Prisoners in the Palace (22 page)

Sir John glared at her, but sounded unconcerned as he said, “I don’t believe there ever was a baby.”

“Well girl? What about this mythical baby?” asked the Duchess.

“Dead,” muttered Liza.

“No girl. No baby. Sir John is completely cleared.” The Duchess beamed. “The only thing left is to punish you for your wicked tale telling.”

“Your Grace, she cannot remain here,” said Sir John.

“I agree, Sir John. She’s a liar and a bad influence on the Princess. Mrs. Strode, send her packing.”

Liza had expected it, even thought she deserved it, but now it had happened. She was on the street. Like Annie.

Why don’t I care?

“Yes, Your Grace,” Mrs. Strode said.

“Very well.” The Duchess had lost interest. “Come, Sir John.” He placed her hand on his forearm and escorted her out. Mademoiselle Blanche followed her dutifully, but she could not resist giving Liza a triumphant smile on the way out.

Liza remained standing alone. The little security she had found after her parents’ death was gone. She barely heard Mrs. Strode conferring in whispers with the Baroness. Mrs. Strode left without a word, leaving the Baroness alone with Liza.

“Liza,” the Baroness said.

“Yes, Ma’am?” said Liza, her voice as tired as she felt.

“Are you certain it was Sir John who did this to Annie?”

“Yes. She told me so.”

Heaving herself out of her chair, the Baroness sighed. “Victoria told me you prevented her from accompanying you today. It cannot have been easy; she’s headstrong. I’ve prevailed upon Mrs. Strode to let you stay the night. And I’ll write you a good character.”

That was more than Annie had. Bitter and exhausted, Liza knew she needed to express some sort of gratitude. “Thank you, Baroness.”

“Get some sleep, child. Do you know where you will go?”

“No.” But she did know who would help her. Will would be relieved if she left the Palace. If only she didn’t feel as though she had failed everyone: Annie, Inside Boy, Victoria, and even Baroness Lehzen. “May I say goodbye to the Princess?”

“That would not be wise,” said the Baroness.

So Victoria was to lose another friend without a word of explanation.

“Goodbye, Liza.”

“Goodbye, Baroness.”

Liza forced herself to walk to her room. She removed the bloodstained riding jacket as quickly as she could undo the buttons. She couldn’t quite reach the hooks in the back of the skirt. A moan burst from her throat; the dress had become intolerable to her. Another angry tug and the fabric tore away from the hooks. She balled it up and threw it the corner where the slope of the gable met the floor.

Liza pulled out her trunk but couldn’t face packing. She threw herself on her narrow bed, pulled her blanket over her head and cried until she slept.

“Liza, wake up!” The Princess’s high-pitched voice pierced Liza’s sleep.

Liza tried burrowing deeper under the blanket, but the Princess wouldn’t give up. She knocked again. Liza stumbled to the door and slid back the bolt.

“Princess, leave me alone!” Liza’s aching body made her tactless.

Princess Victoria stood in the doorway, her eyes closed, counting silently.

“What are you doing?” asked Liza.

“Lehzen tells me to count to ten if I’m going to lose my temper. I’m up to twenty-five, Liza.”

Hearing the unmistakable royal warning, Liza asked wearily, “What do you want?”

“You’ve no idea of the trouble you caused,” the Princess said coming in and closing the door carefully behind her. “Mama and I have been fighting all day. I don’t know why I should suffer Mama’s temper while you have all the fun.”

Fun.

Liza sank back to her bed and began to cry silently. The Princess sat next to her and awkwardly placed her arm around Liza’s shoulder.

“Tell me what happened, Liza,” she insisted.

Liza shook her head. “You don’t want to know.”

“But I do. Tell me.” Even when the Princess was kind, she couldn’t help issuing orders. So Liza laid out the sordid tale for the Princess. Annie’s seduction by Sir John was no surprise. But when Liza began to talk of Annie’s life of prostitution, Victoria moved her arm away from Liza’s shoulder. Liza didn’t care. The more Liza spoke, the more outraged she became. She described in detail how Annie was beaten because she refused to abort the baby. Sir John’s baby.

“Liza, stop,” the Princess cried. “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to hear anymore.”

“Princess, you told me you liked Annie. You need to hear the end.” Liza described the Mary Magdalene house, and Annie’s dead child. The Princess clasped her hands over her ears and squeezed
her eyes tightly together. Past caution, Liza pulled the Princess’s hands away from her ears and recounted every awful moment until Annie’s body plummeted to the ground.

At the end, the Princess’s face was pale. She stood up and smoothed her nightdress. “Is there anything I can do for Annie now?”

“You’re too late,” Liza answered brutally.

“Why are you angry with me? I had nothing to do with Annie’s death.”

“She was your friend, but you never cared what happened to her. The day she asked you for money, you lost interest in her.”

“Everyone wants something from me!” the Princess cried. “Even you are working only for what I might do for you someday.”

Liza stared at her—wondering why she ever thought Princess Victoria was her friend. “Your Highness, rest easy. I’ll never ask you for anything again.”

The Princess noticed Liza’s trunk. “Where are you going?” she asked in a small voice.

“Sir John has sent me packing.”

“He can’t dismiss you!” The Princess’s whisper became a wail. “You work for me.”

“I leave at first light. And if you don’t mind, I still have a lot to do.”

“Liza, I need you.”

“You found a new Annie. You’ll find a new Liza.”

The Princess stomped her foot. “I don’t want a new Liza, I want you. Sir John had no right to fire you. You weren’t foolish enough to let Sir John seduce you.”

“He forced her!” Liza cried.

“How do you know? I saw how she smiled at him. He’s very attractive in his sinister way—my mother thinks so. So do you.”

Liza didn’t deny it. But it didn’t change anything. She placed her few books and journal at the bottom of the trunk.

“Once Annie gave in to him, her days were numbered,” said the Princess. “I couldn’t help her. But I can help you. I told Sir John you were under my protection.”

Liza slowly straightened up and stared at the Princess. “You said that, Princess?”

“I did!” Victoria said drawing herself up to her full height. “When I was sick, you stayed by me and protected me from Sir John. Even today, you only went to see Annie for my sake. We both know what you have risked for me.” She paused, then said, “In private, you may call me Victoria. Friends should not stand on ceremony.”

Liza sank down on her bed, touched. Victoria didn’t have many ways to reward loyalty.

“Thank you, but in the morning I’ll be gone.”

Victoria placed her small hands on the bed, and pushed herself upright—only her lack of inches saved her head from brushing against the sloped ceiling. “I won’t permit it.”

“Victoria,” Liza relished saying the Princess’s name out loud. “You saw what happened this morning: the guards followed his orders, not yours.”

“Leave it to me, Liza.” Victoria held out her arms. After a moment, Liza realized the Princess wanted to embrace her. She stepped forward and Victoria hugged her clumsily.

“Don’t worry.” As the Princess turned to leave, she saw the crumpled riding habit in the corner. “I hope you don’t treat all my old clothes so shabbily.” She walked out.

Liza shook her head, full of exasperation and affection. Victoria was deluding herself; she was as powerless as Liza. There would be
no reprieve. But before she packed her bags, she would show Sir John he couldn’t throw people away like so much rubbish.

Liza pulled out a piece of foolscap paper and dipped her pen in the inkwell. Her father’s watch said it was two o’clock. She had plenty of time to write before getting thrown out of Kensington Palace in the morning.

“Your breakfast, Miss,” said Nell.

Liza’s body ached from fatigue. She had written a draft of her article while her anger was fresh. Then she had forced herself to finish packing. Only when the trunk was tied with twine had she slept. She sat up and sniffed. “Is that hot chocolate?”

“Yes, Miss.” Nell handed Liza a cup of the coveted beverage. “None of us dare say so, but we all feel so terrible for what happened.” Her face was troubled.

Liza accepted the offering from below stairs and took a sip. “Thank you.”

“Miss, where will you go?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, with more confidence than she felt.

First things, first. Get out of Kensington Palace with my dignity.

“The Princess’s riding dress is in the corner; I don’t know if it can be salvaged,” Liza said.

“I’ll do what I can,” Nell said miserably.

“That’s all we can hope for,” said Liza. “Nell, thank you for everything.”

“Here’s your wages and a character from the Baroness.” Nell handed over an envelope.

Liza tucked it away in her reticule. “It’s more than Annie got.”

Nell wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Take care, Miss.”

Half an hour later, Simon knocked on her door, his wig freshly powdered and his green livery immaculate. “Miss, your hansom cab is waiting.”

Liza pulled her cloak around her shoulders against the chill of the April morning. She followed Simon downstairs as he carried her trunk on his back, awkwardly maneuvering the narrow stairs.

“Where is everyone?” Liza asked, her voice sounding loud in the empty hallway. She couldn’t admit to herself she was looking for Victoria.

“The staff has been instructed to wait in their dining room until—”

“I vacate the premises? I had no idea I was so dangerous. Tell me, did Sir John take the same precautions when he dismissed Annie?”

A muscle in Simon’s face twitched. Liza stopped harassing him: it wasn’t his fault Sir John was a tyrant. And it was an ill omen to remember Annie’s departure from Kensington Palace.

They reached the servant’s door. Still no Princess. Ah well, for all Victoria’s promises, Liza hadn’t truly expected to see her. Victoria didn’t know how to risk herself for someone else. Liza lifted her chin high, as she had seen Victoria do, and walked out into the
courtyard. An ordinary hansom cab was waiting for her. Simon handed her trunk up to the driver. Shivering, Liza took a last look at Kensington Palace. The shadowy figure of Sir John watched from the window.

Liza climbed into the carriage and settled herself. Suddenly she heard Victoria’s high, laughing voice. Liza poked her head out of the carriage and looked toward the Palace. The voice came not from inside, but from the gardens. Victoria rode into the courtyard on her mare, Rosa. Trailing behind her was a group of fine gentlemen, all riding even finer animals. The Baroness Lehzen, looking sleepy, followed in the Duchess’s landau carriage.

“Liza!” Victoria called gaily. “Where are you going?”

Had Victoria forgotten what happened the night before? Had Liza dreamed their conversation? “Your Highness, I’m leaving.”

“I forbid it.” And still Victoria’s voice was light and filled with mischief. She turned to the best-dressed gentleman in the group. Liza recognized him as one of the partygoers at the Princess’s ball.

“Lord Liverpool,” said Victoria. “My maid has been dismissed because she spoke the truth to my mother’s comptroller. Doesn’t that seem unfair?” Victoria’s face was shining and she looked handsome in her green velvet riding habit. Her dark hair, still short, peeked out from under a charming hat.

Liza leaned farther out of the carriage to hear better. The Princess’s confidence gave Liza hope for the first time that morning.

“Devilishly unfair, Your Highness, if you’ll forgive my language. Our future Queen should be surrounded by honesty at all times!” Lord Liverpool inclined his head to the Princess.

The door slammed open. Sir John, as well-groomed as ever, burst into the courtyard. “What is all this?”

His gaze moved from Liza to Victoria. He took a step back when he recognized Lord Liverpool. “Liverpool, Princess,” he said more civilly. “Perhaps someone would tell me what is happening?”

“By chance, I met Lord Liverpool while I was out riding this morning,” said Victoria. “I invited his party home for breakfast.”

“If the weather is fine, I ride every morning in this park,” said Liverpool. “But this is the first time I’ve had the honor of meeting the Princess.”

“Perhaps because Her Highness never rides this early.” Sir John spat out the words.

“That must be it,” laughed Victoria. “But isn’t it a happy happenstance that this morning I should decide to go out before breakfast?”

Victoria dismounted from her horse and handed the reins to a groom. She beckoned to Sir John to join her, just within Lord Liverpool’s earshot if she spoke loudly. “Sir John, before we go in, there seems to be a horrible mistake,” she said in a strong clear voice. “My maid, Liza, has been unfairly dismissed. See to it she is reinstated.”

Liza caught her breath; could Victoria’s boldness save her?

Sir John’s eyes went from the Princess to Lord Liverpool. In a low voice, he asked, “And if I refuse?”

Just as quietly, Victoria said, “Lord Liverpool’s morality is legendary. He might wish to know why you dismissed not one, but two of my maids.”

“I don’t know what you think you know—”

“I know everything,” Victoria interrupted, still whispering. “Including the ending. Lord Liverpool will find it terribly sordid, I’m afraid. Not at all the proper atmosphere for the heiress to the
throne.” Victoria was smiling as though she was discussing the breakfast menu. Every so often she would lift her riding crop and wave at Liverpool, who smiled back indulgently.

“So?”

“My Lord Liverpool has the King’s ear, and he’s very vocal in Parliament. If he chose, he could wreck what is left of your prospects.”

Sir John glanced sideways at Lord Liverpool. “And if I let the wench stay?”

“That’s the end of the matter.”

Liza clasped her hands together tightly, waiting for his answer.

Finally, through teeth so tightly clenched Liza thought they might break, Sir John said, “Agreed.”

“Liza, bring your things inside,” ordered the Princess for the benefit of everyone listening.

Simon looked at Sir John, who hesitated, then gave a curt nod. Once his back was to Sir John, Simon grinned broadly at Liza. He hoisted the trunk onto his shoulders as though filled with feathers.

“After you, Miss,” he said. Liza climbed down from the carriage, dizzy, as though someone had twirled her round and round the cobblestone courtyard.

Sir John returned to Lord Liverpool and said, “Shall we take this delightfully impetuous Princess into breakfast?”

His voice had an edge that worried Liza. For Liza’s sake, Victoria had bested him. What would it cost them both?

8 April 1837 Excerpt from the Journal of Miss Elizabeth Hastings

Victoria has paid a high price for her impudence. Her mother barely speaks to her. The Duchess and Sir John scheme in corners, springing apart when I enter the room. I fear we have showed our hand too plainly. Although they do not know I understand their words, they know I am Victoria’s ally.

Sir John’s plot to become private secretary, like the one to extend the regency, has melted away like the snow in Hyde Park. So far, I haven’t any idea of what he plans next. The newspapers report that the King’s health declines every day. We are all waiting.

IB has returned to the Palace. He is very melancholy but angry too. He’s more than willing to play courier between Will and me. Will has promised to print my article by Monday next. I cannot wait to see Sir John’s mortification.

The following Monday, Liza laid out Victoria’s evening clothes as quickly as possible, then stole down to Sir John’s office. She wanted to be there when Sir John read Will’s broadsheet. She heard Sir John in his office, speaking to someone whose voice Liza couldn’t distinguish. She crept closer to the door to overhear. The first scrap of conversation prickled the hairs on Liza’s skin.

“I’m running out of time,” Sir John said. “In a few days, she turns eighteen. My leverage is almost gone.”

His voice grew louder then faded a bit, then grew again. He must be pacing back and forth, Liza thought. He went on, “She cannot leave the Palace or correspond with anyone without my permission.”

Liza heard the jangle of keys coming toward her from down the corridor. Mrs. Strode! She ducked behind a floor-length curtain and closed her eyes. The heavy steps passed without stopping. With a sigh of relief, Liza moved back to her listening post.

Sir John was still speaking. “If I have to, I can bring more pressure to bear.” Liza shivered at the menace in his voice. Sir John’s voice stopped. Liza pictured him staring out the window.

A muffled voice asked a question. Sir John answered, “I have to convince the Duchess anew every morning. But it will end soon. The Princess is weak. She’ll give in.”

So he’s not speaking with the Duchess.

She edged closer to the open door—a little nearer and she would see Sir John’s fellow conspirator. Too late. The other door to the room was closing. Disappointed, she turned to go and stepped on a square of warped parquet that creaked. Though she tried to hurry away, Sir John appeared in the doorway at once. He dragged Liza into the room.

“If it isn’t the Princess’s little spy,” he said as he released her arm. He twisted a lock of Liza’s golden hair around his finger.
“I must admit, you’ve shown more stamina than I expected. I hope you don’t expect Victoria to reward you for your service—she’s as stingy as the rest of her family.”

Click-clack, click-clack. Liza backed away from Sir John and smoothed out her skirt. “Her Grace seems to be in quite a hurry,” Liza said with a slow smile. “Perhaps she has been reading the papers?”

“What do you mean?” Sir John asked, his eye narrowed and menacing.

The Duchess’s heels grew louder. She burst into Sir John’s office, so agitated her hair came down out of its pins in bunches. She clutched a broadsheet in her hand. She spoke in German.

“Sir John! That horrible story has appeared in the newspaper!”

Sir John shot a venomous look at Liza; she met his eyes and smiled even more broadly.

The Duchess went on, “You assured me it was a lie!”

“Let me see.” Sir John grabbed the paper out of the Duchess’s grasp. He smoothed it out, his eyes moving back and forth rapidly over the page. His nostrils flared.

Liza recognized Will’s distinctive printing style. He had devoted half the page to a dramatic sketch of Annie plunging to her death from the top of the Fire Monument. Wonderfully, tragically eye-catching.

When Will chooses a side, he does so with a vengeance.

Sir John’s hands shook as he scanned the article.

The Duchess saw Liza in the corner. “We dismissed her, but she is still here. Why is that?” she asked Sir John peevishly.

“Shut up,” Sir John’s color was rising with each paragraph.

Liza’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Sir John!” the Duchess cried. “How dare you speak to me like that!”

Sir John blinked, as though the Duchess had slapped him. “My dear Duchess, I beg your pardon. I was distracted.”

The Duchess was not so easily placated. “That’s no excuse for incivility.”

He pulled her hand to his lips and covered it with quick sensual kisses. Liza’s stomach soured at the sight.

“Where did you get this tissue of falsehoods?” Sir John asked, his voice muffled against the Duchess’s hand.

“On the desk in my sitting room,” said the Duchess, reluctantly forgiving him.

Only one person could put a newspaper on the Duchess’s desk. Nothing could bring Inside Boy solace from the pain of Annie’s death, but humiliating Sir John was bound to help.

“Sir John, I’ll ask you only once. Is this story true?” Through half closed eyes, the Duchess watched Sir John shrewdly.

Without hesitation, Sir John said, “It’s a vicious lie.”

The Duchess pointed at Liza and spoke in English. “The newspaper printed the same accusation you made against Sir John. What do you know about this?”

“Me, Ma’am?” Liza tossed her head. “How could I tell a newspaper what to print?”

“Impudent girl!” But the Duchess accepted Liza’s powerlessness without a second thought. “Get out; I have private things to discuss with Sir John.”

“Of course, Ma’am. Sir John.” Liza sank low in a curtsy, looking up at Sir John from under her eyelashes. With satisfaction, she saw he could hardly contain his rage. She left the room.

That was for you, Annie.