between her parents – and Victoria’s temper seemed to worsen after she discovered that the other wedding she had hoped to
arrange, that between Grand Duke Louis and her daughter Beatrice, was destined never to take place. Under British law, it was prohibited for a man to marry his deceased wife’s sister.
In mid-March the visitors to Windsor began to disperse. Queen Victoria sent her Hesse grandchildren back to Darmstadt, escorted by their Uncle Leopold, and promised to send their Aunt Helena to
Hesse to visit them later in the year. She had obtained from Louis a guarantee that the children would return to England for their summer holiday. In the interim she had given instructions to their
English governess, Margaret Jackson, to send her frequent written accounts of their activities, and to notify her at once of any untoward behaviour.
By the next time there was a large family gathering, in the spring of 1884, Alicky was nearly twelve years old and her place within the large circle of her extended family was much better
defined. In an era in which women were valued primarily for their looks, little Alicky was attracting much admiration. She was slender and tall for her age, with thick reddish-blonde hair, a smooth
fine complexion and grey-blue eyes whose direct, intelligent gaze was both intriguing and daunting. By any measure, she was a beautiful child, and it was clear that she would soon become a
beautiful young woman. Most observers thought that her sister Ella, whom she closely resembled, had a lovelier face, but both sisters were exceptional, eclipsing their numerous cousins, and
Alicky’s full loveliness had yet to unfold. Where Ella was cheerful and outgoing, Alicky was inward-turned, with a wistfulness that added to her appeal.
Alicky drew and sketched well, and played the piano with skill – though she cringed and suffered terrible ‘torment’ whenever her grandmother insisted
that she play for others. (Her ‘clammy hands felt literally glued to the keys’, the adult Alexandra told her biographer and lady-in-waiting Sophie Buxhoeveden. It was ‘one of the
worst ordeals’ of her life. 2 ) A good and disciplined student, she was quick to learn her lessons in literature, history and religion. Though
she showed only average ability in French, her English was fluent (albeit spoken with a strong German accent) and she excelled at needlework.
Beyond the exercises she wrote out in the schoolroom, Alicky was being taught other lessons: from strict yet loving Mrs Orchard (‘Orchie’), with her starched, ironed caps and aprons,
she learned the importance of orderliness, tidiness, punctuality and cleanliness; from her governess Margaret Jackson (‘Madgie’), an irascible but liberal and cultivated woman who
believed in the then progressive idea that girls should have access to the same education as boys, she learned how to speak her mind and arrive at her own opinions.
By Baroness Wilhelmine Grancy, her spare, elderly lady-in-waiting, Alicky was taught self-reliance and strict attention to duty. One must never waver, Baroness Grancy frequently said; one must
never let down one’s guard, never relax, always be self-disciplined and ‘not give in, either physically or morally’. 3 Where
another child might have rebelled against such strictures and the rather grim view of life they bore, Alicky absorbed Baroness Grancy’s teachings, with their attitude of granite self-control.
They reinforced the philosophy of life she had observed in her sainted if overburdened mother, who had taken on duty after duty and had never spared herself, never wavered, never given in.
Alicky was turning out to be an idealist like her mother, one who perceived that larger truths and richer beauties lay beyond the appearances of things – truths and beauties to be glimpsed
through art, faith and the power of deeply felt emotion. She was carried away by the music of Wagner, which she ‘adored’, into realms