The Widow of Windsor

Chapter IV A DAZZLING PROSPECT

Life had gone on much as before in the Yellow Palace. Alix and Dagmar shared an attic room which contained two narrow beds, a chest of drawers and very little room for anything else. There were lessons every day with their mother. Music played a very big part in their lives. Louise played her pianoforte with skill and feeling and she was anxious that the children should do the same. Alix was taught to make her own clothes for they were much too expensive to buy; and as soon as Dagmar was old enough she would learn too. In the meantime she was allowed to watch. Alix had developed a skill in dressmaking which was a pleasure to her mother; she could choose the most becoming colours with ease and had a natural artistic bent. She enjoyed making clothes and when they were completed would like to parade up and down before her brothers and little sister while they applauded.

When she walked out with her mother wearing the new dress or jacket which she had helped to make she would be very conscious of its cut and would compare it with clothes worn by others; on her return she would, on her mother’s orders, take it off, put on something less precious, and hang it up in her wardrobe so that it should be fresh when next required. There were the visits to Rumpenheim which still went on in spite of the war. There Alix became aware that her clothes were very simple compared with those of her female relations.

‘Never mind,’ said her mother. ‘You wear yours so much better that they look as good.’

This impressed Alix. It was true. Some of them slouched or did not stand up straight. She must remember that.

They continued with their physical exercises.

‘Papa will expect it when he comes home,’ said Louise.

And at last Papa did come home.

What rejoicing there was! It was just as Fredy had said all those years ago – it seemed an age – when the war had started. The bands played; there were marches through the streets; uniforms and general rejoicing. Uncle Frederick had won his war against the rebels of Schleswig-Holstein. Denmark was safe and the King was a hero. So was Prince Christian.

How proud they all were and how delighted the Prince was to be home with his family!

Mama played the piano and they all sang Danish songs. Songs of Triumph now. No need to ask for God’s help. They had won the war. They were safe.

Papa explained it all to them and they listened eagerly.

Schleswig-Holstein had ‘come to its senses’; it was content now to be part of Denmark; and the wicked ogre of the story, who oddly had the same name as Papa, Prince Christian, though of Augustenburg, had gone to Germany.

Papa was jubilant; he had conducted himself with honour in the war and had worked closely with King Frederick so that they had become good friends.

It was all wonderful.

Louise, however, was not so optimistic; she had qualms about the future and she often discussed these when she was alone with her husband.

‘It’s a temporary peace,’ she said. ‘A truce really.’

‘Why, my dear,’ remonstrated Christian, ‘we well and truly trounced them.’

‘What about Prussia? There are plots brewing there, I’m sure.’

‘You worry too much.’

But dear Christian was a little naive and none knew it better than his wife. The European powers shared Louise’s fears of the growing ambitions of Prussia and realised that a strong Denmark was essential to curb those ambitions. And as Frederick was without a son to follow him, the succession was still unsettled. A conference of the powers took place in London and one of the items discussed was a possible heir to the throne of Denmark, and now that Prince Christian of Augustenburg was in disgrace, it was decided that, in accordance with an earlier suggestion of the late King, it should be settled on Prince Christian through his wife Louise.

There was an immediate agreement to this.

Prince Christian heard the news with some misgivings, Louise with secret elation.

All would be well. When the time came she would be beside her husband to guide him.

She had made an important discovery. She was to have another child.

Uncle Frederick called at the Yellow Palace with his morganatic wife, Countess Danner. Frederick was bluff and hearty and very friendly; Countess Danner was less so. She could scarcely feel pleased that Christian and Louise should be the heirs to the throne when it was not impossible that she might have a child. Large – she and Frederick were both very fat – she sprawled on a sofa and assessed the contents of the room; very clean but also shabby. She looked at the glittering rings on her fingers and then gazed somewhat contemptuously at the bare hands of Louise crossed in her lap. It was clear that she would have liked to snub the whole family but that was more than even she dared to do. Frederick was easy-going but after all these people had become important. This was the future King and Queen while she must remain the morganatic wife to whom many people referred as the mistress.

All the children were brought in to pay their respects to the King. Dagmar stared round-eyed at the enormously fat, rather short man with the hooked nose and beaming smile.

‘What a pleasant family, eh?’ he cried. ‘You’re a lucky man, Christian.’

‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Christian. ‘I know it well.’

‘What I’ve come to say is this. The Yellow Palace should not be your sole residence now you’re heir to the throne. What would you say to Bernstorff Castle as another residence, eh?’

‘Bernstorff!’ cried Christian very loudly so that Louise would know she had not been mistaken. Louise had grown a little deaf in the last years and did not like to admit it. ‘But that would be wonderful.’

‘Why yes,’ agreed Louise. ‘It would be most wonderful to have Bernstorff as an alternative residence.’

‘Well, it’s yours.’

They overwhelmed him with gratitude.

‘Don’t forget,’ he said with a grin. ‘You’re the heir to the throne now.’

It was not to be thought, Louise explained to the children, that now they had two residences they were rich. Far from it. A palace and a castle needed a big outlay to keep them going, and although Papa would one day be the King of Denmark they were still the poor relations. They must continue to live simply, make their own dresses and not expect luxuries.

It didn’t matter. There was so much to make life exciting. Bernstorff was wonderful and it was always an adventure to be there. It was some ten miles from Copenhagen and set in a beautiful park. Here they could ride every day, and Alix loved being in the saddle; they could play all sorts of games and the entire family were very good at inventing them. There were lessons every day; Papa continued with the physical exercises and it was no unusual sight to see him with the children – including Dagmar – turning somersaults on the lawns of Bernstorff.

A new sister had arrived. She was called Thyra and for a while the whole family could talk of nothing else but this wonderful child; then Thyra ceased to be a baby and in due course she was there in the schoolroom and in the gymnasium. And the happy life continued.

There were trips to Rumpenheim to be enjoyed each year and best of all was the reunion with aunts and cousins, and relatives of all kinds.

There were picnics and dancing, riding and endless conversation; there were games of all kinds; and there was Cousin Mary of Cambridge. Each year they met and their friendship had grown. It was true that Mary was ten years older than Alix but as the years passed the difference seemed less.

As they walked through the avenues of trees and sometimes planned the next day’s excursion, Mary would talk about her home in England. She lived in Cambridge Lodge on Kew Green, that part of the world which was made famous by King George III, the mad King of England, and his severe wife Queen Charlotte from whom Mary was directly descended. Mary occasionally saw Queen Victoria, who was really very kind but could be a little forbidding; she sometimes met the Queen’s children. The eldest, Vicky, was much younger than Mary, being only four years older than Alix, and a year younger was Bertie who was reputed to be rather naughty and was the Prince of Wales. They weren’t allowed to mix with other children very much and, it was said, in the family Prince Albert was very severe. The family did not like Prince Albert very much because he was German, but the Queen thought he was perfect, which was right really since she was his wife.

There was so much to talk about. For one thing how the Queen had been shot at on Constitution Hill, which was near Buckingham Palace, and the Great Exhibition which had been set up in Hyde Park. A great Crystal Palace, said Mary. It had to be seen to be believed. And they had removed it all and set it up in a place called Sydenham.

Alix could not hear enough about England.

Then one day Mary said: ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t pay us a visit. I’ll ask Mama to invite you.’

Alix was very excited and Mary was true to her word. There came an invitation for Alix to visit the Duchess of Cambridge at Kew.

Alix had become a very important person. Her brothers and sisters were envious of her since she had been selected for a great adventure; and it was all due to the interest Cousin Mary had shown in her. She was to go and stay with them at Cambridge Lodge.

Louise said that she must have some new clothes; they would not be elaborate and she would probably meet people who were very splendidly dressed, but if she carried herself well and continued with the exercises Papa had taught her, she could make the plainest of dresses seem elegant. Alix was well aware of this. She delighted in clothes and this was obvious as soon as she put on any garment. So it was a challenge that she should have so few clothes and that none was elaborate.

The great day came when she left Denmark in the company of the Cambridges and how exciting it was to travel! The Channel was far from smooth but what seemed to cause discomfort to some people delighted Alix; and it was wonderful to stand beside Mary while she pointed out the land which was the coastline of England.

Cambridge Lodge was grand by Danish standards, but there was more splendour to come.

She and Mary rode out together in the Cambridge carriage through the village of Kew – ‘Dear little Kew’ as the family often referred to it, quoting George III and Queen Charlotte who had talked of it thus long ago. They went to London and it was all so much bigger than Copenhagen, everything seemed so grand and on a larger scale; but there was another side to it. There were more beggars than in Copenhagen; there were more street vendors, more poor people, more everything.

One day Mary was very excited because she had arranged a party and the Queen had given her permission for the Princess Royal and the Prince of Wales, Prince Alfred and Princess Alice to visit Cambridge Lodge.

Mary told her they were about her age … at least Alfred was exactly the same, Alice a year older, the Prince of Wales a little more than a year older than Alice, and Vicky, the Princess Royal, a year older than he was.

Alix felt a little nervous.

‘Oh, you needn’t be,’ said Mary. ‘They are only children, and they haven’t played half the games that you have!’ Alix wore a white muslin dress which her mother had said would be the right thing for a special party. She supposed it was special since she was to meet these important people even if they were only children.

She reminded herself that she herself was a princess and her father was heir to the throne; so her rank was as high as these children’s.

Mary introduced them.

The Princess Royal was the important one. She came first and said in German with a very assured manner: ‘Hello, Alix. How do you like England?’

Vicky was a little terrifying; she seemed to know everything, and what was worse was fully aware that she did.

‘This is Bertie, Alice and Alfred,’ said Vicky.

Alix bowed her head; she couldn’t very well curtsey to children of her own age, although she fancied Vicky expected it.

Bertie eyed her with slight interest and Alice smiled in a friendly way. She warmed to Alice immediately. Alfred was friendly too.

‘We could play some games,’ said Mary in her role of elder cousin eager to have the children amuse themselves.

‘What games do you play in Denmark?’ asked Vicky.

‘We play hoops and with tops and letting rooms.’

‘What’s letting rooms?’ asked Vicky.

‘Well, some people have a house and the others come and look for rooms.’

‘How odd!’ said Vicky. ‘Why should they come to look for rooms?’

‘People do,’ put in Mary helpfully, ‘when they haven’t a house and want somewhere to live.’

‘Oh, the poor,’ said Vicky.

‘Sometimes we play guessing games. We are rivers going through the country and we say all the towns through which we pass. If you miss one there’s a forfeit.’

Vicky felt that she might score at that and was interested.

‘We do music too,’ said Alix; ‘and we do gymnastics. We turn somersaults.’

‘You mean over and over?’

Alix nodded.

All the children were interested now, and Alix was about to show them when Mary said: ‘Not in the drawing-room, Alix.’

Vicky said, very well, they would play the river game and she would choose the river which was the Thames and she was very soon reeling off the list of towns and winning the game.

Bertie was not interested and strolled off with Alfred who seemed like his shadow. Alice remained and said very quietly that perhaps they should have a Danish river because that would be more fair for Alix.

But by that time Vicky was tired of the river game and it was tea-time.

So those were the royal children.

Mary told her about them afterwards.

‘Vicky is the favourite,’ she said. ‘Poor Bertie is always in trouble. Of course Prince Albert is very strict and the Queen agrees with him about everything, so I’m afraid poor Bertie doesn’t have a very good time. And, Alix dear, don’t turn somersaults here because if the Prince Consort heard of it he would be very shocked and that would mean that the Queen was too, and you would never be invited to Buckingham Palace.’

‘Why?’ asked Alix. ‘My father says it is good for people. You should see him go over and over. I can do three turnovers without stopping.’

‘Yes, I expect it is good for you, but the Prince wouldn’t think it right. The Prince is just a little prim.’

‘Oh,’ said Alix solemnly; and forgot all about the royal family until Mary told her that the Queen had sent her an invitation to go to Buckingham Palace.

She was a little alarmed, partly because everyone was telling her that she must do this and not do that and she felt quite bewildered.

The Queen turned out to be small and plump and had kind blue eyes. At the same time there was something rather terrifying about her; Alix feared all the time that she would do something which was wrong. But perhaps that was because she had been warned so frequently.

The Queen asked questions about her mother and father; and whether she was enjoying England. And then she was tapped on the shoulder and understood that she was to stand aside while someone else spoke to Her Majesty.

Afterwards the children went into the gardens and she met Lenchen, who was really Helena and was two years younger than herself which was a comfort, and Louise who was two years younger than that.

They were sweet and as Vicky wasn’t there and Bertie and Alfred didn’t want to play with girls she had a very pleasant time with Alice, Lenchen and Louise. She told them about the Yellow Palace and Rumpenheim and Bernstorff; their eyes glowed with excitement and they kept asking questions.

‘Of course,’ she said, ‘there is nothing so grand as this.’

Lenchen grimaced and said: ‘But your palaces sound so much more fun.’ Then she added: ‘And you should see Windsor. It’s worse than this.’

‘Osborne and Balmoral are lovely,’ said Alice.

‘Oh, what a pity Alix can’t go to Osborne and Balmoral,’ cried Louise.

Then they told her about Osborne in the Isle of Wight and how they could see the sea from the windows; and how they played on the sands and went sea bathing. And Balmoral … Balmoral was the best of the lot although there was no sea. They rode out on their ponies and Papa would take them for long walks and they collected stones and grasses and flowers and Papa knew all about flowers.

Alix questioned this as she would have done at home. Her father said that only God knew all about everything.

‘Only God and our papa,’ said Lenchen.

‘Who said your papa did?’ Alix wanted to know.

‘Our mama,’ replied Lenchen. ‘And she must be right because she is the Queen.’

That settled it.

So it was a very happy afternoon at Buckingham Palace in spite of the grandeur and the terrifying aspect of the Queen.

Riding back to Cambridge Lodge in the carriage Mary asked Alix how she had enjoyed visiting the Queen.

‘Very much,’ replied Alix. ‘Well, not exactly the Queen but the Princesses.’

‘You will be able to tell them at home that the Queen of England spoke to you.’

Alix agreed though she doubted that Fredy, Willy and Dagmar would be impressed. Uncle Frederick was a king and nobody was very excited when he spoke to them.

At last it was time to go home and there was the excitement of reunion with the family. They all wanted to hear what had happened and see what presents she had brought for them.

But after a while the excitement was forgotten and the visit seemed to have happened long, long ago.

But the Cambridges did not forget.

‘What a charming child Alix is!’ said the Duchess to Mary. ‘I’m not surprised you’re taken with her. One day the Prince of Wales will need a wife.’

‘That’s years away.’

‘You’d be surprised how time flies. And when he does I don’t see why your Alix shouldn’t be in the running.’

Mary was very pleased with the idea. She would bear it in mind.

One of the loveliest days of the year at the Yellow Palace was Christmas Eve, when the old traditional feast of Jul took place. For weeks before they had all been unbearably excited, making their presents for each other which must be kept a secret, and how difficult that was with children running in and out of the schoolroom at any time of the day. Alix was good with her needle – far better than she was at mathematics, geography or history; although she was moderately good at languages and better still at music; she excelled most at sport and riding which pleased her father; her mother was gratified by her aptitude with the needle, particularly her flair for clothes as, she confided to Christian, if she made a brilliant marriage and was able to employ the best dressmakers in the world, she would be outstanding by her individual way of wearing her clothes. This was a feminine angle which Christian shrugged aside; all he knew was that Alix, secretly his favourite daughter, was a delight to look at, and to see her turning somersaults on the lawns of Bernstorff or in the gardens of the Yellow Palace filled him with admiration and pride.

It was cold and the snow was piling in the streets.

‘Just what Christmas ought to be!’ said Alix.

Little Dagmar, three years younger than Alix, regarded her sister as an oracle and Alix reminded her of other Christmases at the Yellow Palace when the poor people had come in and been given cake and wine by the family.

‘I remember Mama’s watching how much they ate and drank because she was afraid there wouldn’t be enough to go round.’

‘I wish we didn’t have to be so poor,’ said Dagmar.

Alix considered this and decided that it would be better if they had more money and didn’t have to wonder whether they could afford things – although they were richer now that Papa was Crown Prince. Then she thought of the grandeur of Buckingham Palace and launched into a description of that imposing building, the grand staircase and the drawing-room where she had seen the Queen.

‘But the Yellow Palace is really nicer,’ she added, ‘and our mama and papa are really much more …’ she paused for a word … ‘cosy than theirs. Poor Alice! Poor Lenchen! They had to be very careful, because their papa is very easily shocked and the Queen their mama says everything he does is right.’

‘Everything our papa does is not right,’ pointed out Dagmar. ‘Mama is always telling him …’

Alix smiled. ‘I’d hate to have a father who is always right. No papa is as nice as ours even if he is wrong sometimes.’

Dagmar was prepared to agree with Alix as always.

So they talked as they stitched at their presents, with that wonderful sense of excitement because at any moment they might have to be slipped into a drawer if the intended recipient came into the room.

Christmas Eve came at last, with all the Christmas trees – one for each member of the family. The children tiptoed in with awe and wonder to examine them. Their names were on each table – Fredy, Alix, Willy, Dagmar, Thyra. They squealed with pleasure for each had their candles which would look beautiful when it grew dark – and in the centre of the room was the big tree laden with gifts in brightly coloured packages for everybody.

It was so exciting. Alix dressing for dinner – a very special occasion – tried on a red sash with her white muslin dress. Oh no, she thought, the blue would be best; and there was the blue sash with the little white flowers on it embroidered by Dagmar for her birthday. She must wear the blue sash – Dagmar would be so pleased. She put it on and studied the effect. How gracefully the skirt fell. The dress was as good as anything she had seen in the expensive shops. It was as good as anything she had seen worn at Cambridge Lodge and Buckingham Palace.

The red sash was more suitable for Christmas, because red was a Christmas colour. She changed the sash. Yes, definitely the red. But Dagmar would like the blue.

The blue … the red … She changed half a dozen times and then decided that it was better to please Dagmar than wear the Christmas colour.

The bell had gone. Oh dear, she should be down now and it was difficult to tie the sash exactly right, which she must of course do.

The family were at the table when she arrived. Papa gave her a reproachful look, but as it was Christmas Eve she would not be punished by standing up to drink her coffee and not be given second helpings, or perhaps go without her sweet. But she was contrite because dear Papa cared so much that people were where they should be at precisely the appointed minute.

The children were chattering about the trees. They were bigger than last year, there were more candles and hadn’t the big tree looked wonderful? Little Thyra speculated on what the odd-shaped parcel in blue paper contained and wondered whether it was for her.

Louise and Christian exchanged glances. They were very happy with their little family. Christian hoped that they could go on enjoying these simple pleasures for a long time to come; Louise, more ambitious, was a little sad thinking that soon the children would be grown up and it would be necessary for them to marry and go away, for what could there be for any of them in Denmark – except Fredy, of course, who would follow his father to the throne.

After the meal it was present-giving time – the highlight of Christmas when the family assembled round the big tree and there were squeals of delight as paper crunched and gifts emerged and arms were flung round necks and the giver assured that it was just what the receiver had always wanted.

And when the excitement had died down they clustered round the grand piano and Louise played Christmas carols and hymns and they all sang together; then the older children took it in turns to play and Alix and Dagmar performed a duet which their parents loudly applauded.

Alix sat by her father afterwards who said very gently that he wanted to speak to her seriously.

‘You know, my dear, you are a good child but you have one distressing fault. You are constantly unpunctual.’

‘Yes, Papa, I’m so sorry.’

‘But, my darling child, it is no use being sorry only – although sorry you should be. You must try to rectify the fault.’

‘I do, Papa.’

A look of affectionate exasperation crossed Prince Christian’s face.

‘But, Alix, if you really tried how could you fail to succeed? It is so easy. You have to be at a certain spot at a certain time. What but your own carelessness can prevent you?’

‘It’s true, I know, Papa. But somehow I don’t think until I hear the gong and then I am in a fluster.’

‘But, my child, you must think. You must remember what time the gong goes – it is always precisely on the minute so you know it’s coming. You must be ready before it strikes and then … there you are at your place like the rest of us.’

‘But, Papa, is it so important?’

‘My dear child, it is of the utmost importance. It is something you will have to remember when you are older, for to keep people waiting is most impolite, giving the impression as it does of being in no haste to see them since you cannot make the effort to be there on time.’

‘Oh, Papa, I will try … I really will.’

He nodded. ‘I hope you were never late when you were in England.’

‘Well, not often … and it didn’t seem to be so important there.’

‘Of course it is important everywhere. Always remember that. And you saw the Queen. How fortunate you were … more fortunate than your brothers and sisters.’

‘Oh yes, it was a great adventure.’

‘Tell me now, what was the nicest thing about it all?’

She did not hesitate. ‘Coming home to you and Mama and the children and the Yellow Palace, and Bernstorff and Rumpenheim in the summer.’

Prince Christian smiled tenderly. ‘So it has not made you despise your home? I’m glad of that. What did you think of the Queen of England?’

‘Oh …’ Alix considered. ‘She is a little lady. You are rather surprised because you would imagine she should be big. She is kind and said she was glad to see me. She was a bit frightening, though – as though she wanted to be nice but was too important really.’

Prince Christian was silent for a moment. Then he said: ‘Shall I tell you a secret, Alix?’

‘Oh, Papa, yes.’

‘I might have married the Queen of England.’

‘Really, Papa. But what of Mama? You are married to her.’

‘This was before. A lot of letters passed between our governments and she married Prince Albert and I married your mama.’

Alix was struck by this awesome statement.

‘But if you had married the Queen she would have been our mama.’

‘The thought seems to disturb you. Don’t let it. It can’t happen now, you know. Besides, everything would have been different then.’

‘I might have been Alice or Lenchen.’

‘Oh, things don’t work out that way. Still, I think what happened was really for the best for us all, don’t you?’

Alix looked at the denuded Christmas tree, at Mama with Dagmar at the piano and Thyra standing by watching; and the boys with their heads together examining each other’s presents.

‘Oh yes, Papa,’ she said fervently. ‘It happened the best way.’

They had come back from Rumpenheim to Bernstorff. It had been a wonderful summer, with river trips and picnics and conversation. Cousin Mary had been there and she told Alix what a good impression she had made in England. The royal children had all enjoyed meeting her and the Queen had said she seemed a very pleasant little girl.

Cousin Mary said that one day Alix would have to marry and leave home. Had she ever thought of that?

Alix looked so alarmed that Mary did not pursue the subject and Alix quickly forgot it; it had to come, she knew, but it was years away, much too far to be worried about now especially at Rumpenheim when they were going for a trip to Frankfurt and to play Lotto that evening.

Mary did say, though, that she thought Alix ought to work harder with her English. Her German was good, her French was passable, but her English was not so good.

‘To begin with,’ said her cousin, ‘we will speak to each other this holiday in English.’

It was a great help, and she was sad as always to say goodbye to her dear cousin.

But it was pleasant to be back in Bernstorff which was almost like being at Rumpenheim, better, though, because it was so much nearer Copenhagen.

King Frederick called on them and they had the pea-soup and bacon that he always insisted on. He ate large quantities of it and drank lots of Danish beer. The girls had put on their best dresses for the occasion – to be changed for plainer ones as soon as the visitors had left. The Countess Danner who – unfortunately – accompanied him had an appetite almost as large as his, but she was not nearly as friendly.

After the meal the King put on a Turkish fez hat and brought out a huge pipe and then he started to drink Akvavit while Louise watched his glass speculatively so that Alix knew she was wondering how much more he was going to drink and whether they would have enough to satisfy him and how they were going to afford to replenish their stocks in anticipation of his next visit.

Uncle Frederick liked to talk about the Schleswig-Holstein war which he had successfully waged and he would call the children round him and while he puffed at his great pipe and sipped his Akvavit he would talk of the war and how he had led his men into fantastic adventures.

The more Akvavit he drank the more fantastic would the adventures become. The Countess would yawn, drink her brandy, calculate the value of the furnishings of Bernstorff and clearly be waiting for the time when Uncle Frederick would be ready to depart.

The boys would laugh at these strange adventures, but they had been warned not to show that they did not believe them; Uncle Frederick was the King of Denmark and as such must be respected.

Alix was fond of him because in spite of all the wild stories – which were untruths – he was kind and wanted to see them all enjoying themselves. He loved to hear them laugh and of course they owed a great deal to him.

He was always particularly interested in Fredy who would one day be King of Denmark too. Oh, Fredy, Alix thought, don’t get fat and wear a fez and tell outrageous stories which no one believes, and marry a woman like Countess Danner whatever you do. As if he would! Fredy was going to be tall and blond like the rest of the family. He would not be a bit like King Frederick.

And soon they would be back in the Yellow Palace and life would go on in this pleasant happy fashion.

Oh, how glad I am that Papa did not marry the Queen of England, she thought.

One day Prince Christian summoned the children together and told them that he had invited a very special guest.

Alix at first wondered if it could be the Queen of England of whom she had thought a great deal since her father had told her he might have married her. But it was not the Queen but a man.

‘He’s a story-teller,’ said their father, ‘and you have read and loved some of his stories, I know. His name is Hans Christian Andersen.’

The children chattered together. ‘There was the ugly duckling who turned into a swan and the little mermaid. Yes, they did know his stories. Was he coming to tell them stories?’

‘He is coming because we are going to honour him. He is a Dane and people all over the world read his stories. We should be proud of such men. You must not forget that one day I shall be King and Fredy here will follow me. It is necessary to encourage people like Hans Christian Andersen and if we invite him here other people will ask him to their houses and it is a way of saying that we appreciate our men of genius.’

The children were overawed and rather silent when the writer was introduced to them, but not for long, because he was quiet and unassuming – and perhaps a little overawed to be in the presence of the future King and his family. But he was soon put at ease by the simplicity of life in the Yellow Palace. There was something childlike about him which made for immediate understanding between himself and the children; and they were happiest when alone with him.

He became a frequent visitor to the Yellow Palace and he would sit in the schoolroom or out of doors if the weather was good and tell them about the days when he was the son of a poor shoemaker. When he wrote a new story he would bring it along to read to the children and they would sit in a circle round him listening entranced.

‘It’s wonderful,’ said Alix to Dagmar, ‘that children all over the world are going to have these stories told to them.’

Dagmar agreed that it was; and when Hans brought his stories in volume form to show them and inscribed a copy especially for them they were very excited.

Christian and Louise looked on benignly at the friendship which had grown between their children and the story writer.

So the days passed – days made enthralling by the storytelling of Hans, and amusing by the same occupation of King Frederick. And how different were those two story-tellers. The Little Mermaid had nothing in common with Uncle Frederick’s wild, military and equally fictitious adventures. Oddly enough, pointed out Alix, while Hans told his stories about people who only lived in his imagination you believed in them, but when Uncle Frederick told stories about himself you did not believe them for one instant.

Such happy days they were. Going for walks along the promenade – the Lange Linie – watching the ships coming in to Copenhagen from all over the world, studying the fashions in the shops, coming home and copying them with just that difference which made them one’s very own; all the excitement of choosing material for a new dress and patterns and accessories, being very cautious that one kept within one’s allowance, taking care of the new dress, changing into something simpler when one came in. Countess Danner didn’t have half as much fun with her elaborate clothes, Alix pointed out to her sisters. And no wonder because they were sometimes very ugly – and it was gratifying that their cheap ones could look so much more elegant. Christmases, birthdays to look forward to and with two boys and three girls there was always some celebration about to burst upon them. There were gymnasium lessons with Papa, music and languages with Mama; other more mundane subjects with governesses.

The summers at Rumpenheim with the cousins and aunts were becoming more and more interesting as they grew older. There were little dances for the family and the few friends from the neighbourhood who were invited; there were river picnics and trips to Frankfurt, and of course, animated and interesting conversation.

Then Bernstorff – that beautiful castle – which it was thrilling to approach along the avenue of trees; it was a little like Rumpenheim but more comfortable in a way because it was the family home – and it had the advantage of being only ten miles from Copenhagen so one was not really cut off from that beloved city. At Bernstorff there was more of a holiday atmosphere than at the Yellow Palace, though Prince Christian insisted that they all rose very early in the morning – the best time of the day, he was fond of saying. They had coffee and rolls and then were out in the nearby woods walking, riding or playing with the dogs, of which there were many. Their father would come out of the palace when it was time for déjeuner and give a piercing whistle and when they heard it they must all leave what they were doing and run into the castle. His only real displeasure was if they were late. Then lessons would begin and after that perhaps a ride.

They must not be late for dinner which was served at four in the afternoon. If it was a fine day they would be out in the garden again where coffee would be served, or if it were cold this would be taken round the fire. Then they would read together. The girls would do needlework or go and gather flowers and arrange them. Louise was very fond of flowers and her arrangements were exquisite. Alix and Dagmar and even little Thyra had to learn to arrange them. The scent of these flowers permeated the castle and as soon as any showed the slightest sign of decay it must be removed. Each of the girls had her own little domain, for which she was responsible, and Louise would inspect their arrangements and the fresh state of the flowers every day. She was determined that her family should be brought up in a manner suited to their state and the fact that they were poor was a challenge to her.

Life was not entirely confined to the home either. There was regular attendance at the Lutheran church at Gjentofte and the villagers would gaze in awe at their future King and Queen with their good-looking family. The young people had to learn how to accept this homage with gracious diffidence which was neither indifferent nor patronising. In fact they must accept it as natural without seeming to be aware of it. Louise would drive into the village with gifts for the poor – which the family could ill afford; and then again they must exercise that peculiar royal behaviour which because their father was destined to be King and their mother Queen was necessary.

And then … home to the best-loved place of all – though by no means the grandest – the dear Yellow Palace with its little rooms and winding passages which was Home.

Who would have thought this happy life would not go on for ever.

Louise was waiting impatiently for her husband’s return from the barracks. When reading the English papers which she did whenever possible to improve her knowledge of the language she had found something of great interest in The Times.

The Prince of Wales was nearly seventeen, and as it was the custom of royalty to marry early, there was a great deal of speculation as to whom this very important young gentleman would choose for his bride.

The article went on that the choice was somewhat limited for His Royal Highness. His bride would be the future Queen of England and therefore some qualifications would be demanded of her which might not be easy to supply. She must be young, for her main duty was to give the country heirs; she must be royal; and she must be Protestant. This narrowed the choice down considerably and the author of the article had, after great consideration, come to the conclusion that there were only seven candidates for the honour.

Six of these were German princesses; the seventh on the list was Princess Alexandra of Denmark.

Louise stared at the letters. Alix, Queen of England! Her common sense immediately rose to the fore. The seventh on the list. What hope had she!

All the same it was something which she must discuss with Christian at once.

When he came in and she was able to show him the article he was startled.

‘Our Alix! Why she’s only a child.’

‘She’s fourteen. Why in two or three years she’ll be ready.’

‘English Princes always marry Germans.’

‘A matter which I believe the English people resent.’

‘The English royal family is half German. Albert was most definitely. And Victoria is half so. Germans always have the first chance.’

Christian was thinking of himself and how he had been overlooked for a Prince of Coburg.

‘It could change.’

‘My dear Louise, Alix is seventh on the list.’

‘Still she’s on the list.’

‘No, it would always be a German.’

‘Look at the list. These German Princesses … who are they? Daughters of small States. Whereas Alix is the daughter of a future King.’

‘You are prejudiced,’ said Christian with a laugh.

‘I’m also realistic,’ said Louise. ‘We are going to be prepared. Our children have not had an education worthy of them so far. All that has to be changed and we are going to change it.’

‘When?’ asked Christian.

‘At once,’ said Louise. ‘There’s no time to be lost.’

Life had changed suddenly. It had become more serious. Bernstorff and the Yellow Palace appeared to be invaded by an army of teachers. They must spend more time at their lessons, said Louise. They were no longer children – at least Fredy, Willy and Alix weren’t and Dagmar was fast gaining their grown-up status.

Louise always believed in explaining to the children. She herself had taught them music and drawing, but these were the necessary accomplishments of well-brought-up young ladies; they were scarcely lessons. They had had their Swiss governess, Mademoiselle Schwiedland. But now they had to be prepared for whatever role they might be called upon to play in later life.

Pastor Theobold came to teach them German and Professor Petersen history and geography; there was a new music teacher because Louise thought that they should have professional tuition which she feared she did not give them. So Mr Siboni was engaged.

But most important of all was Miss Knudsen, who came to teach English. Mathilde Knudsen was homely, kindly and quiet; she had been born in the West Indies and spoke English as a native of England. Alix’s conversations with Cousin Mary had been of great use to her and she found that she progressed rapidly under Miss Knudsen’s tuition. Her accent improved and although she occasionally used quaint expressions which made Miss Knudsen smile she was undoubtedly fluent.

This seemed to be of the utmost importance for her parents were constantly asking her how she was progressing with her English and these constant enquiries made her aware that for some reason learning English so that she could write it with ease and speak it with a degree of fluency was more important than any of her other lessons.

Miss Knudsen’s very special favourite was Alix – not the cleverest of the family, but without doubt the most beautiful; Dagmar was much quicker at her lessons and little Thyra was charming, but Alix, in Miss Knudsen’s opinion, was the flower of the family.

They became great friends and Alix enjoyed walking out in Copenhagen or in the gardens of Bernstorff with her governess, chattering away in English all the time.

Listening to her, her parents exchanged significant glances. Louise as usual was right. If by chance Alix became number one on that important list, owing to the foresight of her mother, she would be prepared.

There was an addition to the family. A little brother was born and they called him Valdemar. There was great excitement about a new baby. The time had come for Fredy’s confirmation.

‘As there is so little difference between their ages and Alix is almost sixteen they might as well be confirmed together,’ said Louise.

So it was arranged that this should be so; and preparations began. There had always been an emphasis on religious education in the household; and as Prince Christian liked his children to follow his example and read a chapter from the Bible every night before they went to sleep, Fredy and Alix were ready.

As Fredy was in the line of succession the confirmation was a public occasion and King Frederick himself was present among the distinguished company which filled the Slots Kirken in Copenhagen on that October day. The dignity and good looks of the young pair excited the admiration of the spectators; and it was a solemn occasion, for in the Lutheran Church the confirmation ceremony meant that this was an end of childhood and that the responsibilities of adult life were now to be taken on.

The King had wished the Countess Danner to attend and there was some consternation about this as she was not accepted as his legal wife; but the King must have his way and a place was provided for the Countess, who then declared that she had no wish to attend the ceremony, only to be asked to it; so embarrassment was spared. As soon as the ceremony was over King Frederick presented Fredy with a commission in his army and Alix with a medallion containing his portrait.

When they returned to the Yellow Palace Louise took her daughter to a new room below that which she had shared with Dagmar. This had been prepared for her occupation, for her piano had been put in it and her bed was there.

It was a symbol of growing up. She had a room of her own.

She turned to Louise, who was standing beside her, and embraced her.

‘Oh, Mama, it’s wonderful.’

‘It means you are no longer a child, my dear.’

Alix’s eyes were shining. ‘It’s wonderful … growing up,’ she said.

A faint apprehension came into her mother’s eyes.

‘It’s as well to remember that it also has its responsibilities,’ she replied; and she was thinking of that list with Alix’s name at the bottom.

Then Wally arrived in Denmark. She was in fact the Countess Walburga von Hohenthal; she was beautiful, cosmopolitan, vivacious and therefore very attractive. She had come to Copenhagen to marry the English diplomat, Mr Augustus Paget, and with the simple friendliness they showed to visitors Christian and Louise invited Walburga to the Yellow Palace.

She told Louise that she had heard of her charming family and hoped that she would be allowed to meet the members of it. This was arranged and the young Countess was enchanted by the good looks and perfect manners of the young people. She was especially attracted to Alix and was very soon invited to Bernstorff where leading the simple country life, it was very easy to become quickly on familiar terms.

Wally was so amusing. She had come from Berlin and the Court of the Crown Princess, who had been the Princess Royal and eldest daughter of the Queen of England.

‘Poor Vicky,’ confided Wally to Alix, ‘she had a very trying time when she arrived. First she was forced to ride through the streets in the freezing weather in the kind of dress one would wear in a heated ballroom and when she arrived at the schloss she found it gloomy and it was said to be haunted, and I really think her mother-in-law enjoyed putting her next to the haunted chamber.’

‘How dreadful!’

‘Vicky is very self-reliant. She is in fact brilliant. But she needed someone to confide in and she chose me. And when Augustus goes to England I shall go with him. We shall be received at Court of course, and I shall be summoned to Vicky’s formidable mama and even more formidable papa and a report demanded of me.’

Wally was a little disrespectful but Alix enjoyed that. What fun to be able to laugh and have little jokes with someone as brilliant as Walpurga.

What Walpurga did not divulge to Prince Christian and Princess Louise was that she had been asked to report on Alix. Her mistress, Vicky, was very anxious that a bride should be found for her brother, the Prince of Wales; and the fact was that she had actually made a journey through Germany to inspect the Princesses who appeared on the list above Alix’s name. She was very critical and had found something wrong with every one of them.

It was Wally – eager to have a say in affairs – who reminded her of number seven.

‘Augustus writes to me from Denmark that Princess Alexandra is a real beauty,’ she had said, ‘very carefully brought up by her clever mama – accomplished, healthy and beautiful … in fact everything that your brother Bertie could desire.’

Vicky’s father, the Prince Consort of England, who had loved his daughter devotedly (and Wally, who collected gossip, had heard that Queen Victoria had resented this affection between her husband and their eldest daughter and was jealous of it) had asked her help in choosing a husband for Bertie. He had the utmost confidence in her judgement and she was eager to justify this.

So she said: ‘You are going to Denmark to get married. What an opportunity. You can let me know if these reports of Alexandra are correct.’

It was a mission after Wally’s heart.

She was soon writing back glowing reports of Alix – a lovely girl, unspoilt, very beautiful, not intellectual – which by all accounts would just suit Bertie – but accomplished and well educated. In fact in Wally’s opinion, Alix was the perfect wife for the Prince of Wales.

It was time to set out for the annual visit to Rumpenheim. During the journey Alix and Dagmar speculated on who would be there this summer. They were both looking forward to the round of simple pleasures. Although Christian and Louise were well aware that feelers were being put out with regard to Alexandra’s virtues both parents were anxious that this should be kept from their daughter.

‘So many girls are told of brilliant prospects which don’t come to anything,’ said Christian. ‘I wouldn’t want Alix to be upset.’

‘It’s much better that she should be kept in ignorance of what’s afoot,’ agreed Louise. ‘But I’m not sure that it wouldn’t have been a good idea for you to take her to England.’

‘I’ll not have her paraded like a prize cow,’ declared Christian in the raised voice it was necessary to use to Louise, whose deafness had increased in the last years.

‘She would make a good impression.’

‘I’ve no doubt of it. I just say I won’t have her paraded.’

Louise smiled at her husband. There was a great charm about him and this was accentuated by a certain innocence. When he came to the throne it could be for her to guide him.

Nor was Alix the only member of the family about whom inquiries were being made. The charm of the girls had been discussed abroad; they were exceptionally good-looking and, what was more important, healthy. It was due to the outdoor life they had lived; and constant exercises had made them walk in a graceful fashion. Whenever they went to a theatre in Copenhagen which the King thought they should do now and then, they were always cheered by the people and it was said that the royal box with the Christian family in it was as great an attraction as what was going on on the stage.

Now there was talk of a Russian marriage for Dagmar – the Tsarevitch, no less. With one daughter married to the ruler of England and another to that of Russia, Denmark’s position in the world would be far more significant than it was at this time.

But Christian was saddened at the thought of losing his daughters; and the time for doing so was, he could not pretend otherwise, coming very near.

This was proved on their arrival at Rumpenheim.

A trip had been arranged to visit the Cathedral at Speier and Christian and Louise were to take their daughters, Alix and Dagmar. This was typical of the outings they enjoyed when at Rumpenheim, but this was an outing with a difference. The Crown Princess with the Prince and her son little Wilhelm was on a visit to Mecklenburg-Strelitz and she too wished to visit the cathedral at Speier on the very same day at the very same hour as Christian and Louise would be there with their two eldest daughters.

As the carriage drove along and Alix and Dagmar called each other’s attention to the remembered landmarks, Christian was looking a little sadly at his eldest daughter. If she doesn’t like him, he thought, she is not going to be forced. I’ll not have our Alix made unhappy for all the princes in the world.

Louise, watching him, followed his thoughts. Dear, good, kind Christian! She could not have had a more loving husband and a better father for her children. But he was unambitious. Perhaps that was what made him so lovable.

The Cathedral rose before them.

‘It’s magnificent,’ said Dagmar. She was more interested in architecture than Alix was. She wanted to pause and examine the structure but Louise hurried her on.

‘You can look at that later,’ she said. ‘Let us get inside first.’

They entered the Cathedral. Alix knew afterwards that this was one of the important moments of her life for entering at the other door was another little party – quite clearly an important one. The two groups hesitated and then a young woman came forward and Prince Christian went to meet her.

Alix saw her father bow and beside the young woman was a young man – not tall but with a pleasant smile; and now her father was bringing them over.

‘My dear,’ he said, ‘I have the honour to present you to their Royal Highnesses the Crown Princess of Prussia and the Prince of Wales.’

Walpurga’s Vicky, thought Alix. And … Bertie!

He was smiling at her, rather conspiratorially, and she found this pleasant. He greeted Dagmar but his eyes came back to Alix. She flushed a little. He was very friendly.

Vicky was saying: ‘My brother is on a visit and we are both staying for a few days with Aunt Augusta at Mecklenburg-Strelitz.’

They started to talk about the Cathedral. What a pleasure to meet in this way. They could look at the Cathedral together. And they must of course arrange another meeting.

Alix found herself walking beside Bertie.

‘How strange,’ she said, ‘that you should have walked in by one door just as we were coming in another.’

‘Very strange,’ he admitted with a smile as though he didn’t think it strange at all. ‘But do you know,’ he went on, ‘I think they planned it.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, as you said, it was too much of a coincidence …’

‘But why should they?’

‘Don’t you know?’ he asked.

‘No. Do you?’

‘Oh, I’ve a hazy idea.’

‘Do tell me.’

He smiled at her in a way she found charming. ‘Do you know, I don’t think I will. I’ll leave you to guess. I’m sure it won’t take you long.’

‘It’s intriguing.’

‘I’m finding it so too.’

They were laughing together and she saw Mama half turn to look at them and the Crown Princess too. Oh dear, she thought. Am I supposed to be solemn?

She said quietly: ‘I think we are supposed not to laugh.’

‘In cathedrals or not at all?’

‘Oh, in cathedrals of course. Not at all would be quite out of the question.’

‘Quite,’ he agreed.

‘We are not looking at the wonderful pillars and the altar-pieces.’

‘Are you interested in them … honestly?’

‘Well, not very much.’

‘Nor am I.’

They laughed again and she put her finger to her lips as though caught in some fault, which amused him.

‘To tell the truth,’ he said, ‘when I knew we were coming to a cathedral I protested.’

‘Do you always protest when you are asked to do something you don’t want to?’

‘To Vicky, yes. At home, no.’

‘At home. You mean at your mother’s court. I was there once. I met you. Do you remember?’

He was going to say that he did but she knew he didn’t. ‘I’ll save you telling a lie,’ she said. ‘Of course you don’t. I was ten and very stupid. I’d never been anywhere and it was all very grand. You came to a party at Cambridge Lodge and I came to one at Buckingham Palace.’

‘Very solemn affairs,’ he said, ‘parties at Buckingham Palace.’

‘And you don’t like being solemn. But then who does?’

‘Some people do.’ His face darkened a little. She thought: He means his father. Oh, how lucky we are with Papa! Still, Bertie himself liked to laugh. So they went on talking and now and then laughing together and they suddenly realised that the tour of the Cathedral was over and the others were outside.

They came into the sunshine. Alix was flushed and happy; so was the Prince of Wales. It had been a very pleasant encounter.

Christian and Louise were making further arrangements with the Crown Princess.

She and her husband were going on an expedition to Heidelberg the next day. Wouldn’t it be pleasant if they all went?

So the next day there was a trip to Heidelberg and there Alix extended her acquaintance with the Prince of Wales.

They had so much to talk and laugh about; he described life at Buckingham Palace and Windsor which was certainly solemn. His father thought young men ought to spend their time studying and not succumb to frivolous pleasure. Poor Bertie, she was sorry for him. He did have rather a hard time.

‘Still,’ she told him, ‘the time will soon come when you will be your own master.’

‘I can’t wait for it,’ he said, his eyes gleaming.

She described the Yellow Palace to him and the fun they had at Bernstorff and Rumpenheim; he listened attentively, and she knew that he had had a very different childhood.

She felt warmly protective towards him and it was then that she began to fall in love with him.

Before they said good-bye he gave her a photograph of himself which she accepted eagerly.

The Crown Princess was delighted; she found Alexandra all that she had been described as being. She was certain that she was the wife for Bertie. Christian and Louise were happy too. It would be wonderful if this brilliant marriage which any parent would want for a child should also prove to be a love match.

Back at Rumpenheim Louise and Christian lay awake at night talking of the meeting between their daughter and the Prince of Wales.

There was no doubt that the young people had been taken with each other. They were both young and attractive; even so it seemed too much to hope for.

‘Of course I can see why the English want the match,’ said Louise. ‘They’re afraid of Prussia. Prussia is after expansion and has its eyes on Schleswig-Holstein. England wouldn’t want a strong Prussia, and Denmark stands as a buffer between the two. I doubt that Belgium would want it either.’

‘No, King Leopold is in favour of the marriage.’

‘It is a very desirable state of affairs,’ said Louise.

‘Providing she loves him. I wouldn’t have it otherwise.’

‘She’s in love with … or half-way there. He’s a very attractive young man.’

‘But not very serious.’

‘He’s young yet. I heard Thyra teasing Alix, asking her why she always blushes when the Prince of Wales is mentioned. There’s no doubt in my mind. It’s a perfect match.’

And so it seemed. Alix carried Bertie’s picture with her always, and looked at it frequently. He was such fun, not at all serious; he wanted to laugh and be gay all the time. Poor Bertie, who had really had rather a sad childhood. He had told her how clever Vicky was and how particularly when he was younger he had felt so inadequate in her company.

There was no need for Bertie to feel inadequate. She assured him of this and he liked to be assured.

She had guessed why they had met in the Cathedral. She had understood the speculative glances. They wanted her and Bertie to love each other because they thought Bertie would be a good husband for her.

She talked it over with Dagmar who was very likely going to Russia.

‘How far we shall be from each other!’ she cried in dismay.

‘We must visit often and we must write. Promise, Alix.’

Alix promised.

They were going to be rich, both of them. How different it would be from making their own dresses and changing them when they came in for fear they might be spoiled.

‘It will be wonderful,’ said Alix, ‘but we shall miss each other sadly.’

‘We’ll have husbands and perhaps children.’

‘Yes,’ said Alix slowly. ‘I suppose that would make up for it in a way.’

There was no topic as frequently discussed in the household as that of the marriages of the two girls, but each day Alix waited for some news from England and none came.

One day they were all assembled in the music room and Alix knew that something dreadful had happened because of her parents’ solemn expressions.

‘The Prince Consort is dead,’ said Christian. ‘The poor Queen is stricken in her grief.’

‘Will this make any difference?’ Louise anxiously asked Christian.

‘I don’t know. The Prince was an astute politician. He would understand the importance of Schleswig-Holstein to Europe and the need for a strong Denmark.’

‘The Queen has able ministers.’

Christian nodded. ‘But, of course, a death like this is certain to delay matters.’

‘I do think something definite should have been arranged by now. It is a little undignified to keep Alix dangling. We don’t know whether she is betrothed or not.’

‘She is not … yet.’

‘Oh, Christian, I believe you don’t want this marriage.’

‘I want her to be happy,’ he said. ‘And I suppose I want to keep the family together as long as possible. When she goes … and Dagmar goes …’

‘Then we shall have to find matches for the others.’

‘What a politician you are.’

‘I need to be. Don’t forget we have our own destinies.’

Christian frowned slightly. How much more peaceful if they had been able to go on living at the Yellow Palace and the girls could have married local noblemen. But for Alix to go right away to England and Dagmar to Russia … How could he be pleased about that!

Louise had a quiet talk with Alix in the latter’s new room at the Yellow Palace.

‘You love your room to yourself,’ said Louise with a smile.

‘Oh yes, Mama, I do. It’s not as though Dagmar is far away.’

‘And, my dear, have you thought that soon you may not be needing this room?’

‘You mean I shall go away.’

‘If you go to England and marry.’

Alix blushed.

‘My dearest child, do you love the Prince of Wales?’

‘I … I don’t know.’

‘If I were to tell you you were to prepare to leave for England tomorrow how would you feel?’

‘If he really loved me … I should be happy. I should be miserable, though, if it were arranged … just because it was suitable.’

‘So if he loved you … you could love him.’

‘Yes, Mama.’

That was good enough; Louise could tell Christian that he need have no qualms.

Christian was pleased when he heard this.

‘Nothing should stand in their way, I suppose,’ he said.

But still there was no news from England.

Princess Alice was married to Prince Louis of Hesse-Darmstadt and by all accounts the ceremony had been more like a funeral than a wedding, with the Queen brooding over them all in her widow’s weeds.

The Queen of England, deprived of the presence of that Beloved Being, had no heart for anything but mourning.

But there were forces at work. The world must go on even though the Prince Consort was dead. Leopold of the Belgians who was watching events in Europe, and particularly in England and Prussia, with very special interest, was determined that the match between Alix and Bertie should take place.

He wrote to the Queen and told her that it was necessary for the Prince of Wales to marry and the Princess of Denmark seemed the ideal match. He would arrange a meeting between the Queen on one side and Alix and her parents on the other. And this meeting should take place at Leopold’s Laeken Palace.

The Queen rather reluctantly agreed.

Alix and her parents were to have a little holiday in Belgium and while they were at Ostend they would go to Brussels and perhaps stay for a day or so as the guests of King Leopold at the Laeken Palace.

Alix was warned by her mother. ‘The Queen is on a pilgrimage to Coburg where the Prince Consort was born; she will be at Laeken and is anxious to meet you. You will have to be very careful for they say she is very stricken by the death of the Prince.’

Alix was uneasy because it was clear that her parents were too. She had been surprised that a young man whom she had met only twice could have made such a deep impression on her; she had tried not to think too much of him because she had quickly realised that the marriage had not yet been finally decided on; and the more she thought of it, the more inclined she was to think it might never take place. After all, who was she? The eldest daughter of the heir to the throne of Denmark it was true, but Denmark was a small country and they were poor and had led rather simple lives. She had heard that Bertie was carrying out a tour of the Far East which had been planned before his father had died. ‘The Queen is anxious that everything the Prince planned before his death should be put into effect,’ her mother told her. But her mother was uneasy and she wondered why.

They told her so little. For instance, in the first place they had said they were going on a holiday to Belgium, and Uncle Leopold had invited them to Laeken. They did not say that she was to be there on approval as it were, as the Queen was going to inspect her – for that was what it amounted to.

If the Queen did not like her, then everything would be forgotten. That possibility made her unhappy, which showed that she was in love – or ready to be. When one was young and inexperienced it was difficult to understand one’s feelings entirely.

They spent a few days in Ostend and all the time they were thinking of the trip to Laeken. Alix was right when she guessed that her parents were uneasy. There had been rumours about a certain affair at the Curragh Camp in which the Prince of Wales had been involved. Christian thought that the Prince was perhaps inclined to be immoral.

Louise tried to excuse him. ‘He is young. Most young men indulge in these adventures in their youth. As long as he settles down when he is married all will be well.’

‘As long as he doesn’t make our Alix unhappy,’ agreed Christian.

‘He seemed fond of her.’

‘Perhaps he is fond of all good-looking girls.’

‘Which is natural.’

‘But I fancy she is more fond of him than he of her.’

‘Well, he appears to be a young man who likes a little gaiety. He may not show his feelings as readily as a young and innocent girl does.’

Christian smiled fondly at his wife. ‘Oh, you are a statesman, Louise. More than I shall ever be. You are determined to make the best of this marriage.’

‘Make the best of it! Why, if it came about Alix would have made the most brilliant marriage in Europe.’

‘Only if she were happy,’ reiterated Christian.

And so they talked and the time had come to make the journey to Laeken Palace.