Midsummer's Eve

But there were moments in London when I could forget these matters which weighed so heavily on me. Aunt Amaryllis was determined to lighten my spirits. There were visits to the opera; there were rides in the Park and visits to the Mission in the East End. I was beginning to feel alive again.

I found the papers interesting. There was a great deal going on. The Flora Hastings affair was still being widely discussed and the Queen was decidedly out of favour on this account. Moreover there was another matter over which she was being severely criticized.

Her relationship with Lord Melbourne was the subject for sly jokes; his government had been defeated and she, being so devoted to him, had developed a great antipathy to Sir Robert Peel.

Uncle Peter discussed these matters at length when he dined with us. They were not frequent, those occasions, because he was usually busy somewhere else but, oddly enough, I found myself looking forward to them. I knew that he was amoral and my mother had hated him because he had blackmailed her-or rather they had blackmailed each other-before she married my father, and, of course, I knew the nature of his business; yet there he was, setting aside his misdemeanours, snapping his fingers at scandal and giving the impression that he had outwitted all his critics. I should not have admired him, but I could not help it; and his conversation was always lighthearted and amusing.

He told us wittily about the Queen versus Sir Robert Peel; how she called him the "music master," because of the nervous way he pranced on the carpet when he was talking to her, for she would not ask him to sit down and etiquette prevented his doing so without that invitation.

"Of course he is nervous in her presence. No cosy tetes-a-tetes as with dear Lord Melbourne. Odd, to think of a great statesman being nervous of a young girl ... for that is all she is. But it is the crown, of course. Peel wants the Whig ladies dismissed from the Bedchamber and Tory ladies to replace them. The Queen says No; and Peel says, No Tory Bedchamber Ladies and no Peel for P.M. It is an impasse. And the result, the return of Melbourne to totter along in power for a few more months. An early election is inevitable and even Her Majesty cannot stop that. Then it will be the retirement of Lord M and the Whig Bedchamber Ladies, I fear.”

"And what do you think will happen at the election, Uncle?" I asked.

"No doubt about it. A majority for Peel and the Tories.”

I looked at him intently. It was the election he had been waiting for. But for the scandal he would have been standing and I had no doubt that he would have been elected.

Then, of course, with his power and his money and his adroit cleverness it would have been a ministerial post for him. Being Uncle Peter he would most certainly have had his eyes on the Premiership. Yet there he was smiling nonchalantly, discussing it all amusingly with no sign of any deep regret. Yet he had wanted advancement in that direction so fervently that he had sought to disqualify Joseph Cresswell.

It was a wicked thing to have done. How could I admire him for nothing after that? It seemed that I was becoming tainted with that worldliness myself, or was I beginning to understand that people are complicated with good and bad closely entwined?

The days slipped by. I was sleeping better and was a little more interested in food and what I should wear. Helena and I went shopping. We bought clothes for ourselves and Jonnie. The streets were full of activity and there was always something new to see. I was fascinated by the Flying Pieman, who did not sell pies but hot puddings, running through the streets with his tray on which his puddings steamed. He hardly stopped to serve his customers for he had deposited his wares early in the morning at various public houses where the food could be kept hot; then he sped through the streets from one to another so that the puddings could be served steaming hot. The ballad singers also interested me. They did a big trade if there was an execution.

They would have accounts of the murder or verses reputed to have been written by the condemned on the eve of execution. It was all rather grim and for that reason attracted many buyers. There were ballad singers and groups singing madrigals. Those streets were so lively, and it was impossible not to get caught up in the excitement.

News came that Flora Hastings had died and that her death was due to a malignant growth. This had made her body so swollen that the false impression had been given that she was pregnant. The indignation of the people was great.

So easily swayed, they sanctified Flora Hastings and vilified the Queen-for they had to have a scapegoat. The papers were full of the affair. People walked about the streets displaying placards on which were written: "Murder at Buckingham Palace.”

The Queen was hissed when she rode out in her carriage.