Page 43 of The Heir (A Young Queen Victoria Mystery #1)

J ane decided that morning was actually the safest time for her to search Father’s desk.

The servants would be busy getting the house ready for the day, and Father would be dividing his time between reading his newspapers in the library and having breakfast. Mother, of course, did not rise before ten.

Ned might be up earlier, but if he was, he’d be about his own business.

Where Liza was and what she was doing was something Jane tried very hard not to think about.

Jane left instructions for Betty to rouse her at six.

Betty did, although it came with a running stream of complaints about Jane and her erratic habits.

Jane apologized while she stood to be dressed.

She apologized again while her hair was being done.

She gave Betty an extra five shillings for all her patience.

Meg brought her tray with chocolate, tea, and toast because breakfast would not be fully ready for at least another hour. Jane apologized again.

The maids left. Jane swallowed her chocolate and wolfed a piece of toast. Then she sat for a while, waiting for something terrible to happen.

Because it must happen. Despite her newfound ability to look Father in the face and lie, part of her still could not accept that she planned to break into his desk and rummage through his private papers.

But nothing did happen.

Jane descended the stairs to the first floor. The corridor was empty. The sound of the servants laying out breakfast drifted up from the ground floor.

Father would still be in his bedroom. He woke at half seven, unless there was an urgent summons from the palace. And there had been nothing. Betty would have said. Or Meg would have.

Surely, they would have said.

Jane gritted her teeth and walked down the corridor.

Father’s study was the last door on the right.

It was the farthest from the street, because Father required perfect quiet for his work.

The door, Jane knew, would be unlocked. Why would it be locked?

No one in the house would disobey Father’s wishes and come in here without being explicitly sent for.

Jane did not let herself hesitate. She opened the study door, stepped over the threshold, and closed the door softly behind herself.

She stood in the dim, still room, trying to breathe.

For an absurd moment it seemed impossible that she was still in the same house or that she could be the same person.

Stop it, Jane. Look around you. It’s just a room.

It was paneled in dark wood. It was spread with good carpets.

The draperies were pulled shut, but there was enough light to see by.

A full-length portrait of Mother and Father hung over the fireplace mantel.

Mother sat unusually upright in a richly upholstered chair.

Father stood beside her in his scarlet and gold uniform, looking every inch the soldier he used to be.

He had a hand on Mother’s shoulder. Jane had always thought her face looked like he was squeezing her just a little too tight.

No dawdling.

Although Father did not lock the study door, he did lock the desk, because he kept a strongbox with the household money in there.

There was no need to go hunting for a copy of the key, however.

Jane had found it years ago. She’d been a little girl, playing hide-and-seek with her dolls because neither Ned nor Liza would play with her.

At that moment, she’d been acting as her doll Flossie, who was very mischievous.

Flossie had decided to hide in Father’s study, up on the mantel, behind the clock.

She’d knocked the clock and the key off, and Jane had been caught trying to put them back.

She’d been shut in her room for three days with only bread and milk for meals. She never saw Flossie again.

Jane realized was shaking.

What am I doing? What am I thinking? What will I tell him when he finds me?

Mother and Father watched her with their painted eyes—Father in command, Mother in pain.

I’ll say I’m doing what the princess asked me. That the princess knows you lie. The princess doesn’t trust you. She will never trust you and is looking for an excuse to have you thrown out.

That’s why I’m doing this.

The key was on the mantel, underneath the clock, right where she remembered it.

She snatched it up and hurried to the desk.

She’d been in here before when Father was working.

When he was angry with his children, he would call them in singly or together.

They would then have to stand in front of the desk in silence while he finished with whatever matter currently occupied him, and could then turn the full force of his attention on them.

As a result, she had seen him put away his files, his ledgers, and his letters.

Jane unlocked the lower drawer on the left-hand side.

As she expected, it was filled with individual packets of letters.

Jane sorted through them as quickly as she could.

Some were from men she recognized as lords of Parliament or members of the Kensington Board.

There were some from relatives, and some others with names she did not recognize.

Then, at the bottom, she found two packets stacked together. One for Mr. William Rea. One for Dr. William Maton.

The Two Gentle-Williams of Verona . . . , thought Jane absurdly as she pulled them out of the drawer.

The door opened.

Jane slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. A man cursed roundly and slammed the door, shutting them both in together.

But it wasn’t Father.

It was Ned.

“What the devil are you doing here?” he demanded in a harsh stage whisper.

Jane was so relieved, she forgot to be afraid. “I could ask you the same thing! What are you even doing up so early? Do you have another horse to go look at?”

The truth was, her brother didn’t look as if he’d ever gone to bed. His trousers and coat were rumpled; his hair was uncombed. The stubble of his beard made his face look like it was smeared with ash, and his eyes were as exhausted as they were bloodshot.

“Your new position as favorite minder to our shrimp of a princess has made you saucy,” he sneered. “And you still haven’t said what you’re doing here.”

“Father sent me to retrieve a letter he needed.”

“Did he? Perhaps I’ll go ask him about that.”

Jane shrugged. “Go ahead. You’ll have to explain what you were doing in his study without permission. I wish you luck with that.”

“Puts us in the same boat, doesn’t it? Difference is, I’ve got nothing to lose, and I rather suspect you do.”

Jane held on to her determination for a full minute.

The difficulty was, Ned was right. She did have something to lose.

If Father ceased to trust her, he’d banish her from the palace and the princess’s company.

There was a time when she would have liked nothing better. Now it was exactly what she feared.

“What have you got there?” Ned made an impatient gesture with two fingers. “Come on, give over.”

Jane could see nothing else to do. She scowled, but she held out both packets of letters. If she was lucky, Ned would just be confused, and she could tell him some story....

Ned snatched them away and looked at their neat labels.

And blanched. And swallowed.

He recovered fairly quickly. He also pocketed the letters.

“Give those back!” Jane hissed.

“No. They are none of your business.”

“They are. Dr. Maton, from the medical household, is dead. He may have been poisoned—”

Ned folded his arms. “I know.”

“You . . . know?”

“And I know that whatever is in these letters, you do not want to be involved with it.” Ned’s voice and his expression were disconcertingly mild. Sympathetic even. “Go on, now, Jane.” Ned stepped aside to make a clear path for her. “I’m sure the princess is expecting you.”

But Jane remained where she was. “Why should you even care what I’m doing? You never have before.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, then, to Jane’s surprise, her brother smiled. It was a tiny, bitter expression, and the sight of it made something twist inside her.

“You’re right,” he said. “After all, we’re all doing the same thing, aren’t we?

Trying to work out some kind of life for ourselves.

Only we all keep getting caught.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his rumpled coat.

“You must believe me, Jane. I am protecting you.” He nudged the door open.

“Go back to your princess, and if you find your way out of this house, I wish you Godspeed, and I swear I will not get in your way. All I ask is that you do the same for me.”

There was nothing she could do. Jane gathered up her skirts and strode out into the corridor. Ned pulled the door shut behind her.

Jane had thought she would just walk away.

She should. She should go back to her rooms at once, finish her chocolate, get ready to go to the palace.

She could come back later in the day, when the house was quiet and Ned was gone.

Ned would surely return the packets to their drawer. He must be doing that right now.

Because what else could he still be doing in there?

Jane turned again and faced the door. She steeled her nerves and crouched down and put her eye to the keyhole.

There on the other side was Ned. He was behind Father’s desk. He pulled open a drawer and brought out a metal strongbox. He took something from his pocket. Another key? She couldn’t tell, but he struggled with the box, jiggering and shaking it, his mouth moving in silent curses.

At last, he threw the lid open and dipped his hand inside. He came up with a wad of what could only be banknotes and stuffed them into his pocket. He snapped the lid shut.

Jane straightened. She flew down the corridor and ducked into the empty morning room. Once inside, she held the door open just a crack so that she could see out. She held her breath, too, so that Ned wouldn’t hear her panting.

She needn’t have bothered. Ned strode past without turning his head and all but ran down the stairs. She heard the door below slam.

Ned was gone.

Ned had robbed Father.

Ned—their brother, Father’s heir, the young man who came and went as he chose, who flirted with and flattered Kensington society, who had been abroad in the army, on tour, at the consulate—had just stolen a handful of banknotes from their father.

Liza had said he’d taken her money, as well.

Whatever is in these letters, you do not want to be involved with it . . . I am protecting you.

She thought about him running through the streets, with the other man hard on his heels.

Jane had spent much of her life deliberately trying not to hear other people’s secrets, but she was still a denizen of the palace and the parlor. Everyone knew there were a thousand ways for clever, ambitious young men to be ruined.

Which of those ways had caught up with Ned?

Jane slipped out of the morning room and raced up the stairs. She needed coat and bonnet. She needed to be out the door before Father came downstairs and asked about her. She needed to make her way across town.

And if luck was with her, she would find Susan at home.