With our introduction to the princess brought to this abrupt and distressing end, my father said a courtly goodbye to the two German ladies and led Dash and me from the room. It had been agreed that Dash should accompany me so that I could get out his bowl and his biscuits from our luggage.
‘Well done!’ my father said, as we groped our way down the gloomy staircase once again. ‘I think that passed off quite well. There was plenty of conversation, wasn’t there? Although it did get rather heated. What did she say? No, don’t tell me now. The walls in this palace have ears. We’ll wait until we are in our own apartment.’
The long day had been so dark and strange and uncomfortable that I was near fainting, and in great need of warmth and cheer. He noticed and suddenly swung me off my feet and carried me down the final flight.
‘You weigh no more than a feather, Miss V!’ he said. ‘And you’re cold! What a fool I am to have sent you to fight the good fight on poor provisions. An army marches on its stomach, you know.’
Of course I did know, for my father was fond of referring to his military days in Gibraltar in service with the dead Duke of Kent, this princess’s father.
In no time at all, we were out in the courtyard once again, dodging the raindrops and laughing. He took Dash and me along a cloister, round a corner, and I saw the mob-capped old lady again, looking at us through her opened window.
‘My daughter,’ my father called out, as he whisked me along upon his strong arm. ‘My daughter is here, but she feels faint. Excuse me, dearest lady, I shall return very shortly to pay my respects!’
Then we reached a snug little door. It led to an apartment much less grand than the suite where we had just been, but considerably more cheerful.
As I found my feet on the warm, yellow carpet, I saw that there was a lively little fire, and cushions on the couch. It was a welcome sight. ‘Here are our quarters,’ my father said. ‘This is where you’ll live during your visit. Normally I’m all alone – how delightful to have company! And here’s tea! Edward has already brought in your trunk and taken it to your own room.’
I looked around with intense interest, eager to see this new realm in which my father was king. I smiled when I saw a shiny piano. ‘Yes, I have had it tuned especially for you!’ he said. ‘You must play for me in the evenings. We shall be very cosy.’
Our domain turned out to be quite a rabbit warren of little rooms, panelled in wood, very dark, but warm and blessedly clean. My father introduced me to our own housekeeper, Mrs Keen. He explained that she looked after him when he was at Kensington Palace, and would now look after me too. Mrs Keen clearly kept this particular corner of the palace in very good order and had filled a vase with early tulips and placed it in the little attic where I was to sleep.
Then I came down to a muffin, and to the warmed slippers that my father had placed upon the fender.
‘Now,’ he said. ‘You did well. I think you won the confidence of all three ladies.’
I looked down at the floor. I felt that the meeting had been awkward and uncomfortable. Surely life in polite society wasn’t always like that?
He noticed my confusion.
‘The princess quite took to you,’ he said. ‘I have seen her behave … well, far worse than that. And this is important, Miss V,’ he went on, ‘because the friendship of the family will help your brothers to get good positions in the army and your mother and sister all the leisure and pretty dresses they require. I have a decent understanding with the princess and her household, but I must always be watchful for opportunity. You will help me. We must deploy our forces to best advantage. Now, what was she saying to you behind the sofa?’
He was right to consider that fun and dressing up were essential to the happiness of my sister Jane, just as endless leisure and a lack of what she called ‘bother’ was what my mother required of life. On the other hand, I myself only wanted to feel useful somehow, to someone. And, of course, to be well supplied with novels.
‘Dear Papa,’ I began tentatively, ‘what is the Kensington System?’
‘The System!’ He banged his teacup down on the table. ‘Now what does she know about that?’ He leapt up and began pacing about, all his previous good humour gone in a flash.
‘Well, Papa, Victoria … the Princess Victoria … said that she is kept away from other people and kept under watch, and that she does not like it. And, Papa, she said that you are responsible.’
Up and down the hearthrug he went, like Dash on a rainy day when we hadn’t been out.
‘Well, there is some truth in that,’ he eventually muttered. ‘But I can’t think where the little minx learned of what we call it.’
‘But, Papa!’ Now I was dismayed. ‘I don’t believe it! It can’t be true! Why would you want to lock up a little girl? I know you wouldn’t do that. She’s even younger than I am.’
‘She may seem younger,’ he said distractedly, ‘but she is eleven – the same as you.’
He paced on and on. I wondered why he hadn’t answered my question. Perhaps he was angry with me for even raising the possibility that he might lock up a little girl, even if she was strange and pert. A princess locked up! It did sound romantic, too romantic to be real.
Eventually he paused before my chair, looking down at me in a manner I could not interpret.
‘Can I trust you, Miss V?’
‘Of course, Papa.’
I lowered my gaze, hoping that he would go on.
‘Well, there is a system of sorts here at Kensington Palace, and it is true that the princess leads an … unusual … life.’
My breath caught in my throat. I could not believe this! The bars at the window? The sense of strain and captivity? The surveillance? No, my father would never do such things.
He must have seen my worried expression. He laughed and flipped out the tails of his coat to squat down by my chair. He took my cold hands to warm them between his.
‘Listen, Miss V,’ he said. ‘You know you can trust your father to tell you the truth. Here it is in all its ugliness. This isn’t a pretty story to please young ladies. It’s a serious business.’
I waited for him to go on, trying to look as serious as I knew how.
‘As you are aware,’ he said, after a pause during which I could see him searching for the simplest words in which to put the problem, ‘there is great uncertainty about what will happen when the king dies.’
I nodded eagerly, keen to show my understanding. He meant King George the Fourth, who had been on the throne for as long as I could remember and whose father had been the mad, blind, ancient King George the Third.
‘Now, the king has no children. You know this, don’t you? But he does have a large number of brothers, and one of them was the Duke of Kent, my kind and unfortunately deceased master – and the Princess Victoria’s father.’
At this he emitted the deep, respectful sigh he always gave when he mentioned this dead duke. After a moment, he went on.
‘And so the Princess Victoria, as the king’s niece, is very high up the line of succession. She may be queen one day. But she has cousins who are jealous of her high position and who would like the throne for themselves. Her cousin George, for example, is just one week younger. And there are other cousins too. These people wish our princess ill. They would rejoice should any harm come to her. Should any harm come to her, you hear me?’
He paused, as he could see I was struggling to take it all in.
‘Are you saying that some people … would want the princess out of the way, and that they might try to hurt her?’
‘I knew you would understand, Miss V!’
I smiled. Of course that crazy princess had got it all wrong. Her guardians weren’t trying to spy on her or keep her locked up. They were just trying to keep her safe.
‘And that’s why your becoming her friend is a grave responsibility,’ my father continued, looking perhaps more solemn than I’d ever seen him before. ‘I am trusted to be near her. I hope that if you continue to please, Miss V, you will be trusted too. We need to know what she’s thinking and feeling, just to keep her safe, of course. But we must see how this visit unfolds before we shall know for sure if she’ll come to trust you, if you can be really useful.’
He had his fingers raised into a tent, appraisingly, as if he was hoping that I would pass the test but was not quite sure.
‘Very few others are admitted to the princess’s presence,’ he explained. ‘There’s danger everywhere. The princess’s mother is not well and is unable to care for her properly. But I, and Madame de Späth and Baroness Lehzen, we must keep her safe. It is a sacred duty. And I hope that I might be able to count upon you too, as a true Conroy, to help us in this vital work.’
I had an inkling of such things – the great cares of state, the great dangers and decisions that fall upon royal shoulders – for I had read about them in stories. I had never thought that they would touch my own life. Surely girls were just to be seen and not heard? That was what my mother had said.
I was good at being seen and not heard. But this was a completely new challenge.
There was much to think about as I finished my tea. One cloud of worry had passed, at least. Of course my father was wise and good. I had been foolish to doubt him for one instant. But, staring into the fire, I realised that I now had a new worry. I knew that I could not let myself fail the task that he had given me. I too must give all my attention to this vital work of keeping the heir to the throne safe and well. Whatever might happen. Whatever might happen.