Prisoners in the Palace (24 page)

Simon dragged her down the corridors to the cupola room. The tall windows looked out on a world of safety and normalcy as remote to her present circumstances as Kashmir. He lifted his hand from Liza’s mouth; there was no one to hear her cry out.

“You’re despicable, Simon,” Liza said coldly.

Simon snorted. “After Conroy makes me a gentleman, no maid will ever turn her nose up at me again.” A spasm twisted his face. Liza wondered she’d never seen how dangerous he was.

“He’s a monster and you’re no better.”

“I do as I’m told, just like you,” Simon said stolidly.

“So when you helped me that day, with Annie—”

“Just looking out for my employer’s interests.”

Liza stared at him, feeling sick as she reconsidered that awful day. The figure of Annie backing away on the platform—backing away from what? Perhaps that old woman had seen more clearly than Liza had: was Annie pushed?

“You killed her! She was a threat to Sir John. And not just about the baby. She knew something damaging about him, perhaps even had proof. He faced ruin if she talked to me.” If her suspicions were correct, then Liza had contributed to Annie’s death, as surely as Sir John and Simon had.

“Perhaps she fell.” Simon’s grin dared her to prove his guilt.

“What did she know?”

“Let’s just say that Sir John hasn’t been as scrupulous with the Duchess’s accounts as he might have been,” Simon said. “You’d think Conroy would be grateful. But no, he was furious you found out about the baby. Any scandal does Sir John no good. Especially when you managed to get it in the newspaper!”

Oh Will! I promise I’ll listen to you next time.

They reached the box room. Simon unlocked the door and opened it into darkness.

“It’s your last chance,” he said. “If you cared to be more obliging, I might leave you with a candle.”

Liza spat at him. He looked down at the spittle dripping down his livery.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said in a calm voice but his eyes burned with fury. Liza backed away from him, into the darkness of the box room.

“Nobody to hear you, Miss High and Mighty. You think you’re so much better than the rest of us. Where are all your airs now?”

He shoved her against the wall and grabbed the back of her head. In a shower of pins, her hair came down from its bun. He bent his head to kiss her, his thick lips pressed against hers.

“Help!” Liza cried, pushing him away with all her strength. She scratched his face, drawing blood. “Help me!”

She drew breath to scream again—afraid it was hopeless. Then at the door, she saw a shadow. Simon began to turn. A heavy iron poker came crashing down on his head. Simon fell to the floor.

Liza looked into the light. Inside Boy stood there with a wide smile plastered over his grimy face.

Liza steadied herself against the wall. “Thank you, Boy.”

“I got your message,” Inside Boy said. “You’re a quick study, Miss. You patter flash like you was born to it. Lucky for us, Simon came from the country. ‘e don’t know the first thing about flash.”

She nudged Simon’s unconscious body with the toe of her boot.

“Where is the Princess?”

“Crying in her room. I thought you needed my ‘elp more.”

Recalling the pressure of Simon’s lips, Liza nodded. “We have to help Victoria now.” She started to leave, but Inside Boy’s hand on her sleeve stopped her.

“What about ‘im?” He delivered a sharp kick to Simon’s posterior.

“Can’t we lock the door?”

Inside Boy shook his head. “This room would’ve ‘eld you—but ‘e’s a mite stronger. Let’s tie ‘im up.”

Liza rummaged around the box room shelves filled with old livery and moth-eaten curtains. A shiver ran across her body thinking of being imprisoned in this tiny space. “This will do,” she said, holding up the scarlet velvet ties from the curtains.

“Too fine for the likes of ‘im,” said Inside Boy, taking the makeshift rope to wind around Simon’s unconscious frame. “I know a back way to the Princess. But Miss Liza, maybe you should change your dress first,” Inside Boy said.

Liza looked down at her dusty skirt. “What does it matter?” she said.

“I was thinking about the livery,” he said, pointing at a pile of page’s uniforms. “No one ‘ill be looking for a couple of boys.”

“I couldn’t!”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Liza stared at the boy’s breeches and dark green tailored coat. Holding it up to her shoulders, she thought it might fit perfectly.

Inside Boy’s “back way” was a maze of tunnels inside the walls of the Palace, which he navigated like an experienced rodent. The passage was scarcely wide enough for Liza to crawl through on her knees. Thank goodness for the Duchess’s livery; Liza couldn’t imagine making this journey in her skirts.

Grates let in air and light every fifteen feet or so. Liza recognized some of the rooms. Now she understood how Inside Boy
could overhear so much. But then they made a few turns and she was hopelessly lost.

Trust Inside Boy.

He had rescued her; now they would rescue Victoria.

If only I could see!

“Can’t we have a light?” she whispered.

“The grates open into the public rooms—a candle is just begging to be caught.”

“The Palace is empty,” Liza pointed out.

“Better safe than sorry,” came Inside Boy’s voice.

Just when she thought her knees might give out, Inside Boy stopped. “We’re ‘ere.”

“Here” was a metal grate. Liza looked through into the pitch-black room. Victoria’s sobs filled the dark space.

Liza shoved at the grate, but it was screwed to the wall.

“Who’s there?”

“Victoria, it’s Liza.”

“Are you dead? Liza, are you a ghost?” Victoria’s voice rose in hysterics. “I tried to save you!”

Liza clenched her fists.

Sir John has much to answer for.

“Calm yourself, Victoria,” she said. “I’m alive and I’m here to save you.”

“Where are you?” Some of the terror left Victoria’s voice. “I’ve never been alone in the dark before.”

“Victoria, I’ll be right there.” Liza whispered to Inside Boy, “I can’t open the grate.”

“‘old on, let me help.” She heard him grunting and muttering as he turned himself around like a contortionist. Liza pushed with
both hands while he shoved hard with his feet against the metal grate. One of the fasteners popped off.

“Boy, it’s working!” whispered Liza.

Another kick and the grate fell to the floor. Victoria cried out at the noise. Liza fell a few inches into the room.

“Ouch,” she said, rubbing her elbow where she had landed. “Victoria?”

“Here,” came a muffled voice. “Sir John locked the shutters. And he took the candles away.”

“Did he take the lantern too?” Liza asked.

“I don’t know how to light it.”

Inside Boy made a rude noise.

“What was that sound?” Victoria called out.

“Shhh,” hissed Liza in Inside Boy’s direction. Of course Victoria couldn’t light a lantern; Princesses were not encouraged to do anything practical. She felt her way to the shelves.

“Liza, don’t leave me!” Victoria cried.

“I’m lighting the lantern.” Liza felt along the shelf for the box of lucifers.

“Mother doesn’t like to use it; she says the oily smoke leaves marks on the ceiling.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness,” said Liza. “Your mother can—”

“Stick it up her arse!” chimed in Inside Boy.

“Who’s that?”

“You’ve met Mr. Jones,” Liza said soothingly. “That day in the park.”

A lifetime ago.

Liza struck the bulb of phosphorus at the end of the lucifer against the rough edge of the box. The first one didn’t light. The second one flamed quickly, throwing out sparks and Liza almost
dropped it. Holding it high, she lit the paraffin lantern. The wick flared and bathed the room with ghostly luminescence. The Princess was huddled against her headboard, the coverlet around her shoulders. Her pale face was the only visible part of her body.

Liza gestured to Inside Boy to wait. She put her arm around Victoria and rubbed her back until the Princess stopped shaking.

“I signed his letter. I imagined terrible things were happening to you,” sobbed Victoria. But then her back straightened and she peered at Liza. “But you aren’t hurt at all. Did I give away the treasury for nothing?”

Smiling at the return of the old Victoria, Liza said, “I got away, with Inside Boy’s help.”

“What on earth are you wearing, Liza? It looks like my mother’s livery.”

Inside Boy pantomimed looking at a watch.

“Why is he in such a hurry?” asked Victoria with her usual imperiousness. “Does he have somewhere to go?”

Inside Boy stepped forward. “I’m sorry for your troubles, Your ‘ighness,” he said, with a deep bow. “I’m ‘ere to give you an escape route, a road we must take right soon.”

Victoria got up and extended her hand. “Mr. Jones, thank you for your efforts. But I won’t run away.”

“Are you a bloomin’ idiot?” he asked, then he caught himself. “Sorry, Princess.”

“Victoria, we must get you to safety,” said Liza.

“No,” Victoria said loudly. “The future Queen of Britain is not going to flee her own home.”

Boy and Liza looked at each other helplessly.

“Victoria,” began Liza. “Sir John is a desperate man. He can’t turn back now.”

“He has what he wants.” Victoria sat at her dressing table and began to brush her hair with carefully controlled strokes. “But Liza, you are in danger. You must leave. You can fetch help for me.”

“I won’t go without you,” Liza replied, determined to protect the Princess.

“You have to. Go to the King at Windsor or better yet, to the Queen, she knows you.”

“I can’t just walk into Windsor Castle and demand to see the Queen,” Liza said.

“I’ll give you a token.” Victoria went to her jewelry box and pulled out a dark blue velvet garter, with gold lettering across it. “Only the royal family and trusted advisers have the Order of the Garter. Trust me, you’ll be admitted.”

Liza took the garter and held it up to the light. Her fingers traced the lettering: Honi soit qui mal y pense. Shame upon him who thinks evil of it.

“Take it, Liza,” said Victoria. “The Queen will make sure we’re safe.”

Inside Boy’s patience was running out. “Can we go now?” he asked. “Or do you two want to chatter some more?”

Liza said, “Victoria, you must hide until I can bring help.”

“But where?” Victoria asked.

“I know just the place,” Liza said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Inside Boy needed only a scant second to appreciate the joke. “Sir John will never look for her there,” he agreed.

“Where? Liza, what are you two talking about?” asked Victoria.

“You’ll have to come with us, Victoria,” Liza said.

“Through the walls? Are you mad?” said the Princess. She peered into the opening in the wall. “Where does it lead?”

“There are passages all through the Palace,” Inside Boy explained. “Don’t know why. Maybe to catch rats. Or maybe servants used to be smaller.”

“Just how are you so familiar with the inside of my house?” asked Victoria peering closer at Boy.

Liza smothered a giggle. For once, Boy had no words. “Liza, douse the glimm and let’s go.” He ducked into the narrow opening and disappeared into the wall. Liza extinguished the lamp, and she and Victoria followed.

Later, Liza would make light of the journey through the walls with the Princess, but in reality, it was nightmarish. Sandwiched between Inside Boy and Liza and crawling on her hands and knees in the dark tried every nerve the Princess had left. Liza bit her lip and counted to ten more than once, trying to keep her temper, and gently encouraged Victoria whenever she lost her courage.

Finally they arrived in the Duchess’s sitting room. The three sat on the floor, stretching their cramped muscles.

“Your ‘idey ‘ole, Your ‘ighness,” said Inside Boy, opening his box for Victoria. “You’ll ‘ave all the comforts of ‘ome.”

“Home indeed.” Victoria was stunned. “How long have you lived here? The things you must have heard!” She examined the contents of the box. “This is my blanket. I wondered where it went to. And are these my mother’s caramels?”

Liza giggled at the blush blooming across Inside Boy’s face. “Princess,” she said. “Sir John will be looking for us. You have to get out of sight.”

“Can you get me something to drink?” Victoria asked. “I’m parched after that awful tunnel.”

Boy gave her a crooked look. “Princess, take it from me, my nest lacks certain…amenities.”

Victoria’s eyes widened as she took his meaning.

“I’ll bring help as soon as I can,” Liza promised Victoria.

“Oh, Liza, please hurry!” Victoria hesitated, then embraced Liza with both arms. She nodded to Inside Boy and climbed into the box.

“Don’t forget to lock it,” Inside Boy said.

She nodded and pulled the door down over her head. Inside Boy and Liza listened carefully for the sound of the bolt being shot into place. They both felt an enormous burden lift with the Princess safely hidden.

“How shall we go to Windsor?” he asked.

Liza shook her head. “You would never be allowed to see the Queen. You have to stay here, Boy, and look after Victoria.”

He grimaced. What could Inside Boy do against Simon and Sir John? “I’ll try.” He paused. “After what you did for Annie—I owe you.” His voice had became rougher.

“I couldn’t save her,” said Liza.

“Once she had made up her mind, no one could save her.” Tears welled up in his eyes, to be struck away by the back of his dirty hand.

Liza hesitated, but Boy had the right to know. “She might not have jumped. I think Annie was running away from Simon. He may even have pushed her—”

Boy’s face reddened and he formed a fist with one hand and hit the wall. “I should have hit him harder.”

Inside the wood box, Victoria yelped at the pounding.

“Princess, you mustn’t make a sound,” Liza warned.

“Are you sure I won’t run out of air?” asked the Princess’s muffled voice.

“Stow it, your ‘ighness,” Boy ordered.

“Very well,” Victoria said meekly.

“When I bring help,” Liza said, “Simon will get his comeuppance. You can be sure of that.” Liza grabbed Boy’s arm. “Now, promise you’ll keep the Princess safe.”

Boy’s face had hardened with hatred, but he relented when he saw Liza’s distraught expression. “I promise.”

Liza twisted her long hair up in a knot and tucked it under the page’s cap. Her black shoes could pass for a boy’s. Victoria’s garter was tucked inside her coat. “How do I get out?” she asked.

“Crikey, Miss, it ain’t ‘ard. Come with me.” He led the way through the Palace’s empty hallways to the Duchess’s morning room. He pointed to the window. “See, it’s got a broke latch, and it opens next to a strong tree. Shin down the tree and bob’s yer uncle.”

Liza looked down. She was fifteen feet off the ground but the tree was within reach. “Really, Miss. It’s easy,” Inside Boy said.

“I’ll manage.”

Inside Boy gave her a short mock bow and opened the window. He helped her step out onto the ledge. She held out her hand to the nearest bough, said a prayer, and pulled herself into the air. Her feet found purchase and with no long skirt to hamper her, she climbed down the tree as easily as she might a ladder. Once she reached the safety of the ground, she wanted to leap in the air. Not only her person had been liberated, but her body too.

Boys’ clothes are so comfortable.

The sound of men talking brought her back to her mission. It was two grooms from the stable. She pressed her body against the tree, grateful the Duchess’s livery was a dark color.

“‘tis a bother to be searchin’ the garden for a lady’s maid instead of muckin’ out the stables as we ought,” one said.

“I don’t believe Miss ‘astings stole from the Duchess. She’s a lady, she is,” the other said. “And I don’t ‘alf like taking orders from Simon Gooding.”