Page 15 of The Heir (A Young Queen Victoria Mystery #1)

A unt Sophia’s apartments were very much like the princess herself—out of date, threadbare, and perpetually befuddled.

The furniture was all higgledy-piggledy.

The ornaments and pictures were constantly being rearranged according to some scheme that Sophia could never quite finish to her satisfaction.

Sewing boxes with their tops open and their threads hanging over the sides rested on footstools and chairs.

A spinning wheel stood sentry between Sophia and the hearth.

It was a rainy day, but it was still summer, and the rooms were warm and stuffy, so no fire had been lit.

When Victoria and Lehzen were let in, Aunt Sophia was bent near double over her prayer book. But she was not alone. When the door opened, Uncle Sussex turned away from his contemplation of the empty hearth.

“Victoria!” he cried. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, my child?”

Uncle Sussex was a tall, round-faced man.

Like most of his brothers, he possessed an ample belly and stooped shoulders.

His hair was so white he joked he would have no need of powder, even if that was still the fashion.

He was often shabby, preferring to wander about the palace in an old coat, threadbare breeches, and slippers that Victoria felt sure were older than she was.

Mama did not often let Victoria visit her uncle’s rooms, but Victoria always found them a kind of wonderland.

Where Aunt Sophia indulged herself in knickknacks, prayer, and needlework, Uncle Sussex collected books.

His shelves were lined with ancient volumes, and more were stacked on the tables, even piled on chairs.

Any surface not covered in books was filled with antiquities of all sorts, but primarily clocks.

One of Victoria’s dearest possessions was a Christmas gift Uncle Sussex had given her—a tiny gilt clock with a dancing bear that came out to strike the hour.

Somewhere on the Continent, Uncle Sussex had a wife and a pair of children.

The marriage, however, had been declared illegal and the children illegitimate, because Uncle Sussex had not gotten the king’s (and Parliament’s) approval before he took the lady to church.

Unlike his brother King William, however, Uncle Sussex had never remarried.

Instead, he had let himself be moved into Kensington Palace, choosing exile from court over his place in the line of succession.

It was impractical and romantic, and Victoria had always liked him better for it.

“Hello, Uncle.” Victoria turned her cheek up so Uncle Sussex could kiss her. Lehzen retired to a place beside the door, along with Aunt Sophia’s waiting woman and Uncle Sussex’s man. “I wanted to say good night, Aunt Sophia.”

“That was very kind of you.” Aunt Sophia closed her book. She wore her massive spectacles, which made her look perpetually goggle-eyed. “She is a good girl, is she not, Sussex?”

“As she has always been,” he said fondly.

Victoria took her aunt’s hand. “I was worried that you might be ill after—”

“After that little scene I made at your concert?” said Sophia. “Yes, well, I can understand your feeling that way. I confess, I behaved very badly, even if it was only to Sir John.”

Victoria’s skin prickled. She did not like this swing into cheery calm.

“It seems, though, that you are well now?” Victoria pressed her hand.

Aunt Sophia glanced at her brother before answering. “A little prayer and reflection was what was needed,” she said. “That, and a dose of my brother’s good sense.”

Uncle Sussex chuckled. “I’m afraid good sense is not an attribute many would accuse me of possessing.”

“That is because they do not understand you as I do.”

They were smiling at each other, but the expression did not reach their eyes. Victoria watched them, aware of a tension in the air and also of a kind of silent communication.

“Aunt, why did you say Sir John’s story was impossible?” Victoria asked her. “That it could not really be a gardener out on the green?”

“Caprice,” answered her aunt promptly. “I admit it. I was bored, and some little imp got into my brain.” She shrugged. “Being old as I am is rather like being a young girl again. Sometimes one does things just to do them.”

Victoria regarded her aunt for a long moment. But Aunt Sophia was very practiced in the art of waiting and showed no impatience with the silence. If anyone seemed restless, it was Uncle Sussex.

And Lehzen. She wanted to leave this room now. Victoria swallowed. Something was wrong—with her aunt, with her uncle, with her governess.

And I cannot tell what it is.

“I am glad you are well, Aunt,” said Victoria out loud. “I will wish you good night.”

“Give me a kiss, Vickelchen.” Aunt Sophia used the cheerful nickname bestowed on Victoria by her German-speaking family.

Victoria bent and kissed her cheek. Aunt Sophia patted her shoulder. “Such a good girl, is she not, Sussex?” she said, as if she did not know she’d said the same thing just a moment ago.

Uncle Sussex beamed. “All I could wish in a daughter of mine.”

Of course, Uncle Sussex did have a daughter, somewhere. Did he ever see her? Or even write to her? What about his son?

“I’ll say good night, as well, sister.” Uncle Sussex kissed Aunt Sophia’s cheek, as well. “Come along, Victoria.” His waiting man picked up a lamp and opened the door so Uncle Sussex could shepherd Victoria and Lehzen back out into the dark.

“I trust you’ll forgive Sophia, Vickelchen,” said her uncle once the door was closed behind them. “She didn’t mean to cause trouble. She just . . . wandered a little far afield tonight.”

Victoria stood in front of him, in a circle of lamplight, in the middle of a palace filled with darkness and tried to understand him.

This was a simple man, a sad man. That was the uncle she had always known.

But now she glimpsed something more hidden behind his benign demeanor, and she could not comprehend it.

She knew instinctively, however, that she did not like it.

“Uncle,” she said carefully, “if there was something I needed to know about Aunt Sophia or anything else, you would tell me, would you not? We are family.”

Uncle Sussex spread his hands. They were badly discolored with inks and dust. “What could I know, Victoria? I am a doddering old fool, sequestered away from the world with his clocks and his books.” He smiled again, as kind as ever, but his eyes remained distant.

Victoria felt her heart break.

“Well, good night, Uncle.”

“Good night, my girl.” He gave her a furtive smile and turned away, then strode quickly through the long line of doorways, following his waiting gentleman and the lamplight.

Victoria said nothing as she brushed past Lehzen, heading in the opposite direction, back down to her own rooms. Back through the shadows that would wrap her up and hide her from prying eyes.

Lehzen followed, holding the lamp up high.

“I don’t believe her,” said Victoria. Her words sounded dull and harsh in the empty rooms. The doorways seemed to make an endless tunnel from nowhere to nowhere.

“But why would Aunt Sophia lie? Especially when she made such a scene, telling Sir John it could not possibly have been a gardener I saw.”

Lehzen was silent. She walked stiffly to keep the lamplight steady.

“She knows something,” insisted Victoria. “She said something to my uncle.”

Silence. Silence and footfalls and the hiss of the lamp burning and the soft scratching in the walls.

“How can we find out what it was? What can we do?”

Answer me, Lehzen. Please.

“I do not think you should do anything,” said Lehzen.

They had reached the stone stairs again. One flight down waited her apartments, waited the lights and all her waiting women and Mama. Victoria felt exposed. There was only a thin railing between her and the long, straight drop down the empty stairwell.

“Ma’am, you must understand,” said Lehzen.

“If you continue to ask questions about . . . about whatever it is that you saw, it can only lead to more arguments with your mother. This will give Sir John more and stronger criticisms of your behavior and temperament. Ones he can take to the Kensington Board.”

The Kensington Board was a committee of men—lords and members of Parliament—who oversaw Victoria’s household and Victoria herself. Sir John reported to them on a regular basis.

“I do not think that would be good for Your Highness,” Lehzen concluded. “Especially now.”

Victoria felt her brow furrow. “Why now?”

“That was what delayed me from coming to you this evening.” Lehzen paused. The silence pressed closer. “I was waiting for an answer to a note I had sent to my friend Mrs. Wilson.”

Victoria frowned, confused and not a little frightened. Mrs. Wilson attended Queen Adelaide. She served as a channel for news from St. James’s Palace, one that could not be diverted by Mama or Sir John.

“She, Mrs. Wilson, had previously communicated to me some . . . stirrings concerning you,” Lehzen went on. “I wanted to confirm them so you might better be able to judge how to approach the next few days.”

“Stirrings?” echoed Victoria. “What sort of stirrings?”

Lehzen paused again. She was listening and looking down the stairwell, alert for any movement. All remained still. Nonetheless, she moved closer to Victoria and dropped her voice to the lightest whisper.

“Their Majesties are talking about your future. Queen Adelaide has been pressing the case to His Majesty that as you are now sixteen, you should have your own household. One in keeping with your status as a young lady and heir to the throne. One which Their Majesties and Parliament organize.”

Victoria felt her mouth go dry. “Would that mean . . . ?”

“That would mean that the queen would choose your staff and your attendants,” said Lehzen. “And they would most certainly not include Sir John.”

Victoria could barely speak the next words. “And Mama?”

“That would be up to you—”

She could not finish. Down the stairs, a door flew open, and light burst onto them.

“There you are! What is the meaning of this!”

Mama. Mama still in her evening gown, but with her hair in disarray. She grabbed up her hems and climbed up the stairs, puffing and red in the face. Two footmen with lanterns raced behind to light her path. She looked ridiculous, but she also looked dangerous.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” said Victoria. “I only wanted to—”

“To frighten me half to death!” Mama grabbed her elbow, pinching her hard. “To go skipping off through the palace, playing hide-and-seek like a naughty little girl and giving no thought to how I would feel when I got back and found your rooms entirely empty!”

“Mama, Lady Charlotte was there—”

“Lady Charlotte was not there. No one was there!”

Lehzen opened her mouth and closed it again. After all, what could she say? That she’d sent Lady Charlotte on ahead so she and Victoria could talk secretly?

“I just wanted to say good night to Aunt Sophia and make sure she was feeling better,” said Victoria. “We were on our way back. I had thought you would be staying with the guests for a while—”

“You mean you thought I would not catch you out!” Mama’s fingers pinched tighter. “What do you mean, Lehzen, encouraging this behavior! No, no, don’t bother. I cannot bear to listen to any more of this.” She snatched Victoria’s hand and began to pull her behind as she started down the stairs.

“Let go, Mama! I can walk by myself! I am sixteen!”

“Sixteen, but only the size of a girl half your age!” Mama spoke to the stairs, to the walls, to the empty air, pouring out her rage to the palace itself.

“What if you should fall? What if someone bent on our ruin should come to push you out a window or down the stairs? Alone in the dark here. The gates were open for hours! Anyone might have gotten inside!”

And so Victoria’s hand must be held, and Mama—enumerating every possible danger, all of Victoria’s ingratitudes and reckless acts—must haul her from room to room all the way back to her boudoir so she could be locked safely inside.

It had been a long time since Victoria had seen Mama in such a rage. She thought again about Sir John’s story of the gardener, about Aunt Sophia’s little “caprice.”

She also thought about what Lehzen had said—that she might finally be given her own household.

That would mean that the queen would choose your staff and attendants. And they would most certainly not include Sir John.

And Mama?

That would be up to you—

And she listened to Mama’s scolding and endless list of dangers. Mama who knew everything, who should have been down with her guests, who had friends inside St. James’s Palace, just as Lehzen did.

And Mama?

That would be up to you—

And Victoria wondered what it was that truly frightened her.