Lord Melbourne stood in his greenhouse with his sleeves rolled up, his wavy hair a mess as he sweated in the humid space. He selected a larger pot of decorated crockery and brought it over to his new hibiscus. He covered the drainage holes in the pot with a filter and used a trowel to bring fresh soil from a burlap sack into the pot. Scoop after scoop, he filled the new pot with layers of soil. Then he used his tin watering can and moistened the hibiscus plant to keep the roots together. He reached into the smaller pot and extracted the hibiscus root ball, putting it into the larger pot. He scooped some more soil over the top and patted gently, and then he heard a voice from the door.
"My Lord? Sir?"
"By the waterfall," Melbourne called. There were footsteps behind him, and Melbourne rubbed his hands on the linen apron he had tied around his waist. He turned to see Brocket Hall's butler striding towards him, a small silver platter in his hands. Upon the platter was a sealed envelope, and Melbourne suspected he knew who it was from. Sure enough, the butler announced,
"A letter from Buckingham Palace, My Lord."
"Thank you," Melbourne mumbled. He plucked the letter off the platter and waved his hand to dismiss the butler. Once the other man had gone, Melbourne went over to the wrought iron bench among his orchids. He sank down and sighed as he read Victoria's distinctive script upon the outside of the envelope.
Lord Melbourne, Brocket Hall.
He broke the Royal seal on the back of the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. His chest pulled at the appearance of so much of Victoria's handwriting. She had put pen to paper for him, and he found himself wanting her again. The night before, he'd been in bed with a cold sweat thinking about her. He'd come to Brocket Hall after things had settled down in Parliament enough for him to take a few days to himself, thinking that a little space between himself and the queen was warranted. Now he studied her letter, every word making his heart race just a little more.
My Dear Lord M,
I know why you have run off to your flowers. I am still not sorry. I do miss you terribly.
I write, however, to inform you of Prince Albert's situation. Of course, this has been kept exceptionally quiet to protect him. However, as my Prime Minister, I feel you need to know precisely what is going on with the husband of the sovereign.
Albert has consumption. He is coughing blood, is so fatigued he can not rise from bed, and has chills and sweats. The doctor confirmed the diagnosis, which he had suspected two days ago, this morning after consulting with two other physicians.
And so it is… Albert is severely unwell. I wanted to visit him in his rooms to express my love for him, but they would not allow it. He is catching, they say, and I, as the Queen, must not see him. In fact, they are sending Albert away. He must go to Windsor, to be attended to by physicians and a few servants. I am not able to say goodbye.
My mother says the primary issue at hand is my own health, as I am the reigning monarch and have not yet borne an heir. She says that Albert was a sickly boy as a child. It seems strange to me how quickly the tide has shifted from the importance of me marrying Albert to keeping him at a distance for my own well-being.
They are taking him to Windsor today. I shall wave from the palace steps, but they will not allow me any nearer to him. I do pity him, but you know my heart, Lord M. I must be wicked. I must be a terrible woman, to feel as I do about this entire situation.
Write to me. Tell me that I am not awful. Better - come back to Buckingham Palace. Your queen needs her Prime Minister in this time of tumult.
Very sincerely,
Victoria R.
Melbourne folded the letter up, shutting his eyes and murmuring a little prayer for Prince Albert. Then he opened his eyes and glanced around his greenhouse. Dare he go dashing back to Buckingham Palace after having kissed Victoria?
Dare he not?
"Your Majesty… the Prime Minister."
Victoria looked up from the divan upon which she'd been sitting and staring into a fire. She slowly stood, smoothing her emerald green skirts. In walked Melbourne, who bowed his head the moment he saw Victoria. He stalked to her with long, confident strides and then descended to a knee. She held out her hand, and when he took her fingers in his, she shivered. He kissed her knuckles, and Victoria's stomach clenched. He released her and stood, seeming quite solemn as he met Victoria's eyes. He waited for her to speak, as per protocol, but she kept him waiting. She just gazed up into his pale eyes and searched.
"I ought to feel very aggrieved. My husband has consumption."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Melbourne said softly. "Your husband is quite ill. The entire country will be praying for him. I'll need to draft something to read in Parliament."
"Why do I not fear for him as much as I ought to?" Victoria asked. Melbourne touched his forehead and whispered,
"Ma'am, I think you are operating on emotion from something that should never have happened."
"You kissing me, you mean," Victoria said, and Melbourne turned around to look about the room, as though he were afraid someone was listening. Victoria continued, "If I loved him as deeply as I thought I did, perhaps I would be wracked with grief right now. Perhaps I would be sitting here sobbing, or spending all my time in the chapel praying."
Melbourne said nothing. Victoria sighed.
"You're going to read something for him in Parliament?"
"Of course, Ma'am," Melbourne said. "In fact, I should go work on that right now and take care of the matter straight away. The sooner the Prime Minister appears sincerely concerned about Prince Albert, the better."
"So you're leaving?" Victoria asked anxiously, "so soon after coming here?"
"Ma'am," Melbourne pronounced, "if ever there was a more inappropriate time for you and I to be alone together… when they've just taken His Royal Highness to Windsor for quarantine. I must go draft a statement for the House of Lords. I wish you well. I will be praying for him."
"Yes. As will I," Victoria said softly. Then she raised her eyes to him again and whispered, "He'll be all right. Won't he?"
Melbourne hesitated. He shrugged and admitted, "None of us could possibly know. We can only hope. I sincerely hope for his… that he might…"
He trailed off, and Victoria stepped closer to him. She reached up and brushed her fingers along Lord Melbourne's jaw. His eyes went wide, but she kept touching him as she whispered,
"Don't abandon me, Lord M."
He covered her hand with his and pressed her palm to his cheek. He shut his eyes.
"No, Ma'am. Never."
"Go write what you must," Victoria murmured. "I shall see you soon."
She lowered her hand, and he whispered,
"Soon."
Then he bowed respectfully and turned to go, leaving Victoria trembling where she stood.
Two weeks after Albert had gone to Windsor for treatment, Lord Melbourne received an update from the Prince's physician. His condition was stable, neither improving nor worsening, but the diagnosis of consumption was certain. It was critical that Queen Victoria keep her distance, lest the monarch come down with the disease herself.
On a Saturday weeks after Albert had been quarantined, Melbourne sat in his drawing room with two books open in front of him. One was on the lives of Church founders and one was on the history of Constantinople. He scribbled a few words about the Crusades down onto a paper in front of him and sighed. He longed to spend his time researching St Chrysostom. No, he thought then. He longed to spend his time with Victoria.
He had hardly seen her since Albert had been sent away. It had felt wrong, for a long while, to pine after her whilst her husband waned at Windsor. It had made him feel like a cur, wanting her the way he did, with Albert lying sick in bed.
Now Melbourne stared at his books and his writing, and he shut his eyes. He couldn't help desiring her. He was a terrible man, he thought, wanting his young and beautiful queen. But she wanted him, too. He knew that much. What harm had come of their kiss? Really, had any harm come of it? She was not in love with Albert, she had said. She wished for the days when she and Melbourne had been close. He wished for them, too.
"I do not require an introduction."
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
Melbourne whirled in his chair to see Queen Victoria herself striding into the drawing room in a gorgeous gown of salmon-coloured silk. She wore a white bonnet with lace hanging down her sides, and she had pearls on. She was so beautiful that Melbourne almost stayed seated in shock. But he flung himself to his feet and stood beside his desk.
"Your Majesty," he whispered, and she turned around and ordered the butler,
"Shut the door."
The butler bowed and pulled the door to the drawing room shut. Victoria pulled her bonnet off of her hair and walked over to a chair, setting it down. She plucked at her fingertips and yanked off her lace gloves, and Melbourne just blinked in wide-eyed surprise.
"Lord Melbourne," she said tightly, walking right up to him. "This is ridiculous."
He frowned. "I beg your pardon, Ma'am?"
"You have kept yourself away from Buckingham Palace for weeks," she complained, "and I have hardly seen you. I sent you a message earlier today asking you to come, and you did not."
"Forgive me, Ma'am; the message said to come for dinner. I had every intention of coming."
"I had thought you would come earlier," Victoria said. Melbourne raised his eyebrows.
"Earlier. I'm sorry, Ma'am. I misunderstood you, apparently."
"I had wanted to ride out," Victoria said. "It is unseasonably warm."
"Oh. Erm… I have been keeping my distance, Ma'am, because of His Royal Highness."
"I know," she said, more gently. She licked her lips. "They tell me he is stable, but that I mustn't see him, owing to the contagion. I do not know if I shall ever see him again. And now my mother says there shall be a crisis."
"A crisis?" Melbourne asked, and Victoria's cheeks went red.
"Because I am not with child, and Albert is ill."
"Ah." Melbourne's throat felt tight. "I see. There is concern in Parliament about the matter. Quiet murmurings that perhaps Her Majesty will be widowed - God forbid it - and will need to marry again quickly in order to produce a royal heir."
"These are my nightmares made manifest," Victoria said. She shut her eyes and shook her head. "If only he'd managed to put a child on me before he became so very ill."
"It is… erm… it would seem too late for that, Ma'am," Melbourne said. "Perhaps he will improve, and you…"
"You know he will not improve," Victoria said. Her face hardened. "He will weaken, and he may die. Even if he lives, and he has consumption, there will be no child. This illness of Albert's has created quite a problem as regards an heir. If he does perish, I shall be expected to find a new husband as soon as I can and immediately reproduce. Is there no mercy, Lord M?"
Melbourne had a fleeting idea then, a wild idea. He shook his head to rid himself of it, but it lingered in his consciousness.
He could put a child on Victoria and she could claim it had happened with Albert before his illness.
"I have a solution," Victoria whispered, her bottom lip trembling. "You could help me."
Melbourne shook his head harder than ever. "N-No, Ma'am. I know what you have in mind, but we could never… that could never…"
"And why not?" Victoria demanded sharply. "Do you wish for a crisis?"
"I do not wish scandal for you," Melbourne said gently, reaching for her hands. But she said in response,
"The timing is right. I knew nothing of the timing until Albert told me about it. But it would be a good time, Lord M, for you to resolve this terrible -"
"Your Majesty," Melbourne interrupted breathlessly. She shocked him then by rubbing at his bare forearms with her hands, making him shudder. He couldn't breathe all of a sudden; his chest was heavy and his stomach was quaking. She stared up at him and stroked his arms, and he whispered,
"I could never…"
"I am begging you," she murmured. "Lord M. Help me."
"If it didn't work," he said, "if it didn't happen within the next few weeks, it would be too late. No one would believe you. Then they would excoriate you, and -"
"Couldn't we just try?" Victoria asked softly. "Couldn't we at least give it an effort, so that I don't have to remarry? Who would I be forced to marry, Lord M?"
His heart ached at that. He could see it all, suddenly - the childless queen widowed, marrying someone new for whom she did not have real feelings, lying with that new Prince, birthing an heir because it was expected of her.
She could have his child, he thought. She could do the duty the country demanded of her, but she could enjoy the process of conception. And she could lie and say that Albert had put the child on her before growing terribly ill. A matter of a few weeks would not create an outright scandal; maths with these things were often hazy.
"Your Majesty," he whispered, studying her lips. He needed to kiss those lips, he thought suddenly. He cupped her jaw in his hand and bent down, kissing her harder than he had meant to do. She gasped against him, her mouth opening. Very much on instinct, Melbourne let his tongue creep between her lips and drag over the roof of her mouth. Victoria hummed onto his mouth and tightened her fingers on his forearms. Her skin on his felt so good that Melbourne let his own hands move of their own accord. He planted one hand to the small of her back and dragged her closer, realising that he'd wanted to do precisely this for a very long time.
"Lord M," Victoria breathed when at last they pulled away. Melbourne shut his eyes and seethed through clenched teeth, his breath mingling with hers. She reached up with one hand and stroked at his jaw. "Please help me."
"You want me to put a child on you so that you can claim it's Albert's offspring," Melbourne said, his disbelief thick. His eyes were still shut as Victoria told him,
"I want you to father the heir to the throne."
He winced at that, for it was so ludicrous that he could not believe his ears. He kissed her again, harder this time, and she collapsed against his body. He held her steady at her back as her arms snaked up around his shoulders. Then their mouths parted, and Melbourne's lips felt bruised and warm. He was hard between his legs now, but there was no helping that. Not when Victoria was wrapped up in his arms and talking to him about lying together.
"Lord M," she whispered, her breath hot on his lips, "I have come here today to ask this of you, and to suggest… that we might…"
"Yes," he murmured at last, "Yes, because if I think on it a moment longer, I will lose my only chance to… you know that I…"
"Well, then," Victoria said, pulling herself up and licking her lips, "Let us attend to the task at hand. I presume you've got a bedchamber here at Dover House?"
"I also have servants, Ma'am," Melbourne reminded her, "and they would most certainly notice you coming upstairs with me."
Victoria looked around the drawing room, seeming to realise that it would be no easy feat to couple properly in this room. She looked back at Melbourne with steely determination and said,
"This room will do fine. I shan't be able to fully undress."
He blinked. "I can't imagine… Your Majesty, I can't -"
"Yes, you can," she said. She put her hands to his chest and confessed, "I have wanted you since before my Coronation. Do you not want me?"
"I do, more than anything," he told her truthfully. "I merely fear for what this will do to you."
"If it does what it's meant to do, you will have saved me," Victoria informed him. Melbourne chewed his lip and glanced to his messy desk. He eyed the stately but small furniture. And then he finally laced his fingers through Victoria's and whispered,
"Come with me, Ma'am."
He led her towards the wall, thinking to himself that he'd gone completely insane, and so had she.
Author's Note: Oh, dear. So they've got plans. And there's going to be sex-against-a-wall. Will they figure out a way to get comfortably naked together? Will their plan work? Will Albert get sicker (or die)? Hmm…
Thanks as always for reading. I am exceedingly grateful for feedback on this story.