Isabella Rockwell's War (23 page)

“She is known
to me too, and I cannot imagine why she would need to be
arrested.”

“She took some
of my friend’s belongings… I believe.” Lady Molesey was now looking
hesitant and less sure of herself.

“I’m sure she
didn’t.” Alix turned to Isabella. “Did you Isabella? Or certainly
no more than was owed to you?”

Isabella
smiled.

“No more than
had been promised, of course, your highness.”

Alix turned
back to Lady Molesey.

“There, I knew
there had been a mix up.” Lady Molesey deflated like a balloon. She
opened her mouth to say something, but then shut it again.

“I say,
Isabella, what are you doing here? You’re in the most dreadful
trouble…” Eloise’s quacking came closer and closer, but when she
saw Alix, she stopped talking and curtsied, mumbling “Oh, your
majesty, I am sorry, I had no idea….” before trailing off with a
red face.

Alix smiled
graciously. “It’s quite alright. I think we’ve cleared it all up.
It was just a little misunderstanding was it not, Lady
Molesey?”

“But Mama!”
Eloise whined, but her mother held up her fan, lined in green satin
and sporting green ostrich plumes.

“That’s enough
Eloise.”

There was a
moment’s silence.

“So what does
bring you here, Isabella?”

“I’m staying
at the palace, at present.” Isabella didn’t know what else to say.
She wasn’t about to tell of all that had happened since she left
their house, a lifetime ago.

“She saved my
life,” said Alix simply, with a look at Lady Molesey, which dared
her to ask anymore.

“Oh… well,
jolly good show.” Lady Molesey fidgeted with her fan.

Isabella
smiled. “Have you enjoyed being home, Lady Molesey?”

Lady Molesey
started to fan herself.

“Oh yes, what
fun we are having. So nice to have a bit of civilised company, at
last,” then she caught sight of Isabella’s face. “Well, India is
wonderful, of course, but it is especially nice to talk to someone
different. You know how insular India can be.”

Isabella
thought it was time to have some fun.

“Lady Molesey,
do you remember Mrs Jolyon?”

Lady Molesey’s
flushed cheeks were turning a more natural colour, as she regained
her composure.

“Lady Jolyon?
No, I don’t think…”

“No not, Lady
Jolyon. Mrs Jolyon.”

“Oh.” Lady
Molesey’s face fell at the prospect of an acquaintance without a
title. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“You met her
on board. She was a friend of Mrs Trotter’s.”

Lady Molesey’s
face changed.

“Oh yes, I do
remember. The governess, from Cawnpore, used to work for Millie
March?”

“That’s
right.” Isabella pointed over to where Mrs Jolyon was sitting with
some of the other servants who had accompanied their families.
“She’s the princess’s governess now,” said Isabella enjoying the
look on Lady Molesey and Eloise’s face. “It’s a pity we didn’t
spend more time with her on board. I’m sure Eloise and the princess
are the same age, perhaps they would have become friends,” she
added.

Let them stew
over that.

Above the
noise of the jolly crowd Isabella heard a church bell chiming the
hour. It must be eight o’clock. Another smartly dressed youth
presented himself to Alix, bowing at the waist.

“Your majesty,
may I have the pleasure?”

Eloise’s mouth
fell open. “Isn’t that Prince Albert of Prussia?”

Lady Molesey’s
fanning intensified. “I rather think it was.”

Isabella
curtsied. “If you will excuse me,” she made to move away towards
the stairs. If luck were on her side she would never have to see
them again. As she passed Mrs Jolyon’s table, Mrs Jolyon got
up.

“Well done!
Did the princess put them in their place?”

Isabella
smiled.

“Yes, you
should have seen it. It was quite satisfying.”

Mrs Jolyon
nodded and rummaged in her evening bag. “A part of me wishes I had.
By the way, someone’s just given me this.”

Mrs Jolyon
handed her a crumpled piece of paper. On it was her name in a badly
fashioned hand. Zach must have paid someone to write it for him.
“Meet you outside the side gates. Good luck.”

“Is that from
whom I think it is?” said Mrs Jolyon smiling.

Isabella
nodded. “I’m meeting my friends tonight…” Then unable to keep it to
herself any longer, she added “Zachariah has bought me a boat
ticket home.”

Mrs Jolyon
eyes widened. “Not on the new Mauritania Clipper? The one which
leaves tonight?”

Isabella
laughed. “Yes, that’s the one. I can’t believe it.”

Mrs Jolyon
looked puzzled. “But how could you afford it? The tickets were
listed in the paper as being twelve pounds.”

Isabella gazed
at Mrs Jolyon. Could she tell her the truth? Excited as she was,
something stopped her. The stakes were too high. Instead Isabella
patted her waistline which bulged slightly.

“It’s what
I’ve been saving for… Zachariah managed to sell a couple of
trinkets I… er… came across.”

Mrs Jolyon
held her hand up, but she was smiling. “Don’t tell me anything I
don’t want to know.” Then she looked over toward Alex. “You haven’t
told her yet?”

Isabella shook
her head.

“She’ll miss
you terribly.”

Isabella
nodded.

“I know.
You’ll be here to look after her though, won’t you? You’ll
stay?”

A strange
vacant look came over Mrs Jolyon’s face, as if she had stepped out
of her body for a moment. “Mrs Jolyon?” Isabella put her hand on
Mrs Jolyon’s arm.

“Oh Isabella,”
Mrs Jolyon’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I was just
thinking of Christopher and how much I miss him.” She rubbed her
eyes. “Sorry, I must get myself under control. It’s probably
because I’m going to miss you too. I’ve always hated goodbyes.”

Isabella
hugged her.

“Mrs Jolyon,
I’ll miss you too – so much! I wish you could come with me.”

“I wish I was
going with you. It will be spring when you get home. The hibiscus
will be out and all the partridge chicks running about. How
wonderful.”

“Is there
anything I can take for you Mrs Jolyon? Something for Christopher I
can post when I am there?” Isabella felt a little breathless at the
possibility of her dream coming true in such a short time.

Mrs Jolyon’s
face lit up. “Oh Isabella, that would be wonderful. Do you have
space for a letter? He does so love to get my letters.”

“Of course.
Why don’t you get it now, then I’ll go and pack.”

Mrs Jolyon
rushed off and Isabella took her seat with the other ladies’ maids
and governesses who were now discussing the colour of the Duchess’s
dress. Over the shifting shoulders’ of dancing couples, she could
see the clock in the hall; it was eight forty. She had just enough
time to collect her bag, the painting, make her good-byes and slip
out to meet Zach. She was excited to see him and Midge; Midge
especially. It seemed for every happiness, there was always a
sadness. She would get to see Midge, but in doing so, she’d have to
say good-bye to Alix.

“Do you know
Mrs Jolyon well?” asked a pale-faced maid, sitting on her right.
They had obviously tired of the discussion of clothes, and were now
looking for something else to talk about, but Isabella didn’t want
to talk to them. Instead she wanted to take in all beauty of her
surroundings so she could tell the children all about it, without
leaving anything out.

“Here we
are.”

Mrs Jolyon,
out of breath, surreptitiously gave her a heavy wrapped letter,
sealed with wax. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I’ve put in
a shilling note. If I didn’t seal it, it would surely go
missing.”

She was
leaning down close to Isabella’s ear and Isabella laughed inwardly
as she could see the ladies who sat around her, straining to catch
every word. She tucked the letter into her bodice and stood up. She
looked over towards Alix.

“Will you be
here for a while?” she asked. It was going to take some time before
she felt comfortable about leaving Alix, despite at least twenty
guards in the room.

Mrs Jolyon
fortunately seemed to understand.

“You go on.
I’ll be here until you get back. You will say goodbye when you’re
ready won’t you?”

“Of course I
will. I’d never hear the end of it from you-know-who.” Then,
checking Alix was still happily twirling around the room, she
slipped through the throng watching the dancing, out into the
hall.

Her kid
slippers made no sound as she made her way down the corridor to the
Blue Salon. The faint smell of champagne remained in the room,
glasses littering the tabletops. The fire still burned however, and
the Caravaggio glowed gold in its light as Isabella took it down
and tucked it in her skirts. Then she left the room.

The music, now
a haunting waltz crept along behind her, as she climbed the
staircase to Alix’s apartments, but when she closed her bedroom
door the music was suddenly cut off, as if the orchestra had
stopped mid-note. Swiftly she went to the wall and took down the
painting with which to replace the Caravaggio.

Her father’s
bag was still packed from the day before, and she slid Mrs Jolyon’s
letter in next to Abhaya’s pouch. She took off her dress and hung
it carefully in the wardrobe. Then she put on her street clothes,
now sweet-smelling and neatly darned.

That was
better; much more like herself.

Finally she
wrapped the Caravaggio in Abhaya’s sari and put it on top of the
pouch, so nothing would crush it. She looked around the room for
the last time. The fire crackled and hissed, and a pot of hot
chocolate stood wrapped in a tea towel for her to have later. She’d
miss that hot chocolate, but it was time now to re-enter the real
world.

She took the
locket and went to Alix’s room and left it on her pillow, took one
last look at the Princess’s room, in which they’d had so much fun,
and then closed the door and went downstairs.

The little
landscape painting from her room looked perfect hanging in place of
the Caravaggio. It would, at least, buy her a little time. All she
had to do now, was leave the palace without being seen. As she
reached for the door handle, to her horror, it started to turn.
Someone was coming into the room. Without thinking Isabella dived
behind the sofa next to the window, but she was too late.

“I told you’d
she’d try and sneak off, just like a thief in the night…” said Alix
to Mrs Jolyon, plainly pleased with herself. Isabella felt sick to
her stomach. How could Alix possibly know?

“Ssh, what are
you doing here? I wasn’t sneaking off, I was just about to come and
find you,” hissed Isabella, the painting burning a hole in her
knapsack.

“I only wanted
to come and say goodbye.” Said Alix going a bit pink. “Just this
once I wanted to act like a normal person, and come and wave you
off. I know you’re going to meet your friends. Let me meet them
too.” Her eyes were pleading in her flushed face.

Seeing Alix
knew nothing of the picture, Isabella relaxed a little.

“Oh come on
then, but you’re going to get in trouble.”

Alix giggled.
“I won’t be here anymore to face the music. Come on, let’s go this
way. They’ll be coming out for fireworks in a moment. We need to
get to the side gate before they open the terrace doors.”

She hurried
them down the corridor and out through a little-used door near the
kitchens. The sounds of slamming, and chefs shouting came clearly
through the misted up open windows, and they stood for a moment in
the icy night, their breath billowing out in front of them.

“Which
gate?”

“The one
nearest to Kensington.”

Alix set off
again toward a bank of high yews, which lay at the bottom of a
grassy slope. She was going at a fast pace, obviously enjoying the
adventure.

“It’s so
wonderful not to have any guards around. Ernest has tripled the
watch I think. Every time I turned around on that dance floor I
nearly fell over one of them.”

Isabella’s
laugh was clear and bell-like.

Just ahead of
them, next to a wrought- iron gate shining dully in the moonlight,
a figure stepped out onto the stone path. Mrs Jolyon jumped, but
Isabella started to run. It was Midge.

He hurled his
arms around her waist and she hugged him back with all her
might.

“Alright?” he
mumbled into her coat.

“Yes Midge. I
am alright,” she replied. He lifted his head up and looked around
and, seeing the others, he untangled himself from Isabella.

Zach and Ruby
detached themselves from the shadows of the yews.

“There you
are! We’ve been ’ere ages,” said Zach.