Isabella Rockwell's War

by Hannah Parry

  “Why what’s so precious about it? Are you carrying illicit cargo?”

  Isabella laughed.

  “I was – not so much anymore, but it’s my father’s bag and it has something of Abhaya’s in it. I feel it’s my last link with her and I’d be terribly upset to lose it.” Isabella got to her feet. “Are you coming?”

  Alix shook her head.

  “No, I best not. If mother found out I’d been fraternizing with anyone else of your acquaintance she’d have you put out without a second thought.”

  Bea didn’t trust Zachariah, and had left him in the servants’ part of the palace where the footmen could keep an eye on him. It was still grand enough to have shaken him out of his customary cool.

  “Have you seen these plates?” Was the first thing he said to Isabella as she closed the door.

  “Shh. There’s a footman outside and don’t think you won’t be searched when you leave. Don’t touch anything,” she hissed. Then in a more normal voice she asked, “How are you all anyway?”

  Zachariah smiled his sudden smile.

  “’Ere Miss India, you look like a toff.”

  Isabella smiled and twirled.

  “What do you think?”

  Zachariah nodded.

  “Very nice… don’t you scrub up well. I like your necklace.” Isabella shot him a warning look.

  “It’s not mine.”

  “Never thought it was.” He looked a picture of innocence. “Never stopped you before though.” He reached down and picked up her bag and tossed it to her.

  “There you go.”

  Isabella held it to her chest.

  “Thank you.”

  He turned away from her and settled himself close to the fire in a deep red chair. How out of place he looked was not lost on Isabella, his face white and pinched, his clothes filthy.

  “Seriously though gel, how long are you going to be here for?”

  “Four more days.”

  Zachariah sat forward.

  “That’s perfect.” He stood and went to the door and listened.

  Isabella narrowed her eyes. What was he up to? He came and sat back down next to her.

  “I’ve found a ‘fence.’” Isabella looked blank. “You know, someone who’ll sell on expensive stuff, no questions asked about where we get it from.”

  “What, stuff from here?

  “Exactly – you do catch on quick. It’s all a bit posh, the stuff here, so we needed someone who was a bit more in-the-know. Anyway, I’ve found ’im. He’s an expert, albeit a crooked one. He even knows the names of all the paintings in all the palaces, if you can believe it. If you could steal something to order, he’s willing to pay us very well for it… very well indeed and Isabella?” Zachariah’s face was alight.

  “What?”

  “There’s a boat.”

  Isabella felt the confusion on her face.

  “What boat?”

  “A boat for India.

  “But I thought none would sail until Spring?”

  “She’s been chartered by a merchant especially for this journey, something about a crop of tea. She’s a clipper and she’s really fast and there’s two spaces left on board.”

  Isabella’s heart started to beat more quickly and she felt blood rush to her face.

  “When does she sail?”

  “January first.”

  “How much?”

  “Twelve pounds.”

  Her heart sank again.

  “I’ve only got four.”

  Zach smiled triumphantly.

  “If you nick the picture the fence wants, he’ll give us twenty five pounds for it. Half of that would be yours.”

  For a split second Isabella smelled the scent of the warm sea air, saw dolphins leaping free of the shining spray off the coast of Africa, but then thoughts of honour and friendship crowded into her mind, driving her dreams away before them. She came and sat down next to Zachariah on the sofa.

  “I don’t know Zach. This would be different.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, it’s not like stealing a few apples from a fat farmer, is it?”

  Zachariah raised his brows. “Stealing’s stealing, Miss India. Whichever way you look at it. Apples, paintings… whatever.”

  “I know, but we don’t need to steal the painting to put food on our table do we? You and me, we just steal what we need to live on, don’t we?” It was as if this point was vital to her.

  Zachariah paused. For a moment his face looked drawn.

  “Everything I steal is for me to live on.” One of the logs blazed suddenly casting an orange glow over them both. He looked at her closely. “Don’t do it if you don’t want to. You’ve got to be sure.”

  Isabella looked down at her sling and moved her wrist into a more comfortable position. As she did so, she caught sight of the heel of Zachariah’s boot, worn down to the sole, his skin, a mottled blue, showing through a jagged hole. She thought of the bath she’d had and the food she’d eaten and the warmth and luxury she would encounter over the next few days.

  “Which one does the fence want?”

  “It’s by someone called,” he rummaged in one of his pockets and pulled out a piece of paper, which he gave to Isabella. “’Ere. I can’t read.”

  “C-a-r-a-v-a-g-g-i-o.”

  “Mmm,” Zach nodded. “Yeah Eye-talian he said. It’s small, so you can get it under your coat. It hangs in the Blue Salon, wherever that might be. Might be best to wrap it in something if you do get it. He said it’s really precious.”

  “I wonder who it’s for?”

  “Some rich church no doubt,” replied Zach, tying his scarf more tightly around his neck. “We will need to get to the docks by ten at night on New Year’s Eve. The tide turns at midnight and the boat will want to go with it.”

  “You don’t think the tickets will have gone by then?”

  “Nah, the fence put a deposit down for you.”

  Isabella looked wide-eyed. “He must really want that picture.”

  Zach stood up. “Yup. He really does.”

  “Zach, just one thing.”

  He paused. “What?”

  “What happens if I’m caught?”

  Zach’s face was calm.

  “You won’t be caught. There’s tons of times you’ve nicked stuff in much more dangerous situations. I’ve never seen a thief as good as you, except of course, meself.”

  “But if I am?”

  “You’ll be hanged.”

  Isabella nodded. Zach came and sat back down next to her, and his voice was gentle.

  “That’s not going to happen though, is it? Focus on the positive. You’re going to nick the picture, we’ll deliver it to the fence, and then you’ll be going home. That’s what’s important. Don’t think about the bad stuff. Do you really think I’d put you up to this if I didn’t think you could pull it off?” His face was earnest, his eyes direct.

  “No, I don’t.”

  The fire popped and hissed. Zachariah leant further in towards it, hands out in front of him, chin on his chest, relaxed by the warmth. Isabella reached into the skirts of her stiff petticoat and brought out four pastries wrapped in a white linen napkin.

  “For Midge and Lily.”

  “Well done girl.” He stood. “Hurry up and come back though. It’s too bloody quiet without you to argue with, and Midge is driving me mad. He’s like a lost puppy.” Isabella laughed, but Zach looked serious all of the sudden, his eyes hooded and hard to see.

  “I’ll wait for you by the Kensington Gate at ten o’clock on New Year’s Eve, picture or no picture.” He opened the door, then turned. “Take care.”

  Isabella smiled.

  “I will.”

  She sat for a moment after the door had closed behind him, bathed in the firelight with her ankles crossed. Opening her father’s bag she glanced quickly inside. All was as she had left it, except for one thing. A rumpled piece of paper covered with a charcoal drawing. It was a drawing of her f
ace, grubby and smiling, and on her head was a soldier’s helmet. It was a very good likeness. She turned it over and on the back was a badly fashioned ‘M.’ Smoothing it carefully, she tucked it in the folder with her father’s papers. She looked around the room, the warm colours of the wall hangings and rugs, the mouth-watering smell of roasting meat from the servants’ kitchen. Surely they wouldn’t miss one little picture – one that would make such a difference to so many lives? Not when they had so much.

  Chapter 7:

  Choices

  The next morning she was woken by Bea, tiptoeing around her room, banking up the fire and laying out her breakfast from a silver tray.

  “Good morning, Miss. Would you like the curtains drawn now?”

  Isabella blushed.

  “Oh goodness. Please don’t call me ‘Miss.’ My name’s Isabella and yes, thank you. It would be nice if the curtains were drawn.” Bea nodded and was soon gone. On the tray before her was a bowl of kedgeree, eggs, bacon, toast, tea and orange juice. In little glass and silver pots sat marmalade, honey and jam glowing like jewels in the feeble yellow sun, which pierced the grey clouds outside. The door opened again and in came Alix her arms full of velvets and tweed. Alix herself was dressed in a very elaborate riding outfit, complete with golden tassels hanging from her green velvet hat.

  “You look like a lampshade,” said Isabella without thinking.

  Alix’s mouth fell open and she dumped the clothes onto the end of Isabella’s bed.

  “You ungrateful wretch. I’ll have you know this is the most popular trend in Paris right now. Everyone is wearing them.” She twirled in front of the mirror and then looked a bit forlorn.

  “Do you really not like it?”

  Isabella felt like a heel and, pushing her tray aside, leapt out of bed to hug Alix with her good arm.

  “You could wear anything and it would look nice on you. It’s just the hat… all those tassels.”

  Alix grimaced in the mirror.

  “No one ever tells me the truth, except mother, and I never listen to what she says anyway. You are right. It is a bit much. I’ll have some of them removed. Anyway. How is your arm feeling?” Looking into Isabella’s sling she made an exclamation of pleasure. “Why it looks so much better already. Your fingers are pink.” Isabella nodded. “Did you use some of Abhaya’s medicine?”

  Isabella smiled liking the way Alix used Abhaya’s name as if she’d known her personally.

  “Yes. A couple, actually. The best one is Comfrey, which you can sip as a tea. In Hindi it is known as ‘Knitbone.’”

  Alix nodded.

  “Well, it’s certainly worked. Your hand does look much better.” Isabella looked at her arm and wiggled her fingers. The feeling that her arm didn’t belong to her, had gone.

  “Now then,” continued Alix, “You cannot ride, of course, but I am going to. If I don’t get on soon, I will lose my nerve. One of the grooms is going to lead me.”

  “Shall I come with you?” Isabella was already undoing the buttons of her nightgown.

  Alix smiled her beautiful smile and clutched Isabella’s good arm.

  “Oh would you? I would love that. I was worried you might not want to come.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Well…. it’s not the most interesting thing to do in the world is it?”

  Isabella gave her another hug.

  “What else would I do? I like being with you and, god knows, I better come and help with the horses, or who knows what might happen.”

  Alix went pink with pleasure.

  “That’s so kind of you. I’m never really sure who likes me for me, or who likes me because I’m to be queen.”

  “I only like you because you’re going to be queen, if that helps.”

  Alix snorted with laughter and threw a thick tweed dress towards Isabella.

  “Here, try this on.” When Isabella had finally managed to shoehorn herself into the outfit, Alix couldn’t contain herself.

  “I think it’s a bit small,” she said biting into a pillow to stop her from laughing out loud as her manners wouldn’t permit it. Isabella looked at herself in the mirror. The pantaloons came up above her bony knees and the hem of brown velvet rested above them. The sleeves were too tight and only came to just below her elbow. The buttons at the back wouldn’t do up at all.

  “I look like a carthorse wearing a show bridle,” Isabella said scowling at her reflection.

  Alix rang for Bea.

  “Don’t worry I shall get you some of my cousin’s clothes. She’s taller than me and I’m sure they will fit you. She’s very fashionable. Maybe we could use something of hers for you to wear to the ball on New Year’s Eve.”

  Isabella stilled.

  “I don’t think your mother is planning for me to still be here for the ball.”

  “Yes, I know, but you never know what might happen between then and now.”

  Isabella nodded, struck by how grown-up Alix sounded.

  “No, you don’t. I could never have imagined seeing Mrs Jolyon again.”

  “Oh she’s wonderful, isn’t she? I don’t know where Mama found her, but I’ve learned such a lot since she’s been here. She’s very well-read and also she’s such fun. You should have seen some of the governesses I’ve had.” Alix wrinkled her nose, which Isabella had noticed was the closest to bad manners Alix would ever get.

  “I can only imagine,” Isabella replied. “I’ve had a few myself,” and went on to describe the notorious Miss Parson and her obsession with silt, making Alix laugh with descriptions of the other children in her class.

  “How lovely to take your lessons with others.” The shadow returned to Alix’s face. “It’s only ever me on my own.”

  “But why?”

  Alix pursed her lips.

  “Safety Mama says. Everything I do has to be safe. I’m not even supposed to walk up and down the stairs by myself.”

  Isabella’s curiosity was aroused. What, then, had the Duchess made of the bolting horse?

  “You are heir to the throne and I suppose the rules for you are different.”

  Alix face grew hard.

  “Yes, aren’t they just.” There was a pause. “I’d give anything to be like you.”

  They walked downstairs and were now in an open courtyard. Jack, the footman, held the heavy oak doors open for them. The air hit them with an icy blast, taking away their breath, and they had to slow their pace so as not to slip on the icy cobbles. Isabella looked around her with pleasure. The stables were built around a large rectangle of smooth green grass, which sparkled with snow. The looseboxes were wood and brick and were spacious with plenty of room for the horses to turn and lie down. Sleek heads and bright eyes eyed them from every side and there were rumbles of greeting.

  “What beautiful stables, Alix. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any as nice as these.”

  Alix walked over to a dapple-grey with long ears and brown eyes who whickered at her, sniffed her all over and then blew out in her ear. Alix hugged him. “If nothing else, the royal family loves their horses. I sometimes think they eat better than we do.”

  “Certainly better than I do,” said Isabella with a laugh.

  Alix looked embarrassed.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be glib. How awful of me.”

  “You’re not awful, I’m just teasing you. Come on introduce me.”

  Alix hugged the horse again.

  “This is Shadow, who is very sorry for the other day.” Shadow butted her affectionately.

  “Hello, lovely boy,” Isabella rubbed his ears and leant against his neck breathing in the smell of warm horse. For a moment she was at home, her father was alive and Abhaya was calling her in for her bath. She opened her eyes.

  “Isabella, this is Simon, Shadow’s groom.” The boy in front of her was about Zach’s age. He tipped his cap.

  “How do, Miss.”

  Alix rubbed Shadow’s nose.

  “So how is he Simon? Are w
e alright for a gentle walk?”

  “Yes, Ma’am, he’s fine. “ Simon led Shadow out of his stall and then linked his hands together, so Alix could mount. The instant her seat touched the saddle, Shadow whinnied and stretched out his neck, side-stepping onto the grass.

  Alix was nearly unseated.

  “Woah there fella, whoa boy….” cooed the groom, but Shadow, previously serene and untroubled was unhappy.

  “I think you better get down from there, Alix,” said Isabella holding Shadow with her good arm and putting her shoulder against his to keep against the wall of the stables so he didn’t move. Simon lifted Alix down. Immediately Shadow settled. Inwardly Isabella winced. She’d seen a horse behave like this before.

  “Simon, can you take off his saddle for me?”

  “Yes, miss, if you’ll hold his head.” He went to undo the girth.

  “What is it, Isabella?” Alix asked, alarm crossing her face.

  “I don’t know… I could be wrong… but…”

  She pulled back the saddle blanket and peered closely at Shadow’s satiny back, running her fingers up and down his spine. There was nothing.

  “No, I was wrong,” she smiled at Alix. “He must just be having an off day.”

  Alix looked a little pale.

  “Well, thank heavens for that. You had me worried for a moment.”

  Isabella smiled.

  “Sorry. Would you like to try a quieter horse…just to keep up your nerve?”

  “Yes, good idea. ”

  A few minutes later Alix was seated on a sweet bay mare and riding slowly along the path with Simon leading her and Isabella walking close on her right side. The path leading from the courtyard out to the grounds was wide and sandy, and graceful statues stood at intervals within the deep flowerbeds on either side. Though the day was clear, mist rose from the ground and sat in heavy wads where the lawns sloped away from the palace. Isabella could see how, maybe in six months, life might grow in colourful abundance from the frozen twigs and tightly wrapped buds she could see all around but, at the moment, she couldn’t imagine it. As they turned at an ornamental fountain, the palace came into full view, and Isabella looked carefully at the lights twinkling within the windows.

  “Is that room up there my room?” she enquired casually.