"Drina. I am surprised to see you so lively tonight," said the Duchess of Kent, and Victoria frowned as she sipped from her champagne.
"Why should I not be joyful, Mama?" Victoria demanded. "It is a Christmas party."
"Yes, but has your stomach been quite steady recently?" It was a pointed question, and finally Victoria understood. She set her champagne down on the tray of a passing servant, who bowed, and she said to her mother,
"There is absolutely nothing to report, Mama."
"That is too bad," the duchess said morosely. "Since it has been several months, I was thinking… perhaps…"
"I'm afraid you were mistaken to assume anything," Victoria snapped. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there are people I'm meant to see tonight."
She strode away quickly, ignoring the way people bowed and curtsied as she passed through them. She could see that her husband was engaged in a deep conversation with the Duke of Wellington, and she was pleased to see that it appeared rather harmonious. Victoria eyed Sir Robert Peel, whose wife was speaking to another lady, and she walked right up to him.
"Your Majesty." Peel bowed low, and Victoria immediately said,
"I wonder, Sir Robert, if the rumours I hear are true."
"What rumours are those, Ma'am?" Peel asked tightly, and Victoria glanced over to where her husband was speaking with her Prime Minister.
"Some say that the Duke of Wellington finds himself far too old to serve as Prime Minister any longer, that he wishes to retire. Some say that the Tories would much prefer a government under you, Sir Robert."
"I wouldn't know, Ma'am," Peel lied, shrugging rather impudently. "You and I explored the idea of my serving as Prime Minister earlier this year. I do not recall it ending very amicably, Majesty."
He sipped from his wine, and Victoria scowled. He meant the so-called Bedchamber Crisis, of course. It was when Melbourne had resigned as Prime Minister. Wellington had turned down the post, insisting even then that he was too old. But Peel had felt - even long before Victoria's marriage to Melbourne - that she was far too closely aligned with the Whigs. He had agreed to form a government only if Victoria replaced members of her household. She tipped her head and told him now,
"Do you know, Sir Robert, as of late, I find myself surrounded by Tory women and one politically retired man. The vibration of the Whig party is notably absent from my household, Sir."
He nodded. "I would never push the Duke out, Ma'am, but if he steps aside and my party wills it, I will gladly serve this country as Prime Minister. I wonder if His Highness is discussing this matter even now."
He sipped his drink again, and suddenly Victoria thought that he was an inherently disrespectful man. She had come to a cool but workable rapport with Wellington. She thought that if Peel were Prime Minister, things might get acrimonious. But she swallowed hard and told him in the most polite voice she could muster,
"Well, Sir Robert, I do look forward to whatever may come. Should you and I be working more closely together, I would find it an honour indeed. Please do make yourself merry."
"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you kindly for the lovely party." Robert Peel bowed again, and Victoria nodded as she walked quickly away from him. She went over to where Melbourne was talking with Wellington, and at once both men bowed to her.
"Prime Minister, will you reassure me of the longevity of your tenure?" Victoria asked straight away. Wellington looked a little taken aback by the abrupt question, but Melbourne said in a genial tone,
"Your Majesty, the duke was just explaining to me how very weary he grows of politics. I can scarcely blame him; I have found my respite these last few months to have been most invigorating. Given his illustrious military and political service, he's earned some time of leisure, don't you think?"
Victoria took a shaky little breath and turned to Wellington.
"You mean to step down, and your party will install Sir Robert Peel in your place."
"With your blessing, Ma'am, that is the plan as of now," Wellington confirmed. Victoria shrugged.
"My opinion, good sir, on policies or politicians is utterly irrelevant. As the monarch of this nation, I will always maintain an amiable working relationship with the Prime Minister who is put in place. I only regret that Sir Robert was so adamant with his conditions last time around."
"But, of course, your household is far more favourable to him these days, Ma'am," Melbourne pointed out, "and you have, after all, relied so much less upon your ladies these last months."
He was right, of course. She didn't need two dozen women flitting around when she had her Lord M. There was meaning buried in his words, too. Her ladies were Tory plants, but her husband was a Whig. Her husband was the enemy of Robert Peel, and Peel would never be able to infiltrate that far. Victoria smiled a little at her husband and nodded. Then she turned to Wellington and told him,
"No matter what you decide, I wish you nothing but happiness and wellbeing."
Wellington bowed a little and said in a warmer voice than usual,
"Thank you very kindly, Ma'am."
"William, I wonder if you might pull yourself away from the Duke to dance with your wife a bit," Victoria said. Melbourne set down his glass of wine and extended his hand with a bow of his head.
"Majesty."
They walked to the place where other couples had gathered to dance, accompanied by a small orchestra playing a festive waltz. Victoria took Melbourne's hand in hers and felt his hand go between her shoulder blades. Her emerald green silk gown was off the shoulder, and so his hand pressed against her skin. She liked the feeling very much. In the first few months of their marriage, they had managed to avoid her conceiving, and indeed Victoria's bleeding had come predictably each month. Now as she swept into a dance with Melbourne, she whispered up to him,
"I am… no longer indisposed."
His eyebrows went up, and she wondered if he knew what she meant. Her bleeding had stopped the morning before, and she wanted him badly again. Melbourne murmured down to her,
"Well, Ma'am, it will be a very late night for us both, in that case."
Oh, yes, Victoria thought then. He knew what she meant. He flicked his eyes about and asked in a very low voice,
"No chance at all that you've conceived, then?"
"No." Victoria shook her head firmly. "My mother seemed rather desolate to learn that."
Part of Melbourne's mouth went up, and he said playfully,
"Perhaps they'll all say I'm too old for it."
"I happen to know you are not," Victoria replied. She just danced with him then, soaking in the feel of his hands on her, of the sight of him in his finery. She almost missed a step, but he quickly righted her, and she told him,
"You have always guided me so well, Lord M. In dance and in matters of state. So guide my dancing, and tell me. Will all be well under a Peel government?"
"Your mornings may be a little unpleasant, Ma'am, but Britannia will soldier on, and so will you," he replied. He pulled her a little closer, and he promised her, "I shall do my best to compensate for any unpleasantness you might experience."
"Why do you care so dearly for me, Lord M?" Victoria demanded, and his face twitched a little as he shook his head and admitted,
"I have no choice in the matter. I love you, Victoria, and there was never anything to do about that. I thought… there was a time when I had resigned myself to losing you. To letting you go, handing you over to someone else."
"You had resigned yourself to that?" Victoria asked, and he nodded and squared his jaw.
"There didn't seem to be any choice about that, either. It is astonishing, the way a heart can break so slowly and deeply and completely before tragedy even strikes the soul."
"It would have been a tragedy, my marrying someone like Albert?" Victoria tightened her hand on his shoulder, and Melbourne nodded seriously.
"For me, Ma'am, it would have been the most painful tragedy I would have endured in all my life, and I consider myself something of an expert on painful tragedies. Still, I would have borne it."
"For England's sake," Victoria nodded, but Melbourne shook his head.
"For your sake."
Victoria felt breathless then, lost in the gleam of his green eyes an the sad little smile that always seemed to dance on his lips. She fully intended on dancing with him more than once. Four or five times, even. She was the queen and he was her husband. She would dance with him all night if she wanted, and she did want that. Melbourne pulled his thumb over her gloved hand, and he tipped his head.
"The truth is that I have lived through the public scorn and the private pain of a marriage with an interloper. I have been the husband whose wife ran into another man's arms, and I knew I could never be that other set of arms, Victoria."
"But you aren't," Victoria protested. "You're the only one, Lord M."
His eyes shone a little differently then, and his thumb kept moving on her glove.
"It will be a late night," he said again.
Author's Note: Raise your hand if Lord M's past breaks your heart! But don't worry… happy times are headed his way. Mwah haha… *rubs hands together* Thanks for reading - reviews are golden and treasured. :)