“Maybe you’ll think I’m sentimental now,” he said, almost shy. “I brought you a Christmas present.”
“You shouldn’t have!” Liza was relieved beyond measure she had not been the only one to bring a gift. “I’ve something for you too. Open mine first.” She reached inside her coat and handed him the flat package wrapped in soft fabric.
“I didn’t expect…“ He pulled the package open and stared at the set of linen handkerchiefs, each painstakingly embroidered with his initials in dark thread.
“To replace the one I gave to the boy that day—do you remember?”
“How could I forget?” Will lifted his head and looked her straight in the eyes. “They’re very handsome, Liza; I’ll treasure them.”
“Then you shouldn’t ever lend them to me!” Liza laughed.
“Now open mine,” he said.
Liza opened the package and exclaimed with delight at the gift: a small, glass snow globe on a wooden base. The silver snowflakes floated inside the globe over a scene of a frozen lake, much like the one in front of them.
“Will—it’s exquisite,” Liza gasped.
“I asked a German glassmaker what to give a girl from Munich.”
She shook it gently and watched the snowflakes jumble and settle inside the globe. “Last Christmas, my mother and I shopped in town and all the nicest stores had snow globes.” A familiar bubble of grief welled up in her throat, and the watering in her eyes was not from the cold. “Will, it’s wonderful.”
Will brushed away a tear from her cheek. “Don’t cry, Liza.” He leaned in to kiss her on the lips. Without an instant’s hesitation, Liza kissed him back.
“I knew you would taste like honey,” he said softly.
Liza trembled and shifted slightly away.
Will fixed his eyes on a gentleman putting a fine gelding through his paces in the distance. “It’s a shame your father was a knight,” he said with the air of someone saying something aloud that had long been in his thoughts.
Liza tilted her head to one side in surprise. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Daughters of gentry don’t mix with tradesmen.”
“No, he was in trade himself,” Liza hurried to correct him. “King George knighted him because his sauerkraut was far superior to any in England. And it was a very minor knighthood. We weren’t true gentry at all.”
“Why was his sauerkraut the best?”
Liza loved how Will’s curiosity always got the better of him, no matter what the circumstances.
“It’s a secret ingredient,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“It shall remain confidential, I swear.”
“You didn’t hear it from me,” she whispered.
“Of course not!” A wide grin spread across his face.
Hiding her mouth with her hand, and glancing about for eavesdroppers, Liza revealed her father’s secret, “It might be cardamom, from India.”
“Cardamom.” He nodded as though he was filing the information away. But then his eyes came back to her. “I would have liked to have met your father.”
“He would have liked you. He appreciated self-made men.”
“And your mother?”
That one is harder.
“Mama hoped I might get to court one day,” she answered with an evasion.
“And so you did.”
Liza laughed ruefully. “Not precisely as she planned.”
Will brushed a lock of her hair off her forehead. “She wouldn’t have approved of me.”
“Mama approved of me being happy,” Liza said. But her voice betrayed her uncertainty. Mama had been ambitious for her only daughter.
“So there is no family at all? No uncles or aunts? A distant cousin?”
“No, I’m quite alone in the world.” Somehow, when she was with Will, it didn’t seem true.
“Liza, love, I’m at a loss,” Will said with a slow smile. “Whose permission should I ask to court you?”
Liza trembled from the inside out. She managed to say, “You could ask me.”
Will suddenly grew serious. “Miss Elizabeth Hastings, you know I am smitten with you.” His large hands took hers. “I’ve worked hard my entire life, but until I met you, I never knew why. You’re intelligent, beautiful, loyal, and brave. Everything I admire. Liza, will you have me?”
Caution returned in a rush. She could almost hear her mother’s voice warning her against inappropriate alliances. She frowned. “Will, you could do much better than a maid.”
Will shook his head and a lock of sandy hair fell over his eye. “You could do better than a newspaperman.”
“I’m worse than penniless. I owe money all over London.”
Will swept away that consideration with a quick gesture. “I’ve plenty saved. I can pay your debts.”
“No!” Liza pulled her hand back. “They’re my obligations, not yours. I won’t cost you a penny.”
Will stood up and took a step back, looking down at her. “That’s not why you won’t marry me. You think I’m beneath you.” He stated it as though it was a fact.
“No, no,” Liza stammered. “I think you’re wonderful. And after all, I’m only a servant.”
“Not for long, Liza my dear. I know why you serve Victoria so loyally. You want her to restore your fortunes.”
Were my motives so transparent? Are they still my motives?
“Then you could marry whomsoever you wish,” Will continued.
“But I don’t want to marry anyone else,” Liza protested.
“Liza, you don’t know what you want,” he said.
Liza opened her mouth to protest, but the raw vulnerability on his face warned her to be honest.
“Maybe I don’t,” she confessed.
Will’s face was stern, although there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “I can wait for you to figure it out, so long as you promise not to marry anyone else.”
“You’re too patient,” Liza said, feeling guilty.
“I’m not a saint,” Will warned. “I’ll wait until your precious Victoria is Queen. Time enough then for you to make your choice.”
With a flash of her old self, Liza said tartly, “On the one hand, Will Fulton, publisher of scandal sheets, or on the other, confidant to the Queen of the British Isles?”
He grinned and reached out to take her hand. “For such a clever girl as you, the choice should be easy.”
31 March 1837 Excerpt from the Journal of Miss Elizabeth Hastings
Spring is here—finally an end to the long, frozen winter. The anniversary of my parents’ death passed with no ceremony except from me. The Duchess’s greenhouse has roses, Mama’s favorite. I slipped out and dropped rose petals into the Serpentine River for her and Papa. The river is beautiful, but I can never forget it claimed their lives.
Since the household returned from Ramsgate, the inhabitants of Kensington Palace are like angry ghosts of themselves. Six months after her bout with typhoid, Victoria has lost too much weight. She still has no appetite. Her limbs are always cold. Each morning and night the Baroness and I rub her icy feet. Until Victoria recovers, there are not even lessons to enliven her days, much less balls or the opera. She relies only on the Baroness and myself for companionship and entertainment.
I’ve accomplished my goal to be indispensable to Victoria; never did I think I could be so necessary to her. However, I much preferred her when she was insouciant and imperious. Sir John and the Duchess should pay for how they have diminished her spirit.
I would be quite bored myself, but Will comes to see me on my afternoons out. And IB is teaching me his flash patter. I would teach Victoria (I think she would find it amusing), but it would lead to too many questions.
19
In Which Liza Witnesses a Fall from Grace
April breezes freshened the room, and the sunny morning promised a perfect spring day. Victoria and her mother ate their breakfast in silence. Since the Princess’s brush with typhoid, she clearly preferred th
e Baroness Lehzen’s company, so the Duchess excluded Lehzen whenever possible. Victoria, her face pinched and her once beautiful hair a wispy dark shadow of its former self, stared out the open windows. Dash pressed his head against his mistress’s leg.
The Duchess said, “Victoria, you should eat more.”
“I still find my appetite is lacking. It’s very good for my waistline.” The Princess sliced off the top of a soft-boiled egg and fed Dash a bit of egg white.
“Victoria!” the Duchess exclaimed.
“Dash still has his appetite,” Victoria said. She pushed her food about on her plate. “I think I shall go riding today on Rosa.”
The mare, Rosa, the King’s gift to the Princess, was still a sore subject between mother and daughter.
“No, Victoria, you’re still too weak,” said the Duchess.
Victoria spooned out the soft yolk and smeared it on her toast in one economical motion. “It’s kind of you, Mama, to be concerned about my convalescence, when you were so nonchalant during my actual illness.” She never missed a chance to remind her mother of the events at Ramsgate.
The Duchess tut-tutted. “You shouldn’t ride. Take the carriage.”
Liza could hear the effort it took for the Duchess to keep her tone even. These days Liza liked to pass the time wagering with herself on when the Duchess’s control would snap.
“Mama, I shall ride if I want to.” Victoria too, was a model of restraint. Gone were the tantrums; an icy politeness now defined relations between mother and daughter.
“Victoria, I forbid it,” the Duchess said.
“I heard you the first time, Mama. But I’m old enough to make my own decisions.” Mother and daughter stared defiantly at each other; the Duchess’s eyes dropped first.
“Liza, tell the stables to be ready,” Victoria said. “You shall accompany me.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” said Liza from her corner, startled at being spoken to. She hurried out, smiling. She had feared she would be trapped in the Palace on this fine day. But first she detoured to the Baroness’s room. Like the Princess, Liza had grown closer to the Baroness during those long nights of illness and fear at Ramsgate.
“Good for Victoria. She should stand up to her mother,” Lehzen said after Liza had reported the conversation at breakfast. “But Rosa is a spirited mare. Perhaps Victoria isn’t strong enough yet.”
Liza shrugged. “She’s determined.”
“Watch over her, Liza.” The Baroness waved Liza off, her right hand already fishing in her pocket for caraway seeds.
Liza hesitated in the doorway.
“Well?” the Baroness asked.
“I don’t have any riding clothes, Baroness.”
“The Princess’s chaperone must be properly dressed.” Lehzen thought for a moment. “Victoria has outgrown a blue velvet riding habit. Take that one.”
Liza bobbed a curtsy and ran to the Princess’s room, a lightness in her step.
“Faster, Liza!” Victoria leaned forward in the saddle, pressed her heels into Rosa’s sides, and sped off. “I want to gallop!” she called gaily. Escaping the Palace gave Victoria no less pleasure than Liza.
“Your Highness, slow down, please,” Liza called. Her mount, a staid gelding named Rex, reluctantly obeyed Liza’s command to canter.
The riding habit, secondhand though it was, suited Liza as though tailored just for her. The velvet jacket had dark blue piping and fit to perfection. The skirt must have been made with three yards of fine wool; it was longer on the right side to drape gracefully over the pommel of her saddle. Liza’s mother had a similar ensemble in the same dark blue. Mama would revel in this moment: her daughter riding with royalty in a beautiful park on a crisp spring morning.
And the color favors my complexion.
At the sound of hoof beats behind her, Liza glanced back through the veil attached to her elegant hat. Two sober-faced grooms in the Duchess’s green livery followed on a pair of matched gray horses. The Duchess’s open landau carriage, complete with a driver and footman, followed the grooms. Perhaps the Duchess thought Victoria might succumb to exhaustion and would have to be driven home. The Princess’s liberty was an illusion.
Victoria reined in, her soft face hardening as she noticed the grooms. She trotted past Liza and spoke to them directly. “I don’t require you. Go home.”
“Sir John gave orders—”
“Is Sir John your future monarch, or am I?” Victoria asked icily.
The grooms stirred uneasily.
“Princess,” Liza said. “They could lose their jobs if they let you ride alone.” Liza, also charged with Victoria’s protection, was rather glad they were there.
“Oh, bother,” Victoria said impatiently. “Be sure to keep out of my sight.” She pulled Rosa’s reins hard to the right and spun off down the bridle path. The groomsmen and carriage followed at a slower pace, trying to keep trees between themselves and the Princess.
Liza trailed behind Victoria across the bridge over the Serpentine River. Suddenly a small figure leapt out of the shrubs near Victoria.
“Liza!” Inside Boy cried.
Rosa reared up, her hooves pawing the air, but Victoria was an expert horsewoman and quickly brought her under control.
“Are you mad?” cried Victoria. “You don’t startle a horse that way. We could have been killed.”
Liza was too overcome by memories to speak. Her parents’ carriage had been dragged, helter-skelter, by a frightened horse plummeting into this very river. She ducked her head down and patted Rex’s withers.
Inside Boy ignored the Princess. “Liza, please.”
“Don’t you know who I am?” Victoria asked, her mood hovering between irritation and curiosity.
“‘ullo, Your ‘ighness,” said Inside Boy, doffing an imaginary cap. “Can I borrow your lady’s maid?”
“Liza, do you know this, um, gentleman?”
Liza found herself making the most improbable of introductions. “Your Highness, may I present…,” For the first time Liza realized she didn’t know Inside Boy’s first name. “Inside Boy Jones.”
“Inside Boy? What an interesting name.” Victoria’s curiosity was sharper than one of her embroidery needles. She leaned forward in her saddle. “How do you know Liza?”
“We’ve met around the Palace,” he said.
A gulp started deep in Liza’s throat and threatened to become a giggle.
The grooms cantered up and flanked Liza and the Princess. “You, boy! You’re not to bother the Princess.”
“Nonsense. He’s not bothering me at all.” She fixed her protectors with a glare. “And I can see you! Off with you!” The grooms backed their mounts out of earshot and the Princess turned to Liza expectantly.
Cursing Inside Boy’s foolhardiness, Liza asked, “What’s happened, Boy?” Liza asked. “Has something happened to Will?”
Oh please, not Will.
“It’s Annie.”
Liza had often thought of Annie increasing in the Mary Mag-dalene House for Penitent Prostitutes. She must have had the baby in November.
“What’s wrong?”
“Dunno. Maybe it’s the baby. She got a message to me, don’t ask ‘ow, and she wants you to come to ‘er.”
“Why me?”
“Annie? Annie Mason?” Victoria interrupted. “She’s having a child? Liza, you didn’t tell me she had married. I would have sent a card.”
“Princess, a moment, please,” begged Liza. “Boy, she doesn’t even like me.”
“Annie said she was ready to tell you what you wanted to know. But it ‘as to be this morning. She said she won’t be there past noon.” He paused and Liza saw the anxiety in his eyes. “Liza, she sounds right desperate.”
If Annie was ready to give up her secrets, Liza couldn’t pass on this opportunity to discover evidence against Sir John. “Princess, I apologize, I’ve no time to explain,” she said. “But it’s important I go.” She lowered her voice. “Annie could have the kind of
ammunition we’ve been looking for against You Know Who.” To Inside Boy she said, “How can we get there?”
“Let’s take my carriage. I’d love to see Annie again,” the Princess said eagerly.
“No!” Liza and Boy exclaimed in unison.
The Princess’s posture stiffened. “I shall go, if I want to.” She dismounted and beckoned to one of the guards to take her reins.
Liza slipped down from Rex’s back and threw the reins to the puzzled groom. Tripping over her long skirt, Liza cried, “Your Highness, it is not possible.”
“Why not?” called Victoria over her shoulder. Simon, a bewildered expression on his face, held the carriage door open.
“It’s a dangerous neighborhood,” said Liza. “You cannot go there.”
“Nonsense,” Victoria said. “I’ll be Queen of all Britain soon; there’s no place I cannot go.” At the mention of danger, groom, driver, and footman exchanged uneasy looks. Simon, the highest ranked, spoke for the group. “Begging your pardon, Your Highness, we cannot permit you to leave the park.”
“Of course you can.”
“We have our orders,” Simon said doggedly.
Victoria glared at them.
Liza knew bone-deep that what Victoria proposed was unthinkable. “Princess, you mustn’t try to come.”
“I never get to have adventures,” the Princess complained.
Simon and the others looked miserable.
“And I would lose my job for certain,” said Liza.
I’ll lose it anyway.
The grooms took their orders from Sir John; he would learn how Victoria tried to leave. Fault would be laid squarely on Liza’s shoulders.
Damn Annie for starting this.
Victoria’s lips pulled together in a pout. “But—”
“Princess, be reasonable.” Liza echoed the Baroness: “Remember who you are.”
The Princess’s shoulders slumped. “Duty can be very vexing,” she sighed. “Very well. I’ll stay. You take the carriage. Liza, do you promise to tell me everything when you return?”
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