Page 22 of The Heir (A Young Queen Victoria Mystery #1)

D inner was excruciating. Father was at his most expansive, talking about what fools the other members of the Kensington board were and how easy it was to flatter them into agreeing to positions they had declared themselves dead set against. This much was familiar and required only that they listen and occasionally agree.

Jane doubted Mother or Liza absorbed a single word that was said.

Ned certainly didn’t. He spent the meal with his head resting on his fist and scowling into his wineglass.

But then Father turned toward praising Jane and her attendance on the princess. He spoke glowingly of how she was bringing Victoria into tractability and dependence, a sign that he was correct in deciding that Jane should be the one sent to the palace.

“The duchess has agreed that Jane should come with the princess on the tour,” Father concluded triumphantly.

This made Mother and her siblings turn and stare at her.

Jane suddenly wanted nothing so much as to crawl under the table.

She couldn’t make herself lift her gaze from her plate, either.

She was afraid if Father saw her eyes, he would see all her dissembling, and he would know that his sunny vision of Victoria finally coming under his sway was a complete fantasy.

Under normal circumstances, Jane would have felt a surge of relief when the meal was finally over and she could escape back to her rooms. But not tonight. Tonight she still had to face Liza, and she had no time to waste.

Liza had an invitation to a rout at a friend’s house. As soon as dinner was finished, she dashed upstairs. Jane came in just as she was being done up into her rose-pink tulle gown with ballooning skirts and sleeves that puffed up to the level of her ears.

“I’ll help her, Meg,” said Jane. “I think Mother wants you downstairs.” Meg looked dubious, but she did not argue, and Jane took her place behind Liza.

“What’s this for?”

“I need to talk to you.” Jane worked the hooks up the back of her sister’s gown. As she did, she glanced at Liza’s reflection in the looking glass. Her hair had been braided, beribboned, and looped into a tight, tall coronet. She looked bang up to the minute in terms of fashion.

She also looked vaguely ridiculous, but Jane kept that to herself.

Liza squirmed and shimmied her shoulders, trying to settle the pads beneath the great puffs of her sleeves. “Well, what is it you want to talk about? I haven’t got forever, you know.”

What can I say that she’ll believe? “The princess . . . she asked me who from the palace has been here for dinner. She wants to know who Father’s cultivating.”

Liza’s duties as the older sister included being Mother’s social stand-in.

When Mother could not—or, more frequently, did not wish to—attend one of Father’s dinners, Liza played the role of hostess.

Jane would not be brought down unless she was needed to balance the number of men and women at the table, which was seldom.

Father’s dinners were not the kind where men were introduced to the daughters of the house to size them up as partners for marriage.

They were not social gatherings with friends of the whole family.

They were for men Father was courting and planning to use.

“Jane.” Liza frowned at their reflection in the mirror. “You didn’t say you’d get her father’s guest lists, did you?”

“She asked me to. What could I tell her?”

“You might ask if she’s lost her mind, because you have clearly lost yours! What will Father say when he finds out you’re spreading gossip about what goes on in our house?”

“It’s just a guest list. What does it matter? Everybody already knows Father hosts members of Parliament and the royal household. He brags about it himself!”

“That’s his decision. Our job is to do what we’re told and keep our mouths shut.”

Liza was growing nervous and angry. Jane couldn’t blame her. These were not things they ever talked of. It was all simply understood.

“Are you going to tell him? That I asked?”

“Serve you right if I did. What are you even thinking, Jane?”

The door was closed. The room was empty except for the two of them. But Jane’s mouth was still dry, and she could not raise her voice above a whisper.

“I’m thinking that maybe Father’s right. Maybe we should be trying to win the princess over.”

“By gossiping about what goes on in this house? He’ll be livid !”

“I didn’t say we should try to win her over to Father’s side, did I?”

Liza drew back. Liza stared. A hundred different expressions flickered behind her bright blue eyes.

“Jane, what are you playing at? No. Stop.” She held up her hand. “I don’t want to know.”

Good, because I’m not sure I could answer you. “So, will you tell me who’s been here? I mean recently.”

“Good Lord, how am I supposed to remember? The whole of the Kensington board has been at one time or another. Their wives. Lord Melbourne. A dozen other very dull officers, politicians, and m’lords.”

“Dr. Maton?” ventured Jane.

“Him?” Liza rolled her eyes. “Yes, he’s here every time the board is, with that little rat-faced accountant, Father’s friend from his army days. What is his name?” She frowned. “Rea. Mr. William Rea.”

This name was new to Jane. “What does he do?”

“Tries to keep Dr. Maton from drinking the cellar dry and talking his head off, as near as I can tell.”

Liza gathered up her skirts and perched gingerly on the chair in front of her vanity table.

“You should wear your topazes,” Jane suggested. It was a sort of peace offering. “They’ll go perfectly with that dress.”

“Get them, will you?”

Jane opened up the jewel cabinet. Liza’s topazes were pink and blue, making a chain of sparkling flowers for her white throat. There were earbobs with brilliants that matched, and a comb decorated with more pink brilliants for her hair.

“Well?” Liza eyed her reflection critically. “Do you think I’ll do?”

“You’re beautiful,” said Jane honestly. “Liza . . .”

Liza rolled her eyes again. “What on earth is it now?”

Jane swallowed. A month ago, a week ago even, she would have left this alone.

She would have been sure there was nothing that could be done.

But, somehow, watching Victoria so determined to unearth her answers had caused a shift inside Jane.

It made her wonder if she might try to change at least some small thing in her own life.

“I was just . . . I wondered if you know where Susan’s gone.”

“What an odd question.” Liza selected a perfume bottle and dabbed some scent behind each ear.

“I just thought . . . she might need help.”

“Why on earth do you care?”

“Because Ned’s not going to,” said Jane flatly.

“But it’s not your business ,” Liza insisted. “And not something Father . . .”

“Do you know or don’t you?” She met Liza’s gaze, aware that she was showing an unusual amount of stubbornness. She’d always thought Liza was the brave one, the worldly one. Had she ever paid attention to how much Liza referenced what Father would or would not want?

Liza opened her bottom drawer and took out the rouge pot she kept hidden there. With her little finger, she dabbed a minute amount on her cheeks and her lips, then took plenty of time to blend it in.

Jane handed her sister her powder box. Liza powdered her cheeks as carefully as she had rouged them.

“As it happens,” she said at last, “Susan has not even left Kensington.”

“You’re sure?”

“I saw her just yesterday, walking past while we were out in the carriage. It was a great surprise, I can tell you. I asked little Thomas to follow her, to see where she went.”

Jane must have looked surprised or confused, because Liza gave her a sharp sigh.

“You’re not the only one worried about Ned producing a by-blow, you know.

I don’t need my chances at getting out of this house ruined because Mama was too lazy to hush things up properly and Susan decides to take him to court for breach of promise or some such.

“Anyway,” Liza went on, “Thomas said she went to a house at the end of Lower Market Street. He thought it was her house rather than just one she was working in, as she went in through the front door.”

“Thank you, Liza.”

Liza did not turn from contemplating her own face in the mirror.

“I’ve some money in my writing desk. Take that for Susan, and tell her there will be more, provided she keeps quiet, all right?

And make sure she knows it comes from me , not from Father or Mother.

Now, help me find my slippers and my reticule. I cannot be late.”

“Is there something I should know, Liza? Or someone I should . . .”

“Save your breath,” said Liza. “There’s nothing and no one, yet. But I am not about to leave matters up to Mother or Father.” She paused. “And you shouldn’t, either.”

They stood there in silence for a long moment, each watching the other and letting the space between them fill up with all the things they were not saying.

Jane took a deep breath. “You know if I can help you, I will.”

“No, I didn’t. But I do now. Thank you, Jane.”

Jane nodded.

The first slipper was under the bed. The second was under the washstand.

Liza’s reticule, at least, was in the wardrobe where it should be, along with her gloves and her fan.

Liza took one more look at herself in the mirror and then gathered up her hems and hurried out the door with careful, mincing steps, so as not to disturb her sleeves or her skirts or her hair.

Jane closed the door behind her sister. She stood in the middle of the empty room for a long time, just breathing. Just listening.

Just trying to understand what she was turning herself into.