I might never be strong again.’ But her attention remained firmly fixed on the floor. ‘You see this doll in the coronet here?’ she said, indicating a figure in red velvet and gold brocade. ‘I wish that was all a princess needed to do, to wear a pretty dress and go to parties. But I know that in real life I must also be despised and bullied and pulled apart. Perhaps it’s better to be a doll.’
She looked so young, so small and so sad that I knelt beside her and wrapped my arm round her shoulders.
She sighed and leaned back against me. ‘You and Lehzen,’ she said, with a smile of great sweetness, ‘must go without me. You spend too much of yourselves looking after me, and you need the exercise. Please, do go.’ The kind words brought tears to my eyes.
So, abandoning Victoria to her babies, Lehzen and I took the pony cart by ourselves. Lehzen and I had indeed occasionally stepped out of doors together of an afternoon to break our close attendance in the sickroom. Once we had been down to the town to look at hats in a shop, and another time we’d heard the pianoforte being played in the town hall. It was so long since I’d had time to practise, and I’d loved hearing music once again.
Now, as then, I felt myself almost overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of busy people on the street, ladies like Lehzen, young ladies like me, but oh, so different! They were going about their lives, unaware of the System, unaware of the princess living in their midst. The sight and sound of other people was so unexpectedly vivid after the quiet sickroom, enlivened only by the ticking of the clock and the sound of the sea far below.
Today we bowled through the upper part of the town towards the green lanes inland. They were not so green now that the year was on the turn, and there were drifts of leaves by the side of the road. Lehzen’s stern profile beside me looked as if carved in wood. As usual, no expression passed over her face as she flicked the whip and dexterously swerved our little vehicle round a slow-moving farm cart that was blocking our way. We were going at such a clip that the speed forced me to hold on to my hat.
It gave me quite a start when at last Lehzen spoke.
‘This countryside reminds me of the fields near Hanover,’ she said. It was unusual for her to mention her past, and Germany, so I sat quietly, still looking ahead, hoping that she would go on. I had a new respect for Lehzen since her diligent, devoted nights of nursing. ‘My father was a pastor there, you know,’ she continued.
‘Oh!’ I said. ‘I didn’t know. Pray, is he still alive?’ Intrigued, I turned myself towards her just a little, to encourage further confidences. At the same time, I had to clutch on to the edge of my seat as our pony picked up speed round a corner.
‘Dead, long dead,’ she said. ‘But he was a good man. I was far from born a baroness.’ She spoke almost regretfully, as if being a baroness was a punishment, not a reward.
‘And how did you become one?’
‘The old king, King George the Fourth, had the idea to make me one. He thought it wasn’t right that the princess should be served by commoners. But underneath I am just Johanna Clara Louise Lehzen, as I was born. Like your father, I am not of these mad, aristocratic people by birth. I sometimes wish I had not begun working for the Duchess of Kent, you know. It is so … tiring.’ A feeling came over me, like a refreshing squeeze of lemon juice, that Lehzen would never have said such a thing before the incident of the typhoid. Before, she would have restrained herself, I was sure, in case I reported her words to my father.
‘But you cannot leave, Lehzen!’ I said quickly. ‘The princess needs you too much!’
‘I know,’ she said, with that odd sidelong smile which transformed her face. ‘And you too, Miss V. We are her protectors, are we not?’
Shyly, I smiled back at her. Although it seemed conceited to admit it, and I would never have said the words out loud, I realised that it was true. The two of us, Lehzen and I, counterbalanced the powerful personalities of Victoria’s mother and my father, and made Victoria’s life possible. Not happy, not carefree, but possible.
‘But, Lehzen,’ I went on cautiously, as the little cart entered the shade of a wood and the shadows made the surroundings seem more intimate. ‘But recall how unwell she has been. She could have died! And it would have been the fault of my father and her mother!’
‘Yes, that would have been a terrible thing.’ Lehzen paused. ‘It is a terrible thing to see a family … eating itself. When people share the same blood in their veins, it makes their quarrels seem worse, somehow.’
I pondered upon her words. I sensed that something deeper lay behind them. In the wood, twilight was beginning to fall, and while I admired the luminous light that gave the trees an unearthly glow, I also felt a shiver go down my spine.
‘A family, Lehzen?’ What had she meant by the word?
She did not reply. But all at once I sensed that Lehzen knew the secret of who my mother really was. ‘Lehzen,’ I said, ‘do you know that I myself am the granddaughter of your old master, the Duke of Kent? Out of wedlock, of course. Did you know that I am Victoria’s cousin?’
Lehzen twitched her head round, her attention caught by something else. And then I thought I heard it too: the hoofs of a horse somewhere in the wood, somewhere behind us.
But perhaps not. She turned back to the pony and gave me a quick glance.
‘Yes, my dear, I do know it. And it has often crossed my mind how unfortunate it is that you are cousins and not sisters. It is unfortunate that your places are not reversed.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ I thought I saw a fox slipping through the bracken by the side of the road. ‘Did you say that you wished Victoria and I were sisters?’
Lehzen glanced at me again, and turned away. Like me, she preferred to speak to a person without looking at them. ‘No, Miss V,’ she said. ‘It is not so much that. You are close, like sisters. I know you can read her mind. And you look just like each other. But I think that in many ways you would make a better queen.’
I choked. ‘But, Lehzen, it is treason to say such a thing!’
‘Treason?’ Lehzen scoffed. ‘That’s just a word. You know I have nothing but loyalty to the princess, and that’s why I think and say this. Have you never noticed how close to the edge of reason she stands? Like her grandfather, the mad old King George the Third? You never saw him, but it is true. They have the same high colour, the same high temper. When she stamps her foot, she is the spitting image of him. It is dangerous, dangerous to her health.’
She was right. I could say nothing. Silence fell.
‘Oh yes,’ muttered Lehzen, as if to herself. ‘I think that Miss V would sit on the throne more comfortably than the Princess Victoria.’
Once more I was aghast.
‘But this is a silly speculation, Lehzen!’ I said, pulling myself together.
‘You’re right, my dear …’ Lehzen said.
She glanced backwards again and I followed her gaze.
Yes, there was a horseman behind us. The sound was closer now. It was unnerving. But even staring hard, I could see nothing between the trees.
Lehzen lowered her voice, as if eavesdroppers might be able to overhear us.
‘It is indeed useless speculation,’ Lehzen went on. ‘But think of the consequences. If Victoria is sick, if she cannot bear it, if becoming queen kills her or destroys her mind, who will take the throne then?’
‘Oh!’ Suddenly I realised. ‘George of Cumberland? But he is evil! Cruel! Stupid! That would be terrible.’ A new thought struck me. ‘But she must take the throne. What about the law? We cannot live without laws. She has the royal blood.’
This made Lehzen harrumph.
‘Miss V!’ she said. ‘As I said, I was born a commoner, like your father, although I don’t care to be bracketed with him. We have made our own way in the world. We haven’t been born to high positions; we have made high positions for ourselves. Positions of power. Surely the country should be ruled over by the best person, not the person with the best so-called blood?’
I thought hard about the logic of her argument. Yes, how happy it would make me, and those others who cared about Victoria, if she did not have to be queen! And yet it was all a fancy.
‘Lehzen, I don’t think we should talk like this. Surely we must believe that Victoria can, and will, make a good queen.’
‘I bring it up because my doubts about her strength and her sanity are a heavy load for me to carry, my dear,’ said Lehzen quietly. The occasional gleam of evening light through the trees flashed across her face. ‘I trust you to help me bear it. You are young in years, but you are also old and wise inside your head.’
I was overcome with feelings I can scarcely describe. It was wonderful to feel needed, wanted. It warmed me inside.
‘Oh, Lehzen,’ I said, speaking to her perhaps more honestly than I ever had before. ‘You know that it makes me glad to help other people, if I can.’
‘Ach!’ Lehzen suddenly spat out the sound. Her attention was once more fixed upon the road behind us. ‘I fear, my dear, that I have made an error. Can you hear that?’
The hoof beats in our wake were growing steadily louder.
‘I have brought you to a deserted wood at twilight, and to the untrained eye you will look very like Victoria in that cloak. I fear that this has been a security breach.’
Now my own heart leapt into my mouth. Lehzen had whipped the pony forward, and with a great jolt the little cart began to bounce even more quickly over the rough road. A low branch snatched my hat from my head, and I let out a cry.
‘Leave it!’ Lehzen said sharply, whipping the pony again. And now, glancing back, I could see the dark shape of the horseman against the trees behind us. He wore a long, dark greatcoat and a scarf that muffled his face. He looked like nothing on earth so much as a highwayman. And what was that long and heavy item he carried across his saddle?
‘Lehzen,’ I whimpered, too frightened to scream. ‘Lehzen, I think he has a musket with him.’
‘Lieber Gott!’ she said, gritting her teeth. ‘Hold on.’ I was indeed clinging on for dear life, and the pony, barrelling forward as fast as its little legs could carry it, was speeding us out of the wood. Now we were passing through a meadow, and then, ahead, we could see the blessed sight of the main road. It was busy: there were carts upon it, and we heard the blessed sound of tramping feet. The horseman was left behind.
We drew up at the junction. A great company of militiamen went marching by ahead of us, taking some minutes to pass, impeding our progress. But we did not care. They could protect us if need be. We sat in silence, staring at each other in horror. I could feel my hands trembling with shock and fear, and clasped them tightly together to still them.
I was certain that Lehzen was thinking, as I was, of the assassination attempt on the princess at Kensington Palace. This looked very much like a second try.
And if that was the case, then the Duke of Cumberland and his son were behind it, no doubt about that: a man and his son who would be murderers if they could. A man and his son who must never, never sit upon the throne.
I felt enormously glad when we saw the comforting lights of Ramsgate ahead of us. But of course I could not relax. My heart still thudded unpleasantly. How could I unwind when we had been in such danger, and when Lehzen – solid, pragmatic Lehzen herself, whom I trusted – had shared her own fears that Victoria would never be strong enough to rule?