Page 102 of The Heir
Victoria ignored her. “Sir John, I want you to take your daughter away.”
“What!”
“What has happened?”
“She’s intolerable, and she lies, and I will not have her here anymore!”
“Jane? What did you say?”
Jane looked away. She twisted her hands. Her breath hitched.
“Victoria?”
“She lies, Mama. She says that Aunt Sophia . . . that she is a . . . that she had a . . .”
Sir John went dead white. Victoria did not finish her sentence.
“Jane did not say any such thing. Jane would not be such a fool.”
“No, sir,” said Jane. “I never. I was trying to say that it was strange Their Majesties waited until now to change the household, and now she says—”
“Fine! Believe that I’m the liar!” cried Victoria. “It does not matter. What does matter is that she is to leave this instant. I do not want to see her anymore.” She faced her mother squarely. “You asked earlier, What did I plan to do? What is in my power to do? I agree, you have not left me much. But let me promise you this. If Jane Conroy comes with us, you will not have that smiling, pleasant, perfect princess you so dearly want to show off. She will be scowling, sick, lazy, and snappish. She will refuse to get out of bed and will say she is terribly ill. She will tell everyone about the neglect and horrors of her life under the Kensington System, and do not think she will be above inventing things.”
“You would not dare,” breathed Mama.
“I promise you, Mama, I would, and if I am forced to take this . . . this . . .personas a companion, I will.”
Father stalked over to Jane. Jane did not look up. She shrank back, cowering, clearly, plainly waiting for the blow.
Sir John’s lips curled into a smile. His gaze said he was surprised, perhaps even pleased. He touched his daughter’s shoulder.
“Jane, go home.”
Chapter 47
Mama was upstairs in her private sitting room when Jane got home. She sat at her untidy desk, with a pile of banknotes and coins in front of her.
Oh, yes, thought Jane wearily.It’s Thursday.Mama would have been at her card luncheon. It was the one social event she never failed to attend. Liza had theorized she used it to supplement her pin money, and Liza might have been right. Their languid mother was surprisingly good at cards. However, considering how much artful feigning and sighing she practiced daily, perhaps it was not that surprising at all.
“Is it something important?” Mama asked as she made a note in her tiny account book. “As you can see, Jane, I’m very busy.” But she did pause and look up and see the state of her daughter’s dress.
“Again?” Mama groaned. “What on earth did you get into this time?”
“I’ve been sent home.”
“That much is obvious. Was it for wrestling ducks in the pond?” She gestured at Jane’s mud-spattered dress.
“I’ve quarreled with the princess. She says I’m not to come to the palace anymore.”
“I did try to warn you, Jane. That one does not forgive.”
Your son killed a man.
“I know.”
Your husband helped cover it up, and they together might have conspired in the death of another man.
Mama sighed. “Well, there’s nothing to be done now. You’d best go get changed.”
