I looked around for the King as I entered the Cupola Room. He was not there, but Uncle Clarence was. Mama hated Uncle Clarence just as much as she hated the King. I quite liked him. He was so jolly and I think he would have liked to be friendly with us, but Mama would not have it, of course. He always smiled very kindly at me and I was really fond of Aunt Adelaide. She kissed me and asked after the dolls and talked about them just as though they were real people, which made me like her even more. I told her the Big Doll fit in very well. She was bigger than the others and her clothes were just as splendid, although they were merely a court lady's dress. “I think she looks quite as grand as Queen Elizabeth,” I said.

“Oh dear,” said Aunt Adelaide. “Queen Elizabeth will not like that!” which made me laugh. Aunt Adelaide joined in and Mama noticing, frowned. I was not supposed to be on terms of levity with Aunt Adelaide.

I realized then that there was a growing uneasiness in the room. Where was the King? He was supposed to be present to take an important part in the ceremony and they could not proceed without him.

Uncle Clarence said in a loud voice, “The King is clearly not coming. No need to delay further. I'll take his role.”

My mother would have protested but I knew she was undecided whether to wait a little longer for the King and allow herself to be further humiliated, or to ask Uncle Clarence to carry on. It must have been galling to see her daughter given away by a duke when she had been expecting a king to do so.

But it did seem as though the King would not come, so Clarence went on to take his part, and I stepped into my place as bridesmaid.

And so my sister Feodore became the wife of Count HohenloheLangenburg.

Mama had had the idea that I should go among the guests with a basket that contained little gifts for them, and everyone applauded when I presented them.

Then the bride and groom went to Claremont and we went back to our apartments in the Palace. How Mama raged against the King and all her husband's family. They were crude, ill-mannered; they were against a lonely widow. They did all they could to humiliate her and they hated to see her daughter marrying the Count; and they were jealous of her younger daughter who was in such good health.

The King would soon be dead and that pineapple-headed oaf would take his place. He was incapable of getting an heir…he was incapable of anything except stepping into the grave.

She was really angry and I heard her in the room where I sat with Lehzen and Spath. Spath was wide-eyed and seemed rather excited by it, but Lehzen was terrified that I should hear something that was not for my ears.

I heard Sir John Conroy's hated voice, calming her, soothing her, as he often did.

Spath was nodding as though she had secret thoughts, and Lehzen had that tight look about her mouth as she always did when Sir John was near. I was gratified that Lehzen felt the same about Sir John as I did.


* * *

A GREAT DEAL was going on of which I knew nothing and only learned later, and piecing little bits of evidence together found out what it was all about.

Uncle Cumberland was suspect. People saw him as the ogre. He really wanted the throne for his son George—such a nice boy whom I had met once or twice—and he did actually want me out of the way. Because my father had been older than he was, I came before George Cumberland, and that irritated his parents. They had such evil reputations that I am not sure now whether the rumors were circulated because of that, or whether they really were menacing my life.

When I was very young they had put it about that I was a weak child and not expected to live, and Mama had to take me for walks very publicly so that all the people were able to see for themselves how strong I was. Indeed I was quite plump and brimming over with good health. I still went for these walks with Mama or Lehzen—usually as far as Apsley House, and the people often stopped and cheered me.

Mama said later that the reason why I was never left alone was because of the forces round me and the need to protect me from them all the time. I was not so sure of that because I became aware that Mama wanted me to do exactly as she wished, so that I should be like a puppet she was controlling.

The Cumberlands were at the center of more than one scandal—and not minor ones either. There was the one long ago concerning the Duke's valet; and at this time there was another when Lord Graves was found dead in bed with his throat cut, the evidence being that he had killed himself. And why had he done this? Because his wife was having a love affair with the Duke of Cumberland, and one must never forget that his Duchess also had a dubious past with two husbands who had died young.

Aunt Sophia, when she was very young had had a child presumed to be by Colonel Garth. Now they were saying that the real father of Sophia's child was her brother, the Duke of Cumberland.

There was no end to the scandal that surrounded that family.

Aunt Adelaide used to call on my mother occasionally, and I always thought Mama behaved very regally toward her, although as the wife of the Duke of Clarence, who was older than my father would have been, Aunt Adelaide should have taken precedence. She might have been put out by this—most people, and certainly Mama, would have been—but she was not. I really think she liked to come to Kensington to see me, because she was always so kind to me, and I noticed a special look on her face when she talked to me. She always asked about my pony, Rosy, and the dolls, and what I was doing. She wanted me to go to visit her at Bushey; she told me something about the parties she gave. The two little Georges came—Cumberland and Cambridge. “Such darling boys,” said Aunt Adelaide. “George Cambridge is with us now, because his mother and father are abroad. He and the other George are great friends. We have singing and dancing and games.” How I should have loved to go to Bushey!

But I was never allowed to. I asked Mama why and she grew very red in the face and muttered something about those dreadful FitzClarences.

Later I discovered they were the children and grandchildren of Uncle William's liaison with the actress Dorothy Jordan and Aunt Adelaide had adopted them as her own family when she married Uncle William. More family scandal!

My chief companion at this time was Victoire Conroy whom I never liked because she was her father's daughter, and the older I grew the more resentful I became of his presence in our household. I felt sure I was right to be wary of him because both Lehzen and Spath disliked him too. They did not say much to me—at least Lehzen didn't—but Spath used to purse her lips and mutter “Das Schwein.”

Victoire was like her father; she was a little superior and seemed to forget I was a princess, or perhaps she felt that with such an important father, she was of as much consequence as I was.

Several times I asked Mama why I could not go to Aunt Adelaide's parties and meet gentle George Cambridge, who had the good fortune to live with Aunt Adelaide, and George Cumberland, who might not be as sinister as his parents.

But Mama was adamant. I simply could not go to Bushey because of what I heard her call “The Bastidry.” “And how Adelaide can behave as she does amazes me,” she added.

So I was left to my lessons, the company of Lehzen, my walks, and my dolls.

One day when I was out walking with Lehzen, showing myself to the people, I saw a beautiful doll in a shop window. I stopped and said, “Oh, Lehzen, isn't she lovely!”

Lehzen admitted that she was.

“I should love to have her,” I went on. “I often think the Big Doll does not quite fit in with the others, and that one would be a companion for her.”

The doll was priced at six shillings.

“I will ask your Mama if you may have her,” said Lehzen.

Mama and Lehzen put their heads together to discuss what would be good for me and they came up with the idea that I must not think everything was mine for the asking. I might have the doll if I bought her myself and to do this I must save up my pocket money. In the meantime I could go into the shop and ask them to put the doll on one side until I could pay for it.

That seemed an excellent idea and I liked the thought of buying her myself. It gave me a feeling of independence. The man in the shop was eager to please. He said, certainly he would hold the doll until I had the money to pay for it.

“You won't let anyone else buy her, will you?” I asked anxiously.

His answer was to take a big ticket which he hung around the doll's neck. On it was printed in large letters sold.

I found it exciting to walk past his windows every day and look for the doll. There she was, sitting waiting for me, and with great glee I counted my money each morning. At last I had the six shillings and in great triumph went to collect my darling.

Exultantly I carried her out of the shop but as I was walking along beside Lehzen I saw a poor man sitting on a bench. It always distressed me to see people cold or hungry and I would remember them at night when I was in bed, and think how warm I was, how cosseted, and that made me uneasy because it was so unfair.

I was not allowed to speak to people, only to smile and wave my hand when they cheered me. But I did speak to this man. I said, “Wait a moment.” And to Lehzen's horror I ran back to the shop and asked the man there to take back my beautiful doll and give me my six shillings. “Put the sold ticket back,” I said, “and when I have saved it I will come back for her, but now I want my six shillings back.”