Page 13 of The Heir (A Young Queen Victoria Mystery #1)

V ictoria loved music. She always had. When there was music, she could feel—feel deeply, feel truly.

Not even Mama or Sir John could fault her if she sighed or if a tear escaped during an aria or concerto.

But it was more than that. As long as the music played, she could set the princess aside.

No matter how many people surrounded her, she, Victoria, could simply be .

But not tonight. Madame Dulcken’s beautiful music filled the room, but Victoria could not let herself soar. It wasn’t just the pain in her back and her head that kept her spirits depressed. It was the uncertainty.

Lehzen had not returned. She should have been here when the ladies filed into the pillared music room from taking their after-dinner tea, but there had been no sign of her.

Where is she? What did she learn?

Has something happened to her?

Victoria felt her brows knit. She told herself not to be ridiculous. Nothing could have happened. But the fact remained, Lehzen was not there. Neither was Sir John.

They were still missing when the men came in from their port wine and cigars, and when Madame Dulcken arrived and settled herself to play.

This, despite the beauty of Madame Dulcken’s piano, kept Victoria’s spirits rooted to the ground.

She wanted to twist in her seat, to watch the doors.

But of course she could not. Mama was right beside her.

Mama’s eyes might be fixed ahead, as if she were fully absorbed by Madame Dulcken’s virtuosity, but she was really paying attention to the gathering itself.

She was judging how Victoria—her dearest daughter, her hope, all she had in the world—was being judged by her carefully selected group of guests.

Victoria had spent hours in the red salon, sitting at the dining table. Mama had moved to each empty chair in turn and rapped out her questions.

“ Who sits at the head of the table?”

“Paul III Anton, Prince Esterházy.”

“And who is he?”

“Ambassador to the Court of St. James’s.” And if given half a chance, a man who will talk your ear off about the intricacies of sheep farming. And, not incidentally, so happy to be flirted with by a pretty woman that he will faithfully pass on any story you choose to tell to Their Majesties.

“And at his right hand?”

“Emily Clavering-Cowper, Countess Cowper.” Who thinks she’s still eighteen and dresses accordingly.

And who will be keeping those sharp eyes of hers on you and me so she can tell Lord Melbourne how we are doing, because Lord Melbourne does not entirely trust Sir John, so you want to make sure she sees us all happy and united.

“And at her right hand?”

“Prince Johann Joseph of Liechtenstein.” And to hear him tell it, he is also the man who single-handedly won the Battle of Austerlitz against Napoleon.

“And why is he in England?”

“He is addressing Parliament regarding the constitutional reforms being implemented in Liechtenstein.” And, incidentally, keeping one eye on us for your family in Leiningen, so you can tell him how matters stand without having to put anything on paper.

“And at his right hand?”

“Countess Sebastiani.”

“And who is she?”

The woman who writes regularly to Princess Lieven, who passes on whatever she knows to Prince Metternich and, incidentally, to Tsar Nicholas, which allows you to keep a private line of communication open....

And on and on, all around the table, not once or twice, but three times. From Prince Esterházy down to Lord and Lady Cowper, to Lord and Lady Norreys, to Monsieur Van der Weyer and, at last, to tiny Aunt Sophia.

Because of her rank, Aunt Sophia would be seated at the foot of the table, although, Victoria felt sure, Mama would just as soon see her confined to her rooms with a bowl of bread and milk.

During her quizzes, Mama never asked who Princess Sophia was or what she might be doing at the table. Victoria sometimes wondered if that was a mistake.

Madame Dulcken finished the delicate concerto with an intricate, rising flourish. The audience, even those who had to be elbowed awake by their neighbors, returned enthusiastic applause and shouts of “Brava!”

“Brava!” agreed Victoria, and for once, Mama smiled approvingly.

Mama was in a benevolent mood. The dinner had gone off without incident.

Victoria had comported herself as expected and had correctly remembered every guest’s name and position.

She had made small talk. She had not frowned when served her mutton and potatoes as the richer, more elaborate dishes were handed round to the others.

Victoria stood, which allowed the guests to stand. She approached the virtuosa and said her thanks.

“I do hope you shall be able to return to play for us soon,” Victoria told her.

“Indeed, Your Highness, it would be my honor and my pleasure.” Madame Dulcken curtsied again.

Now that Victoria had broken the silence, the other guests could circulate. Victoria moved away so Madame Dulcken might speak to them and receive her due. Prince Johann cornered her at once, which would surprise no one as the musician was young and pretty.

Mama steered Victoria to the edge of the room. Here they would stand while the guests approached them in decorous ones and twos to make their polite remarks and better inspect their princess.

Victoria had been dressed to Mama’s specifications in white silk and tulle.

She had given up protesting that she should have at least some say in what she wore.

If she ever tried to give directions to her dressers, Mama would simply overrule them.

If she insisted on wearing some item Mama did not specifically select for her, the dress (or ribbon or pair of stockings) would then disappear from her wardrobe, never to be seen again.

Victoria imagined turning to her and saying, Where is Sir John? Do you think he has gone out to dig a secret grave? Or did he already pay someone to have that done?

Mama’s reaction would surely be unforgettable.

Unfortunately, so would the aftermath.

Victoria did not sigh at this thought. She did not show any expression at all. She stood as she had been taught to stand, her face a gentle, perfect mask, as Mama discreetly motioned her guests forward.

Victoria was perfectly aware she was meant to remain blind to the contradictions that filled her life.

Here was one of the most glaring. Mama and Sir John would spend hours bemoaning her unfitness, her childishness, the madness that surely must simmer in her veins.

At the same time, they paraded her before all manner of people to show how fit, how demure, how intelligent and engaging she was.

“Which am I?” she’d shouted at them. “Am I the shining hope of the nation or a feeble baby who cannot walk down stairs on her own? Which one?”

In return, she’d received blank stares.

But Mama was certainly not contemplating any such contradictions now.

Her glittering eyes were focused on the guests.

If they came forward to measure Victoria, they were each of them measured by Mama—for their taste, their wealth, their future usefulness, and their past behavior.

Victoria wondered if any of them realized that.

Probably. We all know how this game is played.

Except me, of course. I am not to know that it is a game at all.

Lord and Lady Cowper approached, made their reverences, received their nod from Mama. With this, the key was turned, and Victoria the Princess was set into motion.

“Did you attend the opera much this season, Lady Cowper?” she inquired.

“Yes, indeed, ma’am. And we are very much looking forward to the opening of the new season. Grisi will be appearing. I believe Your Highness is also very fond of opera?”

“Yes, I am always delighted at the chance to hear Signora Grisi sing. I understand she will be performing Rossini’s opera seria Semiramide for her opening, will she not?

” She wants to see if I can pronounce the Italian correctly, if I am attentive to the meaning of the opera.

“I find her interpretation of the aria ‘Bel raggio lusinghier’ so wonderfully delicate.”

Lady Cowper proceeded to gush, lauding Victoria’s taste and education.

There was no need to listen closely. She let herself focus on the room over Lady Cowper’s shoulder.

There was one advantage to the position Mama had chosen, Victoria realized.

She could see the doors. She would know the moment Lehzen returned.

Where is she? What has happened?

All around them, the guests continued performing as expected.

Prince Liechtenstein busied himself with telling Lady Norreys about Austerlitz.

Monsieur Van der Weyer made a bad job of hiding his contemptuous smile as Lady Norreys tried to pretend she had not heard this story fifteen times over.

Aunt Sophia tottered through the gathering, greeting everyone whether she recognized them or not, her surprisingly deep voice cutting through the decorous chatter.

“Johann! You made it. Tell me, how many times are we to hear about Austerlitz tonight? Anne! You are looking surprisingly well. And your man is still with you. Well, well. What a surprise that is!”

Mama turned just a bit paler, even as she laughed at something Lord Cowper said. The Cowpers withdrew, to be replaced by Lady Norreys.

Victoria smiled her well-rehearsed smile and spoke her lines. “I believe, Lady Norreys, that you are recently returned from Ireland?”

“Yes, indeed, Your Highness. A most interesting and informative trip. Tell me, do you form any opinion on effects of the emancipation bill?” Lady Norreys was a troublemaker. She wanted to see if Victoria dared to form any opinion at all on a law the king had signed only with great reluctance.

“My uncle, the king, pays the greatest attention to developments in Ireland as well as in the capitol, and I believe he is being most soberly advised on the current state of affairs.”

The countess looked openly disappointed and quickly withdrew. Victoria glanced toward the doors again. Her gaze caught Aunt Sophia’s, and Aunt Sophia winked.

Victoria smiled.

A pinprick of pain shot up her arm. Mama pinched her. Victoria dropped her smile at once. No one noticed. Except possibly Aunt Sophia, who shook her head and turned away.

“Mr. Van der Weyer!” Aunt Sophia boomed. “How do you find yourself? We were all so sorry to hear about that business with your sister—”

Motion caught the corner of Victoria’s eye. Finally, finally , the doors opened. But it wasn’t Lehzen. Instead, Sir John slipped through.

Victoria’s shoulders drooped from disappointment.

Sir John was very much in his public persona. He smiled and glided effortlessly between the milling guests until he reached her and Mama. He bowed.

“Sir John,” said Mama. “You have been playing the truant this evening.”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said. “But there is a matter on which I must report to Her Highness.”

The conversation in the room dropped to a bare murmur. Even Aunt Sophia stopped talking. He drew himself up. Victoria felt her heart thump. What is this? Her eyes reflexively searched the room for Lehzen, but Lehzen was not there. Whatever was about to come next, she must face it alone.

Then Sir John bowed to her, very low. “I fear, ma’am, I owe you an apology.”