Page 26 of The Heir (A Young Queen Victoria Mystery #1)

I t was sometimes easy to forget that Kensington Palace was not the center of the stately world. It was more like a dusty box on a shelf, remembered only when its contents were wanted.

Lehzen had had to leave Kensington quite early so she could complete her errand and be back before the late afternoon, but she did not mind.

After the stifling silence of the royal apartments, Lehzen found London’s crowd and noise invigorating.

She had not lost her ability to marvel at the green parks and great houses.

The royal governess who had traveled across the country in the princess’s retinue might be jaded, but the schoolmaster’s daughter still looked at this great city with wide-eyed amazement.

Her destination today could not be classed as a great or even a stately house.

It was a modest private residence in a square that was entirely respectable but not at all fashionable.

The door was opened for her by a footman in plain livery, and she was shown at once into a charming little parlor that overlooked a simple, sunny garden.

“Louise!” Frau Schumacher rose and came forward to take both her hands. “How are you, my dear?” she asked in her comforting German.

“I am well, thank you,” replied Lehzen in the same language. “And thank you for allowing me the use of your parlor.”

“Ah, what else are friends for? The tea is being prepared, and I believe we expect Mrs. Wilson soon—” The front door’s bell sounded in the distance. “So. This may be her now.”

The footman opened the door to admit Martha Wilson. In her plain gray dress, with its simple lace collar and cuffs, Martha looked more like a Quaker housewife than one of the queen’s attendants. Which, of course, was the point.

“Good morning, Louise. Good morning, Frau Schumacher.” Martha greeted them in English and pressed their hostess’s hands. “Tell me, how does your son?”

“Very well, thank you.” Frau Schumacher’s English was fluent but accented, like Lehzen’s own. “He writes the university is miserably hard, but he enjoys the work. He says he is daily grateful for all that Herr Lehzen put him through in preparing him.”

“I shall write to my father and tell him,” said Lehzen. “He will be glad to hear it.”

“But now here is the tea,” said Frau Schumacher as the footman entered with the tray. “You must both sit and have a good visit. I beg you will excuse me, but I have a thousand letters to write.”

It was a polite fiction, but a familiar one. There had been a number of times over the years when Lehzen and Martha needed a place to talk where they would not be seen or overheard. Frau Schumacher had kindly volunteered her house for their meetings.

Their hostess and coconspirator bustled away, leaving Lehzen and Martha facing each other.

“Shall I pour?” asked Lehzen in French. Martha had no German, but her French was excellent.

Frau Schumacher’s staff was trustworthy and discreet, but experience had left them both wary.

Conducting their meetings in French reduced the chances their conversation might be discussed out of hand.

The precautions might have seemed excessive to some, but the war of influence between St. James’s Palace and Kensington was genuine, and if they were found to be in communication, the consequences could be severe.

Martha took her chair, her teacup, and a shortbread biscuit.

Lehzen fixed her own cup and drank. It was a relief to be able to make a really strong cup of tea. The duchess insisted on a brew that was little better than tepid water.

“What is the news from St. James’s?” Lehzen asked.

“Do you mean to ask how the king is doing?” inquired Martha.

Lehzen nodded. “Word has gone abroad that he is ill.”

“He is, and he is in bed. But the doctors are no more than usually concerned. You know I would have written if it were otherwise.”

“You must forgive me. We are very unsettled in our household at the moment.”

“So I am hearing. We have heard the princess had a bad time while out riding.”

“Yes. The princess, or rather her horse, did stumble over a dead man on the green. It seems it was Dr. Maton, who is, or was, attached to the medical household.”

“It is a shocking thing. How has the princess responded?”

By believing some skulduggery is afoot. By believing Sir John Conroy is behind it. For which he has only himself to blame. “She is a young woman who does not have enough to occupy her natural energies or intellect, and she is beginning to chafe at the system of living imposed upon her.”

“To hear you tell it, she has chafed against that harness since she was a little girl.”

“That is my point,” Lehzen told her. “She is not a little girl anymore. She has grown and changed, but the system has not.” And it will not, because its aims have not been achieved. “Tell me, Martha, when may we expect a decision soon regarding her new household?”

“I cannot say.” Martha set her cup down and leaned forward. “What is worrying you, Louise?”

I must go carefully here.

Lehzen and Martha were both creatures of the court. There was no such thing as complete confidence between such persons. But Martha was the one sure source of information Lehzen had from St. James’s and Queen Adelaide. She could not risk losing her trust.

“The princess is a strong-willed, intelligent girl who is ready to become a woman. She longs for variety, and to test her mettle. She is sick of being told that any thought of which her mother and her mother’s companion do not approve is a sign of madness, or that her smallest gesture of independence is not only ungrateful but hopelessly reckless. ”

“Oh, la la,” Martha breathed.

Lehzen nodded. “Any girl raised in such a state might well become angry. She may begin to give in to her less healthy impulses simply because she is bored or because mischief is a way to lash out at those she sees as her jailers.”

Martha did not reply immediately. Lehzen refilled her cup. How very English I have become , she thought. Discussing the future of the kingdom over a cup of tea.

Martha reclaimed her cup and sipped. “I can see where that girl’s true friends may well become concerned for her health.”

“They might, perhaps, suggest that a . . . a separation would be beneficial. A change of . . . What is the English phrase . . . ?”

“Scene and society?” Martha nodded. “And it might be as well if the girl’s friends conveyed this to her relatives?”

“I would say so.” Lehzen took a swallow of tea. The lemon had sat too long. The liquid was thoroughly bitter now.

“I understand there is to be another tour beginning shortly,” ventured Martha.

“Yes. Of the northern counties.”

“His Majesty objects to these productions.”

To the casual observer, it might seem strange that the king could not simply forbid the princess to be taken traveling.

But the situation was far from simple. Parliament had declared the Duchess of Kent to be Princess Victoria’s legal guardian.

Therefore, she was the one in charge of the child’s movements.

If the duchess declared the princess would travel, then she traveled.

If the members of the aristocracy wished to open their homes to receive the princess, and if towns wished to mark the occasion of her visit with speeches and celebration, that, too, was perfectly natural.

And if the king tried to forbid it, people would wonder why.

They might even wonder if there was something wrong with the princess or her mother.

Or the king.

“Her Highness does not undertake these tours willingly. She finds them exhausting and a great strain upon her nerves.” Lehzen paused. “Perhaps if it were put to His Majesty that the business of moving to a new establishment must necessarily supersede the tour . . .”

Their eyes met for a long moment.

“Hmm. Yes. That is a thought. I shall bring it up to Her Majesty.”

“Most urgently,” said Lehzen.

Martha nodded. “Most urgently, you may be sure.”

“Because, Mrs. Wilson, I believe Sir John may have multiple reasons to want the situation to remain exactly as it is. And I believe if he gets word that the princess is to be removed from his influence, he may well grow desperate,” she said. “I cannot say what may happen after that.”