Disclaimer: I do not own any of the historical characters in Victoria nor do I own the TV series which was written by Daisy Goodwin. Any lines from the show are also not mine and are just borrowed from Daisy Goodwin and ITV Victoria.
'This is wrong
I should be gone
Yet here we lay
'Cause I can't stay away'
I Can't Stay Away – The Veronicas
She dazzles him right from the beginning.
Only eighteen years old but with a poise and dignity rarely seen in those decades older.
She is young, and perhaps lacking in certain areas of her education, but she is determined and regal and with a strength of character he has not often come across.
And it is easy with her. Easy to laugh and teach and talk and find himself more animated than he has been in a long time.
Government has always been rather a nuisance to him. He fell into the role of Prime Minister almost accidentally and has never been afraid of having to leave office, not like most of his predecessors.
Now, though, he finds it all much more appealing – sees things anew through the queen's eyes and rediscovers his love of politics through her enthusiasm.
He starts to think that to step down as Prime Minister will be more a painful experience than the relief it would have once been.
It is a worrying thought. As Prime Minister he knows his days are numbered, especially considering the shakiness of his government. But now he finds himself trying not to think on that inevitable day, only enjoying his time with the queen.
He is riding high, unable to conceal the pleasure he feels when he is in the queen's company and so delighted to find himself active in a task that brings him real happiness.
He gets brought back down to earth with a bump of course.
First there is the Lady Flora Hastings scandal.
He does not care what mud people want to toss his way – he has dealt with far worse thanks to Caroline's affair with Lord Byron and his own friendship with Mrs Norton – but he worries terribly for the queen.
So well-intentioned but so badly done.
He forgets sometimes how young and untested she really is, and how firm her convictions can be – if she is convinced that she is right then she will push, sometimes too much.
He tries to help and when it all goes wrong he sympathises and consoles because are they not all infallible humans capable of mistakes? It is only unfortunate that for the queen her errors are aired in public for all to comment on.
And comment they do.
He feels desperately for her in her distress and for the first time questions his feelings for her. Even when Sir John, the duchess and the Tories have attributed base motives to his attentions towards the queen he has taken no notice because he has known that his intentions are honourable and good, that all he wants is to help this extraordinary young woman who seems to have no one ready to truly believe in her.
Now, however, as scandal attaches itself to her and she suffers under public scrutiny, he realises the depth of feeling he has for her.
Of course he is still well-meaning, still determined to help her succeed, but he senses that there is something more there.
He does not (cannot) examine what that might be though, not yet.
It is a dangerous thought. He briefly considers pulling back, reducing their meetings to purely business.
Yet he is unable to bring himself to do that. He is not quite strong enough.
Just as the furore over Lady Flora dies down another blow is struck when the Jamaica Bill passes by only a few votes.
He resigns. What else can he do?
But the look on the queen's face when he tells her – betrayal and shock and sorrow – is one he will never forget.
He goes home, drinks far too much brandy and falls asleep in a chair in his library with the image of her face seared onto his brain.
The queen comes to Dover House. Then she calls him to Buckingham Palace.
She wants him to stay.
And he wants to stay too. Wants it more than he has ever wanted most other things in his life.
But he thinks it is not best for her. And more than his desire to be near her he wants her to be secure and safe.
He tells himself that he prizes the sanctity of the government above all else.
It is a lie. The British Constitution, tattered though it is, may be one of the few things he believes in, but he believes in her just a bit more.
He refuses to return because he is sure it is not in the queen's interests. That does not stop it being one of the hardest things he has ever done.
He pictures life without her effervescent presence and he almost cannot bear it.
He has to, though, because he will not be another in a long line of those seeking to further themselves at her expense.
She means too much to him for that.
Soon enough, though, he ends up returning to her side.
He is cautious, well aware that the queen has manipulated things so that Peel will not be able to form a government. And he knows he will need to talk to her, to explain the limits of royal power and that the rules of parliament must be respected.
However, for now he is only happy, more thankful than he can say at being back by her side while she beams and chatters and charms.
It may turn out to be a mistake. It might cause disaster.
Still, he cannot bring himself to care right now, not when she looks at him with such fondness or when her mere presence makes his life seem brighter.
She is everything he never knew he was missing.
He wants to stay with her for as long as he possibly can.
Things continue on as they were.
Except they don't, not really.
They grow closer every day, he and the queen, learning more about each other's likes and dislikes, beliefs and inner thoughts.
There is a new awareness too – both of them are conscious of their inner feelings but neither mentions them.
He knows he should back away while he still has some willpower left.
He doesn't, however. He stays and with every moment in her presence he falls a little bit more.
It is madness, what is between them. How, he thinks, can it last?
Surely the queen must soon marry and he is certain his ministry will not last more than another few years, probably less.
Perhaps he is a fool.
No matter, he is far past the point of being able to easily leave.
She comes to him at Brocket Hall and he somehow knows what she is going to say before she even opens her mouth.
There is something in her eyes, her manner, the trembling of her hands.
She verbalises what they have both so far said only in their actions and not their words.
A part of him rejoices at this irrefutable evidence of her love, at the sweeping away of that one part of him that always imagined that perhaps his feelings are entirely unrequited.
But it is almost like she has broken the spell too. For as long as they stayed silent they could continue on with their intimacy mostly without issue. Now that she has spoken he feels like it is all coming crashing down. For how can he answer her with his true heart, how can he accept what she offers, when he knows how unworthy he is?
There is a fork in the road now. If he answers as his heart desires then there is every chance that his choice will bring down a judgement on the queen that will strip her of her reputation and maybe even her crown. And he does not want to be selfish, not with her.
So he takes the other path, the one that to him looks so dark and gloomy but that he hopes so desperately will soon enough lead the queen into an even brighter future.
He breaks her heart and his own.
Yet he still finds himself unable to break completely from her.
He has to let her know that it is not a lack of love that has driven his actions, but more the fact that he loves her too much to risk possibly destroying her life.
So he sends the white orchid, tells her the story of Elizabeth and Leicester, and hopes to a God he has never been quite sure is there that he can at least stay with her a while longer.
He has, he thinks, chosen his path, chosen to eventually be parted from her, to make the first steps towards their separation.
The truth, however, is that he cannot stay away from her, nor she from him.
He is not as committed to his chosen path as he likes to believe he is.
The princes arrive and he takes a step back.
It hurts more than he will ever admit but he thinks that despite his unfortunate first impression Prince Albert might be the one to make the queen truly content.
He really does plan to give the two of them room to become acquainted, and he does try to reduce his presence at the palace.
But the queen asks him to dine with her, scolds him when he does not come to visit, and insists that he comes with them to Windsor.
He almost wants to beg her to stop. He can see her softening towards Prince Albert and while he is glad she is happy he does not wish to watch her fall in love in front of him.
He can feel it all slipping through his fingers – their intimacy and friendship and unfulfilled feelings.
All he can think of is how he is going to lose her, and how difficult it will be for him to bear it.
And then, suddenly, everything changes.
Just when it seems like an engagement is inevitable something happens in the woods at Windsor and it is all thrown into disarray.
The queen and Prince Albert ride out like they are on the cusp of a great romance. They return – separately, equally angry and quite ragged – like they wish to never set eyes on one another again.
His first thought is that the prince has done something to the queen and his blood boils at the very idea. But he calms, allows rational thought to return, and realises that while the prince might be sullen and curt, may have become angry, it is unfair of him to think he would ever harm the queen.
On her return from the forest the queen comes to find him, though she is tired and her dress is more of a mess than he has ever seen it.
"I am retiring, Lord M," she tells him, despite the fact that it is not even dark yet, "and we will be returning to Buckingham Palace tomorrow. You will stay the night and travel back with me?"
He hesitates. She has not said what the prince has done but it appears serious enough in her mind to warrant great displeasure and a desire to avoid him. Melbourne does not know what to do. He does not like to say no to the queen, especially not when she is so clearly distressed, but he also does not want to get in the way if she decides to forgive Prince Albert.
And then there is her request that he return to London with her. He worries that such a thing might breed unfavourable rumours. Even if they are joined in her carriage by some of her ladies, he knows that if it becomes public there will be talk.
"Please," she whispers.
His resolve is so often tested by her. He knows it is probably a bad idea to stay but he does not want to be away from her, and he wants to be as much of a comfort as he can.
"Of course, Ma'am. I will stay."
He returns to Buckingham Palace with her as he has promised.
And they cheer her during the journey – he and Emma and Harriet Sutherland – as best as they can, try to make her smile a little.
But her spirits remain low even with all their efforts.
He worries incessantly. Is she still angry with Albert? Is she upset? Does she regret leaving the prince?
For Albert and Ernest have not accompanied them back to London. They have, he hears from Emma, declared their intentions to return home.
He sees the queen safely to the palace and then returns to Dover House.
Over a sleepless night in which he drinks and thinks far too much he comes to a decision.
He needs to stay away. Not forever, for he is realistic enough to know that he is not strong enough to keep away from the queen too long.
However he decides he needs to give her some space to think, to decide if she really is as indifferent to Albert as she likes to think.
She deserves that. She deserves the world, he thinks, and if she comes to the decision that Albert is the one who can offer her all she desires then he will not stand in the prince's way, no matter his personal feelings.
He loves her too much for that. And he wants her to have the very best life she possibly can.
Days pass.
He goes to the House often, tries to immerse himself in politics. But nothing sparkles without the queen's presence. He is only tired.
To distract himself he reads extensively and jots down notes in his books, commentaries on authors he likes and others he mocks.
It is not the same, though, as having someone to talk it all over with.
So often he thinks of how the queen would enjoy a certain passage, or he remembers an anecdote he knows would amuse her.
He sees her in his dreams, with her silvery laugh and her animation and her charm.
He misses her.
A week goes by and then the message comes from the palace.
He opens it with trembling hands and tries not to dwell on his disappointment when he finds the handwriting is Emma's and not hers.
Come now please the note says.
He sighs.
It is expected, this summons from the palace. Really, he is surprised that it has not come sooner. Perhaps the queen is finally learning the value of patience, which has not ever been one of her strong suits.
There is no sense in waiting. Whatever he finds at the palace – heartbreak or not – it is best to know as soon as possible.
He calls for his coach, neatens his clothes, combs his hair.
And goes to Buckingham Palace.
"The queen refused to get up this morning," Emma tells him when he arrives, "we are not sure what is wrong."
"Has something happened?"
"King Leopold spoke to her last night. We were all a few rooms away but we could hear the shouting. He is not pleased that she did not try and stop the princes from returning home."
His eyes widen in shock, "the princes have gone?"
"Honestly, William," Emma says with exasperation, "what have you been doing this past week? It is quite public news."
When he thinks about it he does recall some talk, but he had fled the scene before he could hear anything concrete – he has been so afraid of hearing news that would distress him that he has gone nowhere apart from the House, and even then he has been leaving as soon as the business of government is done and before anyone can engage him in social conversation."
"I thought the queen might be anxious for the princes to stay," he says as an excuse for his surprise.
"After what happened in the forest?"
"The queen seemed to be very fond of the prince. It does not seem unlikely that she would forgive a momentary lapse in judgement."
Emma gives him a look. The one she always likes to bestow on him when she thinks he is being particularly obtuse about something.
"You and I both know, William, that Prince Albert is not the one the queen is truly fond of."
Though his heart does rejoice at the implications his eyes narrow at her words, "that is almost treasonous talk, Emma, and such a thing will never be accepted by the people."
"Done properly, and put the right way to them," Emma says, "I think, William, that you will be surprised by what the population will accept."
"Your talk is nonsense and folly, Emma," he tells her firmly.
He barely believes his own words. But he refuses to turn his head and see Emma's knowing look.
He walks towards the queen's bedchamber door. His hand rests for a moment on the handle.
Is it really wise to enter? Will this do more harm than good?
Who knows? He cannot resist, though.
He steels himself and pushes open the door.
Melbourne enters her room, where the closed curtains and extinguished candles make it hard to see anything. He can only just make out the shape of the queen lying fully clothed on her bed.
He takes a few hesitant steps forward, "Ma'am?"
The queen looks up immediately, "Lord M."
She breathes his name out like a prayer, like he is her salvation.
He moves closer and stops next to the bed.
He can see her a bit better now, a sliver of light from the gap in the curtains illuminating her face, and he notices the red eyes and damp cheeks that indicate she has been crying.
She stays silent and he considers his options. He wavers for just a moment and then makes his decision. He slips off his boots, lays his coat on a nearby chair and climbs onto the bed so that he lies next to her.
He prays no one will come in and find them like this. They have been close ever since they met, and intimate almost as long, but this will paint an exceptionally bad picture if it is observed, even though his intention is only to comfort.
He can feel the heat radiating from her as he lays so near her. It is comforting – her presence generally is.
He says nothing, just waits for her to talk as he knows she eventually will.
And he tries to still his hands, slightly shaking as he yearns to shift just a little and touch her (her face, her hands, her lips).
She is so very close.
When she finally speaks it is with a note of accusation in her voice.
"Why have you not come before, Lord M? I have not seen you for a week."
"The House, Ma'am, has kept me very busy. And then there was some business to be dealt with about Brocket Hall."
She winces at the name of his country residence and he understands her pain – that day of her confession was hard for both of them.
"You never found that to be an obstacle before," she tells him, "you always had time for me."
The queen's voice is quiet and small, so unlike her usual tone. He feels the guilt down to his bones.
"I thought, perhaps, that you might like some time to reflect on the future."
She turns an accusing gaze on him, "you think I should have accepted Albert?"
He shakes his head, "I believe you should marry whoever will make you happy, Ma'am. I just wanted you to be sure that Prince Albert was not that man before you gave him up entirely."
She sighs, "you are always so concerned for me, Lord M, yet it never occurs to you that my greatest source of happiness might have been right by my side all along."
She reaches out for his hand and clasps it in her own. He does not protest – he dreams of her hand in his often enough and to have it a reality is near bliss for him.
"I do not want you to have regrets, Ma'am."
"If there is one thing I shall never regret," she tells him firmly, "it is you, Lord M."
He does not quite know how to answer her, can only feel so very contented in the knowledge that she cares as much as he does.
They are silent for little while, just lying there with their hands entwined and their hearts at peace.
"You will not leave me?" she asks after a few minutes.
He does not wish to but how can he make such a promise? His term as Prime Minister is surely coming to a close and he knows her uncle Leopold will not give up his desire to have her marry Prince Albert despite the prince's return home. There are a thousand ways they could be separated at any moment, a thousand reasons why his staying so close to her could be a bad idea.
Yet with her it feels like fate. So many times they have been torn apart but they always find their way back to each other.
And Emma's words have given him hope. Perhaps it is false hope … but maybe it is real. Right now he will take any kind of hope, because he knows he does not ever want to leave her.
"I find, Ma'am, that I cannot stay away."