“That’s absurd. I’m her mother,” declared the Duchess. “All her correspondence is read by me.”
“The King has given a direct order,” said Lord Conyngham implacably. “Duchess, while you wake the Princess, I have private business to discuss with Sir John.”
Sir John gave the Duchess a curt nod, “Fetch the Princess while I talk with our visitors,” he ordered. The Duchess’s eyes widened as she tried to decipher his meaning.
“You may wait in the red drawing room,” she said before hurrying off. Liza wondered what she planned to do. If they hadn’t
already found Victoria, the Duchess was not going to be able to produce the Princess now.
Sir John gestured to Lord Conyngham to precede him. The Lord held out his arm to Liza. Sir John’s face reddened, but he held his tongue. Nell met them in the red drawing room with a hastily assembled tray of tea. She caught Liza’s eye and winked.
The rarely used room’s uncomfortable chairs and Grecian sofas smelled of damp. Lord Conyngham’s guards stood with their backs to the doorway. Simon took up a post just inside the room, his face impassive. Sir John settled himself on a gold brocade settee.
“Miss Hastings, will you pour?” Lord Conyngham said, deferring to Liza as if she were the young lady of the house. Glancing over at Sir John, he said, “Conroy, let’s not mince words. The King is unhappy with your mistreatment of his niece.”
“Has this lying maid been telling wild tales?” Sir John stretched out his legs, admiring the reflective polish on his boots.
Lord Conyngham sipped his tea. “We found her tales very credible,” he said. “It’s over, Conroy. His Majesty will not leave Victoria defenseless again.”
“The Princess has named me the keeper of the privy purse. I have it in writing.” Sir John patted his jacket pocket. “You can’t do anything about it.”
With a twinkle in his eye, Lord Conyngham said, “On that subject, this young lady has business with you, Conroy.”
Sir John’s face twisted. “I won’t deal with a servant.”
“Don’t think of her as a servant,” said Lord Conyngham. “Rather, think of her as the King’s envoy.” He couldn’t contain his glee. Part of the King’s plan to humiliate Sir John was to force him to negotiate with Victoria’s maid.
Liza wasted no time. She reached into her reticule and pulled out a stiff piece of paper. “I have a warrant for your arrest, signed by the King.”
Sir John said, “Silly Billy roused himself from the death bed?” Lord Conyngham stiffened, but Sir John paid no attention to him. “A warrant? Why? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You assaulted the Princess, for a start,” Liza said. “And you committed bodily injury upon my person. I’m a witness.”
“It’s my word against yours.”
“Victoria was a witness too,” Liza reminded him.
“Not one, but two, hysterical girls,” he sneered. “No one will credit your story.”
Liza made a tut-tutting sound. “Sir John, the King already does. And I am sure there are others in this household who would be more than happy to tell their story to the courts.”
Sir John tapped his fingers against his impeccably tailored trousers; the only sign he was not sure of the outcome of this conversation. “How unseemly to drag the Princess into the courts…just as she is poised to start her reign.”
“As it happens, the King agrees with you,” Liza said.
Sir John raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Lord Conyngham, who studiously stared at the dregs in his teacup.
“I’ll tear up the warrant, if you give me the letter you forced Victoria to sign.” Liza’s voice was firm, even though the hand holding the warrant trembled.
Sir John’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s not much of a bargain. My letter is exceedingly valuable.”
“It would be difficult for you to claim your appointment from Newgate Prison.” Liza made a show of thinking hard. “I don’t think
you rate the Tower of London. That’s only for noble criminals.” She was beginning to enjoy herself.
Sir John’s eyes rested on the warrant in Liza’s hand. His tongue darted out and he licked his lips. Whether or not he was prosecuted, a stint in prison would finish his ambitions forever.
“I need more,” he said finally.
This was Lord Conyngham’s cue. “Miss Hastings, the negotiations have reached a point where I may be of service.”
Liza nodded. She gratefully leaned back in her hard chair.
Lord Conyngham faced Sir John, not hiding his disdain, “How much, Conroy?”
Sir John said, “Ten thousand a year.”
Liza gasped.
Lord Conyngham didn’t turn a hair. “Absolutely not. One thousand. It’s a handsome income—it more than compensates you for your years of service.”
“I have expenses. Seven thousand.”
“Two thousand. You can supplement that with what you have stolen from the Duchess over the years.” Sir John started. Lord Conyngham chuckled. “You thought the King didn’t know? His accountants surmise you have robbed her of at least forty, perhaps fifty thousand pounds.”
Liza’s jaw dropped.
Annie must have discovered proof of his embezzling.
Poor Annie.
Lord Conyngham continued, “Since His Majesty cannot abide the Duchess, he did not interfere.”
“Five thousand,” said Sir John.
“Three. My final offer.”
Sir John calculated. Three thousand was an enormous amount, but he wanted more. “I want a peerage.”
“Perhaps an Irish one,” Lord Conyngham countered. “There are none available, at the moment. But if one becomes vacant—”
“Agreed.”
Lord Conyngham extended his palm, and Sir John reluctantly handed over his letter appointing him as keeper of the privy purse. Lord Conyngham checked it through, scowling, then gave it to Liza. She ceremoniously tore it into two pieces, relishing the wince on Sir John’s face.
“The warrant,” Sir John said.
Without a word, Liza gave it to him.
“Just a moment,” she said. She pulled out another official piece of paper. “Lord Conyngham, perhaps you could call the guards to make an arrest.”
“We had an agreement!” said Sir John coldly.
“So we did,” said Liza. She handed the warrant to the guard. “This is for the arrest of Simon Gooding, Footman, for the unlawful restraint of Elizabeth Hastings, and on suspicion of the murder of Miss Annie Mason.”
Simon began to back out of the room.
“He’s right there!” Liza cried, pointing.
The guards seized him.
The mood in the drawing room varied among the inhabitants. Lord Conyngham dozed on the least uncomfortable sofa. Sir John sulked in the corner. Liza hugged herself with the knowledge she had done what she had set out to do: Sir John wasn’t a threat to Victoria any
longer, Annie was avenged, and best of all, the Duchess and Sir John still didn’t know where Victoria was.
Half an hour later, a miserable Duchess click-clacked in. An exhausted and anxious Baroness Lehzen followed. A wave of guilt washed over Liza; how could she have forgotten Lehzen? She must be sick with worry. Liza smiled at Lehzen hoping to reassure her, but Lehzen looked too frantic to understand the message.
“The Princess is ill,” the Duchess said flatly. “She cannot see anyone.”
“Are you sure?” asked Lord Conyngham.
“Of course. I’m her mother.”
“Madam, that is odd indeed,” he said, with a wink at Liza. “Because my sources tell me the Princess has been missing since yesterday afternoon.”
The Duchess’s face went pale and a snarl came from Sir John’s direction.
Lord Conyngham continued scolding Victoria’s mother. “You have one job, madam, for which you receive an allowance and a home. How difficult is it to keep track of one seventeen-year-old girl?”
The Duchess began to weep, while the distraught Baroness sank down into an armless chair.
Lord Conyngham turned to Liza. “Miss Hastings, if you would be so kind…”
A broad smile on her face, Liza jumped up and ran out of the room. She flew to the Duchess’s sitting room and knocked on the lid of the wood box.
“Victoria, wake up,” Liza said.
There was silence, then a sleepy voice, “Liza, just a minute more.”
“Now, Victoria!”
“Very well.” The bolt was slid back and the Princess unfolded herself from the box. “This hidey-hole is very snug but rather confining.” She stretched and yawned. “Liza! Look at you! What a lovely dress.”
“The Queen gave it to me, Your Highness. And Sir John, none too happily, gave me this,” Liza said, holding up the pieces of Sir John’s letter.
Victoria was very still, then she reached out and hugged Liza. “Thank you, Liza. I owe you an enormous debt. And Inside Boy too. You know his lair is quite comfortable. I don’t blame him for living there.”
“You can thank us later. Right now you have guests.” Liza quickly explained Lord Conyngham’s mission and her negotiations on behalf of the King. She ended with the King’s letter.
“I’m tempted to make Mama wait even longer; it would serve her right for leaving me in Sir John’s clutches,” Victoria said spitefully. “But I can’t wait to read Uncle King’s letter. It’s high time I opened my own mail.”
Stopping only to make a much needed visit to the water closet and to wash her face, Victoria led the way back to the drawing room. When she swept in, the Duchess’s face was filled with relief, which was quickly chased away by anger. Baroness Lehzen began to fuss over Victoria’s dusty dress. Sir John’s face hardened like granite and the glare he threw at Liza was murderous.
“What a naughty girl you are to hide from us,” the Duchess said. “You have kept all of us waiting with your childish game.” Her voice trailed off as she realized no one in the room was fooled. “Victoria, my brother-in-law, the King, has written you a letter.”
Victoria broke the seal, dropping bits of red wax to the carpet. She read the letter quickly, her lips parted and her breathing grew
rapid. She read it again more slowly. “Uncle King proposes to give me an income of ten thousand pounds! And my own household!”
The Duchess flinched. “She is too young,” she said to Lord Conyngham. “She refuses.”
“Mama, I think I should consider his kind offer.”
“It is for Her Highness to decide,” Conyngham said. “Without coercion.”
The Duchess put her hand to her ample chest. “Lord Conyngham, what are you accusing us of?”
“Your Grace, I think you know.”
Victoria spoke up, startling them out of their battle. “How is the King’s health, Lord Conyngham?”
“Very poor, Your Highness. The end will come in days, not weeks.”
Victoria shook her head sadly. “Then I think it would be more suitable to remain in my mother’s house for the time being.”
“You see!” said the Duchess triumphantly. “Tell the King Victoria prefers to stay with me.” She looked toward Sir John for his approval, but he had lost too much this evening to cater to her feelings.
Lord Conyngham said, “I am also instructed to say the King deeply regrets the Princess has had difficulty communicating with him. To remedy the situation, Lord Liverpool will visit the Princess daily and speak with her. Privately.”
“That is completely unnecessary,” protested the Duchess.
“Be that as it may, Your Grace, the King has ordered it.” Lord Conyngham’s manner did not brook any argument.
“Lord Conyngham, let me show you to your carriage,” Victoria offered prettily.
“Victoria, don’t be common,” the Duchess scolded. “It’s not appropriate to escort a gentleman outside.”
“Nevertheless,” said Victoria. “I shall.” Taking Lord Conyngham’s arm, she beckoned to Liza and the Baroness Lehzen to attend them. Outside the sun had just risen and the park was fresh and new.
“Forgive me for saying so, but you look a trifle peaked, Your Highness,” Lord Conyngham said quietly.
“I’ve been worrying so about Uncle King.” She sighed. “Tell Uncle I meant no disrespect by refusing his kind offer. I just think it is more fitting to stay here.”
“If I may be so bold, Your Highness,” Lord Conyngham took Victoria’s hand and bowed respectfully over it. “The King understands completely. His offer was a gesture of his affection.”
Victoria squeezed his hand. “And perhaps to irk Mama and Sir John as well?”
With a twinkle in his eyes, Lord Conyngham said, “Perhaps.”
“Please assure Queen Adelaide I am praying for her and Uncle King.” Victoria dashed a tear from her cheek.
Lord Conyngham bowed and climbed into his carriage.
Victoria, flanked by Liza and the Baroness Lehzen, stood in the doorway until his carriage disappeared into the park.
“Go inside, Victoria,” said the Baroness. “We wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”
Victoria smiled at Liza. “No, Lehzen, that wouldn’t be amusing at all.”
20 May 1837 Excerpt from the Journal of Miss Elizabeth Hastings
Will is furious! He couldn’t even get the words out, he was so angry. Finally, I think I made sense of his complaints.
Firstly, I should not put myself between the Princess and bodily harm. (Fortunately, the bruise on my cheek was cunningly hidden by powder, else he might have exploded.) Secondly, I don’t appreciate the dangers of riding alone to Windsor in the middle of the night.
Thirdly, how could I neglect to go to him for help?
And finally, how could I be so cruel as to tell him, in strictest confidence, the story of the century? Don’t I understand how exasperating it is to know the intimate details of a scandal so close to the throne and not be able to print a word?
What I love about Will is that his concern for me and his regret at missing the story of the century are equivalent in his mind. He does me the inestimable honor of treating me as an equal.
From Her Majesty, Queen Adelaide,
to Miss Elizabeth Hastings
2 June 1837
Windsor Castle
Dear Miss Hastings,
His Majesty and I are very grateful for your services to our niece. The Princess is very dear to us and we are not unaware of the risks you took to ensure her message reached us. The enclosure is a small token of our appreciation for your bravery and your discretion, upon which we know we can rely.
With Sincere Affection,
Her Royal Majesty
Adelaide R
Enclosure: £ 500
24 May 1837 Excerpt from the Journal of Her Royal Highness Victoria