The Queen's Husband by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online Page A

evenings, when Aunt Louise organised entertainments for them and Albert was hard put to it to hide the fact that he was almost asleep.
    When at last it was time to say goodbye, Uncle Leopold embraced his younger nephew fondly. There was an understanding between them. Uncle Leopold was going to make sure that he was prepared for his future, which was to be the husband of the little girl in Kensington.
    When they reached home it was to find that their father, after having been a widower for more than a year, had married the Princess Mary of Würtemberg.

    Having a step-mother did not inconvenience the Princes in the least. After their return from Brussels they continued with life just as before, and as the Princess Mary of Würtemberg was amiable, more like an older sister, life was very pleasant. It was true that Albert was more aware of what was happening in England than he had been. When he heard that Queen Adelaide had ‘hopes’ he was downcast because he knew Uncle Leopold would be; and when those hopes came to nothing he rejoiced. There were periods when he was completely unconcerned by the future; that was when he was composing a new song, or when he and Ernest went off on one of their expeditions into the forest together; the ‘museum’ was growing and each exhibit held some particular memory for him. It was a pleasant, happy life and he had no desire to grow up. Mornings were spent in study, long afternoons out of doors: riding, fencing, shooting, walking and long nights of sleep. No one, commented Ernest, enjoyed sleep as much as Albert and he didn’t confine this state of somnolence to the night either. ‘I am constantly prodding you to wakefulness,’ complained Ernest.
    Ernest laughed at his brother for his increasing solemnity and rather against his will Albert indulged in an occasional practical joke which was the only sort he could see any point in.
    Once he and Ernest filled the cloak pockets of one of their father’s guests with soft cheese. This was a lady, which rendered the joke doubly hilarious in Albert’s eyes. They made a point of being in the cloakroom when she was helped into her cloak and had the satisfaction of seeing her plunge her hand into the mess in her pocket. Suspecting them, she had berated them angrily, and, while Albert remained regarding her with big reproachful eyes, Ernest was almost choking with laughter.
    That was a period when they played practical jokes whenever they could think them out. Their indulgent step-mother told their father that it was a phase most boys went through and it was in a way a relief to see Albert slightly less of a model boy.
    But Albert was really much happier at the more serious activities. He was developing a great dignity, and practical joking did not really fit in with this. Music was his most pleasant relaxation; he played the piano and organ with skill and composed a little; he had a good voice which he liked to air; he could draw and paint tolerably well; he was interested in science; he wrote a little and confided to Ernest he would like to write a book – a very serious one, on German thought and philosophy. In addition to all these intellectual achievements he could fence and give a good account of himself in forays with Ernest; he was a good swimmer, and could manage a horse with skill. The one exercise he did not enjoy was dancing – not so much going through the motions but because it usually meant touching hands with people of the opposite sex and as he said to Ernest there was something erotic in the procedure.
    ‘Now that,’ said Ernest with a chuckle, ‘is exactly what I like about it.’
    His step-mother noticed that when he was introduced to ladies his manner was awkward.
    ‘Oh, that’ll pass,’ said his father. ‘He’s a boy yet.’
    When Ernest was seventeen it was time for his confirmation and, said Herr Florschütz, Albert was so advanced, so serious in his inclinations and in every way as forward as his brother that