Chapter 2
May 1839, Queen Victoria's much-loved Prime Minister resigned, and the Tory candidate Sir Robert Peel ascended to the office. The queen, however, dislikes Tories in the extreme. Sir Robert recently made the mistake of sending her an order, or so she interpreted it, to replace her ladies of the bedchamber with ladies loyal to the Tory party. This is the custom in government. The monarch is supposed to be surrounded by supporters of the governing party. Queen Victoria forcefully refused. She said something to the effect that while government could choose its leader, it could not choose her friends. I was not present at the time. Miss Pamela told me this later. Facing such stubborn opposition, Sir Robert resigned his new office and Lord Melbourne and the Whigs have returned to power.
Phileas raised his pen from his journal. He was winding down from yet another night of parties in the company of the Queen. He had been given modest apartments in the palace. Modest for the palace, I assume. Its twice the size of mine at home, and grander than any bedroom I've ever seen. I remember reading that one used to have to furnish royal apartments down to the bedsheets oneself. He sat up. Father either set me up before arriving or that's not true anymore.
Queen Victoria has not been seeing any suitors of late, he penned. I had watched Princes of German States, Dutch and even Russian origins come and go, all without turning her head. For that, I am quite grateful.
England's Parliament doesn't care for the constant importation of German princes and princesses, as has gone on since George I was imported from Hanover after the death of Queen Anne. The English people don't care for that either. It has been a running joke that up until George III, the King couldn't speak King's English.
I don't like all the Germans come courting, either. They are too arrogant by half and act as if her hand was theirs by right. In truth, I don't think Queen Victoria wants to marry at present. She is too happy just being out from under her mother's skirts. She has been living it up with parties and routes and teas and endless receptions, staying up late into the night. She sleeps in, sometimes until after noon the next day.
I have heard it said that some feared they were getting another virgin queen on their hands. Phileas laughed as he penned that. Her affection for Lord Melbourne is proof enough that Her Majest would have great interest in a life companion at some point. The Prime Minister spends a great deal of time in the young queen's company; so much that many question the propriety of it. But I see their relationship as perfectly innocent. Queen Victoria looks on Melbourne, worshipfully, as a mentor and chief advisor.
She most certainly does want close companionship and if they would just stop badgering her about marriage, 'for the good of the realm,' she might settle on some acceptable Englishman.
Phileas laid his pen aside, closed his book and sat back and stared out the darkened window. I've learned a great deal about the upper rungs of society I had been so eager to join that first day. One point I never expected; they lead the most boring lives imaginable. The sons and daughters of England's nobility were carried from one grand sparkling party to the next with only time to dress in between. And, as a second point, dress is evidently of great importance. He picked up his pen again and wrote.
The second son of Lord Avery discreetly took me in hand about that, and my deficiencies. Correcting them required a new wardrobe. I find it much to my liking, despite father's complaints about the expense. Phileas smiled. No turning back now. They are mine and I will keep a more careful watch on men's fashion in the future. Up until now, my clothing came from father's valet. If anything needed replacing or new things required, they just magically appeared. I had never, entered a gentleman's haberdashery to be fitted and set up from head to toe before. My new suits, blue, bottle green, burgundy and dove gray are all the rage. I never even considered just how stogy I've looked. For once in my life, I don't look like a younger version of father. And I like that.
I've also learned how to maneuver with in the ton. I've made a point of steering away from the older members at court. The men will talk my ear off if I stand in one place long enough. And that makes keeping an eye on the Queen impossible. The older ladies are… a problem of a different sort.
Phileas squirmed in his seat nervously. I am man enough to be flattered, but… Why in the world would any married woman consider me for a lover? At least the widows cornering me don't carry the dilemma of a husband's anger. A glimmer of a thought about accepting died before it got far. No, the shock of being propositioned by women old enough to be my mother is bad enough. Geez, a few of them were the mothers of my new friends.
Privately, in my rooms at night, staring at the ceiling, my bewilderment is added to, wondering if I have been the product of too strait-laced an upbringing. Am I insane not to take advantage of these offers? Until I can decide, I'll just stay out of their paths as much as possible. Can't do that and keep up with my eaves dropping and gossip chasing.
The younger set is more to my liking, anyway. The Queen's inner circle accepts me without reservation. I'm making friends by the dozen. More so, because I don't take up with anyone's mother and don't have time to be a challenger for the debutantes coming up.
Phileas slumped down in is chair, smiling. Pleasant thoughts of Miss Pamela danced in his head. She thankfully didn't fall into any off-limits category, a Miss not a Lady. Her mother was a Lord's younger daughter. Her uncle, Now Lord of the house, is her godfather. Phileas looked to his journal, picked up his fountain pen and continued his entries.
Miss Pamela, the daughter of a connected, but unpopular knight at court, is enjoying her second season. She is one of the Queen's closest friends. Pamela was one of the few people who didn't criticize the Queen in her mistake with the poor departed Miss Flora Hastings. Pamela told me the story I relate here.
The Queen, for very clear reasons, had accused a maid of honor of being pregnant. When the young woman denied this, the Queen ordered her to undergo a medical examination to settle the matter. She had been proven still a virgin but left court in humiliation. Just recently, the young woman has died. It has since been found that Miss Flora had been ill with a tumor, which caused the protrusion of her abdomen. The doctor that originally examined her did not discover this illness, or if he had, he did not speak of it openly. Pamela says the Queen has been quite upset about the whole thing and morns Miss Flora most deeply.
Phileas stopped. A small smiled crossed his face. Pamela. He flipped a page and sighed.
Pamela is such a beauty, dark chestnut brown hair, and dark brown eyes I could drown in. I see her often early in the day before the queen wakes. Pamela sent a note to me through Michael Avery, asking that I meet her in the east gardens on the third day I was at court. We talked together, covertly, as she sewed. I stood on the opposite side of a hedge from her bench. Pamela asked for this discreet arrangement because of her father. He wishes her to see only men he introduces.
Last week, Pamela sent me word of a more private meeting place where there would be no chance of us being discovered. Pamela smiles and I feel my heart soar to the stars. When she holds my hand, I die of hunger for want of more. When she gave me leave to kiss her, I think I did die. Heaven could not be so wonderful as having Pamela in my arms. I have begged to ask her father's permission to court her, but Pamela insists that her father would refuse me and end any chance of our continued meetings. I reluctantly continue to see her in secret. It's not the way I want it, but I can't lose her now. She has become my main source of information about who sees the queen and which people are pushing who into her path when I am not in attendance. It is a good arrangement and I have taken her into confidence to an extent.
Phileas picked up his pen, hand hovering over the paper. Sir Niles is a Tory social climber, a namedropper, and an overall unpleasant person. He gained his knighthood during the wars and then came to court during King William's reign, and was one of his protégées, I'm told. Not a well-liked one. That had to do with his being too friendly with the Duke of Cumberland, whose favor and assistance allows him the funds to remain. The gossip has it that Sir Niles is nearly penniless except for a stipend King William set up for him. Pamela admits that her father called in a favor with a duke to make her a Lady in Waiting. She enjoys being with the Queen and has made herself well-liked despite her sire.
Pamela has covertly taken up the Queen's political views and alliances rather than her father's. This causes her to walk a very thin line. Her father is one of those who seek to encourage the Queen's affections for an English suitor and to discourage all interest in the foreign princes. She doesn't like the idea of manipulating the Queen. To placate her father, Pamela has taken credit for the Queen's lack of interest in her German suitors. Pamela has promised to tell me who the Tory favorite is when she is told. I encourage her in her duplicity. Pamela's loyalty to the Queen is most remarkable.
I will relay these discoveries to father in my next report. He has shown approval of my progress. Father bids me to keep seeing Pamela, but; "be a gentleman to her."
Phileas nervously set his pen aside. I haven't told him of our secret meetings or how much I want to court her. Some things father doesn't need to know yet. I wonder just how long I can keep that from him, though. I watch my back closely. The last thing I want is to cause her scandal.
Phileas added something more. As I entered father's office to give my report last Wednesday, I witnessed two men leaving. Later, I saw them in palace guard uniforms standing at the queen's parlor door. After that, I have watched closely and identified several more of father's agents. There are six in all, but never more than two nearby at any time. I have not noticed them watching me, except when I am in the Queen's presence, but one can never be sure.
A few of my contemporaries have deduced my place as the Queen's companion/protector. These have accepted this good-naturedly and have given way for me in this quarter. Actually, they do so enthusiastically. Whenever there is a good card game or secret mischief to be enjoyed, I am accommodated fully. I do not get to join in on the twilight phantom races between London and Dover, or the fast parties the Queen doesn't attend. Instead, I attend her at the opera, the ballet, her rides through Hyde Park, and escort her to all her engagements, acting as her dance partner often.
While the other chaps are in town making merry during the day at clubs or having picnics with ladies, I find myself sitting with the Queen, admiring her painting and talking with her while she and her ladies sew… I'm not complaining. It is quite an enjoyable if sedate duty. With only small regrets, I allow myself to be made the Queen's companion more and more when the other chaps enjoy themselves elsewhere. Being my pretty sovereign's companion makes up for the loss. It is an acceptable second best to courting her out right, which I can only dream of.
Phileas sat his pen down. How I truly do enjoy being in the Queen's and Pamela's company. Of course, there are some who complain. I overheard some comments about my perceived place as the Queen's favorite. Phileas chuckled and then winced. An Earl had once groused at a reception, "The boy has no title or chance of one. He has not the standing to be so close in her favor. Lord Melbourne should take the Queen in hand and explain that."
Another had said, "Oh, leave it alone. Young Fogg is no threat to anyone. Would you rather she be spending so much time with one of the Stewarts or her foreign visitors? I say, if the boy keeps her from less desirable company, he's a good thing."
Then the man had added something that really made Phileas wince. "Besides, you can't believe he isn't here without reason. Sir Boniface had a singularly capital stroke of genius putting his handsome son in the Queen's company. Think about it, man; the boy keeps her distracted from foreigners, yet can't be a suitor himself. Their friendship keeps Her Majesty safely pacified for companionship until a proper English nobleman can be chosen for her. Again, I say, brilliant tactic, this."
"Could that really… No, father wouldn't… Would he?"
My friends and the Queen, however, consider it all a great joke. Michael may even be enlarging the myth. Victoria, of course, knows what is going on around her, and has been amused no end. As we took refreshments after a dance at Lord Rutherford's ball, she had commented on the scrutiny we've were getting. "You'd think we were within moments of elopement the way some frown at us so," she then giggled.
"I had not thought it was getting that bad." Phileas had said seriously.
"Such ridiculousness! No, maybe not that bad… Some in this place put a great deal of pride in their titles and think only like persons should be allowed within the royal inner circle. Pay no mind to it. I certainly won't. Besides, if they pay so much attention to you and I as a couple, they won't think to question your association with dear Pamela," Victoria had said.
I nearly choked on my wine at that comment. She gave me a cat's smile at laughed. "I've known all along, and Pamela tells me she likes you very much. I like that my two most trusted friends are so happy together."