“Don’t contradict Sir John,” said her mother.
“But, Mama,” said Victoria, “Auntie Adelaide used to be your friend.”
“Envy has ruined her,” said Sir John with a pious air.
The Duchess nodded vigorously. “Because I have a daughter and she does not. No doubt, that led to her…indiscretion.”
What on earth are they talking about?
“You must not see her,” Sir John said. “Send the girl to say you are indisposed.”
“But Mama, Aunt Adelaide isn’t some social climber who hasn’t been introduced—she’s the Queen!” Neither Sir John nor the Duchess paid Victoria any attention.
“Miss Hastings,” said the Duchess in English. “Tell the Queen I am indisposed.”
Liza nodded. Closing the door behind her, she pressed against the wall. Her thoughts were racing.
The door opened and Sir John appeared. He stopped short when he saw her.
“What are you still doing here? Her Grace gave you an order!”
Liza pushed her palms away from the security of the plaster wall. “Yes, sir,” she muttered and turned to go.
He grabbed her arm as she tried to pass him in the narrow hall. His blue eyes narrowed when he saw her face. “Why do you look so flushed, girl?”
“I think I have a touch of the influenza,” Liza said, dragging her gaze away from his.
“Hmmm, perhaps you should get some rest. I can arrange for you to stay in bed.” He ran his fingertip from under her chin to the hollow at the base of her neck. His meaning was unmistakable.
Liza jerked away from his touch.
“I’m fine, sir. I must deliver the Duchess’s message.” She ran down the stairs as quickly as she could; the danger behind her was greater than her fear of the Queen.
She stopped only to smooth her hair before entering the parlor. A woman, standing alone by the mantle, was looking at a portrait of the Duchess and Victoria as a toddler. Dressed in fine gray silk, she wore an unflattering bonnet shading both sides of her face. Impossibly dowdy, nevertheless she was Queen Adelaide.
“Your Majesty.” Liza dropped into a deep curtsy.
The Queen’s blotchy face looked out at her from under a mass of untidy hair. “Yes?”
Liza opened her mouth, but no words emerged.
“Girl, speak up. Are you the Duchess’s maid?”
“No, Ma’am. I serve the Princess, but I have a message from the Duchess.”
“Well?”
“The Duchess…is…“ Liza spoke past the embarrassment in her throat. “Indisposed.”
The Queen turned away, but not before Liza caught a glimpse of the flush sweeping up from her neck to her hairline. Her back to Liza, she asked, “How indisposed is she?”
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”
“What lengths will she go to insult me? Will she be riding in the park when I leave or will she have the decency to keep to her room?”
The Queen’s fingers were twisting a handkerchief around her bony knuckles. Liza noticed she wore no jewelry.
“Ma’am, I only know what I was told to say.”
The Queen turned and smiled wanly at Liza. “My dear, I know you’re only following orders.” She peered at Liza’s face. “You’re very pretty—it must be pleasant for Victoria to have you about her.”
“I hope so, Your Majesty.”
“I came to see the Princess, but as His Majesty and I have discovered, you can’t see the daughter without the mother.” The Queen sank down on a settee and slouched against the velvet cushion. Her protruding teeth gave her the look of a melancholy rabbit. “How is the Princess? Is she in good health?”
“She is well, Ma’am.”
“Good. I was afraid she might have been upset by the rumors.”
Liza wished the floor would open and swallow her up. Will had warned her about revolts—but she had never thought about the Queen’s feelings.
A racking cough shuddered across Her Majesty’s body. In German, she muttered, “What I wouldn’t give for a glass of sherry.”
“I’ll get it for you, Your Majesty.” Liza went to the buffet in the corner and poured a glass.
The Queen took a cautious sip. “You speak German?” she asked.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Liza cursed under her breath. Five months and she hadn’t tripped up once, but this mousy woman had slipped under her guard.
The Queen began coughing again, and Liza poured her another glass.
“Perhaps just one more, thank you, my dear,” said Queen Adelaide. She finished the glass of sherry in one gulp. She held out the glass for Liza to fill again.
“In my position, there are always stories, you know,” Queen Adelaide hiccoughed. “But this one was particularly hurtful.”
“I’m sorry!” Liza clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as she said it.
“It’s not your fault. A foreign queen is an easy target. At first the paper said I was enceinte.” The Queen looked over at Liza. “That means pregnant.”
Liza nodded.
“As if the King and I need to be reminded of our tragedy—my tragedy—since the King has so many children already.”
Liza nodded again. The Duchess always referred to the King’s ten illegitimate children as “the bastardy,” and worried that their lack of morals could contaminate the innocent Princess. Tears rolled down the Queen’s cheeks. She dabbed them with a damp handkerchief. Liza handed her a newly laundered piece of linen from her own pocket.
“Thank you, I’m sure you are a comfort to the Princess,” she sniffed. “Will you take a message to her? Away from the Duchess’s ears, if you don’t mind.”
“I would do anything for you.”
Anything, but confess what the Princess and I did.
“Tell Victoria all the stories are false.” The Queen brushed a strand of hair back into her simple bun. “Her position as the heir is safe.”
The Queen blew her nose in Liza’s handkerchief and stood up. She staggered a little and put her hand on Liza’s shoulder. “My goodness, the Duchess’s sherry is very potent.”
“Go slowly, Your Majesty,” Liza said, ashamed of her lies about this harmless old woman.
“Call my carriage.”
Liza rang the bell. Nell’s arrival was suspiciously quick, her curious eyes darting to the Queen’s face and back to Liza’s.
“Her Majesty’s carriage, Nell.”
Bobbing, Nell scurried out. The Queen’s eyes were closed and she was deep in thought; Liza waited patiently.
Finally, Queen Adelaide said, “I have to send some message to the Duchess.” Her eyes began watering again.
Liza’s words spilled out before she could stop them. “Your Majesty, the Duchess meant to hurt your feelings. Why give the satis-faction of leaving a message?”
“A girl with a mind of her own.” The Queen raised her eyebrows and peered more closely at Liza.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”
“Nonsense, very few people stand on ceremony with me.” The Queen pressed her fingers to her eyelids. “What’s your name, dear?”
“Elizabeth Hastings.”
“Miss Hastings, take good care of my niece.”
“I will, Your Majesty.”
Liza lay the Queen’s cloak on her shoulders. As Adelaide left, she glanced back at the Duchess’s portrait above the mantle. “We were such friends once,” she sighed.
Liza watched the Queen walk down the stairs. The rolled up newspaper in her stocking pressed against her thigh, accusing her of plotting against the Queen. Liza knew she was guilty as charged.
Liza had to wait until after dinner to reach the safety of her room. Bolting the door behind her, Liza pulled out the broadsheet. There was her story. She turned it over. The moment she saw the title, she groaned. “A Cuckold in the Palace?” Will had accused the Queen of having another man’s baby.
“But there never was a baby,” Liza whispered. She read on, sick at heart. The father was supposed to be
Lord Howe, who ran the Queen’s household, and, according to the broadsheet, took a great many other liberties besides. Relations were strained, the paper went on to report, between the Queen and Lord Howe’s wife.
Shaken, Liza lay the paper down.
How could Will do this?
Just when she was beginning to like him, he ruined it by writinga vicious lie. Of course, the Princess had started it, with Liza’s help.
Tonight, when Victoria came for her midnight visit, Liza was determined they would both shoulder the blame for hurting the kind Queen Adelaide.
“Finally, we are tête-à-tête,” said Victoria later that night in the security of Liza’s room. “Tell me—what did the Queen say?”
“First you must read this.” Liza handed her Will’s broadsheet. She waited as Victoria, making tiny distressed cries at each accusation, read it through.
The Princess’s mouth gaped open in dismay. “For heaven’s sake, what has he done?” she cried. “This wasn’t what I wanted!” Tears welled up in her eyes.
Liza handed the Princess a clean handkerchief. “The Queen is unpopular. She can’t give her husband the only thing he married her for—an heir. We used her tragedy against her.”
“I only wanted to tease Sir John. I never thought about Auntie Adelaide.”
“Neither of us did,” Liza said. “But we should have.”
“Liza, you shouldn’t speak to me that way,” Victoria said uncertainly.
“We only thought of hurting Sir John, but other people suffered for our thoughtlessness.”
“I won’t stand to be scolded by my maid.” Victoria’s cheeks were bright pink and her nostrils flared. “Take it back, or you are finished working for me.”
Without pausing, Liza shot back, “I’d rather be on the street like Annie Mason, than lie for you again.”
“What does Annie have to do with this?” Victoria demanded crossly. “You are the one being impertinent and rude. Take it back.”
“You never thought what might happen to Annie after she left. You didn’t consider the Queen’s feelings. You put me at risk all the time.”
“Remember who you are speaking to, Liza.” Victoria’s voice was sharp as a shard of crystal.
“You are impossibly above me, but that’s all the more reason you should do the right thing and admit you were wrong.” All her prospects rested on Victoria’s good will, but Liza was tired of mincing her words. “We behaved badly, Your Highness.”
The Princess’s perfect posture seemed to slump a little. She rubbed at her cheek with the back of her plump hand. “Perhaps you are right,” she said in a low voice.
Liza wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. “What did you say?”
“I shouldn’t have done it,” the Princess said. “I’m going to be the Queen, and I should take responsibility for my actions.” She nodded as though something momentous had been decided. “But you were very rude, Liza.”
“Forgive me, Princess.” An apology was a small price to pay for the Princess’s admission.
“And I’m sorry I threatened to fire you. It was unworthy of me.” The Princess threw herself on Liza’s bed and pounded the thin pillow with her small fists. “Our article was such a lovely idea, but somehow, Sir John wins again!” she cried. “I hate him. If I didn’t know better, I would suspect him of fabricating that second rumor himself.”
Both girls turned toward each other.
“Could he?” asked the Princess.
“It’s part of his plan to use the press,” Liza exclaimed. “Why not write the story he wants himself?”
“But Liza, how? Isn’t it too remarkable a coincidence your friend would publish both stories?”
Liza remembered Will’s thoughtful look after he had asked her if the article were true. “Not if Sir John is Will’s other source. He must have commissioned the second article to counter ours.”
“Sir John took our little musket shot and turned it into a cannon ball.” The Princess’s father had been a soldier and she liked military metaphors. “But that means he must have written the one saying I was feeble-minded!”
Liza bit her lip to keep from smiling at the Princess’s outrage.
“I don’t think much of your Mr. Fulton for printing all these falsehoods,” the Princess said.
Liza’s first instinct was to agree, but she had to be fair. “Perhaps Mr. Fulton doesn’t think much of us for telling all these lies. He prints what will sell. We ought to know better.”
“What do we do now?” the Princess asked.
“We must be sure Sir John is behind this,” Liza said. “There have been enough unsupported accusations.”
“When will you see Mr. Fulton again?”
“He invited me for tea on Sunday, but the Baroness said I can’t have the day out.”
“I wish I could go.” The Princess sounded wistful. Of all the things she could ever do, meeting a young man at a teahouse was among the least likely. “I’ll take care of Lehzen. You go to town and get the truth out of him.”
17
In Which Liza and Will Have a Private Quarrel in a Public House
Storm clouds threatened, casting an ominous gloom over Fleet Street.
“Where are we going?” Liza asked again. Will’s grip on her arm was fierce and his face was forbidding. “I won’t take another step unless you tell me.”
“Somewhere we can talk,” he said gruffly. He dragged her along even faster, turning down a tiny alley she had never noticed before. She glimpsed a metal sign creaking in the wind. Fat raindrops began to splash the pavement as they arrived at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, a public house. Will pulled open the oak door, but Liza held back.
Will muttered, “It’s respectable enough.”
Taking a deep breath, Liza followed him into a gloomy passage strewn with sawdust. To her right was a bar with a sign proclaiming No Females Allowed. On her left, a chop room was filled with patrons, including, she was relieved to see, some ladies. She sniffed the air, surprised at the rich smells of meat and puddings.
The hostess led them to a table near the unused fireplace in the chop room. Liza sat down, adjusted her shawl, and placed her reticule on the table. Will sat with his back to the wall, his forefingers pressed together in a steeple.
Liza pulled off her gloves, finger by finger. Will watched her, his face impassive. Finally, she could bear the silence no more.
“You should be ashamed of publishing that awful story!” she exclaimed.
“Which awful story are you referring to?” he asked, his tone dangerously quiet.
“Those lies about the Queen! She’s no more an adulteress than I’m the Empress of Persia.” Liza was trembling, but she met his gaze squarely.
Will’s green eyes saw right through her. “How was my story any less true than your little concoction?”
Liza’s eyes dropped to her own hands. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.
Will brought his fists down hard on the well-worn table. Liza was glad they hadn’t been served. “Lies don’t become you, Liza Hastings.” The cutting edge in his voice made Liza jerk as though Will had slapped her. “You knew the Queen wasn’t pregnant. You lied to my face.”
“I didn’t tell you she was an adulteress,” she said, tilting her chin up defiantly. “That was despicable.”
“You’re a hypocrite,” he shot back. “I had sources, of dubious reliability grant you, for both stories. I did my job and printed them. It was a popular edition; I sold twenty-five hundred copies.”
“You don’t care what you publish so long as you turn a profit.”
“Oh, I made a tidy sum off both.” Will reached into his pocket and counted out five sovereigns into his hand. “Here’s your share.” He tossed them in front of Liza.
Liza stared at the coins. One heavy gold coin spun on its edge a few times then toppled over. The coins were what she’d earn in two months at the Palace. She would have given everything she owned to take the money honestly.
“I didn’t do it for the money.” Her shoulders slumped.
“Didn’t you?” asked Will. “Or are you claiming it was your duty to Victoria?”
“It was the Princess’s idea,” Liza found herself stammering, “but I knew it was wrong.” To her dismay, one tear, and then another, and then another rolled down her cheeks.
Faced with tears in a public house, Will’s face lost some of its grimness. “Don’t cry, Liza.” He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. “Please, don’t cry.”
His kindness cut Liza worse than his anger had. Liza sobbed as though a sluice had been opened; all the fear and tension of the past few months poured out. Will waited her out patiently, then waved the server over.
“Tea for two,” said Will. The server hurried away.
With a final sniff, Liza noticed the ink stains on the handkerchief, “Heavens! Will, do I have ink on my face?”
He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully not to smile. Liza marveled that harmony could be restored so quickly between them. The server set two china cups in front of them. Staring down at the willow pattern painted on the saucer, Liza sipped the steaming pale brown liquid. The tightness in her chest eased.
“Will, I apologize for such a display.”
“Accepted.” Will began spooning sugar into his cup. “I’m sorry I threw money at you. That was cruelly done. You didn’t deserve that.”
“No, I did. Will, I hated lying to you, but Victoria wanted to make mischief.”
“At the Queen’s expense?”
“She didn’t think about Adelaide, I’m afraid,” said Liza. “She just wanted a little revenge against her mother and Sir John Conroy.” At Will’s skeptical look, she rushed on. “Everything depends on Victoria, but they treat her like she’s an idiot child. They plot against her to steal the throne. She wanted to punish them.” Liza sighed. “But I knew better.”
Will settled back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head, frowning a little as his coat tightened across his shoulders. “You can’t blame yourself entirely: I knew it wasn’t true.”
Liza’s jaw dropped. “Then why did you print it?” she asked.
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