Prisoners in the Palace (20 page)

April breezes freshened the room, and the sunny morning promised a perfect spring day. Victoria and her mother ate their breakfast in silence. Since the Princess’s brush with typhoid, she clearly preferred the Baroness Lehzen’s company, so the Duchess excluded Lehzen whenever possible. Victoria, her face pinched and her once beautiful hair a wispy dark shadow of its former self, stared out the open windows. Dash pressed his head against his mistress’s leg.

The Duchess said, “Victoria, you should eat more.”

“I still find my appetite is lacking. It’s very good for my waistline.” The Princess sliced off the top of a soft-boiled egg and fed Dash a bit of egg white.

“Victoria!” the Duchess exclaimed.

“Dash still has his appetite,” Victoria said. She pushed her food about on her plate. “I think I shall go riding today on Rosa.”

The mare, Rosa, the King’s gift to the Princess, was still a sore subject between mother and daughter.

“No, Victoria, you’re still too weak,” said the Duchess.

Victoria spooned out the soft yolk and smeared it on her toast in one economical motion. “It’s kind of you, Mama, to be concerned about my convalescence, when you were so nonchalant during my actual illness.” She never missed a chance to remind her mother of the events at Ramsgate.

The Duchess tut-tutted. “You shouldn’t ride. Take the carriage.”

Liza could hear the effort it took for the Duchess to keep her tone even. These days Liza liked to pass the time wagering with herself on when the Duchess’s control would snap.

“Mama, I shall ride if I want to.” Victoria too, was a model of restraint. Gone were the tantrums; an icy politeness now defined relations between mother and daughter.

“Victoria, I forbid it,” the Duchess said.

“I heard you the first time, Mama. But I’m old enough to make my own decisions.” Mother and daughter stared defiantly at each other; the Duchess’s eyes dropped first.

“Liza, tell the stables to be ready,” Victoria said. “You shall accompany me.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” said Liza from her corner, startled at being spoken to. She hurried out, smiling. She had feared she would be trapped in the Palace on this fine day. But first she detoured to the Baroness’s room. Like the Princess, Liza had grown closer to the Baroness during those long nights of illness and fear at Ramsgate.

“Good for Victoria. She should stand up to her mother,” Lehzen said after Liza had reported the conversation at breakfast. “But Rosa is a spirited mare. Perhaps Victoria isn’t strong enough yet.”

Liza shrugged. “She’s determined.”

“Watch over her, Liza.” The Baroness waved Liza off, her right hand already fishing in her pocket for caraway seeds.

Liza hesitated in the doorway.

“Well?” the Baroness asked.

“I don’t have any riding clothes, Baroness.”

“The Princess’s chaperone must be properly dressed.” Lehzen thought for a moment. “Victoria has outgrown a blue velvet riding habit. Take that one.”

Liza bobbed a curtsy and ran to the Princess’s room, a lightness in her step.

“Faster, Liza!” Victoria leaned forward in the saddle, pressed her heels into Rosa’s sides, and sped off. “I want to gallop!” she called gaily. Escaping the Palace gave Victoria no less pleasure than Liza.

“Your Highness, slow down, please,” Liza called. Her mount, a staid gelding named Rex, reluctantly obeyed Liza’s command to canter.

The riding habit, secondhand though it was, suited Liza as though tailored just for her. The velvet jacket had dark blue piping and fit to perfection. The skirt must have been made with three yards of fine wool; it was longer on the right side to drape gracefully over the pommel of her saddle. Liza’s mother had a similar ensemble in the same dark blue. Mama would revel in this moment: her daughter riding with royalty in a beautiful park on a crisp spring morning.

And the color favors my complexion.

At the sound of hoof beats behind her, Liza glanced back through the veil attached to her elegant hat. Two sober-faced grooms in the Duchess’s green livery followed on a pair of matched gray horses. The Duchess’s open landau carriage, complete with a driver and footman, followed the grooms. Perhaps the Duchess thought Victoria might succumb to exhaustion and would have to be driven home. The Princess’s liberty was an illusion.

Victoria reined in, her soft face hardening as she noticed the grooms. She trotted past Liza and spoke to them directly. “I don’t require you. Go home.”

“Sir John gave orders—”

“Is Sir John your future monarch, or am I?” Victoria asked icily.

The grooms stirred uneasily.

“Princess,” Liza said. “They could lose their jobs if they let you ride alone.” Liza, also charged with Victoria’s protection, was rather glad they were there.

“Oh, bother,” Victoria said impatiently. “Be sure to keep out of my sight.” She pulled Rosa’s reins hard to the right and spun off down the bridle path. The groomsmen and carriage followed at a slower pace, trying to keep trees between themselves and the Princess.

Liza trailed behind Victoria across the bridge over the Serpentine River. Suddenly a small figure leapt out of the shrubs near Victoria.

“Liza!” Inside Boy cried.

Rosa reared up, her hooves pawing the air, but Victoria was an expert horsewoman and quickly brought her under control.

“Are you mad?” cried Victoria. “You don’t startle a horse that way. We could have been killed.”

Liza was too overcome by memories to speak. Her parents’ carriage had been dragged, helter-skelter, by a frightened horse plummeting into this very river. She ducked her head down and patted Rex’s withers.

Inside Boy ignored the Princess. “Liza, please.”

“Don’t you know who I am?” Victoria asked, her mood hovering between irritation and curiosity.

“‘ullo, Your ‘ighness,” said Inside Boy, doffing an imaginary cap. “Can I borrow your lady’s maid?”

“Liza, do you know this, um, gentleman?”

Liza found herself making the most improbable of introductions. “Your Highness, may I present…,” For the first time Liza realized she didn’t know Inside Boy’s first name. “Inside Boy Jones.”

“Inside Boy? What an interesting name.” Victoria’s curiosity was sharper than one of her embroidery needles. She leaned forward in her saddle. “How do you know Liza?”

“We’ve met around the Palace,” he said.

A gulp started deep in Liza’s throat and threatened to become a giggle.

The grooms cantered up and flanked Liza and the Princess. “You, boy! You’re not to bother the Princess.”

“Nonsense. He’s not bothering me at all.” She fixed her protectors with a glare. “And I can see you! Off with you!” The grooms backed their mounts out of earshot and the Princess turned to Liza expectantly.

Cursing Inside Boy’s foolhardiness, Liza asked, “What’s happened, Boy?” Liza asked. “Has something happened to Will?”

Oh please, not Will.

“It’s Annie.”

Liza had often thought of Annie increasing in the Mary Mag-dalene House for Penitent Prostitutes. She must have had the baby in November.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dunno. Maybe it’s the baby. She got a message to me, don’t ask ‘ow, and she wants you to come to ‘er.”

“Why me?”

“Annie? Annie Mason?” Victoria interrupted. “She’s having a child? Liza, you didn’t tell me she had married. I would have sent a card.”

“Princess, a moment, please,” begged Liza. “Boy, she doesn’t even like me.”

“Annie said she was ready to tell you what you wanted to know. But it ‘as to be this morning. She said she won’t be there past noon.” He paused and Liza saw the anxiety in his eyes. “Liza, she sounds right desperate.”

If Annie was ready to give up her secrets, Liza couldn’t pass on this opportunity to discover evidence against Sir John. “Princess, I apologize, I’ve no time to explain,” she said. “But it’s important I go.” She lowered her voice. “Annie could have the kind of ammunition we’ve been looking for against You Know Who.” To Inside Boy she said, “How can we get there?”

“Let’s take my carriage. I’d love to see Annie again,” the Princess said eagerly.

“No!” Liza and Boy exclaimed in unison.

The Princess’s posture stiffened. “I shall go, if I want to.” She dismounted and beckoned to one of the guards to take her reins.

Liza slipped down from Rex’s back and threw the reins to the puzzled groom. Tripping over her long skirt, Liza cried, “Your Highness, it is not possible.”

“Why not?” called Victoria over her shoulder. Simon, a bewildered expression on his face, held the carriage door open.

“It’s a dangerous neighborhood,” said Liza. “You cannot go there.”

“Nonsense,” Victoria said. “I’ll be Queen of all Britain soon; there’s no place I cannot go.” At the mention of danger, groom, driver, and footman exchanged uneasy looks. Simon, the highest ranked, spoke for the group. “Begging your pardon, Your Highness, we cannot permit you to leave the park.”

“Of course you can.”

“We have our orders,” Simon said doggedly.

Victoria glared at them.

Liza knew bone-deep that what Victoria proposed was unthinkable. “Princess, you mustn’t try to come.”

“I never get to have adventures,” the Princess complained.

Simon and the others looked miserable.

“And I would lose my job for certain,” said Liza.

I’ll lose it anyway.

The grooms took their orders from Sir John; he would learn how Victoria tried to leave. Fault would be laid squarely on Liza’s shoulders.

Damn Annie for starting this.

Victoria’s lips pulled together in a pout. “But—”

“Princess, be reasonable.” Liza echoed the Baroness: “Remember who you are.”

The Princess’s shoulders slumped. “Duty can be very vexing,” she sighed. “Very well. I’ll stay. You take the carriage. Liza, do you promise to tell me everything when you return?”

“I will, but you must go back to the Palace.” She glanced at Inside Boy, who was watching the negotiations with growing impatience.

Victoria gld at tVictoria turned to Simon. “Take Miss Hastings wherever she wants to go. Accompany her at all times.”

With a marked lack of enthusiasm, Simon said, “As you wish, Your Highness.”

As Liza and Inside Boy climbed in the carriage, she noticed the Duchess’s prominent crest on the door. “Should we cover your mother’s crest?” said Liza.

“Don’t be foolish, it’s my crest too,” said Victoria. “You are on an errand for me.”

May as well be hanged for stealing a sheep as stealing a lamb.

Everyone in the Palace, from the Duchess to the least scullery maid, would know about this escapade, why not the people of London too? She pressed her gloved fingers to her eyes and carefully removed her hat and veil.

“Annie’s information had better be worth it,” she muttered to Boy.

As they approached town, the driver asked, “Where to now, Miss?” Before Liza could answer, Inside Boy clambered over to the driver’s seat and began to direct him.

Despite her worries about what lay ahead, Liza enjoyed seeing the city from an open carriage instead of the stuffy omnibus. The streets seemed cleaner and London’s air fresher from the velvet carriage seat. They turned down Haymarket to Fleet Street. Shoppers rushed up and down the streets, but either their driver possessed exceptional maneuvering skills, or as Liza suspected, respect for their royal carriage cleared a path. Suddenly they stopped and Inside Boy hopped down.

“Are we there?” she asked. She recognized nothing.

“The house is down that street, but it’s too tight for the carriage. We’ll hoof it.” He started to open the carriage door, but Simon got there first.

As Liza adjusted her too-long riding skirt, Simon murmured in her ear. “Liza, I don’t like the looks of this. I won’t leave your side.” Though Simon and Liza had been very formal ever since the Princess’s birthday ball, she was glad to have him with her.

“What about the driver?” she asked.

“He can wait here,” Simon said.

“As long as we go now,” said Inside Boy. “C’mon, Liza.” He ran off.

The driver looked resigned; as she ran after Inside Boy, Liza hoped they would be able to find the driver for a ride home. Outpacing Simon, who was built to be more imposing than quick, Liza hurried to catch up to Inside Boy. She spotted him weaving around pedestrians as though they stood still. In a few minutes, they arrived at the Mary Magdalene House. This time, Liza didn’t hesitate to knock loudly.

“You’ve come back, have you?” Mrs. Russell opened the door herself this time. She peered down at them. “And with another young man this time.” She recognized Boy. “I thought you looked familiar. Mr. Jones, if that is your real name, the girls are not permitted gentleman visitors. You’re too late anyway. She’s gone.”

Not daring to look at Boy, Liza asked, “Do you mean she’s dead?”

“Lord have mercy, I’d have said so. Although if she’s gone back to her old ways, she might as well be dead.” She shook her head piously. “The Lord will forgive a penitent once, but not twice.”

“Where is she?” Inside Boy nearly shouted.

Mrs. Russell drew back and pulled the door halfway closed. “I don’t like your tone, young man. Why are you asking all these questions about a whore?”