Chapter Three: Rooks and a Foreign Visitor
"Brocket Hall, Your Majesty?" I ask from where I see her putting on her rather understated bonnet. "Are you quite sure—"
"I know the risks of it, Felicity, thank you. And I've told you before—you may address me as 'Victoria' while we are alone."
"Yes, Victoria—I'm sorry," I say, lowering my eyes to the needlepoint I've left neglected in my lap. It was still something I was growing used to—her new name, as well as her unpopularity for allowing herself to believe that Lady Flora Hastings was pregnant with Sir John Conroy's child. "I am sorry, Victoria," I say again, and raise my eyes to hers. "I just don't wish you to be hurt—"
Victoria turns to face me then, her young face awash with joy. "I will not be hurt, Felicity. For you're coming with me."
"Victoria?" I ask, my voice coming out a squeak.
"I've had the maids send for your cloak and bonnet, and you and I," she states, pulling the black lace of her bonnet down in front of her face, "shall be quite incognito about the whole affair."
Forcing a smile despite my utter reluctance, I turn as the door opens as a maid comes through with my cloak and bonnet, it too fashioned with lace to conceal my face from the world. "You'll wish to speak to him on your own?" I ask.
"Yes, but you shall be nearby," Victoria replies, motioning for the maids to put on my cloak. "I never want you far from me, Felicity."
I force a nod then, pulling my bonnet on and the lace over my eyes as we walk out her chamber doors, down the corridor, and through the main doors of the palace. I note the unmarked carriage, knowing that going incognito is a serious business as we make our way towards it. Getting in and settling ourselves, I make sure that the blanket is firmly in place for her as I hear the reins snap from outside and soon we're off along the road.
"The King of the Belgians certainly has a high opinion about your marriage," I say softly to her as the carriage pulls along.
Victoria immediately turns to look at me. "Has he demanded you to speak of it, Felicity? Tell me at once."
Immediately, I shake my head. "No, of course not," I reply. "Your uncle and I merely spoke about trivial things whenever he does wish to speak to me—which is not often. I am merely the daughter of a newly-created English viscount, with no marriage prospects," I say softly, and the pair of us dissolve into laughter.
"Mayhap Uncle Leopold will want me to marry Albert," she puts in.
"You've seen him—he came to meet you before you were queen," I put in. "Was he so offensive to you then?"
"No, he was quite handsome to say the least, but I don't want a stupid little boy like Albert!" Victoria declares, leaning forward in the carriage seat and looking out the window. "We shall be there soon..."
We arrive at Brocket Hall in a little over an hour, and Victoria nearly throws herself from the carriage, walking directly towards the back gardens, her arm in mine and pulling me along. However, just as we're about to reach the clearing ahead, she sends me off, on my own, leaving me to watch from a distance. She approaches the clearing herself, a purple dot amongst the brown and orange hues around us, and I see at once why she wished to come here in the first place. She pulls her lace from her face and approaches Lord Melbourne, who immediately seems shocked at her being there.
"The butler said you would be here," she states.
"I come here for the rooks," Lord Melbourne replies, turning about and nodding at the birds, who seem to wish to call out to them. "They're sociable animals," he goes on, a keen interest in them, it seems. "A gathering like this is called a parliament, altogether more civilized than the human equivalent."
Victoria raises her eyes to the rooks for a moment, before turning back to the man whom she came to see. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Lord M," she says, hesitating for a moment before stepping towards him, "but I had to talk to you."
"Brocket Hall is honored, ma'am," Lord Melbourne replies.
"I've come here incognito, of course," Victoria puts in.
"Of course," Lord Melbourne assures her, "but your presence cannot be entirely disguised."
Victoria hesitates for a moment, as Lord Melbourne has stepped closer to her, but she manages to speak again. "Yesterday, I realized something..."
"Yes, ma'am?" Lord Melbourne asks, stepping closer.
"I think perhaps, now, I'm speaking as a woman, and not as a queen." She waits for Lord Melbourne to speak, but he merely awaits her further words. "At the beginning, I thought that you were the father I never had," she says softly. "But now, I feel... I know... That you are the only companion I could ever desire," she says, slightly in a rush.
Lord Melbourne looks as if he would smile, yet does not allow himself to do so completely, before he takes Victoria's hand in his, all the while she is looking up at him with earnest. The sun begins to set behind him as he speaks, and his voice sounds slightly brokenhearted. "Did you know that...that rooks mate for life?" he asks her, softly, so softly that I could barely hear it. "Every year they...they build their nests together. They renew all those little civilities that make a marriage sparkle. I-I think we could learn...much from them... If I had spent more time watching the rooks, my wife would have felt more attended to—"
"She should never have left you," Victoria says, vehemently, almost as if she is fighting back tears. "I would never do such a thing."
"No," Lord Melbourne replies, looking her over, as if he would draw her to him in a moment of love. "I believe when you give your heart, it will be without hesitation. But you cannot give it to me," he tells her firmly.
"I think you have it already," Victoria tells him gently.
Lord Melbourne shakes his head at her. "No, you must keep it intact for someone else," he informs her. "I have no use for it, you see," he says simply, dropping her hands. "Like a rook, I mate for life."
Victoria, I can see, nods ever so slightly. "I see," she replies. She searches his face for a moment, almost as if hoping she will change his mind by merely looking into his eyes. "Then I am sorry to have disturbed you, Lord Melbourne," she says with finality, before turning her back on him.
Lord Melbourne looks pained as she walks away from him, while I immediately move to join her in the walk back to the carriage. I almost instantly take her arm into mine, allowing her to lean on me as we walk back through the piles of leaves as Victoria attempts to compose herself. I don't ask her, for I know she is close to tears, and I would not wish to be the cause of further distress.
"I hope I will not have to ask you to repeat this excursion to no one," Victoria tells me quietly, her voice barely above a whisper as we leave Brocket Hall.
I nod. "Of course not," I reply.
She nods, fasting her hand in mine. "I would not wish to look doubly a fool," she declares then. "After that display, I've no mind to declare for anyone at present, so my uncle Leopold had better keep silent."
. . .
People said that Mama and Papa were each other's great love, and how she defied his rich aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, to marry him. Lady Catherine dubbed my mother a woman of inferior birth to my father, but neither party listened. It was quite a shock to me when I did hear that my mother quite loathed my father since their first encounter, so the knowledge that they married at all was quite a fascinating thing to me.
Once Mama had tired of telling the story, and Papa had tired of attempting to tell it, and my brothers had tired of listening to it, it fell to my sisters to tell the tale to me, once I was old enough to understand. Mama was born into the Bennet family, the second of five daughters—my aunts Jane, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia among the other Bennet children—and while their home of Longbourn Estate in Hertfordshire afforded them two thousand pounds a year. Lady Catherine believed their earnings substandard to my father's more socially acceptable ten thousand a year, and, therefore, persuaded ties to be cut between them and for Papa to marry her daughter, Anne.
"Your hands are cold."
Those four words had prompted Papa to believe that Mama felt enough humility towards him, thus accepting of his second marriage proposal, after his first had gone terribly awry. Of course, one must remember not to continue to remind the opposite party of inferior birth whilst proclaiming their love. However, this is exactly what poor Papa did, and thus, prevented wedded bliss between the pair of them for several months.
I had sometimes wondered, had Papa not managed to fumble the proposal the first time, would Mama have accepted him. I think not, for she had convinced herself that she was obligated to loathe him for all eternity. Love was a funny thing, I was coming to realize then, and I wondered when I myself would be permitted to fall into such a heady arrangement.
. . .
"I've taken care of matters at hand," Victoria tells me swiftly later that evening with a sly look on her face. She is dressing for dinner and has summoned me to walk in with her. "You'll not have to fret any longer."
"Shall I not?" I ask, confused.
Victoria turns around then, shocked. "You've not heard?"
I shake my head. "Pardon my ignorance, ma'am, but I've not heard anything for quite some time."
"I've given Sir John an Irish title, along with a pension of a thousand pounds a year," she replies brightly. "In return for my generosity towards him, he has agreed to leave court."
Forgetting myself once again, I throw my arms about her then with a cry of delight at the prospect of it. "Well done you!" I shout, before letting her go with a quick curtsy, my cheeks flushed in excitement. "I'm sorry—Your Majesty, if you would find it in your heart to forgive me..."
Victoria grins, shaking her head. "There is naught to forgive," she replies. "Now come—we are to have a lovely supper." She looks herself over in the mirror and sighs then, shaking her head. "Oh, dear... I don't want the pink gown—I want the blue trimmed with lace... Give me a few moments, will you, Felicity? To change out of this..."
I nod. "Of course, ma'am. I left something in my room anyhow," I say, dipping a curtsy to her and departing. As I walk down the corridor, and make my way to my own suite of rooms, I turn the corner to see Sir John standing just beside my chamber door, and gasp aloud. "What do you here, Sir John?" I demand then, contempt dripping from my tone.
"You!" he states, approaching me then and taking ahold of my arms, pinning me up against the wall. "You had no right to poison your mother and father, nor the queen, against me! Admit your falsehoods and absolve yourself of sin!" he hissed at me, his eyes blazing in anger.
"You have no right," I said, conviction filling my tone then as I stared him down then, anger and rage filling every fiber of my being. "How dare you write to my parents to demand me into your keeping? Had I let you, had I not put space between us, had I not informed the queen of how your evil had spread onto me, you would have ruined me!"
Sir John clamps a hand upon me mouth, and I find I can no longer move. "You did not give me an opportunity, but you knew it was to come to pass," he replies, the evil in his eyes giving no indication of melting away. "And through the Bedchamber Crisis, you said nothing absolving of me to your mother or your father—you could have intervened, but you decided not to. Selfish, ungrateful girl that you are—"
"It was not my right, nor my place to do so," I reply, nipping at his fingers to get my reply heard. "You've been turned from court with a thousand pounds and an Irish title. If you're found here, with a lady of the queen's, surely that will be taken away from you!"
"I would not leave court before taking what is rightfully mine," he declares. "I would not permit myself to do so."
"There is nothing in my chambers that belongs to you," I fire back. "Why were you lurking in the shadows, trying to get in?"
"I believed that you were within and that I would steal what was always mine," he replies, and runs his free hand up and down my body. "Everything in life is for sale, Felicity. Do you think you got to be in Her Majesty's household because of my connection to your father?"
"Papa said—"
"I'll tell you how you got into her household," he replies, cutting across my words, almost as if I was not speaking at all. "It was because I knew you were the unmarried daughter of a man who would look the other way if the man who saved his life wanted a little compensation," he says. "Your precious papa would have died had it not been for me on the battlefield. He promised me anything I wanted, and, at the time, I truly wanted nothing—until you arrived at Kensington Palace and emerged from the carriage. That was when I knew that the settlement would be given eventually."
"No..." I whisper.
"Yes," he replies, using his free hand to attempt to dig inside my gown. "I'm taking back what I lost on the battlefield!"
"You. Will. Not!" I scream then, and shove him away from me. "You shall leave court, because Her Majesty ordered it. Don't you dare touch me again," I say, rather smartly, and turn about to open my chamber door.
"Get in there!" he says, shoving me into my bedchamber.
"No!" I scream then, and I suddenly feel as if a great weight has been lifted from me then, and, turning, I spot a man I've never seen before holding Sir John Conroy against the wall. My mouth falls open at his superior strength, and he is able to ward him off with a few words.
"Ein mann sollte niemals die hände auf eine dame legen, wenn er behauptet, ein gentleman zu sein," he declares, and Sir John immediately stiffens. "Don't put your hands on the lady again—I could hear her pleas for help from far away. I can see by your dress that you are a gentleman, yet the ones I've seen are not supposed to act in such a way."
"I know you are not Ernest or Albert," Sir John replies, stiffly.
"No," the man replies, his German accent thick as he makes no move to move from in between Sir John and I. "I am merely Lord Wilhelm Marquardt," he says in a patient manner to Sir John. "I am just the second son of the Duke and Duchess of Marquardt, an old German family."
"I was merely speaking to my wife here," Sir John replies, the lie falling easily off his tongue. "She was unwilling to submit—"
"Even I know that this young woman could not be your wife, as I already know you are Sir John Conroy," Lord Wilhelm states without a moment's hesitation. "I know you are supposed to leave court, and you have not done so yet."
"I was reclaiming a debt," Sir John tries again.
Lord Wilhelm turns to face me then, and I nearly feel my mouth threatening to drop open once again. His hair is as black as my own, yet his eyes are deep pools of everlasting silver. He has a strong yet understated jawline, and his nose is straight and perfect. His lips are the precise amount of thickness, and his skin is an appealing alabaster tone. "What do they call you?" he asks me.
"Felicity," I reply. "Lady Felicity Darcy."
"Ah, yes, the close companion of the queen," he says, and I see then that his eyes appear to be disinterested as he turns back to Sir John. "I cannot think of why you would attempt to waste your time with the queen's lady in waiting, Sir John. She doesn't even have a ziemlich face..."
"No," Sir John agrees, giving me a scathing look. "She is not much to look at, I'm afraid, which is why it pains me to do what I must."
I raise myself up to my full height. "You will not do anything to me," I say firmly to Sir John before I turn to face Lord Wilhelm. "Mein gesicht ist nicht schön, Herr Wilhelm, aber ich besitze ein gespür für sprachen. Sie sollten in zukunft am besten vorsichtig sein," I say firmly.
Lord Wilhelm goes pale at my declaration. "Lady Felicity, I meant no ill-will towards you—"
"I've heard enough," I reply.
"But Lady Felicity—"
"Enough," I say, my voice firmer this time. "I am late in attending the queen," I say softly, smoothing my skirts, relieved that Sir John hasn't damaged the new and expensive gown. "I must away to my duty, although I think the queen forgives me for not being pretty," I reply, making my way back towards Victoria's chambers, hoping I shall never see Wilhelm again.
. . .
My Dearest Felicity,
You must know that due to your father's history with Sir John, we were initially inclined to believe his words against you. However, both your father and I have seen the error of our ways and will strive to be better in future. We have ceased all contact with Sir John, per the queen's request. We understand things slightly better now, and will no longer feign ignorance of a subject which must firmly be kept closed for good.
Your papa and I do understand that, given the ill-will, that it would have been considered inappropriate for the pair of us to attend the coronation. I heard tell you assisted Her Majesty the Queen in holding her skirts—you must be looked on well by her. I know she keeps you quite close to her, my darling, but I do hope you will come home for a visit quite soon. Your papa and I do miss you, yet we understand your duty to queen and to country.
Your brothers and sisters are all in excellent health and wish to be closely and fondly remembered to you. They understand that certain conversations and things shared between you and Her Majesty are privileged, yet they wish that you could speak to them as you used to. Perhaps one day when you are married with a family of your own, you will be able to remember what it was like to live more slowly and to recall family dynamics.
I don't wish to keep you for long, my darling, but I implore you to write as quickly as possible. Not to concern or overtly worry you, but Papa has been sniffling a bit lately, this time more than usual. He would not wish me to trouble you, but I am afraid that I must inform you of the goings-on at Pemberley. He is a strong man, your papa, my dearest, but even he may be called into His keeping. He has been a wonderful husband and father, and I know he would want to be remembered to you if this should be our last wintertime with him.
Your mother,
Lady Elizabeth, Viscountess Pemberley
. . .
I make my way back to Victoria's chambers, where I find her laced into her gown and sketching Dash, quite unawares. She is pleased to see me and shows off the sketch, and I praise her for portraying Dash as so lively. Flight is at my side and Victoria considerately suggests that we permit them to be in her rooms while we are at supper, and I readily agree. Victoria takes my arm and leads me into supper with her; as it is an informal evening, she is not expected to walk in with anyone in particular, so we are not at fault.
She sat down at the small circular table and pulled me in just beside her, where Lord Melbourne would frequently sit, but he sat across the table that evening. I said nothing about the newly proposed seating arrangement and merely placed my hands in my lap, waiting for the first course to be brought in. I immediately smelled the roast lamb as it came in through the doors, and Victoria led with the applause for the chef. We immediately proceeded to eat as soon as the course was brought to us, and I did my best to keep up, as once Victoria finished, the plates would be cleared for the next course.
The lamb was delicious yet was soon cleared away to make way for cod. The cod was light and quite salty this evening; I was not particularly fond of fish, but had soon learned to stomach it for Victoria's benefit. After the cod came the duck, which was far more palatable to me, and then the roast chicken, pheasant, lark, and swan came forth. Finally, the chocolate profiteroles came forth—a great favorite of both mine and Victoria's—and we were eager to eat them. After the final dessert course was cleared away, Victoria got to her feet, pulling me upwards with her, and the rest of the company followed suit.
"I have a mind to play the piano," she declared to the company. Other than myself, Baroness Lehzen was there, Lord Melbourne, the Duchess of Kent, the Duchess of Sutherland, and Victoria's uncle, Leopold, stood about us. "Come." Victoria's declaration to follow her was not met with a lack of enthusiasm, and we were soon making our way towards the drawing room. Victoria still kept her arm in mine and instructed me, once we arrived, to sit with Harriet, the Duchess of Sutherland, who I got on with quite well.
Victoria sat at the piano and proceeded to play, the lyrical sounds filling our ears with music that anyone could say was lively and wonderful. I found myself keeping a close eye on Lord Melbourne, who was actively looking between the queen's fingers upon the keys, as well as her solemn face as she played. She never felt the need to look up at the music, and although she played the piece quite fast, never did she skip or fumble a note. I also found my eyes drifting to King Leopold and the Duchess of Kent; even though they were siblings, I hardly saw any familial resemblance, although they did keep turning towards the doorway, kept open for Victoria frequently became warm.
"Lovely playing," Harriet whispered to me, gently fanning herself.
I nodded, doing the same. "Exquisite," I replied. I heard the creaks in the floorboards soon thereafter—expensive boots, they had to be, fit for traveling—and turned to Harriet. "You don't suppose..."
"What?" she asked, as Victoria's playing never wavered.
Just then, a pair of gentleman entered the drawing room, and I instinctively knew them as Ernest and Albert. Ernest went to stand beside Leopold, while Albert made his way over to the piano, watching Victoria as intently as Lord Melbourne had been, although now Lord Melbourne looked slightly threatened at the prospect of a younger, more virile man watching her. Turning to the doorway again, I spotted Lord Wilhelm, who was now standing with Ernest and King Leopold; the king, to his credit, was casually speaking to both gentleman, albeit briefly, as all eyes turned to Albert's closeness to Victoria.
Victoria continued playing, not noticing Albert, standing just beside her. She was throwing herself into the piece, and didn't seem to want to know that a man who her entire family wished for her to marry was no longer in Germany, but was now in her drawing room. I'd heard tell about Albert's tour of Italy, and I wondered if that would be a topic of conversation Victoria would willingly partake in, or if she would continue speaking to Lord Melbourne about the upcoming unveiling of her portrait, or their liking for English literature. When Oliver Twist had was first published, neither Victoria and I could put it down, and it had prevented her from ordering new gowns in a timely manner for options for her coronation. It had all been wildly funny, although Baroness Lehzen never ceased to inform Victoria of how much she thought I should return to Pemberley.
Just then, as she neared the end of the page, Albert automatically reached out and turned it for her politely. Victoria faltered in her playing, as such a gesture had caused a shadow on the keys before her. Slowly, she raised her silver eyes to his brown ones, and looked shocked at his being there.
"Victoria," Albert said, his German accent thick.
"Albert," Victoria replies, her voice attempting not to waver.
I felt a pair of eyes on me then and turned, seeing Lord Wilhelm, still standing with Ernest and King Leopold. He had the nerve to look apologetic, but I turned my face away from his. Let him try to win me over, I thought to myself. After that display of saving my life, mayhap he will come to believe that I owe him something as Sir John believed. Never. I shall never permit myself to merely be grateful for a gentleman for such a thing...
As far as I was concerned, not only did I owe Lord Wilhelm nothing, but he also would cease to exist in my world.