In the Shadow of a Queen, page 21
Letter from Prince Alfred
to Princess Louise, HMS Salamis, Gulf of Chile, October 1, 1869
March 1870
Louise, age 22
helena flipped another page. “What about Lord Cowper?”
“He’s out of the question,” the queen said.
Before Louise could ask, Helena turned to look at Mama, who was sitting near the window, sketching something in a notebook. The March evening was descending fast, and the winds had started, screeching their way around Windsor Castle.
“What’s wrong with Lord Cowper?” Helena’s hand rested on her pregnant belly. She was due in two months.
“Lord Palmerstone is his step-grandfather, and I’ll not have that man related to me.” The queen didn’t even look up from her sketchbook as she added, “Besides, he’s thirty-four, and he’s been about London too much.”
“My husband was thirty-five when we married,” Helena said hotly, “and I was younger than Louise is now.”
“Your husband is a prince.” The queen paused. “Even Louise will agree that Cowper isn’t suitable.”
Although Helena seemed quite put out by the debate, Louise was used to this sort of discussion. “I have no opinion since I’ve never met Lord Cowper.”
At this, the queen looked up. “You haven’t?”
Louise wanted to laugh and say, How could I? You’ve never let me go to any balls or parties unless they were sponsored by my brother. And even then, I couldn’t dance with a commoner.
“You must meet him, then,” Helena said. “He will be at Marlborough House tomorrow night for a dinner.”
The queen folded her hands. “Well, if Louise wants to go, she has my permission.”
Louise wasn’t sure if she should allow herself to feel elated about this so soon. She’d had her hopes up more than once, too many times to count now, and this might be one more letdown.
But perhaps this meeting would let her get over some of her guilt for what happened with Lord Lorne—how his family had been in discussions with Mama, at Louise’s request, and then nothing came of it. Complicating matters was the fact that the Duchess of Argyll had suffered a stroke soon after John’s visit to Balmoral. Surely the last thing on his mind was finding a wife.
Louise had been too self-conscious to go with Mama and Beatrice to visit the recovering Duchess. She didn’t want to run into John by happenstance. Not after the questions he’d asked Leo about her.
The dinner at Marlborough House was about to begin by the time Louise arrived with Helena and her husband, Christian. They waited near the carriage before entering, while Christian smoked a cigarette. Louise had grown quite used to the pungent tobacco scent that always lingered about him, and most grand houses had smoking rooms now. Perhaps one day, the queen would acquiesce. For now, Helena told her husband to find a room with a chimney whenever they visited Mama.
Louise told herself not to scan the room for any of the men she’d met with over the previous year but, instead, keep her focus on the ladies who stopped Helena for chatter.
“Princess Louise, I’d like you to meet Lord Cowper,” Christian said.
Louise lifted her gaze then. Lord Cowper wasn’t as tall as Lord Lorne, but he had solid looks. He also wasn’t talkative or quick-witted like Lord Lorne. She could appreciate quiet shyness, though. Lord Cowper was a far cry from a Scotsman straight from the Highlands, since he was quite thin—but he had an . . . artistic look.
Perhaps he was artistic?
Louise also had no trouble speaking to him, which she considered a good sign. “Tell me of your favorite sculptures.” She hoped appreciation for good art was something they might have in common. She was right.
In a mellow tone, Lord Cowper said, “It used to be Boehm, although he was quickly replaced when I visited the sculpture of Her Majesty at the Royal Academy at Burlington House. Which you, apparently, had sculpted. It was truly a masterpiece, Your Royal Highness.”
Louise laughed. There was no way he preferred her work over Boehm’s.
“One would have to be blind and deaf to not know that Your Royal Highness is a master sculptress,” Lord Cowper continued.
Louise grinned. Compliments as of late went straight to her head. Maybe Lord Lorne should have paid her a few. Then they would’ve had a decent conversation.
“Tell me, then, who your favorite painters are,” Louise said. “And please don’t test out more of your flattery on me. You’ve done that enough.”
Lord Cowper gave a soft chuckle. His lashes were unusually long, giving his face a feminine appeal. No matter.
“It’s no flattery, I assure you. If a complete stranger had asked me the same question, I’d have given the same answer.”
Louise had to lean slightly forward in order to catch all of the gentleman’s words above the general thronging noise. He was so soft spoken. It was a nice change, she decided, from the posturing and loud opinions she was used to from her brothers.
“Since you insist, I must say I’ve been entranced with Edmund Niemann as of late.”
“Ah, yes,” Louise said. Niemann was well known and respected for his landscapes in oil. “May I compliment you on your good taste?”
His smile had a dimple to go with it. “You may.”
They both laughed.
The rest of the evening was quite a blur, and the first thing the next morning, Louise reported to Mama that she had found Lord Cowper quite agreeable.
Mama sent Skerrett away immediately, then faced Louise square on. “We will invite him to dinner then. Does tonight work for you?”
Louise’s heart might not have plucked in excitement, but she felt a pleasant warmth spread through her. “Tonight will be excellent.”
Dinner with Lord Cowper, Helena and Christian, and Beatrice and Leopold turned out to be a delicate affair. Louise couldn’t put her finger on what was not quite right. Everyone was cordial, and Lord Cowper shared some humorous stories, drawing smiles and chuckles. This was a nice change since Mama, who more often than not ate in private, had discouraged lightheartedness for so many years. When Louise asked him what his pastimes were, he only mentioned that he enjoyed reading and studying art. Not hunting, fishing, or sailing for this peer of the realm.
“Lord Cowper is so thin,” Mama murmured the following morning in the middle of Louise taking correspondence. “Delicate looking. Don’t you think, Loosy? Reminds me a bit of Leo. Did he have a childhood disease?”
“How is that something I can ask when I’ve barely met the man?” Louise said in a stiff tone. Mama was as generous with her criticisms as she was with her compliments. Yes, Louise had noticed the same thing about Lord Cowper, but surely he had the stamina of any man of her acquaintance.
“I’ll have Granville discreetly inquire,” Mama mused.
It was no use arguing with her. Health was very important to the queen.
“In the meantime, Loosy,” Mama said, her focus direct now, “we cannot make Lord Lorne think he has a chance if you are to choose Lord Cowper. It’s not fair that he be kept waiting.”
“I thought we told him not to wait,” Louise said.
“We told him not to wait upon you but didn’t tell him that there was no chance.”
Louise’s stomach felt hollow. She wasn’t rethinking her decision about John Campbell, but the timing felt horrible. His mother was still recovering from her stroke. Yet it wasn’t fair to him if she was this keen on Lord Cowper. The men were quite opposite of each other, and it was easy for her to imagine a life with Lord Cowper. They’d visit museums together in the day and discuss literature at night. Their conversations would be deeply thoughtful and intelligent. If Mama had overcome her earlier prejudice, that was a good sign indeed.
“Then write to the Duke,” Louise said at last. “It must be done.”
The queen sent the letter to the Duke, and in a few days’ time, his most cordial reply came. Mama was satisfied with it, and Louise was as well. All talk of marriage between the two of them was officially dead. Louise had seen Lord Cowper twice more, both at the invitation of the queen, and each time, Louise felt more convinced that he would be an excellent match for her. She wasn’t ready to broach the subject yet or have the queen reach out to his parents. No, Louise wanted their relationship to develop naturally and grow into a mutual affection.
“Your Royal Highness,” Lady Clifden said, after knocking on Louise’s studio door. Lady Clifden was one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting. “Her Majesty would like to see you immediately in the queen’s drawing room.”
Louise had started a painting of the grounds of Balmoral, using previous sketches as her guide. She set down her brush, then she removed the smock she wore over her dress. “I’m on my way.”
Her pulse fluttered as she hurried to the drawing room. She’d spent all morning with her mother working on correspondence and, from time to time, discussing how to proceed with Lord Cowper. Louise wouldn’t deny that she was eagerly looking forward to the next steps.
Mama was holding a letter when Louise entered. “We need a new plan, Loosy. Granville has informed me that further inquiries into Lord Cowper reveal that he’s been courting Lady Katie Compton, and they are about to become engaged.”
Louise heard her mother’s words but couldn’t quite believe them. If that was the case, then why had Lord Cowper been so friendly to Louise? Why had he accepted all the invitations and spent so much time flattering her? More than that though, Louise had thought he liked her.
She smoothed her hands along her upper skirt, noting that her fingers were trembling. “Again?” Her voice came out as a choked whisper. “How could no one know this?” She thought of Helena’s encouragement and Lord Granville’s first letters of approval.
The frown lines between the queen’s brows only deepened. “We were too hasty in our eagerness about Lord Cowper. We should have had Granville conduct his investigation before we invested in any conversation with the man.”
Louise nodded. She should have been much more careful with her expectations and hopes. When Helena had suggested Lord Cowper, she shouldn’t have met him until she knew more about him.
“That’s that,” Mama declared as if Louise wasn’t feeling a painful twist in her heart. The queen opened the Peerage book and began to leaf through it again. “We haven’t gone through all of the names yet, and surely there are men better and less attached than Lord Cowper. Make a list, Louise. I want Granville to investigate all who we come up with.”
Louise’s heart felt like lead, and her thoughts went numb.
“Henry Strutt,” the queen said. “Lord Hartington. Tommy de Grey. Lord Camperdown.”
Louise exhaled. “Maybe we should ask them to join a parade? Or attend a huge banquet all together. Or else there will be a lot of dinners.”
“It will only be a lot of dinners if you remain finicky.”
Now, Louise felt offended. She hadn’t been finicky with Henry Petty-Fitzmaurice and Lord Cowper.
“Lord Ailsa,” the queen continued. “Lord Gosford. Lord Rosebery.”
Some of the names Louise knew, but now she was more wary than ever.
“Now, that is a good, solid start,” Mama said. “Write to Granville and ask him to begin his investigations and report back immediately.”
The year of 1870 already felt like a very long year, and it was only March.
“While we are waiting for Granville, we need to stay busy,” the queen said after the letter was dispatched. “Come, we are going to Claremont House to choose some paintings to display at the galleries.”
It was better to stay busy—that Louise agreed with. So she accompanied the queen to Claremont. The beautiful mansion was the former residence of Princess Charlotte, daughter of King George IV. Louise and the queen spent a nice afternoon walking the grounds and the house, then selecting the paintings.
“Your Majesty,” a man said, causing both the queen and Louise to turn to face the messenger. “I’ve brought word from St. James Palace to inform you that General Grey has suffered from convulsions and had a stroke.” He held out a note. “This is from Mrs. Grey.”
The queen took the note and read through it, then handed it to Louise.
Mrs. Grey was worried about Sybil hearing such hard news when she was so close to the delivery of her second child. In the letter, she asked if Louise could attend to Sybil but not let her know how serious her father’s condition was.
The general must get better. He must, Louise thought.
The queen grasped Louise’s hand and told the messenger, “Thank you for bringing us the news. I will have our best doctors sent over.”
Louise squeezed her mother’s hand. General Grey might no longer be in the queen’s inner circle, but Louise was grateful for Mama’s generosity toward the man.
When they returned home, she readied herself to visit Sybil. They’d been writing letters regularly, which had mostly focused on Louise and eligible peerage. Now it was time to focus on Sybil’s health.
But even the queen’s best doctors could do nothing to save the general. Six days after his stroke, Grey died. The weather may have held the promise of warmth and newness of spring, but Louise could only think of the loss to the world. General Grey had been like a father to her at times. He’d never looked down on her and had always given excellent and sincere advice.
On the afternoon following the general’s death, Louise settled onto Sybil’s bed and grasped her hand. Her friend had violet circles beneath her eyes, and her hands trembled as she clutched at Louise. She understood her best friend’s grief firsthand, yet the loss was devastating all the same.
“How did you bear it, Princess Louise?” Sybil asked.
“One day at a time, I suppose,” she said. “Sometimes it was one moment at a time.” The sharper memories of her father had faded with the years, but she’d never forget the man he was and all that he was passionate about. It was why Louise had taken her study of sculpture seriously—it was something her father revered.
“I wish I had known he was so close to death,” Sybil said. “I would have said goodbye to him.”
Louise understood this as well. “No one knew he wouldn’t recover. I suppose death has its own timeline, and we can only be grateful for the time we do have with someone. The doctors said that even if he’d survived, he would have had a difficult recovery.”
Sybil leaned her head on Louise’s shoulder. “Little Louise is so young right now that she’ll not remember him when she gets older. And the baby too—he’ll never know his grandfather.” Her voice broke.
Hot tears formed in Louise’s eyes. It was the same for her. “Papa will never meet the man I marry or lay eyes upon any of my children.”
“Surely my father and Prince Albert are together now, looking down upon us from heaven.”
Louise held Sybil’s hand tighter. “They were great friends in life and will be so in heaven.”
A small sound came from the nearby bassinet. Sybil had wanted the baby in the bedroom with her even though she hadn’t fully recovered.
“What will you name him?” Louise asked.
“Charles,” Sybil said. “After Father.”
“Wise choice,” Louise said with a smile. The infant began to fuss. “Do you want me to call for the nurse?”
“No,” Sybil said. “Bring him to me. I’m breastfeeding him. Don’t tell the queen.”
Louise laughed. It wasn’t a secret that her mother considered breastfeeding below the station of royalty. She’d been most displeased when Alice and Vicky had breastfed. Thankfully, according to Mama, Helena had the good sense not to.
Louise lifted the tiny infant swaddled in white. He weighed less than a puppy. Before handing him to his mother, she gazed into the infant’s murky blue eyes.
“Hello, my precious,” Louise said. “I’m Loosy.”
“Oh, don’t get him in trouble with the queen,” Sybil said in amusement. “She won’t even allow me to call you anything so informal.”
Louise was glad to see some pink had come into Sybil’s cheeks. “You can call me Louise or Loosy anytime. I’ve told you over and over.”
Sybil wrinkled her nose. “But if anyone overheard, I’d probably be banned from seeing you.”
Louise gave a good-natured shrug. “Perhaps. Now, I think Charles needs his mother.”
Chapter 25
“Dearest Bertie, I received dear Alix’s letter this morning for which I pray thank her, with the extraordinary proposal of Prince Albert of Solms. My two letters of the day before yesterday and yesterday . . . will be the best answer to any of these proposals: viz: that Louise wishes to settle here in her own Country and that I think she is quite right. A Poor, small German Mediatized Prince, one of 6 brothers with no Home or fortune would never do. . . . I can’t conceive how he [Albert] could dream of such a thing. He is so besides [German for commonplace]. I will not here repeat what I said in my two letters, but Prince Albert of Solms may be told there is no chance for him.”
Letter from Queen Victoria
to the Prince of Wales, Windsor, November 26, 1869
June 1870
Louise, age 22
duckworth is leaving shortly,” Leo said, poking his head into Louise’s studio, where she was working on an inscription. His eyes were rimmed red as if he’d been crying, and Louise had no doubt that he had been.
Reverend Robin Duckworth had been Leo’s governor for years, and Louise had been grateful for the reverend’s good and gentle treatment of her brother. There was no good reason for the queen to dismiss him, Louise decided. But Mama had insisted, saying that Leo needed someone who could better prepare him for adulthood and the future. Besides, Duckworth was to become the incumbent of St. Mark’s Church in Hamilton Terrace. None of Louise’s arguments on her brother’s behalf had changed the queen’s mind.
