with loving care.’ Louisa threaded her needle. ‘I’ll mend this so that no one knows you ever tore it. And where did you do it? On the stairs? It wasn’t like that when you set out this morning, I know. The Baroness Lehzen would have seen to that.’ ‘I think I caught it on a bramble in the garden.’ ‘What a neat clean little girl you are. Now, Charlotte … there was nothing neat about Charlotte. She used to come in sometimes, bounding in so that she would well nigh knock you over; and she would be so excited she wouldn’t be able to get the words out. She’d stutter and grow quite angry with herself. You speak beautifully.’ ‘I have to learn how to pronounce my words; I have to read a great deal.’ ‘I’m sure you do. And very nice too.’ ‘But I think you liked Charlotte’s stutter.’ ‘Oh, Charlotte!’ Louisa laughed. ‘She could be a very naughty little girl sometimes … but in a lovable way, if you understand.’ It was rather difficult to understand, thought Victoria, because Louisa somehow managed to convey that Charlotte’s naughtiness was more attractive than other people’s goodness and her stutter far more to be desired than the clearest form of speech. ‘Such a time she had with them all on at her. Her father … her mother. Oh, it wasn’t natural. And then your Uncle Leopold came like Prince Charming in the fairy tale and they were all set to live happy ever after. I never saw Charlotte so happy as on her wedding day. He was the sun, moon and stars to her; he was the whole world. He was the only one she would listen to. She used to comb his hair herself when he came back from riding. She wouldn’t let anyone else touch it. Then she’d take off his boots. Never a cross word between them; and when she knew she was going to have a child she said to me: “There can’t be more happiness in Heaven than this.”’ Louisa released one hand from the mending to search for a handkerchief in her pocket. She wiped her eyes. ‘Poor dear soul. Little did she know that she and her sweet babe would soon be in Heaven.’ Victoria wept. There were always tears at these sessions because Louisa’s accounts were so touching. Then she finished off the lace and said brightly: ‘What about a nice cup of tea?’ And she made it in her room and Victoria always felt it was an adventure to drink tea with Louisa – just like a grown-up visitor. But the visit came to an end and the Baroness Lehzen came up to tell her that her presence was required in the drawing-room. And there was Feodora with her husband and Mamma and Uncle Leopold, and Mamma was saying that she would give a dejeuner at Kensington when the bride and groom would have an opportunity of saying their last farewells to the family before they set out for Dover. So Victoria took leave of Feodora feeling that she had lost her already, although Feodora whispered that they would write to each other often. Then she drove back to Kensington seated in between Mamma and Charles.
There was one more trip to Claremont; this was to say goodbye to Feodora. The sisters clung together. ‘We will write to each other,’ whispered Feodora. ‘I shall wait impatiently for your letters and treasure them always,’ Victoria assured her sister. Then Feodora’s husband helped her into the carriage which would take her to Dover and across the sea. Victoria wept and went back to Kensington to tell the dolls that nothing would ever be the same again.
Chapter III THE CUMBERLAND SCANDALS I n the Gothic house at Windsor, known somewhat inaccurately as The Cottage, the King was sleeping, scarcely aware of the passing of the days. Servants walked about on tiptoe, certain that this day or perhaps the next week would see the end of the reign. The master of the King’s household could be said to be the Duke of Cumberland; he had the ear of the King and indeed George seemed afraid of him. For what reason no one could be sure but in view