Prisoners in the Palace

by Michaela MacColl

  “The staff has been instructed to wait in their dining room until—”

  “I vacate the premises? I had no idea I was so dangerous. Tell me, did Sir John take the same precautions when he dismissed Annie?”

  A muscle in Simon’s face twitched. Liza stopped harassing him: it wasn’t his fault Sir John was a tyrant. And it was an ill omen to remember Annie’s departure from Kensington Palace.

  They reached the servant’s door. Still no Princess. Ah well, for all Victoria’s promises, Liza hadn’t truly expected to see her. Victoria didn’t know how to risk herself for someone else. Liza lifted her chin high, as she had seen Victoria do, and walked out into the courtyard. An ordinary hansom cab was waiting for her. Simon handed her trunk up to the driver. Shivering, Liza took a last look at Kensington Palace. The shadowy figure of Sir John watched from the window.

  Liza climbed into the carriage and settled herself. Suddenly she heard Victoria’s high, laughing voice. Liza poked her head out of the carriage and looked toward the Palace. The voice came not from inside, but from the gardens. Victoria rode into the courtyard on her mare, Rosa. Trailing behind her was a group of fine gentlemen, all riding even finer animals. The Baroness Lehzen, looking sleepy, followed in the Duchess’s landau carriage.

  “Liza!” Victoria called gaily. “Where are you going?”

  Had Victoria forgotten what happened the night before? Had Liza dreamed their conversation? “Your Highness, I’m leaving.”

  “I forbid it.” And still Victoria’s voice was light and filled with mischief. She turned to the best-dressed gentleman in the group. Liza recognized him as one of the partygoers at the Princess’s ball.

  “Lord Liverpool,” said Victoria. “My maid has been dismissed because she spoke the truth to my mother’s comptroller. Doesn’t that seem unfair?” Victoria’s face was shining and she looked handsome in her green velvet riding habit. Her dark hair, still short, peeked out from under a charming hat.

  Liza leaned farther out of the carriage to hear better. The Princess’s confidence gave Liza hope for the first time that morning.

  “Devilishly unfair, Your Highness, if you’ll forgive my language. Our future Queen should be surrounded by honesty at all times!” Lord Liverpool inclined his head to the Princess.

  The door slammed open. Sir John, as well-groomed as ever, burst into the courtyard. “What is all this?”

  His gaze moved from Liza to Victoria. He took a step back when he recognized Lord Liverpool. “Liverpool, Princess,” he said more civilly. “Perhaps someone would tell me what is happening?”

  “By chance, I met Lord Liverpool while I was out riding this morning,” said Victoria. “I invited his party home for breakfast.”

  “If the weather is fine, I ride every morning in this park,” said Liverpool. “But this is the first time I’ve had the honor of meeting the Princess.”

  “Perhaps because Her Highness never rides this early.” Sir John spat out the words.

  “That must be it,” laughed Victoria. “But isn’t it a happy happenstance that this morning I should decide to go out before breakfast?”

  Victoria dismounted from her horse and handed the reins to a groom. She beckoned to Sir John to join her, just within Lord Liverpool’s earshot if she spoke loudly. “Sir John, before we go in, there seems to be a horrible mistake,” she said in a strong clear voice. “My maid, Liza, has been unfairly dismissed. See to it she is reinstated.”

  Liza caught her breath; could Victoria’s boldness save her?

  Sir John’s eyes went from the Princess to Lord Liverpool. In a low voice, he asked, “And if I refuse?”

  Just as quietly, Victoria said, “Lord Liverpool’s morality is legendary. He might wish to know why you dismissed not one, but two of my maids.”

  “I don’t know what you think you know—”

  “I know everything,” Victoria interrupted, still whispering. “Including the ending. Lord Liverpool will find it terribly sordid, I’m afraid. Not at all the proper atmosphere for the heiress to the throne.” Victoria was smiling as though she was discussing the breakfast menu. Every so often she would lift her riding crop and wave at Liverpool, who smiled back indulgently.

  “So?”

  “My Lord Liverpool has the King’s ear, and he’s very vocal in Parliament. If he chose, he could wreck what is left of your prospects.”

  Sir John glanced sideways at Lord Liverpool. “And if I let the wench stay?”

  “That’s the end of the matter.”

  Liza clasped her hands together tightly, waiting for his answer.

  Finally, through teeth so tightly clenched Liza thought they might break, Sir John said, “Agreed.”

  “Liza, bring your things inside,” ordered the Princess for the benefit of everyone listening.

  Simon looked at Sir John, who hesitated, then gave a curt nod. Once his back was to Sir John, Simon grinned broadly at Liza. He hoisted the trunk onto his shoulders as though filled with feathers.

  “After you, Miss,” he said. Liza climbed down from the carriage, dizzy, as though someone had twirled her round and round the cobblestone courtyard.

  Sir John returned to Lord Liverpool and said, “Shall we take this delightfully impetuous Princess into breakfast?”

  His voice had an edge that worried Liza. For Liza’s sake, Victoria had bested him. What would it cost them both?

  8 April 1837 Excerpt from the Journal of Miss Elizabeth Hastings

  Victoria has paid a high price for her impudence. Her mother barely speaks to her. The Duchess and Sir John scheme in corners, springing apart when I enter the room. I fear we have showed our hand too plainly. Although they do not know I understand their words, they know I am Victoria’s ally.

  Sir John’s plot to become private secretary, like the one to extend the regency, has melted away like the snow in Hyde Park. So far, I haven’t any idea of what he plans next. The newspapers report that the King’s health declines every day. We are all waiting.

  IB has returned to the Palace. He is very melancholy but angry too. He’s more than willing to play courier between Will and me. Will has promised to print my article by Monday next. I cannot wait to see Sir John’s mortification.

  The following Monday, Liza laid out Victoria’s evening clothes as quickly as possible, then stole down to Sir John’s office. She wanted to be there when Sir John read Will’s broadsheet. She heard Sir John in his office, speaking to someone whose voice Liza couldn’t distinguish. She crept closer to the door to overhear. The first scrap of conversation prickled the hairs on Liza’s skin.

  “I’m running out of time,” Sir John said. “In a few days, she turns eighteen. My leverage is almost gone.”

  His voice grew louder then faded a bit, then grew again. He must be pacing back and forth, Liza thought. He went on, “She cannot leave the Palace or correspond with anyone without my permission.”

  Liza heard the jangle of keys coming toward her from down the corridor. Mrs. Strode! She ducked behind a floor-length curtain and closed her eyes. The heavy steps passed without stopping. With a sigh of relief, Liza moved back to her listening post.

  Sir John was still speaking. “If I have to, I can bring more pressure to bear.” Liza shivered at the menace in his voice. Sir John’s voice stopped. Liza pictured him staring out the window.

  A muffled voice asked a question. Sir John answered, “I have to convince the Duchess anew every morning. But it will end soon. The Princess is weak. She’ll give in.”

  So he’s not speaking with the Duchess.

  She edged closer to the open door—a little nearer and she would see Sir John’s fellow conspirator. Too late. The other door to the room was closing. Disappointed, she turned to go and stepped on a square of warped parquet that creaked. Though she tried to hurry away, Sir John appeared in the doorway at once. He dragged Liza into the room.

  “If it isn’t the Princess’s little spy,” he said as he released her arm. He twisted a lock of Liza’s go
lden hair around his finger. “I must admit, you’ve shown more stamina than I expected. I hope you don’t expect Victoria to reward you for your service—she’s as stingy as the rest of her family.”

  Click-clack, click-clack. Liza backed away from Sir John and smoothed out her skirt. “Her Grace seems to be in quite a hurry,” Liza said with a slow smile. “Perhaps she has been reading the papers?”

  “What do you mean?” Sir John asked, his eye narrowed and menacing.

  The Duchess’s heels grew louder. She burst into Sir John’s office, so agitated her hair came down out of its pins in bunches. She clutched a broadsheet in her hand. She spoke in German.

  “Sir John! That horrible story has appeared in the newspaper!”

  Sir John shot a venomous look at Liza; she met his eyes and smiled even more broadly.

  The Duchess went on, “You assured me it was a lie!”

  “Let me see.” Sir John grabbed the paper out of the Duchess’s grasp. He smoothed it out, his eyes moving back and forth rapidly over the page. His nostrils flared.

  Liza recognized Will’s distinctive printing style. He had devoted half the page to a dramatic sketch of Annie plunging to her death from the top of the Fire Monument. Wonderfully, tragically eye-catching.

  When Will chooses a side, he does so with a vengeance.

  Sir John’s hands shook as he scanned the article.

  The Duchess saw Liza in the corner. “We dismissed her, but she is still here. Why is that?” she asked Sir John peevishly.

  “Shut up,” Sir John’s color was rising with each paragraph.

  Liza’s hand flew to her mouth.

  “Sir John!” the Duchess cried. “How dare you speak to me like that!”

  Sir John blinked, as though the Duchess had slapped him. “My dear Duchess, I beg your pardon. I was distracted.”

  The Duchess was not so easily placated. “That’s no excuse for incivility.”

  He pulled her hand to his lips and covered it with quick sensual kisses. Liza’s stomach soured at the sight.

  “Where did you get this tissue of falsehoods?” Sir John asked, his voice muffled against the Duchess’s hand.

  “On the desk in my sitting room,” said the Duchess, reluctantly forgiving him.

  Only one person could put a newspaper on the Duchess’s desk. Nothing could bring Inside Boy solace from the pain of Annie’s death, but humiliating Sir John was bound to help.

  “Sir John, I’ll ask you only once. Is this story true?” Through half closed eyes, the Duchess watched Sir John shrewdly.

  Without hesitation, Sir John said, “It’s a vicious lie.”

  The Duchess pointed at Liza and spoke in English. “The newspaper printed the same accusation you made against Sir John. What do you know about this?”

  “Me, Ma’am?” Liza tossed her head. “How could I tell a newspaper what to print?”

  “Impudent girl!” But the Duchess accepted Liza’s powerlessness without a second thought. “Get out; I have private things to discuss with Sir John.”

  “Of course, Ma’am. Sir John.” Liza sank low in a curtsy, looking up at Sir John from under her eyelashes. With satisfaction, she saw he could hardly contain his rage. She left the room.

  That was for you, Annie.

  22

  In Which Liza Learns to Not Underestimate Sir John

  The dreariness of April gave way to sunny May. Victoria’s eighteenth birthday drew near. The King’s health worsened, but not quickly enough for the Duchess and Sir John. Now they were plotting to have Victoria name Sir John the keeper of the privy purse.

  “As if Victoria would have that man in her household once she’s Queen,” said the Baroness while Liza brushed her hair. The phrase “Once She Is Queen” was repeated several times a day.

  “Why does he want to keep the privy purse?” Liza asked. “It doesn’t sound very important.”

  The Baroness snorted, a small shower of caraway seeds spraying Liza’s image in the mirror. “The Queen’s privy purse is four hundred thousand pounds.”

  “Per annum?” Liza had never imagined so much money in her life.

  “She will have to run her palaces, pay her servants, take care of all the hangers-on—she’ll spend it, don’t worry.”

  Liza pulled the steel comb through the Baroness’s long gray hair. “And if Sir John gets the privy purse?”

  “He’ll loot the treasury and rob Victoria blind.”

  “Where is everyone?” Liza asked Nell. It was late on a Thursday afternoon, but Nell was in her second best dress and tying on a bonnet.

  “Sir John gave everyone a ‘oliday,” Nell said.

  Liza was immediately wary. “Everyone?”

  “Almost. A few scullery maids ‘ave to stay, but even Mrs. Strode is visiting ‘er sister in town. Simon is still ‘ere.” Nell sighed. “I’d fancy ‘im, but footmen are too grand for parlor maids.”

  “Has Sir John ever given everyone a day off before?”

  “No—and I’m ‘urrying out in case ‘e changes ‘is mind.” Nell took a second look at Liza in her working dress. “Don’t you ‘ave the day off too?”

  “No one has told me so.”

  “Perhaps the Princess needs you in Northumberland?” Nell asked.

  “Northumberland?”

  Nell looked puzzled. “Isn’t she going with ‘er mother?”

  “When?” Liza hadn’t heard about any excursions.

  “Today.”

  “Enjoy your day out, Nell,” Liza said as she hurried away to the Princess’s schoolroom. Events were coming to a head; she must warn Victoria.

  The Baroness hovered outside the closed door. At Liza’s approach, she put her finger to her lips. Liza whispered her intelligence into Lehzen’s ear.

  “The servants dismissed and the Duchess going too? I don’t like it,” said Lehzen. “It’s his doing, have no doubt.”

  “I know, but why?” Liza asked.

  “Hush.”

  The Baroness pressed her ear to the door. Without hesitation, Liza did the same. Victoria and the Duchess were arguing loudly.

  “Mama!” Victoria cried. “Why isn’t Signore Lablache coming?”

  “We have decided—” It was impossible to mistake the Duchess’s strident tone.

  “You mean Sir John has decreed!”

  “You’re so emotional lately. Some discipline will be good for you, especially now the King is so ill.”

  “Any more discipline and I might as well be in jail!”

  Liza and the Baroness exchanged knowing glances.

  “Jail, indeed. Victoria, don’t be so melodramatic.”

  The strain of keeping her temper made Victoria’s voice quaver. “I’m not permitted to leave the Palace. We have no visitors, not even family. I have no friends. My ‘amusements’ are the only thing that make life worth living. And you have stripped them from me one by one.”

  “Nonsense, Victoria,” said the Duchess. “We’re protecting you. Of course, if you listened to reason, you could have your amusements back again.”

  “You mean, if I do what Sir John demands, I’ll get my music lessons back?”

  “Is it so much to ask? After all, you wouldn’t extend the regency, despite the obvious advantages to you. And you ungratefully refused to appoint Sir John as your private secretary—something he had counted on particularly. The least you can do is name him keeper of the privy purse.”

  “The keeper of the privy purse spends the Queen’s money. And it is so much money! I can’t give the office to someone I don’t trust.” Victoria’s voice changed, became softer, but bitter too. “He’s just an employee, Mama. I’m your daughter. Why won’t you take my side?”

  “Sir John has been my dearest friend for the past eighteen years. Ever since your father died, he is the only man I can depend on. You’re a selfish child not to reward him.”

  “He’s horrid to me! And my own mother does nothing to stop it!”

  Liza had heard a dozen versions of t
his argument in the past week alone. So far, Victoria had refused to give Sir John what he wanted, but it was taking a toll on her health. She wasn’t sleeping and she ate too many sweets. Her normally clear skin was spotted with blemishes.

  Liza sighed. If only the Duchess would listen to her daughter, truly listen. Victoria only wanted to be loved. If the Duchess became her champion, Victoria would be generosity itself. Liza indulged in a memory of her own mother, perched in her favorite armchair, her blue eyes fixed on Liza’s face, concentrating on what mattered to her daughter.

  The Duchess said, “I’ll be staying with the Duchess of Northumberland in town for a few days.”

  “Why can’t I come too?”

  “You shall stay here and think about your lack of gratitude.” Her loud footsteps approached the door. Liza backed away, dragging the Baroness with her. The Duchess stopped in the open doorway and said meaningfully, “I’ll come home when you have seen reason.”

  The Duchess started when she saw Liza and the Baroness.

  “Lehzen,” the Duchess said, peering at the Baroness. “Pack your things. You will accompany me to town.” Without waiting for a reply, her heels click-clacked down the hallway. The long feathers on her hat bobbed as she walked away.

  The Baroness clasped her hands and pressed them against her mouth. “Mein Gott. She won’t let us return until the Princess agrees.”

  “What can we do?” Liza asked.

  “I have no choice but to go with Her Grace,” Lehzen whispered fiercely. “Sir John is growing desperate—it is up to you to protect Victoria. Don’t leave her side!”

  “What if he…threatens me?” asked Liza.

  “Better you should suffer than Victoria,” the Baroness said, deadly earnest. She squeezed Liza’s hands tight, then followed the Duchess.

  Liza slipped into the room. The afternoon sun shone through the windows, but Victoria had sunk into a chair in the darkest corner of the room. With her pale complexion and the dark smudges of fatigue around her eyes, she looked like a wraith.

  Without looking at Liza, Victoria said, “She boasts of sacrificing everything for me. But she won’t protect me against him.”