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. Any recognisable lines belong to Daisy Goodwin and the TV series.
Victoria's third child was named Alice in honour of Lord Melbourne, who apparently once said it was his favourite girl's name. As I was so disappointed that there wasn't a mention of this in episode 6 I decided to write a missing scene set between episodes 5 and 6 to remedy the situation.
It seems quite appropriate that Alice was the one named in honour of Lord M – she was said to be the most emotionally sensitive of all her siblings and we know Lord M was a man of great feeling, and like Lord M she also experienced the loss of a child (two of her children died when they were under five years old).
'And I wonder if I ever cross your mind
For me it happens all the time.'
Need You Now – Lady Antebellum
Victoria hates her confinement.
She feels fat and tired and useless, full of pent-up energy that she cannot release because Albert, her doctors, Lehzen and mama all start to panic if she even tries to step one foot out of her room.
It is frustrating beyond belief.
Lehzen tries to help, but she hovers so and makes Victoria feel so much like a child that she can only stand short visits from her old governess. Mama fusses but at least she can be fairly easily diverted by visits to little Vicky and Bertie.
Albert comes to talk with her when he can, but he is so busy and when he visits her he never wants to talk about government business. She feels flashes of her old worry that he might seek to usurp her power, especially when he seems to talk only of nursery duties and will not bring her the government papers to see.
But she will not be pushed into the nursery and made to stay there. She persuades Wilhelmina Coke to bring her some of her papers and soon enough she makes Albert see that while she appreciates all his hard work and assistance, she is still the Queen and she will not let another pregnancy affect that.
Being trapped in bed does, however, leave Victoria plenty of time to catch up on her correspondence.
There are letters to kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, a host of Coburg cousins and her many Hanover relations.
And Lord M, of course.
He does not write as often now as he used to, and his handwriting is shakier, his letters shorter.
He is still Lord M, though – witty and charming, clever and supportive.
It is obviously not the same as having him here in person, but she knows enough of his illness to hold back from issuing invitations to London that she knows he will not (cannot) accept.
Sometimes she wonders if she will ever be able to visit him at Brocket Hall, but her pregnancies and duties leave her so little time that she fears she will never get there.
And she knows his ailments are only getting worse.
Lord M writes nothing of it himself, choosing instead to tell her about his greenhouses, the rooks, his work on St Chrysostom, and the books he is reading.
It is Emma Portman who gives Victoria a more realistic picture in her letters. She writes of Lord M's exhaustion and the weakness in one of his arms, though she insists that his mental faculties are as sharp as ever and that there is not much pain.
Victoria does sometimes fear that Emma gives her a more optimistic picture so she is not too upset. Still, while he does not write very frequently Lord M is still as eloquent as always and she feels sure that if his body is betraying signs of age and infirmity then at least his mind is not.
They continue to refrain from talking about politics – Lord M, ever since he left office, has always tried to be strict on this point. However, despite Lord M's scruples and their best efforts, they do sometimes find themselves discussing certain political events in their letters.
She does not think it is the sort of thing Sir Robert or Albert should object to, for Lord M usually just commends her on a particular action or gives her his support when she is doubting herself.
When he heard the news that the French King had gone back on his agreement he wrote her a letter far longer than normal, reminding her that it was not her fault.
And as for the French matter, Ma'am, which I admit to having heard of even in the country, I feel I must reassure Your Majesty in whatever small way I can.
I know you well enough, I believe, to be sure that you did all you could in France.
Please remember the lesson that it is important for all those with power to learn – sometimes you can do everything right and still lose.
This is a setback, Ma'am, but you will persevere and continue, as you always have.
Dear Lord M, he still always knows exactly what to say to make her feel better.
Victoria and Albert often talk about names for the child whose arrival is only weeks away.
They find it hard to agree, though. Middle names are often taken from godparents and other family members and they have plenty of options, but the first name is more difficult.
Albert's favourites at the moment are Helena and Alfred.
And Victoria likes these names, loves them even. But somehow neither of them feel right for this baby.
If only she could figure out what name does feel right.
Lord M is often on her mind in the last weeks of her pregnancy.
Perhaps it is because her confinement means she cannot be as much distracted as usual by the affairs of state, and because Albert temporarily taking over her duties means that she has little time with him either.
Instead she thinks a lot about the past, on those early days of her reign with Lord M as her Prime Minister and Emma and Harriet as her favourite ladies. So much fun they had then, how much she enjoyed it.
Of course she is happy now, blissfully so. She adores her husband and she loves her children, even though she admits she still finds it hard to particularly like them when they are small, screaming creatures.
But happiness now does not mean she was not also happy then, and Lord M was a big part of that no matter how much Albert and Sir Robert want her to forget all about him, shut away in Brocket Hall.
She cannot forget. She will not forget.
She sends Lord M letters almost every day. She writes often to her Coburg and Hanover relatives but she can never be as candid with them as she can with Lord M, and she cannot admit her fears to them out of worry that they will be seen as weaknesses to be exploited.
With Lord M she can be honest, and though his replies are short and shaky they always contain the wisdom she has so missed, the sort that Albert, young as he is, has not yet learned.
Once Lord M was everything to her. He cannot be so now, but he is still her dearest friend, still has a place in her heart.
The suffocating feeling that confinement brings is hard to overcome, but the isolation does help remind her of the missing friends so often in her thoughts – Lord M, Emma, Harriet.
She writes to all three more in the three weeks at the end of her pregnancy than she has in the entire year previously.
She feels guilty for neglecting them before now, though she does have an excuse with the many duties that have distracted her.
And that is when the thought hits her.
The perfect way to choose a name for her new child.
A name to honour her dear friend.
"Will you tell me about your son?" asks Victoria one day as they walk through the gardens together and Lord M tells her the names of all the colourful flowers.
She looks up at him, a little nervous and unsure about broaching such a sensitive topic that clearly affects him very much.
He only smiles, though, expression a little bittersweet but clearly aware that she is only curious to know more about him.
"Caro and I were so excited when he was born," Lord M tells her, "and for the first few months everything was wonderful. Caro doted on him and I had so many plans, so much I wanted to teach him. I wanted to be a better father to Augustus than my father had been to me."
Lord M seems wistful in a way she rarely sees and she wants so much to reach out, to take his hand and comfort him. But she cannot, for such a thing is forbidden to them.
"It took us a little while to realise that Augustus' development was … not as it should have been. It was a strain on us both, especially as Caro's recovery from the birth was very slow. We argued a lot but I still loved my little boy, though I soon realised he would never be able to enjoy books and learning the way I did."
"I am sure you were a brilliant father, Lord M," Victoria says with conviction, for she knows he has such a capacity for love and deep emotion, though he can be flippant in company and to give amusement.
"I tried," he smiles at her despite his eyes being bright with tears, "he could get very agitated sometimes, but I like to think he was able to be happy, that I gave him as much as I could."
Victoria does not doubt it. She remembers Lord M telling her about his son for the first time, and the emotion and love in his voice had made it quite clear how much he cared for Augustus.
"Caro couldn't cope, not really," he continues softly, "she had a lot of her own problems coming to the surface, and Augustus' condition was not something she took well. And then she had only just recovered from the birth when she fell pregnant for a second time."
"Another child?" asks Victoria, who has never heard anything about Lord M having more than one child.
"A baby girl," Lord M tells her, "born about two years after Augustus … born too early – she did not live a day."
"What did you name her?
Victoria knows that her question might be intrusive, but she cannot help herself. She is always so curious about Lord M.
"We did not name her, Ma'am. She was … gone before we had the chance. I think, though, that if she had lived I would have liked to call her Alice."
"It is a beautiful name," Victoria says.
Lord M nods, "it has always been my favourite. I am sorry that I never got the chance to use it."
The tears well up further in her eyes now and Victoria is sorry to have upset him. Lord M is so good and he deserves all the happiness he seems to have been denied.
And she decides that propriety can be ignored at this moment. She takes Lord M's hands in her own and gives him a soft smile.
He accepts her silent apology with just a look. Then he squeezes her hands gently, brushes the tears from his face, and begins once more to teach her the names of all the flowers he is so knowledgeable about.
The birth is painful, but she thinks that this will probably always be the case.
It is, at least, easier than it was with Vicky and Bertie.
Albert is by her side, as he insists he will be for all their children's births, and it brings her some comfort to have him instead of the serious faces of a dozen politicians watching closely to ensure there is no switching if babies.
And when, after hours of labour, the baby is pronounced to be a healthy girl, Albert does not seem at all disappointed, though she knows they will be receiving more condolences from the Privy Council than congratulations.
Victoria does not care. She has given the country a Prince of Wales and if, God forbid, the crown eventually falls to one of her daughters then she is sure they will be as magnificent as any boy.
After all, has Victoria herself not proved herself a more diligent monarch and less immoral character than her uncles and grandfather before her?
Victoria cradles the baby in her arms and nearly weeps with relief that she does not feel the same detachment she did after Bertie's difficult birth.
Albert looks down at his second daughter, as besotted with her as he has been with all their children so far. She wonders if all the people who call him cold would ever say such a thing if they saw him with his children.
"What shall we name her?" he asks as he strokes the baby's soft cheek.
Victoria thinks of a long ago conversation with Lord M. She thinks of a warm smile and kind eyes that have never failed to cheer her when she was sad or worried or angry, and of a man who always supported her. She thinks of a love that could never be fully realised.
"Alice," she replies softly, "I would like to call her Alice."
Dear Lord M,
I write with news about the new baby who arrived two days ago.
The Privy Council would rather that she was a boy but I think she is a fine little creature. As red and noisy as Vicky and Bertie but I know now that she will grow out of that in time.
I confess that I still do not much like the state of pregnancy or squalling babies but they do become quite dear things when they are a bit older. I hope there will be a good while between this baby and the next, though, and perhaps then I will finally find the time to visit you at Brocket Hall and once more look around your greenhouses.
How are the orchids? I do hope you will write soon and tell me.
I wish to tell you that we have named our new baby Alice.
I hope you do not mind.
I hope you understand.
I did mean what I said, Lord M – I will never forget.
Victoria R
Victoria sends the letter enclosed in one to Emma Portman.
Albert and Sir Robert still frown on her correspondence with Lord M, considering it inappropriate despite the fact that Lord M is clearly too unwell to ever return to politics. She finds it tiresome to debate the subject and so she has taken to sending her letters to Lord M care of Emma to avoid any further arguments with her husband and Prime Minister.
She is sure that the news will have reached him of Alice's birth, but she hopes that she will be the first to tell him the baby's name.
Most of all, she hopes that he will realise what she is trying to do with this choice of name.
There are many things to show their friendship – her diaries, her sketches, the memories of countless people who have witnessed their interactions. But this, she hopes, is the most lasting memorial of all.
She wishes her daughter to grow up to be as kind and loving as Lord M.
And she hopes he knows that, though the two of them might be apart, their friendship will endure.
Five days after Victoria sends off her letter Emma arrives at court for a brief visit.
"I've come for a week," she tells Victoria, "Portman has been complaining that he never sees me and the shopping in London is far superior to Hatfield. My sister is well enough now that she can spare me for such a time."
Victoria nods. Emma's long visit her sister is, she knows, an excuse to also watch over Lord M in his illness. Victoria, though a little jealous that she has been unable to visit him herself, is glad to know that Emma is there to ensure he is looked after.
"And how is Lord M?" she asks after a few minutes of conversation, unable to resist the opportunity for information about her dear friend.
"He has had his difficulties, Ma'am," Emma admits, "but these last few days he has been most energetic. Ever since he received your letter he has seemed almost like his old self. The doctors warn it will not last but I believe he is enjoying this burst of energy – the greenhouses are flourishing and he has written almost a whole chapter for his work on St Chrysostom."
Victoria simultaneously blushes at the suggestion that her letter has been responsible for Lord M's improvement and smiles delightedly at the thought that he is better.
"William sent this for you," Emma says, gesturing to the parcel she has brought with her, "and he offers his congratulations on the princess' birth."
Victoria nods and answers Emma a little absently, eyes focused on the parcel and curious about what is contained within, "you must see the children, Emma. Vicky is so clever and I am sure you will be astonished by how much she has grown – I cannot believe she was ever as wrinkled and red as she was when they first handed her to me."
"I would be delighted to see the princesses and the prince, Ma'am," says Emma, "I will pop into the nursery on my way out and leave you to open your parcel."
Victoria flushes, embarrassed that her desire to be alone to open the parcel is so obvious and feeling guilty for neglecting Emma.
But Emma does not seem to mind, if the gently teasing little grin beginning to show on her face is any indication.
"You must come for tea before you return to Hatfield," she says to Emma, "the Duchess of Buccleuch is growing on me but I do so often miss you and Harriet."
"Of course, Ma'am," Emma says, before she curtsies and leaves the room.
When Emma is gone Victoria sits down and pulls the package so that it is next to her.
Lord M had sent formal congratulations and flowers for her when Vicky and Bertie were born, but she has never received a package like this before from him.
With trembling fingers she opens it up and finds a number of items contained within.
First there is a colourful bouquet of daisies with a small card attached declaring that they are for Alice.
Then there is a single beautiful white orchid, the sight of which makes her eyes well up with tears.
Finally she pulls out a bundle. On further inspection she realises it is an exquisitely-made wool blanket, just big enough to wrap a baby in. The material is delightfully soft and the stitching near-perfect, the colours a lovely pattern of purples and pinks.
Victoria, as she runs her fingers up and down the blanket, retrieves the final item in the package – a single sheet of paper, folded over.
You honour me, Ma'am, with your choice of name for your daughter. It is a beautiful gift.
And I hope you do not think me too presumptuous in presenting you with this, the blanket that was to have been my daughter's. I hope the princess will find some comfort in it.
I remain yours, devotedly,
Melbourne.
The daisies last only a week or two but Alice retains a curious attachment to the blanket that was Lord M's gift long after she ceases to be wrapped in its warm embrace. She takes it with her when she marries and Victoria knows it is now used to swaddle Alice's own daughters.
It makes Victoria smile, to know the blanket is being used as it should, that Lord M's wish has been granted.
And as she watches Alice grow she finds it fitting that the child she has named for Lord M should share with him such a capacity for emotion and love.
As for the orchid, well that remains preserved in wax and tucked away in a small wooden box hand painted with the flowers Lord M taught her all about.
Together with a number of letters, some sketches, and a piece of her heart that not even Albert has ever been able to touch.
She does not forget.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.