Victoria

George Frideric Handel.

German.

Are you all right?

It's nothing.

I am bilious.

Quickly!

Her Majesty is quite the little jack-in-the-box.

Women are queer cattle.

Of what do you gentlemen speak?

The music, sir.

It is very

Well-constructed.

I felt unwell.

It was disagreeable.

It's over now.

Oh, Lord, it was nothing compared to the spectacle

of Peel perspiring

with the effort of being charming.

Although I have to admit I'm strangely drawn to Peel.

He's direct,

like me.

Also, I am told he's an aficionado of the railway.

Don't talk railway at me.

Half the people in this box

are moaning about incursions on their property.

They are wrong.

We stand on the brink

of a modern revolution, Victoria, of science.

Embrace it.

Go to these places of new manufacturing.

You say "manufacturing"

and my soul shrivels with boredom.

Mine does not.

You should be the champion of what is coming.

Rather too much "should."

You're tired.

I'm not tired.

Then, my dear, you must be ill.

I'm not ill.

I shall send for the doctor.

Albert, I don't... I don't want a doctor.

Your queen is sick.

Oh, we don't say "sick," we say "indisposed."

Well, she is indisposed out of her mouth.

What's that?

The cure for every ailment known to woman

is chocolate.

Hot chocolate?

Really?

Uh-uh!

Mmm!

Why don't you give her one of your little wafers?

Then she can dip it in.

You're in the wrong job, Miss Skerrett.

Thank you.

I'll get this to the Queen directly.

Can't fix what she's got with chocolate.

She says "no doctor" and she sends for the doctor.

Good-bye, Dr. Clarke.

What did the doctor say?

Tell me, please.

There's nothing we cannot face.

There is no polite English word.

You are with child?

That's...

That's magnificent!

You are magnificent.

I'm afraid.

No.

Is it safe to announce?

I know my duty.

Very good, Lord Chamberlain.

HRH didn't dilly-dally.

Ma'am.

What is it?

Brandy mixed with cream.

It eliminates nausea.

Is it medically demonstrable?

Ask any woman who has conceived.

Listen to me.

Your nurse is a virgin, your husband is a man,

your doctor is a fool.

Directly after luncheon, you must go to bed

and lay down on your back without moving till dinner.

Dinner shall be preparations of the vital organs:

the brain, liver, the lungs.

Affairs of state...

Drina, this is your affair of state.

Affairs?

Let Albert do them for you.

Let him do everything for you.

Will he also give birth for me, Mama?

Remember Charlotte.

Her death in labor

is the reason you're queen.

I have work to do.

Baroness, you put me off my stroke.

The queen must have sweetbreads in broth,

I know, yes, I'll see to it directly,

but if I cock this mayonnaise...

Her Majesty's dietary requirements take Pr...

Curdled.

All she had to do was look at it.

Take this.

Make it again.

No.

I'm not an imbecile.

I grasp that the constitution demands an heir

and that I must produce it.

But to make me feel I own no other function...

Your mother is...

...of her generation.

The world's leaving her behind.

She is afraid.

You are going to look at my body

and be revolted.

I know it.

My desire for you will never fail.

A love like ours can burn down a city.

The Lord Chamberlain, Your Majesty.

My Lord, this is my private time.

Speak freely before the Prince.

I shall be offended if you don't.

The court rejoices in your news.

But?

Your eyes are full of "but."

Childbirth is a hazardous business.

You want to know what will happen if I die.

I understand.

It is your duty to consider what would happen next.

Specifically, ma'am, if the child survived you.

It is incumbent upon Your Majesty

to nominate a regent

for the approval of Parliament.

Well, that, my lord, is something I can do

without a moment's hesitation.

And so the torpid Teuton

wedges himself yet further

into the sagging cleft of power.

It's unconscionable!

If the queen dies,

are we to be ruled by a German?

We already are.

Cumberland would crawl over broken glass

for a crack at the regency.

Parliament, of course,

must ratify...

Of course it must.

I hear you are already acquainted

with the prince, Peel.

The queen is stubborn.

You must convince Albert to reconsider.

If the Tories fail

to condone your regency, I will abdicate.

No, you will not.

I will.

You can't abdicate.

You're not the monarch.

Then I will merely leave.

Then I will merely kill myself.

Then I will remarry.

Ridiculous.

Whom will you marry?

Wellington.

Peel.

Maybe both.

Cumberland shall be my mistress.

Drina, laughter is bad for baby.

One day, I'll put her on a donkey

and pack her off to Carlisle.

Carlisle.

County town of Cumberland,

celebrated for textiles.

Adjacent is Northumberland,

rejoicing in the digging of coal.

You see, it is not your mother

you should be sending north.

You're determined to see me dragged around

some morbid display of traction engines.

Send me.

Why?

Otherwise, I feel the people

may not accept me as their regent.

I'm not dead yet.

Don't be childish.

If you would prefer not to be regent when I am dead...

No, what I would prefer, Victoria,

is to exercise just a little power while you are alive.

Power must be seen to come from me.

For you...

...I order a trip North.

An expedition

into the dark heart of the Tory shires,

where I shall fanfare you as regent.

Oh no, I do not seriously expect you to travel.

The latest research in Germany suggests

that the woman in pregnancy should not exert herself.

But I am not a German woman.

I am the Queen of England.

Chillington Hall, ma'am,