The Widow of Windsor (26 page)

War was so devastating – particularly when it made such conflict in the family.

It was a great relief to get away from it all and go to Balmoral where faithful Brown was clearly in his element, to take rides to the places which Albert had so loved and to see the celebration of Halloween when the villagers made their bonfires and the gillies were out with their burning torches. So comforting to have Brown wrap the rug about her when she went for a night drive to see the bonfires the better and to be scolded by Brown when she coughed.

‘If you would come, woman, you must take the risk of being choked with the smoke.’

But he produced a wee drop of spirits for her to sip and demanded to know whether or not she didn’t feel the better for it. So pleasant, so good to be away from the terrible conflicts and storms of government.

How different life seemed, thought Alix, from the carefree days of poverty in the Yellow Palace. They were all grown up now. Willy – how strange to think of him as King George of Greece – was finding life very serious in his new kingdom. He wrote to Alix that his new country was engaged in the fearful struggle with Turkey and England could do so much to help.

Alix consulted Bertie who was as blandly sympathetic as ever. He was very fond of pretty Alix and wanted to make up to her for some of the anxieties he caused her. He would do anything for Alix, except of course give up the gay life which was so important to him. He must see his lively friends; he must have that freedom of which he had been starved during his adolescence; he must be surrounded by pretty women who were not too morally scrupulous. He loved the races; he found gambling completely exciting. These things were of the utmost importance to him. If Alix would not interfere in his gay life he would be ready to support her in any way she wished.

She was philosophical. She had been foolish to imagine that the married life of her parents was a usual one. Her dear uncomplicated father and her clever mother had loved each other and their family life had been the most important thing in the world to them. She could only fully appreciate those days at Rumpenheim, Bernstorff and the Yellow Palace now that they were past. She loved Bertie – how could she help it? Bertie was charming; he was kind; he adored little Eddy and Baby George; already they looked for him and shouted with glee when they saw him. He was never unkind; he always insisted that she should be treated with the utmost respect; he was proud of her; continually he told her that she was the most beautiful woman in England. But that was one side of his life; there had to be the other. There were rumours about his friendships with women and she knew it would be unwise to probe too closely into that. She had to accept dear charming Bertie as he was and then they could be happy.

She was learning to do this and only occasionally sighed for the ideal relationship which resembled that enjoyed by her parents in the days before greatness had overtaken them. Not to be royal. What bliss that must be! Sometimes she went to the nursery and put on a big apron and bathed the babies herself. The boys had loved that; they adored her even more than they did Bertie. Young Eddy’s great eyes would fill with tears when she told them she must leave them. And sometimes Bertie would come in when she was playing the humble wife and would crawl round the floor with the two boys on his back shrieking with joy.

When she reminded Bertie about her brother’s plea for help against Turkey he was so full of sympathy that she wondered whether he was eager to placate his conscience because of some recent misdemeanour of which he was secretly ashamed. He would speak to the Foreign Secretary, he said; and he kept his promise.

The result was a summons for Bertie to come to Windsor to face his enraged mama.

The Queen looked distastefully at her eldest son.

‘Really, Bertie,’ she said, ‘you have no sense of decorum. Do you imagine for one moment that it is
your
place to advise
my
Foreign Secretary as to the course of action he should take?’

Bertie replied that Alix was anxious about her brother.

‘And do you imagine that the State should take notice of these family relationships?’

Bertie found it difficult to stand against her. He realised that he could not interfere and he had only agreed to do so to placate Alix. He had done his best and the Queen and the Foreign Secretary would not help George of Greece. He could do no more. Poor Alix, she felt so deeply for her family.

‘You will write to your brother-in-law,’ said the Queen, ‘and tell him that we can do nothing to help him. He will have to accept the situation and try to bring about peace in his country.’

Alix was sad. First her parents had been refused help by this powerful country into which she had married; and now her brother. It showed clearly that she had no influence with her new relations.

She had become pregnant again.

There was news from Denmark. Dagmar was soon to leave for Russia and her marriage to the Czarevitch.

Bertie was excited. He and Alix had been invited to the wedding and there was nothing he enjoyed so much as travelling abroad but the doctor, Sir James Paget, was rather uneasy about Alix’s condition and said that on no account must she undertake the arduous journey.

Alix was desolate. Not to be at Dagmar’s wedding was very disappointing; she and Bertie had so looked forward to going.

‘Of course,’ said Bertie, his eyes gleaming in anticipation, ‘it would be unthinkable for neither of us to go to Dagmar’s wedding.’ Sometimes Alix fancied that he preferred to be alone on the journeys abroad.

The Queen disapproved of Bertie’s travelling out of the country, particularly without Alix. Vicky was always aware of any scandal that was circulating and it seemed that it always did about Bertie. His love of gambling was to be deplored but even more so was the fact that it came only second to his love of fascinating women.

Bertie had no intention of going to Osborne to be lectured by the Queen so he went direct to the Prime Minister, Lord Derby, and asked if he did not think relations with Russia would be improved if he went as a guest to the wedding and at the same time made himself agreeable. Disraeli was inclined to think that the Prince was an excellent ambassador and there could be no harm in his taking the trip and possibly a great deal of good. Disraeli had nicknamed him Prince Hal (because of his love of enjoyment) and this seeped out and the Prince was often referred to in this way.

Armed with ministerial approval Bertie faced the Queen at Windsor and told her that Lord Derby and Mr Disraeli were of the opinion that although Alix was unable to attend the wedding he, in the interests of foreign relations, should do so.

Since Mr Disraeli thought it was a good thing, the Queen supposed it was.

‘But you must visit Prussia on your return journey,’ she told him. ‘You must be Vicky’s guest for a short while.’

Bertie inwardly grimaced. Vicky was so censorious and in his light-hearted way he did deplore recent Prussian activities. However, the Queen was adamant. No Vicky, no Russian wedding, whatever her ministers said.

Bertie went off to Russia in high spirits. There was no doubt that he was a great success. His easy manners, his charm, his delight in the gayest entertainments brought him great popularity. He was constantly seen in the company of beautiful women and there was a certain amount of scandal. Alice was worried about it. It seemed very wrong of Bertie to show such pleasure in the company of women when poor Alix was unable to accompany him and by all accounts her health was giving some cause for anxiety. She felt it her duty to write to Sir William Knollys on the subject and Sir William spoke to Bertie, who was very amused that gentle Alice should follow in Vicky’s footsteps. Vicky had always been critical, like an echo of their father, and he expected it from her. Sir William thought that Princess Alice had probably been very disturbed by rumours and that was her reason for writing to him.

Bertie said he must be pleasant to people. It was part of his duties to be so.

‘Perhaps Your Highness could try to be impartially gracious.’

Bertie thought that it was necessary to do honour more to some people than others and it would of course depend on their qualifications to deserve that honour. There was a twinkle in his eye and Sir William understood that he had no intention of changing his ways; but perhaps he could be induced to be a little more discreet.

Vicky, of course, wrote to the Queen. She did think that Bertie should be a little more thoughtful where poor dear Alix was concerned.

With the new year Alix was alarmed by strange pains which she was feeling in her limbs. In early February these grew worse; by the middle of the month she could only walk with great difficulty and was confined to her room. The doctors diagnosed acute rheumatism.

The fact that the birth of a child was imminent gave cause for alarm, and a few days after she had been confined to her room her daughter was born. Before her pains had started, her temperature had soared and there was no doubt that she was in a fever, yet the baby was safely delivered and appeared to be well.

Sir James Paget was very anxious about her. The fact that she had given birth to a child while in the throes of rheumatic fever could mean that her life was in danger.

In her delirium she talked of the Yellow Palace and kept calling for her parents. He deliberated whether to send a messenger to Windsor where the Queen was at that time or to send immediately for the Prince of Wales, who was out of London. Fearing that the Princess was on the point of death he decided that there was no time and he acted on his own judgement by telegraphing direct to Denmark begging the King and Queen to come at once as he feared for the life of the Princess of Wales.

Within a few days Queen Louise was at Marlborough House. King Christian was following and would arrive two days later. Louise went straight to the sickroom and took her daughter into her arms, speaking to her in the manner she had done as a child. Alix was immediately comforted; the tension seemed to have passed and although she was in great pain the change in her was remarkable.

The Queen, who had now heard of the state of Alix’s health, at once came to Marlborough House from Windsor, but by the time she had arrived Louise was already in the sickroom.

The Queen was astonished that Louise should have come to England uninvited. Surely, she fumed to herself, if Alix’s parents were needed
I
should have been told so that I could have invited them in the proper manner. ‘Where is Sir James Paget?’ she demanded.

Sir James presented himself, dignified and unrepentant. ‘The Princess’s life was in danger, M’am, and it was my duty to save it.’

The Queen of course appreciated that and would not have had Sir James act otherwise, but she wondered whether it was part of his duty to invite
people
to her Court; she had never liked that woman who was so deaf that she could not understand what was said to her, and who painted her cheeks.

The Queen burst into the sickroom and when she saw Alix with her hand in her mother’s looking so wan and ill and yet so much at peace because Louise was there, all her anger faded. After all she might be a domineering woman and deaf; she might paint her cheeks; but she was Alix’s mother and Alix wanted her at that time more than her relations by marriage.