Author's Note: I know I said at the end of the last chapter that we were jumping ahead to March, but… not yet! I realized there's quite a lot I want to cover about December, so that jump will happen in a little while. Thanks for understanding.
16 December
Windsor Castle
"Good morning, Your Majesty. I know you're not fond of Windsor, but I hope you're comfortable enough." Lord Melbourne approached Victoria's desk and held out a newspaper. "You've seen this in your boxes, I presume."
Victoria took the newspaper and looked at the column to which Melbourne was pointing.
"No, Lord M. I hadn't seen this."
Duchess of Kent banished from Court; HM the Queen lives alone!
Her Majesty the Queen has sent her mother, the Duchess of Kent, along with the Duchess' household, away from Court. As an unmarried young woman, even as Queen, it is certainly expected that HM the Queen would reside with her mother. This development shocks and appalls the editors of this newspaper. We do condemn the notion of HM the Queen holding Court alone whilst unwed and urge her to marry quickly, so that she might have proper guidance.
Victoria slammed the newspaper down onto the desk and demanded,
"How many people feel like this?"
Melbourne shrugged. "It is not a scandal, Ma'am. There are a few people, Tories, mostly, who are calling for you to marry because you've sent your mother away. And, of course, your mother is a popular figure. So there are some who see injustice in the act of banishment."
"It is hardly as though I sent her to the Tower!" Victoria protested. "It is scarcely as though I told her I'd never see her again! I even invited her here to Windsor for the Christmas party."
"And she declined," Melbourne pointed out, raising his eyebrows. Victoria gulped.
"Well, it's because I did not extend an invitation to Sir John Conroy or Lady Flora Hastings. She wrote back saying that if her whole household was not to come, she wasn't interested in my party."
"Hmm. The Christmas party. I'd nearly forgotten, with all of this Canadian nonsense." Melbourne scratched his temple and fretted, "It's been quite occupying, you understand. My government is consumed with Canada."
"I wish it did not take so very long for ships to cross the sea with news," said Victoria. "It is so distressing not to know what is happening there right now."
"I have faith in our military, that they are handling it well," Melbourne said stoutly. "These rebellions will be put down quickly."
"With little death and suffering, I hope," Victoria said. Melbourne smiled a little at her and said,
"This is why you're a fine Queen, Ma'am. You worry for your people. All your people."
"Lord M," Victoria began, rising from her chair, "You will dance with me at the Christmas party?"
"No, Ma'am." He shook his head. "You know as well as I do that a commoner cannot put his hand to the royal waist in a waltz."
Victoria pinched her lips. "I think I should like to say damnation upon that rule. I have already sent my mother away and have taken you as my favourite. If I would like to dance with you, then I shall."
Melbourne tipped his head and whispered, "Then you shall, Ma'am."
The Queen's ballroom at Windsor was west-facing, looking out onto the Engine Court with the Drawing Room to its side. It was grand, with a concentration of paintings by the Flemish artist Van Dyck. The seventeenth-century decoration that had once adorned the room had been removed in the last few decades, giving way to a more modern style.
Victoria stood with Maria Phipps, Harriet Sutherland, and Emma Portman as the Christmas party began to swell into action. People were sipping on punch and Champagne, eating little treats like cakes and sausages. The dancing had not yet begun, and so Victoria was talking with her ladies.
"I do so love Christmas," Harriet gushed. "It is by far the merriest time of the year, I find."
"I prefer spring," said Maria. "Even with the happiness of Christmas, I dislike winter gloom."
"I like being alive." Emma Portman raised her glass of Champagne and smiled broadly. "Whether winter or spring, summer or autumn, oh! How I adore the sensation of breathing."
The others all laughed at that, and Victoria said to Emma,
"You've such wisdom, Lady Portman. I wonder you don't go into Parliament."
They all laughed again, and then Alfred Paget walked up and bowed. Some of the men were in the Windsor Uniform, all of them looking quite handsome and stately, but Alfred Paget was not senior enough for the Uniform. He cleared his throat, and Victoria acknowledged,
"Happy Christmas, good sir."
"Happy Christmas, Your Majesty. Lady Portman, with your husband's given permission, I should like to ask you to dance a quadrille."
"Oh, delightful!" said Emma. "Yes, thank you."
She curtsied to Victoria and walked off with Alfred. Victoria huffed. She so loved dancing. Now that a quadrille was starting up, she watched people dance and wished someone would have had the gall to ask her.
Then her eyes flicked across the room to where Lord Melbourne was standing and talking to Edward Portman, animatedly lost in discussion. He was too busy for dancing, she thought. She just stared at him. She'd demanded that he wear the Uniform, though he'd protested he wasn't elevated enough for it. Of course, as her favourite, Victoria had said, he must wear it.
Victoria spent the next twenty minutes talking to her ladies' husbands, her uncles and their wives, and her cousin George. It was all dry, droll conversation that made Victoria so bored she downed three glasses of Champagne. Finally, finally, after a very long time, Melbourne made his way over to Victoria and bowed before her.
"Lord M," Victoria said irritatedly, "I had thought you'd forgotten all about me."
"I thought it best to allow you to greet everyone else, rather than being too attached to me," Melbourne said simply. She met his eyes and whispered,
"How handsome you look."
"Ma'am." He lowered his eyes and mumbled back, "You look stunning in that shade of blue. It matches your eyes."
That was bold of him, Victoria thought, and she liked it. She smirked a little and glanced out to the dance floor, where a polka was finishing up.
"Well," she said, looking at her dance card, "Since this is a small party, I've got very few dance requests. I think the next one is free, Lord M."
"Well, I should be positively honoured," he said. He held out his gloved hand, and Victoria put her fingers onto his palm. She walked with him out onto the dance floor as people applauded the polka. A waltz started up, and Victoria knew that everyone would be mildly scandalised by the sight of the Prime Minister putting his hands on Victoria. But if they didn't know by now how close Victoria was to Melbourne, they were all fools, she thought. She'd made herself quite plain, in her own view.
Melbourne's hand went to Victoria's waist, and she sucked in air hard. He held her hand as she touched her fingertips to his shoulder, and as he began to elegantly lead her in the dance, he said,
"They say it was Caro who made the waltz popular in England."
"Well," Victoria scoffed, "if she did, I am grateful to her for it. I do so love to waltz, though I am mostly forbidden to do it."
Melbourne just blinked and whispered to her, "Everyone is watching us."
"Let them see," she insisted. "Let them see me dance with my companion."
He shut his eyes and licked his lips. Victoria felt a swell of affection for him, all of a sudden, and she asked meaningfully,
"How did you know you'd fallen in love?"
His eyes sprang open, and he shook his head. "With… with whom, Ma'am?"
Victoria kept moving with him as she clarified, "With Caroline."
"Oh." Melbourne's jaw tightened. "I was smitten by her good looks, I suppose. But it went deeper than that. I enjoyed her company. It ached when she wasn't… when she left. I did not realise, probably, how in love I was until it was too late."
"Do you think a girl of eighteen is too young to be in love?" Victoria asked, and Melbourne shook his head.
"Not here, Ma'am."
"But do you think a girl of eighteen could feel it?" Victoria demanded. "Because I am quite smitten by you, Lord M, and I very much enjoy your company, and it aches when you are gone from me. The thought of losing you, in any way…"
"Let us not think of such things," suggested Melbourne. "It is a Christmas Party."
"I think," Victoria said softly, "that a girl of eighteen could feel it."
His lips went into a line, and he guided them away from the crowd of dancers to a quieter spot. He kept them moving, and he said gently,
"A man of my age can feel it anew. Of that I am quite confident."
Victoria searched his eyes. Had he just told her… was he intimating that he was in love with her? She scanned his jade gaze for clues and let her mouth fall open. He nodded and whispered,
"Of course I feel that, Ma'am."
The waltz came to an end, and Victoria knew, with an ache in her chest, that she would not be able to give him two dances tonight. She stepped back and curtsied as he bowed, and when she raised her eyes to him, his flashed. He said kindly,
"Thank you for the dance, Your Majesty. Scandalous as it was."
"A quadrille later?" Victoria suggested, but Melbourne just smiled sadly, a smile that did not reach his eyes, and he said to her,
"I think perhaps you ought to dance with Edward Portman and Alfred Paget and all the rest, Ma'am. Your subjects crave your attention."
"Do you?" Victoria asked him quietly. "Do you crave…"
"Yes," he whispered at once, nodding. "In my own peculiar way, I do."
Victoria shivered. She nodded and turned to walk away, but then Melbourne said from behind her,
"One last dance, Your Majesty?"
She whirled around and strode right up to him, and as he took her in his arms again, a fresh waltz started up. Victoria smirked and said again to Melbourne,
"Let them all see me dance with my companion."
They started to flit back and forth on their feet as the orchestra played with enthusiasm, and Victoria felt herself flush warm. She so adored this man, she thought. She wanted him. She cared when he was unhappy. She…
"I love you, Lord M," she whispered up to him, and as his arm curled around her in the dance, he murmured back,
"And I you, Ma'am."
She grinned broadly, let out a contented little laugh, and continued dancing. Emma was staring with a somewhat disapproving look. Harriet Sutherland was saying something behind her hand to Maria Phipps. And the Duke of Cumberland looked utterly revolted. Alfred Paget looked on with a cocked eyebrow and said something quiet to the Duke of Sussex.
Let them all see, Victoria thought determinedly. Let them all see her dance with Lord Melbourne, with her Prime Minister, with her private secretary, with her friend, her ally, her companion… her Lord M.
Author's Note: We all know from the show that Melbourne and Victoria danced at her Coronation Ball, but in real life, that would have been completely scandalous. He was not a royal, and the most she would have possibly been allowed with him would have been a social dance. Even that would have been too far between the Queen herself and a man like Melbourne. So for them to waltz twice in a row is going to create quite a stir.
Thank you so very much for reading and reviewing.