Rose and the Lost Princess

by Holly Webb

  Rose nodded eagerly. Bella might be a brat, but Rose had a certain affection for her—and she would crawl behind the little girl on her knees if it meant going to see the palace.

  ***

  Freddie was distinctly less keen when it was broken to him that he was going to the palace too.

  “Oh, Bella, no!” he exclaimed in horror when she told him the next day. She was in the workroom, escaping Miss Anstruther and teasing Gus, who didn’t like her. Bella had a piece of embroidery silk, which she was wafting in front of his nose. He might be a magical cat, but he still had all the usual cat instincts, and he was having to try very hard not to chase it. His eyes were fixed on the twitching thread, and his tail was flicking backward and forward in desperation.

  “Oh, just chase it, Gus, you know you want to!” Freddie spat crossly. “Why do I have to go to the palace, Bella? I’ll have to wear my best suit and that stupid lace collar.”

  “Princess Jane asked for you,” Bella told him, oozing smugness. “You have to. Royal command.”

  Freddie muttered something unintelligible, but it obviously wasn’t polite.

  “I told her you were Raph’s cousin, and she thinks Raph is wonderful, so she’s looking forward to you coming.” Bella giggled.

  Freddie scowled. “Raph gets away with everything just because he’s so handsome. It’s deeply unfair.”

  “Princess Lucasta is absolutely in love with him,” Bella confided. “She was there while we were having tea, talking to one of the ladies-in-waiting.”

  “Wonderful,” Freddie muttered. “Now he’s going to have an unsuitable romance with a princess. It’s a disaster. She’s going to marry some Russian tsarevich, everyone knows that! My whole family is going to be sent into exile tomorrow. Why can’t Raph just—just keep his mouth shut?”

  “I don’t think he has to talk for people to fall in love with him, Freddie,” Bella pointed out. “In fact, it’s probably better if he doesn’t; every time I’ve met him, he’s talked the most complete nonsense. He’s far better if he just shuts up and looks pretty.”

  Rose blinked at her. Sometimes it was hard to believe Isabella was only eight, but then she had had a rather unusual upbringing. She and her father were very close, and he liked to talk to her about everything.

  “Well, I shall have to go then,” Freddie agreed, “just to make sure Raph isn’t about to do something stupid.” He thought for a moment and corrected himself. “More stupid than usual.”

  ***

  As she climbed into the Fountains’ carriage, Rose realized that she was the only person who actually wanted to be there. Miss Anstruther was shooing them all in, twittering anxiously about everyone being on their best behavior. Even Rose was ignoring her. She and the governess had to sit with their backs to the horses, of course, facing Isabella and Freddie, who were sitting in mutinous silence.

  The coachman was distinctly grumpy too, and slammed the carriage door with a hand wearing at least three layers of unraveling fingerless gloves. There had been a new fall of snow in the night, and the roads were treacherous. Bill had already had to shovel a pathway clear around the front of the house, and he’d told Rose he thought bits of him might have fallen off, only he couldn’t tell which because he was numb all over. The coach horses, beautiful grays called Apollo and Ares, looked quite depressed and kept pawing at the ground, as though they couldn’t believe they were expected to go out in this weather.

  Rose huddled herself into her cloak, grateful that it was so much thicker than the threadbare shawl she had brought from the orphanage. The news that she was going to the palace with Isabella had thrown the household into a flurry of sewing and carefully considered shopping. None of the dresses she already had, sensible cotton prints, or even her black wool dress for church, were deemed suitable for visiting royalty.

  Rose stroked the new cloak lovingly as she gazed out of the carriage window. It was nothing compared to Bella’s furs, of course. But it had been bought new, from a shop, and no one had worn it before her. It even had velvet ribbon, three rows, running around the bottom. Under it she had a new dress—not even a black one, but a soft dark-green wool, with neat little horn buttons. Mr. Fountain had told Miss Bridges that Rose should have her wages raised, as she was working as an apprentice as well as a maid, and he’d said she should have a dress that showed her new position too. And that morning, Rose had even been sent to the Pantheon Bazaar to buy herself a new pair of stockings. Altogether, it was most satisfactory. Susan’s covetous looks at those rows of velvet ribbon were particularly gratifying.

  “Isabella, I do hope you will not be showing that sulky face to their Royal Highnesses,” Miss Anstruther pleaded. “You really must appear a little more pleased! And you, Master Frederick! We are not going to the dentist, after all!” She tittered anxiously at her own joke then sighed sadly as Bella and Freddie simply glared at her.

  “I blame you for this entirely, Bella,” Freddie muttered. “And what magic does Princess Jane want to see? I’m not a conjuror. I hope she doesn’t think I’m going to pull rabbits out of hats or anything stupid like that.”

  “Can you not think of anything for yourself?” Bella scolded. “Honestly, you know what they’re like. Just make something pretty happen!” She sighed. “Really, I could probably do it better myself.” She looked down at her little velvet reticule thoughtfully, as though wondering what she could pull out of it.

  “Isabella! What have you got in that bag?” Miss Anstruther asked anxiously.

  “Just a handkerchief,” Isabella told her sweetly, staring at her governess with wide blue eyes. The little velvet bag seemed to squirm.

  Rose, sitting diagonally opposite Bella, could see quite well that Bella was wriggling her fingers underneath the reticule, but Miss Anstruther went white and started to make a strange gobbling noise, like a very sick chicken. Then she flopped back against the seat cushions and moaned.

  “Oh, she’s going to have the vapors again,” Bella muttered disgustedly. “Really, it’s just too easy. Rose, her smelling salts are in her bag.”

  Rose took Miss Anstruther’s shabby black bag and felt around in it, drawing out a little glass stoppered bottle.

  “I gave her that last Christmas,” Bella observed, in a gratified sort of way. “I thought she might as well have a nice one, since I seem to make her use it so much.”

  Rose waved the aromatic salts under Miss Anstruther’s nose, and she gasped.

  “Do wake up, miss,” Rose told her. “Miss Bella was just being silly. I should think we’ll be there soon.”

  Indeed they were now traveling along Palace Hill, leading up to the amazing white building. Rose let the salts drop into Miss Anstruther’s lap and stared. She had never seen it before—how would she? Mr. Fountain’s house was in a less aristocratic area of the town, where many of London’s rich merchants lived. Before she went into service, Rose had only seen the few streets between the orphanage and the church. The palace and the surrounding parks had been quite out of her way. The white palace, in the white snow, almost shone (if one ignored the smoky soot on the marble and the who-knows-what in the snow, which Rose could, just for a moment).

  Miss Anstruther smiled. “I forgot you would not have seen it, Rose. Is it not beautiful? King Albert has had it redesigned, you know, since his accession. He felt his father’s ideas were a little out of date, they say. A wonderful new ballroom, with fifteen crystal chandeliers!”

  “Papa says it is a vulgar monstrosity,” Bella observed, looking out her window with a rather bored expression.

  “Isabella! I’m sure your dear papa said no such thing!” Miss Anstruther sounded quite shocked, and Bella shrugged.

  “He doesn’t like all the gilding. And he says the cherubs in the Gold Drawing Room are coy.”

  Miss Anstruther gazed at her, speechless, and even Rose felt rather horrified. Was that sort of thing treas
on? she wondered. Could Bella and her father be imprisoned for saying that the new palace was tasteless?

  “You don’t say that sort of thing when you’re actually at the palace, do you?” Rose asked, leaning forward while trying not to be too obvious. Miss Anstruther looked like someone had slapped her in the face with a fish, but she might come to her senses at any moment, and she would be bound to disapprove of Bella’s maid being so forward.

  Bella shook her head. “Oh, no. Or at least, I try very hard not to.” She sighed. “Sometimes I just have to say something, or I’ll burst. But luckily Princess Jane seems to think I’m being amusing—and Charlotte is too little to understand anyway.”

  Rose had stopped listening. “Oh my goodness…look at that enormous great arch. Do we go through there?”

  “Of course not!” Freddie grinned at her, enjoying feeling superior. “Only the royal family can go through it. We’ll go around to the Royal Mews at the side.”

  “Oh.” Rose nodded. It didn’t really matter. She had just wondered what it would be like to drive through the archway—it was the grandest thing she’d ever seen. A haughty-looking stone woman with a spear was staring down at her, clearly thinking that this brat was not going anywhere near her arch. “What happens if someone who isn’t the royal family goes through it? What if, I don’t know, my bonnet blew off and landed in the middle of the archway? Would I be allowed to go and fetch it?”

  “No,” Bella said definitely.

  Freddie looked thoughtful. “Well, the Riding Troop of the Horse Artillery can pass through it too, to guard the king, so I suppose you’d have to ask one of them to get it.” Then he smirked. “I wonder who cleans up the horse droppings,” he whispered, keeping a wary eye on Miss Anstruther, who was moaning slightly. “The Horse Guards are the ones in the shiny brass helmets and plumes. They’re much too grand to do it. I bet it gets smelly in there.”

  Rose and Bella pretended to look shocked, but they were all still giggling as they drove up to the much less distinguished back entrance of the palace.

  Mr. Fountain’s coachman let down the carriage steps, and Rose got down first to help Bella and Miss Anstruther out.

  Bella looked over at the door as she jumped down and frowned. “Why’s no one waiting for us? Usually there’s a page on the steps, waiting to take me up to the princesses’ rooms.” Bella looked quite put out. She had been looking forward to showing off to Rose, for the page would have recognized her and led her straight into the palace.

  Instead of a page, two very large guardsmen with ceremonial pikes were standing one on either side of the door, their faces frozen.

  “What do we do now?” Freddie hissed. The guardsmen looked almost twice as tall as he was.

  “I don’t know!” Bella muttered back. “Usually they just stay there like that. I always want to pinch them to see if they’ll do anything.”

  “Don’t!” Freddie yipped.

  “Miss Anstruther!” Bella demanded.

  Her governess was hunting through her bag distractedly and didn’t seem to have noticed that they hadn’t been met. “Yes, Isabella, dear?”

  “What do we do? No one’s here to meet us.”

  Everyone stared at Miss Anstruther. Rose thought that even one of the guards swiveled his eyes hopefully in her direction.

  Miss Anstruther looked vague. “Oh…well, perhaps we should just go in—you know your way…”

  Bella, Freddie, and Rose formed a neat line behind the governess, and Bella pushed her gently up the steps. At the top, Miss Anstruther reached out for the door handle and squeaked with dismay as the guardsmen’s pikes slammed down in front of her. Clearly they were not so ceremonial after all.

  “That’s my governess! You can’t spear my governess!” Bella squeaked indignantly. Only she was allowed to torture Miss Anstruther.

  “No entry,” one of the guards intoned flatly, but he did look rather worried. Disemboweling governesses probably did not form part of his usual duties.

  Miss Anstruther chose that moment to keel over backward down the steps, most unfortunately flashing the guards with several lace-edged petticoats and her drawers. She also fell on Freddie and Rose.

  “Oh, pick her up!” Bella snapped, stamping one little button-booted foot. Miss Anstruther had missed her, probably out of a well-developed sense of self-protection. “Yes, you! How dare you assault my governess? My father is the Chief Magical Counselor to the Treasury! He will turn you into coins!”

  “Help!” Freddie moaned feebly. “Can’t breathe!”

  Rose wriggled out from underneath Miss Anstruther’s stiff bombazine skirts and tried to tug the governess up again to rescue Freddie.

  “Help us!” Bella smacked one of the guards in the leg and went to haul Miss Anstruther’s other hand.

  The soldiers exchanged worried glances and clearly decided that Bella was a more present danger than being court-martialed for abandoning their post. They stepped down to help pick up the dead weight of the collapsed governess.

  “Better get her inside,” one of them muttered. “Ask one of the stewards where to put her. Or get that idiot equerry that was hanging around.”

  “Raph again. Bound to be,” Freddie wheezed, as Miss Anstruther was lifted off him.

  “Yes, the equerry is his cousin. You’d better find him,” Bella directed firmly.

  The guards looked even more worried as they found that this gaggle of squashed children had important connections. One of them opened the door with a flourish, and the other dumped Miss Anstruther onto a spindly gold chair in the hallway.

  Rose looked around. She was not impressed so far—surely a palace ought to be rather more organized than this? And she could hear shouting. One did not shout in a palace. Everything was supposed to be hushed and serene and beautiful. Or at least in the public apartments, anyway. She’d imagined it rather like a swan, perfect on the surface but kicking away like mad underneath.

  A group of soldiers ran past, looking anxious, with their swords drawn, and Rose stared at Freddie and Bella.

  “Is it usually like this?” she whispered worriedly.

  “No,” Freddie muttered. “I do hope we haven’t chosen to visit in the middle of a revolution. This is all your fault, Bella!”

  “No one came through this door?” A much more grandly dressed soldier strode up to the guards, who stopped fanning Miss Anstruther with their handkerchiefs and tried to look as though they hadn’t just deserted their posts.

  “No, sir!”

  “Who are these?” The officer glared at the children, finally allowing his gaze to linger distastefully on Miss Anstruther, who whimpered slightly.

  Bella was made of much sterner stuff. “I am Isabella Fountain, and my papa is going to be extremely annoyed when I tell him about this!” she retorted. “We are supposed to be going to tea with Princess Jane.”

  The officer stared blankly at her, then gave a short bark of laughter. “You find her, my dear, and you can have as much tea as you want.” Wearily he rubbed a gloved hand, encrusted with gold braid, across his face.

  Everyone stared at him.

  “You’ve lost the princess?” Freddie whispered in horror.

  The soldier went white, as he realized what he’d done. “Certainly not,” he snapped. “And anyone spreading rumors to that effect will be guilty of incitement and revolution and other…very bad things.” He glared at Freddie. “Her Royal Highness is indisposed and won’t be taking tea. A lady-in-waiting will write to you, I’m sure.”

  There was a flurry of red and gold, and somehow they were all outside the door again, with William Coachman leaning against the carriage door and staring at them with his mouth open.

  “They have!” Freddie murmured, staring at the firmly closed door. “They’ve lost Princess Jane!”

  Eight

  They had, but it turned out only tempora
rily. When Mr. Fountain got home, much later that night, he summoned the children to the drawing room to tell them what had happened. The princess had been found in the palace gardens, blue with cold and most confused. She said that she had been watching the snowflakes while she waited for her dear friend Isabella to arrive.

  At this point Isabella made a most unladylike spitting noise.

  “Bella!” her father murmured.

  “I feel quite sorry for her, if she thinks you are her dear friend,” Freddie told Bella coldly.

  “You should,” Mr. Fountain pointed out. “She really only has her sisters, and none of them are close to her in age. Princess Charlotte is four years younger than her sister. I should think that Princess Jane was sincerely looking forward to Bella’s visit.”

  Everyone looked abashed, even Bella. “I can’t help it if she’s awfully dull,” Bella muttered.

  Her father eyed her thoughtfully. “I wonder if she’s ever been alone for more than five minutes?” he said.

  “Oh, very well!” Bella snapped. “I will go back, and I will pretend to be having a wonderful time.”

  Mr. Fountain sighed. “You may not be allowed to.”

  “Why ever not?” Bella asked indignantly. “We weren’t very rude. Were we, Rose?”