Page 107 of The Heir
Jane found that William Rea did not suit her idea of an accountant. Accountants should be hunched, balding, pale, paunchy, ink-stained men with spectacles who carried fat, well-thumbed ledgers. Mr. Rea was a tall, lean man. His black coat fitted him well, and his black cravat was neatly tied. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his side-whiskers were closely trimmed. His breeches showed the shapely legs of a man who led an active life, and the smooth assurance of his bow spoke of a comfort with parlor manners. But this pleasant appearance was spoilt by his trick of walking with his head thrust forward and nodding at everyone and everything he saw. It made him look both too vague and too sharp at the same time.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Rea,” said Jane as she indicated he should sit on Mother’s sofa.
“It was no trouble at all, ma’am. I’m honored that you asked for me. Honored.” He nodded several times and accepted the cup of tea she poured. He sipped politely and nodded again. “Now, tell me, how may I be of assistance to such a charming young woman?”
Mr. Rea smiled.
Jane was familiar with this sort of look. Mr. Rea thought he could disarm her simply by being handsome and obliging. He was unlucky in that there were lots of men in the palace who held similar beliefs about themselves, and even Sir John’s dreary daughter saw her fair share of flashing blue eyes and coy grins.
Jane took her time fixing her own cup of tea. As she did, she thought about Liza and the duchess and Mother. How would they speak to this man?
“Mr. Rea,” she said, “I asked you here specifically on business for Her Royal Highness.”
Mr. Rea drew his chin back in surprise. “Her . . . the Princess Victoria?”
Jane nodded.
Mr. Rea was silent for a minute, clearly torn between being flattered and being wary.
“Of course, I am glad to be of whatever use I can to Her Royal Highness,” he said. It was the correct answer, while at the same time it committed him to exactly nothing.
Jane folded her hands, surprised to find them so still. She remembered the feeling of sitting in the princess’s carriage and how grand it was to be someone else entirely. This was the same feeling. Sitting here, she was not Sir John’s dreary daughter and spy. She was the princess’s friend and her trusted confidant. She had planned this moment herself and was carrying it through.
For this one moment, she was finally fully Jane Conroy.
“You may have heard that the king has informed Parliament that the princess is to be given her own household.”
Mr. Rea’s expression turned owlish.
Father told you, didn’t he? And I imagine he said he would be nipping all that in the bud.
Jane stiffened her spine. She set her jaw. And then she lied.
“What you may not know is that the matter has already been settled between the duchess and the queen.”
That startled him.
Jane bit her tongue hard to keep from smiling. “I tell you this in strictest confidence, Mr. Rea.” She waited while he nodded and nodded again. “As soon as Her Royal Highness returns from her tour, the arrangements will begin. At that time, the princess will be making her own decisions about her household staff.”
She waited for Mr. Rea to make some remark. He remained silent.
“You’ll surely be familiar with the rumors that Her Royal Highness does not share her mother’s affection for my father.” Jane smiled. “Father says this is because she is a silly, stubborn girl.”
She could see that the accountant had heard exactly those words.Probably more than once.
“But it goes a little . . . further than stubbornness,” Jane went on. “And I can promise you absolutely that when the time comes, Her Royal Highness will be consulting her own inclinations, not Father’s. And she will most certainly remember anyone who was a friend to her.”
Jane watched as this idea sank slowly into Mr. Rea’s mind. She watched his gaze dart about the room.
What are you looking for? Answers? An escape?
Whatever it was, he apparently did not find it in the parlor, because Mr. Rea got abruptly to his feet. He paced over to the window, his head nodding in time with his footsteps, and stared out at the garden.
“Sir John has been my commanding officer and patron for years now,” he said.
Jane gritted her teeth to remind herself to keep silent and let Mr. Rea talk.
“He’s the reason I have this position at all. When he came into the duchess’s service, he wrote to me and told me that I should join him.”
