Prisoners in the Palace (16 page)

Liza was due to escort the Princess to her piano lesson. As she peered into her tiny mirror to pin up her hair, she heard a scratching at her door. The hall was empty, but a broadsheet, rolled up tight, lay on the floor.

Thank you, Inside Boy.

She secreted the paper in the top of her stocking, then ran to fetch the Princess. On their way to the music room, Liza and Victoria were startled by a screech, followed by a crash of breaking glass. Sir John threw open the door to the Duchess’s sitting room, throwing angry remarks inside.

“You’re right, Madam. We have wasted the past sixteen years. But you would’ve had to raise the brat anyway!”

He stopped short when he saw Victoria. Swearing roundly, he shouldered past Liza. Before Sir John’s angry steps had faded away, Victoria’s voice was inside the room complaining to her mother.

“He called me a brat! Mama, he has gone too far.”

The Duchess was pacing by the windows looking out at the gardens. She twisted a handkerchief in her hands.

Liza wrinkled her nose; the smell of liquor was thick in the air. Rivulets of fine brandy, kept for the exclusive use of Sir John, still ran down the wall and shards of glass littered the floor.

“Victoria, we’ve heard terrible news,” the Duchess said peevishly.

“Enlighten me, Mother. After all, I am seventeen now, practically old enough to rule the country.” Victoria welcomed every opportunity to emphasize her age.

“Sir John and I have done everything to safeguard your throne, but now all our work is for naught.”

“What’s happened, Mama?” Victoria could not conceal her anticipation as she settled herself primly on the couch.

“Queen Adelaide is…expecting a child.” The Duchess could barely form the words.

Shooting Liza a triumphant glance, Victoria said, “But Mama, how lovely! Queen Adelaide’s been so sad to disappoint Uncle King.” Liza wondered the Duchess didn’t hear the malice in Victoria’s voice.

The Duchess whirled around and stared at her daughter. “You stupid girl! Our plans are in ruins. You won’t be Queen of anything. I won’t be regent. Sir John won’t get the peerage he deserves. After all this time!”

The Princess could hardly contain her delight. “Oh Mama, don’t take on so. Perhaps it is not true?”

Liza’s stomach was roiling.

The Duchess ran her hands through her elaborate hairdressing. “It’s in the newspaper.”

“Mama, sometimes the papers print lies. You know that.”

You minx!

The Duchess opened her mouth to protest, but then snapped her lips together. “Victoria, you are right. Something might be done. I must talk to Sir John.” The Duchess rushed out of the room, calling his name.

The Princess glanced at Liza and smiled in triumph. “It worked! Did you see Sir John’s face?”

“I did.” Liza hesitated, then pulled out the broadsheet. “Do you want to see your handiwork?”

“You have it?” The Princess ran her eyes down the text. “Oh excellent, Liza! Your friend printed every word.”

“He’s not my friend. He’s just a business acquaintance,” Liza protested.

“He’s been a friend to me!”

“What did your mother mean when she left? Could she really undo what’s been done?” Liza said. “Thousands of people will read this article.”

“Thousands?” the Princess asked. “Truly?”

Liza closed her eyes for a moment. “It’s a newspaper. He’ll sell two thousand copies and those papers will be passed on and read by others who can’t afford to buy their own.”

“I’d almost forgotten real people read the newspaper.” The Princess giggled.

Liza pressed her fingernails into the palms of her hands. This was all a game to the Princess, but the stakes were life and livelihood for Liza. Somehow Queen and country paled in comparison.

Ten days later, Liza ran her hands behind the cushions in the Duchess’s sitting room. The Princess had lost her embroidery again. Her finger encountered the Princess’s needle.

“Ouch!” She sucked on her fingertip. A muffled chuckle could be heard from the wood box.

“Boy, is that you?” she whispered.

“Who else?” came a disembodied voice. She heard his latch being drawn back. The lid lifted. “Any body snatchers about?”

“That’s one I don’t know,” Liza giggled.

“Anyone about to blow the gab?” he said.

Liza tiptoed to the door and peered up and down the hall. “There’s no one.”

Inside Boy emerged and stretched, as if he had just awoken from a nap.

“Miss Liza,” he said, “I’ve got somethin’ for you.”

“From Will?” The pain in her finger was forgotten.

“Yeah, it’s a sheet ‘bout the Queen.”

Liza put her hands on her hips. “You already gave it to me.”

“Not both sides, I didn’t.”

“Sides?” Liza wasn’t sure she had heard correctly.

“Sides of the story. There’s usually two.”

“Not this story,” Liza said with decision.

“Will found ‘imself a new source and put out a second edition with two pages. The first page is about the Queen increasin’.”

“That’s ours,” said Liza without thinking.

Inside Boy nodded as if a suspicion had been confirmed.

“But what’s this about a second story?” Liza asked.

“Read for yerself.” He handed her a rolled broadsheet, grimy with his fingerprints. “All ‘ell’s goin’ to break loose.” He heard a noise. “Someone’s coming. Hop the twig!” With a thump, he pulled the door closed.

Boy’s panic was contagious. Liza hid the pages in her stocking.

Two stories?

She had no time to worry about it now. She started for the far door. Despite her sensible shoes, she tripped over a buckled square of parquet and lost her head start.

“Miss!” Nell’s voice brought Liza to a halt.

“Nell, you frightened me,” said Liza, her heart beating frantically. Her constitution wasn’t strong enough for all this sneaking around. “What is it?”

“It’s Miss Frenchy’s day out, so Mrs. Strode says you’re to fetch the Duchess to the visitor’s parlor,” Nell said, breathing quickly. “Queen Adelaide is here.”

“The Queen!” Liza gathered her skirts together, checking the newspaper was secure. The Queen hadn’t visited in all the time Liza had been at the Palace. It couldn’t be a coincidence. “I’ll go at once.”

Her stomach sinking, Liza climbed the narrow flight of stairs to the Duchess’s bedroom. She opened the bedroom door without knocking. The Duchess was reclining on her large mahogany bed, shoving toffees in her mouth. Victoria lay on her smaller bed, staring rebelliously at the ceiling.

“Yes?” The Duchess sounded bored.

“What’s happened, Liza?” said Victoria.

“The Queen’s here,” Liza blurted out, not daring to look at Victoria. “She’s waiting for you, Your Grace.”

A sharp rat-a-tat came at the door, and without waiting for an invitation, Sir John came in. Liza stepped back into the shadow of the wardrobe. The Duchess sat up quickly, tugging the front of her lacy peignoir over her ample bosom.

“Sir John, I’m déshabillée,” she said, with a quick look at Victoria.

“The Queen is here,” he said.

“I know. I’ll go to her as soon as I dress.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Wise?” The Duchess, Victoria, and Liza stared at him.

“The Queen wants to curry favor. With you. After the latest news reports, she needs all the friends she can get.” He glanced over at Victoria, who was hanging on every word.

“I’ve heard the rumors about the Queen’s baby,” Victoria said pointedly.

“You know what we permit you to know,” Sir John said. “The latest scandal is not suitable for your ears.”

“What scandal?” Victoria was dying to know. So was Liza. Inside Boy had tried to tell her, but the warning had come too late.

“It’s not for your ears, Little Woman,” said Sir John.

“I insist you tell me.” Victoria’s voice pitched high, a sure sign she was losing her temper.

“Not now, Victoria,” said her mother. Remembering Liza, the Duchess switched to German. “Sir John, what must I do?”

“Refuse to see her,” he said with decision. “It’s presumptuous for her to come without an invitation.” The Duchess began to nod, like a puppet responding to Sir John’s masterful pulling of strings.

“The Queen requires no invitation to our home.” Victoria glared at Sir John.

“Don’t contradict Sir John,” said her mother.

“But, Mama,” said Victoria, “Auntie Adelaide used to be your friend.”

“Envy has ruined her,” said Sir John with a pious air.

The Duchess nodded vigorously. “Because I have a daughter and she does not. No doubt, that led to her…indiscretion.”

What on earth are they talking about?

“You must not see her,” Sir John said. “Send the girl to say you are indisposed.”

“But Mama, Aunt Adelaide isn’t some social climber who hasn’t been introduced—she’s the Queen!” Neither Sir John nor the Duchess paid Victoria any attention.

“Miss Hastings,” said the Duchess in English. “Tell the Queen I am indisposed.”

Liza nodded. Closing the door behind her, she pressed against the wall. Her thoughts were racing.

The door opened and Sir John appeared. He stopped short when he saw her.

“What are you still doing here? Her Grace gave you an order!”

Liza pushed her palms away from the security of the plaster wall. “Yes, sir,” she muttered and turned to go.

He grabbed her arm as she tried to pass him in the narrow hall. His blue eyes narrowed when he saw her face. “Why do you look so flushed, girl?”

“I think I have a touch of the influenza,” Liza said, dragging her gaze away from his.

“Hmmm, perhaps you should get some rest. I can arrange for you to stay in bed.” He ran his fingertip from under her chin to the hollow at the base of her neck. His meaning was unmistakable.

Liza jerked away from his touch.

“I’m fine, sir. I must deliver the Duchess’s message.” She ran
down the stairs as quickly as she could; the danger behind her was greater than her fear of the Queen.

She stopped only to smooth her hair before entering the parlor. A woman, standing alone by the mantle, was looking at a portrait of the Duchess and Victoria as a toddler. Dressed in fine gray silk, she wore an unflattering bonnet shading both sides of her face. Impossibly dowdy, nevertheless she was Queen Adelaide.

“Your Majesty.” Liza dropped into a deep curtsy.

The Queen’s blotchy face looked out at her from under a mass of untidy hair. “Yes?”

Liza opened her mouth, but no words emerged.

“Girl, speak up. Are you the Duchess’s maid?”

“No, Ma’am. I serve the Princess, but I have a message from the Duchess.”

“Well?”

“The Duchess…is…“ Liza spoke past the embarrassment in her throat. “Indisposed.”

The Queen turned away, but not before Liza caught a glimpse of the flush sweeping up from her neck to her hairline. Her back to Liza, she asked, “How indisposed is she?”

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”

“What lengths will she go to insult me? Will she be riding in the park when I leave or will she have the decency to keep to her room?”

The Queen’s fingers were twisting a handkerchief around her bony knuckles. Liza noticed she wore no jewelry.

“Ma’am, I only know what I was told to say.”

The Queen turned and smiled wanly at Liza. “My dear, I know you’re only following orders.” She peered at Liza’s face. “You’re very pretty—it must be pleasant for Victoria to have you about her.”

“I hope so, Your Majesty.”

“I came to see the Princess, but as His Majesty and I have discovered, you can’t see the daughter without the mother.” The Queen sank down on a settee and slouched against the velvet cushion. Her protruding teeth gave her the look of a melancholy rabbit. “How is the Princess? Is she in good health?”

“She is well, Ma’am.”

“Good. I was afraid she might have been upset by the rumors.”

Liza wished the floor would open and swallow her up. Will had warned her about revolts—but she had never thought about the Queen’s feelings.

A racking cough shuddered across Her Majesty’s body. In German, she muttered, “What I wouldn’t give for a glass of sherry.”

“I’ll get it for you, Your Majesty.” Liza went to the buffet in the corner and poured a glass.

The Queen took a cautious sip. “You speak German?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Liza cursed under her breath. Five months and she hadn’t tripped up once, but this mousy woman had slipped under her guard.

The Queen began coughing again, and Liza poured her another glass.

“Perhaps just one more, thank you, my dear,” said Queen Adelaide. She finished the glass of sherry in one gulp. She held out the glass for Liza to fill again.

“In my position, there are always stories, you know,” Queen Adelaide hiccoughed. “But this one was particularly hurtful.”

“I’m sorry!” Liza clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as she said it.

“It’s not your fault. A foreign queen is an easy target. At first the paper said I was enceinte.” The Queen looked over at Liza. “That means pregnant.”

Liza nodded.

“As if the King and I need to be reminded of our tragedy—my tragedy—since the King has so many children already.”