Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria

660 Pages·2005·2.72 MB·English

by  Plaidy Jean

Also by JEAN PLAIDY
FROM THREE RIVERS PRESS
THE WIVES OF HENRY VIII The Rose Without A Thorn The Lady in the Tower
Katharine of Aragon
The Sixth Wife
THE TUDOR PRINCESSES
Mary, Queen of France The Thistle and the Rose THE TUDOR QUEENS
In the Shadow of the Crown Queen of this Realm
The Royal Road to Fotheringhay THE NORMAN TRILOGY
The Bastard King
The Lion of Justice
The Passionate Enemies THE PLANTAGENET SAGA
Plantagenet Prelude
The Revolt of the Eaglets The Heart of the Lion
The Prince of Darkness The Battle of the Queens The Queen from Provence Edward
Longshanks
The Follies of the King The Vow on the Heron
Passage to Pontefract
The Star of Lancaster
Epitaph for Three Women Red Rose of Anjou
The Sun in Spendor
THE TUDOR NOVELS
Uneasy Lies the Head
Uneasy Lies the Head
Katharine, the Virgin Widow The Shadow of the Pomagranate The King's Secret Matter
Murder Most Royal
St. Thomas' Eve
The Spanish Bridegroom Gay Lord Robert
THE STUART SAGA
The Captive Queen of Scots The Murder in the Tower The Wandering Prince
The Three Crowns
The Haunted Sisters
The Queen's Favorites
THE GEORGIAN SAGA
The Princess of Celle
Queen in Waiting
Caroline the Queen
The Prince and the Quakeress The Third George
Perdita's Prince
Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill Indiscretions of the Queen The Regent's Daughter
Goddess of the Green Room Victoria in the Wings
THE QUEEN VICTORIA SERIES
The Captive of Kensington Palace The Queen and Lord M
The Queen's Husband
The Widow of Windsor
THE FERDINAND AND ISABELL ATRILOGY
Castile for Isabella
Spain for the Sovereigns Daughter of Spain
Spain for the Sovereigns Daughter of Spain
THE LUCREZIA BORGIA SERIES
Madonna of the Seven Hills Light on Lucrezia
THE MEDICI TRILOGY
Madame Serpent
The Italian Woman
Queen Jezebel
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION SERIES
Louis the Well-Beloved The Road to Compienge
Flaunting, Extravagant Queen Evergreen Gallant
Myself, My Enemy
Beyond the Blue Mountains The Goldsmith's Wife
The Scarlet Cloak
Defenders of the Faith Daughter of Satan

“Send her victorious
Happy and glorious
Long to reign over us
God save the Queen.”
Prologue
I WAS QUITE YOUNG WHEN I STARTED TO KEEP A JOURNAL. Mama said it would be good for
me. She would read it, and that made it like a lesson; then she and Baroness Lehzen
could put their heads together and say: The child is too exuberant, too emotional, and
lacking in dignity. She is too impulsive and there are too many storms. All true, of
course; but during the time of what I called my captivity I was never free from them;
and it continued from the day of my birth to that glorious moment on the 20th of June
in the year 1837 when the Archbishop and the Lord Chamberlain came to the Palace of
Kensington to tell me I was the Queen.
I do not remember ever being alone. I even had to sleep in Mama's room, and Lehzen
used to sit with me until Mama came to bed so that I should not be left to myself. How
significant it was that one of the first things that occurred to me on that memorable day
was: Now I can be alone.
So in my journal I would write that which would win their approval and that was
sometimes not in accordance with my true feelings. I have always found great pleasure
in writing, in music and painting; and I truly believe that I could have excelled at any of
these occupations if destiny had not had other plans for me.
When I was a child and beginning to be aware of the frustrations of being watched
and forbidden to do so many things that I wanted to, I longed to have a secret diary in
which I could write down the daily happenings, for one is apt to forget important details
if one does not record them at the time. I wanted to write of my life in Kensington
Palace, of Lehzen, Spath, of my beautiful lifelike dolls and my scandalous uncles; I
wanted to write of sinister Sir John Conroy and his influence on Mama and his
determination to ensnare me when I was too young and inexperienced to resist him; I
wanted never to forget the shivers he sent down my spine, for I do believe he seemed to
me as menacing as my wicked one-eyed Uncle Cumberland. I wanted to be quite frank
about the growing change in my feelings toward Mama. Naturally one must love one's
mother; it is a duty; but I used to wish I could stop my eyes from seeing so much and
my mind from coming to such conclusions. But that is no way for anyone to act—
certainly not one who may become a queen.
If I could have had my secret diary, I could have confided in it. I could have recorded
the sudden changes in my feelings. I could have found a reason for those sudden
outbursts which Mama referred to as the “storms.” I might have come to a better
understanding of myself as well as others.
But now, at this time, I am my own mistress, and in my lonely years when the one
who was all the world to me has been taken away, I can indulge my whim; I like to
spend long hours remembering the past, rereading my journals and setting it down as I
should have done had it been for my eyes alone. There are differences now from what I
wrote then, and in the writing I seem to see myself more clearly, to know myself—and
the task absorbs me. I recall days of childhood in Kensington Palace—the prison, as I
called it. I like to think back to that time when I first realized that I was not as other
children about me, that I was Victoria who was destined for a crown.
That destiny dominated my childhood; it was the reason for Mama's concern. How she
longed for the crown to be mine—far more than I ever did—preferably before I was of
age so that she could reign in my stead. How she hated poor old Uncle William because
he refused to die! How she hated all my paternal uncles! She was protecting me from
them, she would say. I must never forget how much I owed her. Poor Mama, she did not
know that one cannot wholeheartedly love, however much one wants to, just because it
is one's duty. There were times when Mama could become quite wearisome.
Now I can write for my eyes alone without consideration of what may be construed
by my words, without the probing eyes of Mama or Lehzen finding in my simple
observations characteristics that must be suppressed. Poor Mama! Dear Lehzen! They
are beyond passing judgment on me now. And I am a lonely widow, with only memories
of happier days left to me and the hope of finding comfort in the memory of time past.
The Wicked Uncles