Page 41 of The Heir (A Young Queen Victoria Mystery #1)

J ane knew something was wrong the moment Father climbed into the carriage. His face was flushed, but his expression was ice cold. He pounded on the carriage roof with his closed fist to signal their driver to go but afterward sat rigidly upright, saying nothing.

This silence was a familiar tactic, and the one Jane feared the most. It never failed to set her mind racing. Usually, she asked herself, What have I done?

But now that she had done so much, all she could think was, What does he know?

Perhaps it’s nothing to do with me. Perhaps he’s had some bad news. He and the duchess were shut away so long with Lord Dunham . . .

Lord Dunham was one of the Kensington board. He might have come to bring word that the princess really was being moved out of the palace and away from Father.

That would more than explain his temper. It’s not me. It’s not what—

“Jane.”

Jane froze. Her hands clenched together.

“What have you and the princess been up to?”

Answer him , she ordered herself. Don’t sit there like a stupid block. Answer!

“Just what I told you.” She kept her voice low and her eyes down. She was humble. She was uncertain. “She’s worrying at the death of Dr. Maton. You said that I should play along and keep her distracted . . .”

“And that is everything?”

Jane looked up, made mute by her confusion. It was a mistake. Father’s anger skewered her.

“Because I have reason to believe you are hiding things from me.”

“I’m not!” cried Jane. “I promise I’m not. Only it’s difficult to remember every tiny thing that happens in a day, and it’s not as if I can sit and take notes in front of the princess!”

That seemed to dampen his temper, but only for a moment. “Then tell me now. What is she doing while she plays her little game?”

What do I do? What do I do? He’ll know if I lie!

But an unexpected voice answered this gibbering with calm. Then tell him the truth.

“She . . . she spoke with Gerald Maton.”

Father went very still. “What? How?”

How?

Jane wanted to cry. She wanted to shrink away, to bow her head and confess her sins before Father’s righteous anger. He would be angry, but he would finish shouting eventually. Then he would go away. He’d forget about her again. That was how it always was.

Inspiration, bright and unfamiliar, struck. She knew how it always was. She knew how he always was. For seventeen years, he had been the driving force of her life.

She knew him far better than he knew her .

“It happened after the vigil,” Jane said, which was true and gave away nothing at all. “I was going to tell you, but I’d had no chance yet. She saw Gerald Maton at the vigil and made shift to speak with him. She thought he might know something you weren’t saying . . .”

“Why would she think that?”

Jane swallowed. He had stopped asking how the thing happened. That was good. She must keep him away from that.

She must bow her head. She must twist her hands. She must tremble and hunch her shoulders. She must remember he might hit her, snap her head back, make her taste the blood in her mouth....

“She knows his father came to dinner at our house.”

Silence. If she looked up, she’d see the ice and calculation in his eyes. “How could she know that?”

“I told her,” whispered Jane.

“You fool! You talking fool!”

He was yelling, and she had expected it.

Had deliberately brought it down on her own head to get him away from wondering how the princess had slipped through the bars of his perfect system.

She had meant to cringe and cry and plead for forgiveness, like she always did. It would work. She knew it would.

“But . . . but . . . you told me to help her,” she whined. “You said to entertain her suspicions and keep her busy, and I have been doing just that.”

“You were not to share my private business with her!”

Why should she not speak to Gerald Maton, Father? Why should she not know it was Dr. Maton who was found dead out on the green? Why do you care?

It took everything she had to hold those questions inside.

Do not let him see what you’ve become. Do not let him know what you are. Hide, Jane. Hide everything!

But there were other voices, voices from the mists and the shadows, and they were louder and clearer, and oh, Jane wanted to listen to them.

“I tried, sir,” she said. “But what can I do? You won’t tell me your ends and aims, so how am I to know what I should say and what I should keep secret?”

It was a mistake. It was too much. He was going to hit her again.

“God preserve me from the imbecility of women!” he growled.

“Since you are incapable of understanding on your own, I will spell it out for you. You are to indulge the princess. You are to play her little games and flatter her and pretend to run her errands, but whatever she has you do, you come straight to me and you tell me, and I will decide how you are to proceed. Now, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Why am I angry? Why am I even disappointed? He does not change. He will not. I knew that. I know that. I used it. I should be happy that my distraction worked.

But Jane could not be happy. She was angry and sorely disappointed. She hated the scene she had just so successfully played out.

“Now.” Father made a great show of being patient. “You say she talked with Gerald Maton? What did she tell you about that?”

“She said his mother and brother had burnt the late doctor’s papers.

” Jane kept her gaze focused on her hands.

She did not dare look up, or he might see the blazing anger she carried inside.

“She’s not sure what she can do next.” Jane paused.

She let her brow furrow. “I think she may be getting tired of the whole thing.”

Which was as blatant a falsehood as Jane had ever told.

“And that’s all?”

Jane nodded fast, like a little girl being questioned about her lessons.

“She’s said nothing to you about any communication with the palace? With the king or queen?”

Jane looked up, genuinely startled. “No. Why? Is there—”

But Father was frowning because she had dared to ask anything at all. Because it was what he did and always would do.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Jane ducked her head.

“You will keep a close eye on the princess, and especially her doings with Lehzen,” he said. “It may be she is trying to send messages behind her mother’s back, and Lehzen is helping her. If such a thing is happening, we need to know how it’s being done, do you understand?”

Jane nodded.

“Whatever you learn, you are to come tell me at once , do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well. And you will never again repeat any piece of our private household business to anyone in the palace.”

“No, sir.”

And that was the end of it. He had said all he wished to say, and was satisfied that she would do as she was told. He could gaze out the window and plan his plans.

Jane watched him, and Jane burned.

* * *

As soon as they arrived back home, Jane escaped upstairs. She needed to talk with Liza.

If Father’s told Mother anything about the new household, Liza will have heard . . .

But when she reached their rooms, Jane found that Liza was very much occupied.

The wardrobe’s doors were thrown open. Liza’s bandbox and portmanteau were on her bed, and her small trunk waited beside it. When Jane walked in, Liza was standing at her dressing table, closing her smallest case.

“Liza, what are you doing?”

Liza jumped and whirled around. When she saw it was Jane, she pressed her hand to her heart.

“Jane! You startled me. What are you doing back so early?”

“The princess has a dinner tonight. I was dismissed early. What—”

“Oh, this?” Liza waved at her luggage. “I’ve been invited to stay with Miss Schumann and her family for a few days. I told you about it. You remember.”

Liza had not told her, and there was nothing for Jane to remember. But her sister’s expression was intense, and it was pleading.

“I hope you have a good time,” said Jane slowly.

“I’m sure I shall.” But there was a hitch under Liza’s breath. “Miss Schumann is so amusing. And her brother is coming up, as well. Which reminds me, Jane. I need a favor. Have you any money?”

“Money?” Jane echoed.

“I hate to ask, but there’s sure to be cards at the Schumanns’, and I must have something to play with, and with the expenses earlier—and then Ned came begging earlier today—well, I’ve nothing left.”

Expenses. She means the money we gave to Susan.

“Ned borrowed money from you?”

Liza laughed bitterly. “Well, borrowed is something we say only when there’s a chance of getting it back, isn’t it? Ned scrounges. In fact, while I’m gone, you should probably put anything you’ve got somewhere safe. Sooner or later, he’s sure to remember you get pin money as well as I do.”

Jane remembered sitting in the carriage, disguised as the princess. She remembered watching Ned flee through the streets like a cuckold in a farce. “Is Ned in debt?”

Liza shrugged. “Probably. The way he gambles, it would be a surprise if he wasn’t. Why?”

“I was . . . out the other day, and I saw him,” Jane told her. “He was being chased down the street by some man.”

“Probably it was either someone he owed or someone he cheated. With Ned, it could be either.” She paused. “That is, if it wasn’t somebody whose daughter he got up to mischief with.”

Jane felt her cheeks heat up.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Liza.

“And yes, he gets away with it because he’s a man, and it’s not fair, and it never will be, and there’s nothing we can do about it but get on as best we can.

” That wasn’t at all what Jane was thinking, but Liza clearly was not interested in hearing anything from her.

“I’m in a dreadful hurry, Jane. Miss Schumann’s sending round her carriage, and I have to be ready to go. Can you loan me anything?”

Jane looked at Liza and saw she was lying. Whatever she had planned, it was much more than going to stay with her friend and her friend’s family for a few days.

Liza looked back and silently begged her not to ask any questions.

Jane went to her wardrobe and opened the bottom drawer. She pulled out a roll of itchy wool stockings, the sort meant to be worn only on the very coldest days. Inside that roll was a small, plain bag, and inside the bag was five years of unspent pin money.

She’d never been quite sure what she was squirreling it all away for, but it had always made her feel obscurely better to know that it was there.

She counted fifty pounds and held the notes out to Liza.

Liza looked at the money and swallowed. But she took it and folded it into her reticule.

“Thank you, Jane,” she croaked without turning around.

“If there’s anything—”

Liza shook her head. “No. There’s nothing you can do. Well, you can ring the bell. These things have to be gotten downstairs.” She paused. “Oh, and be careful of Betty, won’t you? Mama pays her to spy.”

“I know,” said Jane. “I’m paying her to keep quiet.”

Liza blinked. “So am I.”

They both giggled. Jane turned away to ring the bell before Liza could see the tears that had begun to form.

Now Liza seemed to be having trouble with her bonnet’s ribbon. Jane rolled her eyes and took charge, tying a pretty bow under Liza’s chin.

“Will you write?” Jane asked. “Between card games?”

Liza smiled and pressed her hand. “I’ll leave something at the post office, all right? And I will pay you back, I promise.”

Jane nodded.

There was no time for anything else. Meg and Paul, the footman, arrived to take the luggage downstairs. Liza embraced Jane quickly, picked up her reticule, and scurried out the door.

Jane’s ears had begun ringing. She felt oddly light. She floated to the door and closed it and then drifted to the sofa and sat softly down.

Alone in her empty sitting room, Jane opened her bruised heart as wide as it would go and wished her sister good luck.