Prisoners in the Palace (19 page)

Can you be dead to the calls your position demands? Impossible! Reflect—before it is too late…Turn your thoughts and views to your future station, its duties, and the claims that exist on you.

Mama

From Mr. William Fulton to
Miss Elizabeth Hastings

1 September 1836
London

Dear Liza,

The news at home is all about your so-called royal progress. Your Princess stays only with the richest and most powerful families. She would do better to spend some time with the common people who will also be her subjects.

Reports from Court say His Majesty is indecent in his wrath about the liberties the Duchess takes. Is it true the Princess was served her breakfast in a jeweled crown at Eaton Hall? Perhaps the Duchess hopes to make the King expire from outrage and ensure her regency that way?

All the royal gossip in the world cannot reconcile me to the loss of our day together. Please write, as it is a great consolation.

Fondly,
Will

6 September 1836 Excerpt from the Journal of Her Royal Highness Victoria

Oh! What a business was there, there!! The people, of whom there was a dense mass, insisted upon dragging us through the town & in spite of every effort which was tried to prevent them from so doing, they obstinately persisted…Not only through it, did they drag us, but round it, so, that we were detained exactly 1 hour & a ¼ in Lynn! I could see nothing of the town; I only saw one living, dense mass of human beings! We unfortunately drove over a poor man just as we stopped but he is not materially hurt, I hear.

From Miss Elizabeth Hastings
to Mr. William Fulton

6 September 1836
Norfolk

Dear Will,

I have little time to write. We’ve just arrived in Norfolk and I am required to help the Princess change her clothes for the 5th time today. But during our travels, in a town called Lynn, a man was run over by the Princess’s carriage. I haven’t been able to hear how he fares. Can you look into the matter for me?

Fondly,
Liza

From Mr. William Fulton to
Miss Elizabeth Hastings

18 September 1836
London

Dear Liza,

I regret to inform you Mr. Josiah Smith, in his eagerness to view the elusive Princess, ventured too near her carriage’s wheels. He was killed instantly. The common man should be wary of interrupting the royal progress!

I hear the King was furious the Duchess demanded royal salutes from the men-of-war and the forts along the Solent. He has ordered all the popping must cease. Finally, in a state of great excitement, he prohibited the firing of royal salutes to any ships except those that carried the reigning sovereign or his consort. Somehow, I think the Duchess will find another way to harass the King.

Please write again soon. Your letters are a poor substitute for your presence, but I will be grateful for any word from you.

Fondly,
Will

From Miss Elizabeth Hastings to
Mr. William Fulton

28 September 1836
Oxford

Dear Will,

We are leaving Oxford today. The crowd waited for hours to hear Victoria speak, but her mother insisted on speaking in Victoria’s place in her dreadful English. The day was not a loss for all: Sir John Conroy was presented with an honorary doctorate in civil law. No doubt this was done at the Duchess’s prompting, since I cannot imagine in what way Sir John has earned such a prize. The Duchess is keeping him sweet since their hopes for a regency grow dimmer every day.

The Baroness Lehzen tells me Sir John has set his sights on becoming Victoria’s private secretary. As I understand it, this is a role that demands the sovereign have the utmost trust and confidence in the bearer of the title. I do not think much of his chances.

Today I accompanied Victoria to the Bodleian Library. She was shown the notebook in which Queen Elizabeth did her Latin exercises. Victoria has been inspired and vows to study harder. I wish we were going home soon as the Princess does not look well. She has lost her appetite (no small thing for a Princess who loves her food) and is so fatigued she nearly fell asleep over dinner at Holkham. This travel is too much for her.

Will, since we’ve left Kensington, I’ve seen so many different kinds of British people. In the Midlands, the coal miners were actually
black with soot and the children were dressed in filthy rags. But the Oxford streets are filled with black robed undergraduates filled with high spirits and academic excess. Perhaps there is an opportunity for your printing press in the diversity of the British people? Each one of these groups needs a newspaper for their special needs. I could write the articles for distressed gentlewomen!

I look forward to seeing you when we return. Next we go to Ramsgate for the autumn but I will return to Kensington by Christmas.

Fondly,
Liza

25 September 1836 Excerpt from the Journal of Her Royal Highness Victoria

I am much tired by the long journeys and the great crowds we have to encounter. We cannot travel like other people, quietly and pleasantly, but we go through towns and crowds and when one arrives at any nobleman’s seat, one must instantly dress for dinner and consequently I never rest properly.

From Miss Elizabeth Hastings
to Mr. William Fulton

30 September 1836
Ramsgate

Will,

A brief note is all I have time for. We arrived in Ramsgate this morning. The town was all assembled for a triumphant arrival, but the Duchess disappointed them by entering town through a little used entrance and going directly to the house.

I am troubled by the Princess’s fatigue. The Baroness Lehzen is worried too. I will write when I can.

Liza

From Mr. William Fulton to Miss Elizabeth Hastings

18 October 1836
London

Dear Liza,

It has been two weeks since I had a letter from you. There is a rumor the Princess is seriously ill. Please write and let me know you are well.

Will

From Mr. William Fulton
to Miss Elizabeth Hastings

26 October 1836
London

Liza,

It has been three weeks. I pray you, write to me. My sources hint the Princess is on her deathbed with typhoid fever. I have seen what the fever can do to those who care for its sufferers. Your duty to the Princess is not worth your life.

In your absence, I have discovered how very much your welfare touches my heart. Please take care of yourself until you come back to me.

Very fondly,
Will

From Miss Elizabeth Hastings
to Mr. William Fulton

5 November 1836
Ramsgate

Will,

This has been my first opportunity to write. Your sources were unexpectedly accurate. The Princess nearly succumbed to typhoid. The Baroness and I nursed her night and day these last three weeks. The Duchess, like an ostrich, preferred to believe Victoria was malingering and refused to call in a doctor until it was almost too late. We all knew the diagnosis—after all there are only so many causes of high fever and that scarlet rash—but the Duchess refused to acknowledge the danger. She never even visited her daughter once. The Princess told me once the Duchess had her inoculated against the pox. At one time, her daughter’s welfare meant everything to her. Alas, the Duchess has lost her way. If she’s not careful, she’ll lose Victoria for good.

Sir John, his prospects declining along with Victoria’s health, visited every few hours. Last week I returned from the kitchen in the middle of the night to find him in the Princess’s chamber. He was twisting her arm to make her sign a letter appointing him her private secretary. His nerve knows no boundaries. I tore the letter from his hands while the Baroness called for help. He knows now I am his enemy. But the King’s health is so poor and Victoria is so near to her majority—only six more months—I do not think he can harm me.

Mademoiselle Blanche, the Duchess’s lady’s maid, a sly boots if ever I met one, has condescended to inform me all the servants have a holiday the day after Christmas. Will you meet me at Kensington Palace at noon?

Do not think I am insensible to the concern you showed in your letters. I was very touched.

Until Christmas,
Liza

5 November 1836 Excerpt from the Journal of Her Royal Highness Victoria

Dear good Lehzen takes such care of me and is so unceasing in her attentions to me after my illness that I shall never be able to repay her sufficiently for it but by my love and gratitude. I never can sufficiently repay her for all she has borne and done for me. She is the most affectionate, devoted, attached and disinterested friend I have and I love her most dearly. I feel that I gain strength every day.

The day after Christmas was a perfect English winter day. Icicles glistened from the evergreens in Kensington Gardens. The Round Pond sparkled with icy splendor. Gentleman in elegant long coats skated gracefully while ladies, cocooned in ermine, admired from sleds on the ice. Several ladies who were not afraid of exercise skated with the men.

Liza wore a winter coat of dark maroon wool, a cast off from Victoria. The crisp air was intoxicating, especially after the stuffiness of the Christmas celebrations at Kensington Palace.

“Will, why is today called Boxing Day?” Liza asked.

“In some houses, employers put Christmas money in a box for the servants.” Will, dressed in his handsome green velvet coat, looked prosperous and confident.

“Not the Duchess of Kent.” Liza wrinkled her nose. “She’s too stingy.”

Will smiled and placed her gloved hand firmly on his arm. “I’m just glad you’re back from Ramsgate. When I heard there was typhoid, I was frightened for you.”

Pulling up her collar to hide the blush warming her face, Liza reassured him. “I was fine. It was the Princess who was so ill.”

“Is she fully recovered?”

Liza laughed. “Are you asking me as a reporter or my friend?”

“Does your answer change?” he countered.

“She’s much better, but she nearly died. And Sir John’s treatment of her made it worse.”

“Forget the scoundrel. She didn’t sign his letter. Once she’s Queen, she’ll be done with him.”

Liza couldn’t forget those long weeks in the Princess’s sickroom or the night Sir John tried to force Victoria to put herself in his power. “But Victoria—”

“Liza, stop talking about them. This is our day.” Will turned to look at her and shaded his eyes from the dazzling sun. “Your red coat makes your hair look like spun gold.”

“Victoria’s lost her beautiful hair—we had to cut it all off.” Liza twirled one of her own curls around her gloved finger.

“Vanity, thy name is woman!” said Will.

“For her whole life, she’s been told her hair is her best feature—and now it’s gone!”

“It’ll grow back,” Will said. “There are worse problems.”

“Her fairness is gone though,” Liza said. “She’ll be a brunette from now on.”

“Alert the royal portraitist!” cried Will in mock alarm.

“Stop!” Liza slapped his arm. “It’s a tragedy for any girl.”

“Liza, if you mention the Princess again, I’ll throttle you. I’ve been waiting for months to see you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Will.” Liza brushed a lock of hair away from her forehead. “Kensington Palace is like an ornate birdcage. We flit from one perch to another, chattering about the same things over and over again. I forget what freedom is.”

Will led her to a small stand where a man was renting ice skates. “Shall we?”

Liza nodded eagerly; she knew she was a pretty skater. Will helped her strap the metal blades onto her shoes and led her on to the ice. To her great pleasure, Will skated as well as she did. They glided across the pond, attracting appreciative looks from the other skaters.

“Did you enjoy Christmas?” Will asked.

“We ate well, but it was a lot of work. Victoria’s mother received guests all day; Victoria received carriages full of gifts. We needed three tables to display it all. And every table had an evergreen tree.” Liza sighed. “It reminded me of home.”

“I heard the royal family decorates dead fir trees.”

“Don’t the English have Christmas trees?” Liza asked. “In Germany we always did.”

“A waste of a good tree, if you ask me. A better use would be to make paper. They’re trying to see if wood pulp can be used instead of rag.” He neatly dodged a slower skater.

“No one could ever accuse you of being sentimental.” Liza pulled away from Will and spun, her full skirt flaring out around her. He caught her up and they circled the pond several times. Breathless, but happy, they sat down on a small bench. Will pulled a small package out of his pocket.

“Maybe you’ll think I’m sentimental now,” he said, almost shy. “I brought you a Christmas present.”

“You shouldn’t have!” Liza was relieved beyond measure she had not been the only one to bring a gift. “I’ve something for you too. Open mine first.” She reached inside her coat and handed him the flat package wrapped in soft fabric.

“I didn’t expect…“ He pulled the package open and stared at the set of linen handkerchiefs, each painstakingly embroidered with his initials in dark thread.

“To replace the one I gave to the boy that day—do you remember?”

“How could I forget?” Will lifted his head and looked her straight in the eyes. “They’re very handsome, Liza; I’ll treasure them.”

“Then you shouldn’t ever lend them to me!” Liza laughed.

“Now open mine,” he said.

Liza opened the package and exclaimed with delight at the gift: a small, glass snow globe on a wooden base. The silver snowflakes floated inside the globe over a scene of a frozen lake, much like the one in front of them.

“Will—it’s exquisite,” Liza gasped.

“I asked a German glassmaker what to give a girl from Munich.”

She shook it gently and watched the snowflakes jumble and settle inside the globe. “Last Christmas, my mother and I shopped in town and all the nicest stores had snow globes.” A familiar bubble of grief welled up in her throat, and the watering in her eyes was not from the cold. “Will, it’s wonderful.”

Will brushed away a tear from her cheek. “Don’t cry, Liza.” He leaned in to kiss her on the lips. Without an instant’s hesitation, Liza kissed him back.

“I knew you would taste like honey,” he said softly.

Liza trembled and shifted slightly away.

Will fixed his eyes on a gentleman putting a fine gelding through his paces in the distance. “It’s a shame your father was a knight,” he said with the air of someone saying something aloud that had long been in his thoughts.

Liza tilted her head to one side in surprise. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Daughters of gentry don’t mix with tradesmen.”

“No, he was in trade himself,” Liza hurried to correct him. “King George knighted him because his sauerkraut was far superior to any in England. And it was a very minor knighthood. We weren’t true gentry at all.”

“Why was his sauerkraut the best?”

Liza loved how Will’s curiosity always got the better of him, no matter what the circumstances.

“It’s a secret ingredient,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“It shall remain confidential, I swear.”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” she whispered.

“Of course not!” A wide grin spread across his face.

Hiding her mouth with her hand, and glancing about for eavesdroppers, Liza revealed her father’s secret, “It might be cardamom, from India.”

“Cardamom.” He nodded as though he was filing the information away. But then his eyes came back to her. “I would have liked to have met your father.”

“He would have liked you. He appreciated self-made men.”

“And your mother?”

That one is harder.

“Mama hoped I might get to court one day,” she answered with an evasion.

“And so you did.”

Liza laughed ruefully. “Not precisely as she planned.”

Will brushed a lock of her hair off her forehead. “She wouldn’t have approved of me.”

“Mama approved of me being happy,” Liza said. But her voice betrayed her uncertainty. Mama had been ambitious for her only daughter.

“So there is no family at all? No uncles or aunts? A distant cousin?”

“No, I’m quite alone in the world.” Somehow, when she was with Will, it didn’t seem true.

“Liza, love, I’m at a loss,” Will said with a slow smile. “Whose permission should I ask to court you?”

Liza trembled from the inside out. She managed to say, “You could ask me.”

Will suddenly grew serious. “Miss Elizabeth Hastings, you know I am smitten with you.” His large hands took hers. “I’ve worked hard my entire life, but until I met you, I never knew why. You’re intelligent, beautiful, loyal, and brave. Everything I admire. Liza, will you have me?”

Caution returned in a rush. She could almost hear her mother’s voice warning her against inappropriate alliances. She frowned. “Will, you could do much better than a maid.”

Will shook his head and a lock of sandy hair fell over his eye. “You could do better than a newspaperman.”

“I’m worse than penniless. I owe money all over London.”

Will swept away that consideration with a quick gesture. “I’ve plenty saved. I can pay your debts.”

“No!” Liza pulled her hand back. “They’re my obligations, not yours. I won’t cost you a penny.”

Will stood up and took a step back, looking down at her. “That’s not why you won’t marry me. You think I’m beneath you.” He stated it as though it was a fact.

“No, no,” Liza stammered. “I think you’re wonderful. And after all, I’m only a servant.”

“Not for long, Liza my dear. I know why you serve Victoria so loyally. You want her to restore your fortunes.”

Were my motives so transparent? Are they still my motives?

“Then you could marry whomsoever you wish,” Will continued.

“But I don’t want to marry anyone else,” Liza protested.

“Liza, you don’t know what you want,” he said.

Liza opened her mouth to protest, but the raw vulnerability on his face warned her to be honest.

“Maybe I don’t,” she confessed.

Will’s face was stern, although there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “I can wait for you to figure it out, so long as you promise not to marry anyone else.”

“You’re too patient,” Liza said, feeling guilty.

“I’m not a saint,” Will warned. “I’ll wait until your precious Victoria is Queen. Time enough then for you to make your choice.”

With a flash of her old self, Liza said tartly, “On the one hand, Will Fulton, publisher of scandal sheets, or on the other, confidant to the Queen of the British Isles?”

He grinned and reached out to take her hand. “For such a clever girl as you, the choice should be easy.”

31 March 1837 Excerpt from the Journal of Miss Elizabeth Hastings

Spring is here—finally an end to the long, frozen winter. The anniversary of my parents’ death passed with no ceremony except from me. The Duchess’s greenhouse has roses, Mama’s favorite. I slipped out and dropped rose petals into the Serpentine River for her and Papa. The river is beautiful, but I can never forget it claimed their lives.

Since the household returned from Ramsgate, the inhabitants of Kensington Palace are like angry ghosts of themselves. Six months after her bout with typhoid, Victoria has lost too much weight. She still has no appetite. Her limbs are always cold. Each morning and night the Baroness and I rub her icy feet. Until Victoria recovers, there are not even lessons to enliven her days, much less balls or the opera. She relies only on the Baroness and myself for companionship and entertainment.

I’ve accomplished my goal to be indispensable to Victoria; never did I think I could be so necessary to her. However, I much preferred her when she was insouciant and imperious. Sir John and the Duchess should pay for how they have diminished her spirit.

I would be quite bored myself, but Will comes to see me on my afternoons out. And IB is teaching me his flash patter. I would teach Victoria (I think she would find it amusing), but it would lead to too many questions.