Prisoners in the Palace (11 page)

“But—”

“You’re wasting your time.”

There was a long moment of silence.

In the hall, Liza could see Will leaning against the wall, watching everything with an investigator’s eye.

A large roach skittered across the floor and Liza drew her skirts close. Annie’s plight was worse than Liza had imagined.

Annie was suddenly angry. “Don’t sneer, Miss High and Mighty. I can pay my rent and feed myself. I’d like to see you do as well on the outside.”

Stung, Liza replied, “I never said I could. But if you are doing so well, why did you beg the Princess for money?”

“When I wrote that, I had no friends, ‘cept for old Boy here. Since then, I’ve found a protector.”

“A fancy man,” said Inside Boy in a flat voice.

“Then you don’t need help?” Liza asked uncertainly.

Will muttered, “She needs help, but not the kind you can give.”

Annie glared at him. “The Princess owes me. I did her dirty work, just like you’re doing now. I’ll take her money. How much did she send?”

“She doesn’t have a large allowance,” Liza said.

“You think I don’t know that? How much?”

Liza fumbled with her reticule, pulling out the money Victoria had given her. Annie snatched the coins from her hand. As she counted them rapidly, Liza took note of the filth under her jagged fingernails. Heedless of the men in the room, Annie lifted up her skirt.

Liza gasped. She knew she should avert her eyes, but she couldn’t help but stare.

Annie secreted the coins in a pocket attached to a strip of cloth tied around her waist, then smoothed the skirt down. Liza, as well as Boy and Will Fulton, could testify she was not wearing a corset.

Liza waited, expecting some sort of thanks.

“Well?” Annie challenged. “What else did you come for?”

“Nothing,” Liza said. After a moment, she turned to leave.

Before Liza reached the door, Annie began to speak and the words came tumbling out as though she wanted to say her piece before she thought better of it. “Does the Princess miss me at all?”

Liza froze in the doorway. Annie had fallen so far from Kensington Palace; even farther than Liza had fallen from Claridge’s Hotel. She answered gently, without turning around. “I think she does.”

Will took Liza’s arm without saying a word. He led her outside. Inside Boy stayed behind talking to Annie for a moment, then joined them on the street.

Shaken, Liza looked at the two of them.

“Does ‘fancy man’ mean what I think it does?” she asked.

Inside Boy and Will looked at each other, neither of them meeting Liza’s gaze.

“Never mind,” she said. She could guess. Annie had become a prostitute and the fancy man was her procurer. He took her earnings and treated her none too well by the look of her bruises. In just a few weeks, Annie had sunk so low. A chill ran up Liza’s spine as she realized her own precarious position: she was out of the Palace without permission.

“I must get back,” Liza said. “I’ll lose my job if I’m out too late.”

No one had to say what happened to maids who were dismissed from Kensington Palace.

Liza’s feet were sore as she trudged to the servants’ entrance alone. Inside Boy had disappeared as soon as they sighted the Palace. The memory of Annie’s degradation made her feel dirty and fearful. Why had she left the Palace without permission? Before she could steel herself to knock, the door opened and Mademoiselle Blanche appeared. Liza’s heart sank; this did not bode well.

“Miss Hastings, you’ve been missed,” hissed the French maid. “My Duchess returned an hour since. She has sent me to find you two times.”

Liza knew better than to expect favors from Mademoiselle. “What did you tell her?”

“What could I say, but the truth? You have not been seen for all the day!”

“I’d expect no less of you, Mademoiselle.”

With a malicious smile, the Frenchwoman said, “My Duchess has spoken sharply to Madame Strode, who wants to speak to you, immédiatement.”

“Merci beaucoup,” Liza said sourly. She hurried to the housekeeper’s private room. Her heart beat so hard it threatened to drown out her footsteps. A formidable voice bade her to enter. Mrs. Strode sat in her armchair knitting before the fire.

“Miss Hastings, you’ve been here less than a month and you’re already sneaking out of the house,” Mrs. Strode said, without looking up from her knobby blue scarf.

Liza’s blood pumped even faster. “Mrs. Strode, let me explain.”

But what can I tell her?

“Well?” said the housekeeper.

Picking at her skirt, Liza said, “It’s confidential.”

Mrs. Strode’s needles clicked louder. “Miss Hastings, you will have to be more forthcoming, else you’ll pack your bags today.”

“I was…“ Liza sought the right words. “I was on a confidential errand for the Princess.”

Mrs. Strode’s head jerked up and she gave Liza a look that penetrated through the city grime. “The Baroness gave you permission to leave the Palace?”

Liza hesitated. “No. The Princess did.”

Click, click. Mrs. Strode’s needles were moving faster now. “You work for the Baroness.”

“I was told I also work for the Princess.”

“The Princess is a child.”

“The Princess is a month shy of seventeen,” Liza retorted. “If she gave you a direct order, would you disobey her?”

Mrs. Strode said nothing for a few minutes. Her needles clicked louder and faster. Finally she muttered as though she had forgotten Liza’s presence. “Twenty-seven years I’ve worked for the royal family, but never have I seen the like. A grown Princess treated like a child. A maid who doesn’t know who her mistress is. I have to keep secrets from the Duchess, my employer, if I am to serve the Princess, my future Queen.”

Liza nodded sympathetically.

“The Princess expected you to draw her bath half an hour ago,” Mrs. Strode said.

Liza stood rooted to the floor.

“What is it, Miss Hastings?”

“Am I still employed?” asked Liza in a rush.

“Consider yourself on probation. Another lapse like this one and you will be dismissed. Without a reference.”

Liza hurried out before Mrs. Strode could change her mind.

Liza put her ear to the door of the Duchess’s sitting room. Her mother would be horrified, but Liza refused to walk in unprepared.

“The King thinks you look pale?” The Duchess’s strident German voice sounded loudly and Liza jumped back from the doorjamb. “How dare he criticize me?”

Princess Victoria’s gentler tones replied, “Mama, Uncle King only suggested I take some exercise. He is sending me a mare so I can ride.” She sounded pleased. “I’ll name her Rosa.”

“He insults me by implying I can’t give you a decent mount,” said the Duchess. “Of course, if he gave us a proper allowance, I could afford a horse. We’ll send it back.”

Liza shook her head and sighed at the Duchess’s foolishness.

“The mare is a gift for me!” Liza could hear the tears in the Princess’s voice.

“Will the King’s gift come with oats? I don’t think so.” The Duchess added, “I wish I had thought to say so to his face.”

“Don’t worry, Mama—you said more than enough.”

On the other side of the door, Liza winced.

“Cruel, ungrateful child!” The Duchess sounded wounded. “Victoria, you have never appreciated the difficulties of my position.” As if the Duchess sensed Liza’s arrival, she said peevishly, “Where is that girl? You should be in your bath, not arguing with me.”

Liza slipped into the room. “Your Grace.” She glanced at Victoria who was staring out the window, still wearing her day dress. Even the line of her back looked sullen.

“Where have you been, Miss…Miss?” the Duchess asked in German.

“Excuse me, Ma’am?” Liza remembered to pretend not to understand.

In English, the Duchess said, “The Princess required you quite some time ago. Mrs. Strode is too lax. Where were you?”

Liza waited, but the Princess did not turn around.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I…I…“ Liza stammered.

The Duchess said, “Answer me. Where have you been?”

Liza steeled herself to lie, but Victoria turned away from the window and spoke for her. “Oh, Mama, stop interrogating Liza, I sent her to town.” Her eyes were swollen and her face blotchy.

“To town? Why?” The Duchess’s eyes narrowed.

“Mama, I’d rather not say.”

Liza’s heart sank. The Duchess would never accept such an evasion.

“Victoria, a mother and daughter must have no secrets.”

The Princess managed a coy expression. “But Mama, your birthday is coming—”

“My birthday isn’t until August.”

“Mama, please don’t ask—you’ll spoil the surprise.”

Her pique forgotten, the Duchess smiled. “How nice.” She click-clacked out of the room, saying as she went, “Take your bath, Victoria.”

The Princess made a face at her mother’s back.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” said Liza, feeling like a soldier who had miraculously survived a battle.

“Did you think I wouldn’t save you?” Victoria asked listlessly. “I promised.”

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you to keep your word, but the stakes for me are very high.”

The Princess sighed. Liza followed her down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Where is the Baroness?” Liza asked.

“Lehzen went to bed. She suffers from headaches, particularly after we visit the King.” In the dim light of the hallway, Liza could still see the tearstains on Victoria’s cheeks. “Today was especially awful.”

Two scullery maids were just pouring the last of the large cans of steaming water into the porcelain claw-foot tub as the Princess and Liza entered the bathroom. They bobbed and skittered out, empty cans banging. Liza began laying out the towels and soaps.

“What happened?” Liza asked.

“First, the ride to Windsor was awful. People booed the King! Mama and Sir John loved it, of course.” The Princess turned her back so Liza could unbutton her gown. Victoria gingerly stepped
into the hot water in her linen chemise. “And when we arrived, Mama insulted Uncle King. Again.”

“What did she say?” Liza asked, keen for more. This was the kind of detail Will Fulton’s readers would crave.

“She suggested, very loudly, that my title be changed.” Victoria shrank from the memory, sinking lower in the water.

“Princess?”

“Not that one.” The Princess smiled wanly. “No one can take that away. I am the Heiress Presumptive. Mama, in her infinite wisdom, wants me to be the Heiress Apparent.” She sat up and held out her plump white hand for a washcloth. Dipping it into the water, the Princess washed her neck and arms.

Liza unfolded a linen bath sheet as Victoria finished her bath. “Is there a difference?”

The Princess’s face became somber. “All the difference to poor Aunt Queen.” She stood up and Liza helped her out of the tub and wrapped her body in the sheet. “‘Presumptive’ means the Queen may still bear an heir. ‘Apparent’ means there’s no hope at all,” the Princess explained.

“How sad.” Liza had read Queen Adelaide’s babies died young.

“And tactless. Aunt Adelaide is so kind.” The Princess perched on the edge of the tub and sighed. “Sometimes I wish she would have a child.”

“Don’t you want to be Queen?” Liza asked, astonished.

“If I weren’t the heir, then Sir John would leave me alone. I could travel—see Vienna or Paris, even India.” She twisted the water out of her long fair hair. “I could meet young men. Perhaps a man who might be suitable for a simple Princess, who is not destined to be Queen.”

“Can’t you marry whomever you wish?” Liza asked without thinking.

“Of course I can’t.” The Princess’s laugh was bitter. “Can you marry a gentleman?” In just five words, the Princess put Liza firmly back in her place.

Eyes downcast, Liza began rubbing cream on the Princess’s elbows and knees. “What is this?” she asked, noticing a puckered mark on the Princess’s arm for the first time.

“It’s a vaccination.” The Princess pronounced the word carefully. “Against the smallpox. Mama is very progressive when it comes to matters of my health. Not many people have it yet.”

Liza remembered the woman at Annie’s house. The pocks on her face meant she had contracted the pox and survived. It was a risk every city dweller feared. But the Princess apparently was immune. Not for the first time, Liza thought it terribly unfair the Princess enjoyed so many privileges while her people suffered.

“Liza, are you listening to me?” The Princess sounded querulous.

“I beg your pardon, Your Highness, I was woolgathering.”

“Try to pay attention, Liza.” The Princess resumed her explanation. “I must marry someone of rank. But it is considered unwise to marry a British nobleman because the others would be jealous. He can’t have a kingdom of his own. And he must be Protestant. And, this is the most difficult one, he must be acceptable to Mama and the King.”

“That is a difficult combination,” Liza admitted.

The Princess sighed as Liza towel dried her hair. “I want to marry someone strong, but would a strong man be willing to be my Consort? Without any power of his own, save what I give him?” Her voice was matter of fact; she had carefully considered the difficulties.

“Who does the King favor for you?” Liza asked.

“He liked Prince George, one of my British cousins. But then he went blind when he was only fourteen.”

Liza was taken aback. “Oh my, how sad.”

“I know. It was the most tragic thing. So now he can’t marry anyone important, least of all me.”

The girls were silent while Liza combed the knots out of the Princess’s wet hair.

“Yesterday,” Liza said, “I overheard your Mother and Sir John discussing the Saxe-Coburg brothers who are coming for your birthday ball. Are they suitable?”

“Mama’s nephews?” The Princess’s laugh was more like Dash’s bark. “Ernst will inherit a dukedom in Germany, so he won’t do. Albert, who is Mama’s favorite, is supposed to be handsome.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Liza said.

“But he’s nine months younger than I am.”

“Maybe you’ll fall in love and it won’t matter.” Liza’s parents’ marriage had been a love match.

“Only commoners marry for love,” the Princess said. “My father only married Mama to get a suitable heir.” She stared at herself in the mirror. “I was destined to be myself from before I was born.”

There was a long pause. Liza held out another cream for the Princess to smear on her face.

“You’ll be Queen of England,” Liza said finally.

“Oh Liza, you must never say that. I’ll be Queen of Great Britain! Ireland and Scotland and Wales are very put out if you say only England.”

Liza smiled. “The Queen of Great Britain will be the most important woman in the world.”

“That’s true.” Princess Victoria looked happier. She dropped her towel and stepped into the luxury of the wool-lined dressing gown. “Perhaps it won’t be so terrible.”

A tap sounded at the door. Liza started, crushing the pen nib into a blob of ink on the page of her journal. Her caller tried to push open the door. But now that she knew the fate of the room’s previous occupant, Liza was careful to shoot the bolt.

“Liza, it’s Victoria.”

Liza glanced longingly at her bed and sighed. She blotted the page, pulled the silk ribbon down the page to mark her place, and closed the journal. She opened the door just wide enough for the Princess to slip in. Victoria wore a turquoise dressing gown Liza had not seen before. “You shouldn’t lock the door, Liza,” she said. “What if I want to come in?”

“It wasn’t to keep you out,” Liza said. But if the Princess wondered what she meant, she didn’t ask.

“What a tiresome day!” The Princess shivered. “It’s always so cold in here. Where is your lovely shawl?”

“I don’t know, Your Highness,” Liza lied. She had retrieved it from Victoria’s room at the first opportunity and hidden it away in her trunk.

The Princess wrapped Liza’s blanket around her body. “We were having such an interesting conversation earlier I forgot to ask you about your mission. By the time I remembered, Mama was keeping me prisoner in our bedroom. What did you learn today?”

With the sensation of stepping off a precipice, Liza relayed Will’s business proposition.

The Princess clapped her hands with delight. “I could finally speak directly to my subjects!”