Page 121 of The Heir
Go away, Jane. I’m tired of this.
“Mother?” she whispered.
“Yes, Jane?”
“Was it Father who went to the Matons to offer them money to burn his papers?”
“Mmm? Lord! Have we not had enough of this? Yes, if you must know, it was. It seems Dr. Maton had a few little secrets that belonged to your father that he was not willing to give back.”
“What secrets?”
Mother smiled lazily at the ceiling. “Well, my dear, that is something for you and our little princess to find out for yourselves. Now, go away, Jane.” She sighed. “I am dreadfully tired, and it seems I shall shortly have a great deal of packing to do.”
Chapter 56
Victoria sat in the enclosed carriage and watched Jane descend the steps from her house, pale and silent as any ghost could ever be.
Mr. Saddler did not need any instruction. He came forward at once to open the carriage door and help Jane inside. Lehzen moved to cover Jane with the second carriage robe.
Victoria took Jane’s hand. It was cold as stone.
Lehzen signaled for Mr. Saddler to drive on. A tear dropped from Jane’s eye and splashed on the back of her hand. And another. Victoria pulled her handkerchief out and wiped at her friend’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Jane whispered. “Truly.”
“Dear, silly Jane,” murmured Victoria. “What do you have to be sorry about?”
Jane shook her head. “I don’t know. I just am.”
“I understand,” said Victoria.
She did. She knew what it was to feel so much responsibility, even when there was no fault on her part, nor any power to prevent what happened.
“She said it was Father who had the Matons burn the papers. That Dr. Maton was holding some other secrets about him.”
“Yes, well, that was rather to be expected.”
Jane lifted her head. “What will you do? Will you find them out?”
Victoria contemplated this for a quiet moment. “In time, I’m sure I will.” She paused. “Or perhaps I should say we will. These things have a way of escaping eventually.”
“But her grace—” began Jane.
“I’ve already spoken to Mama.”
She had. This morning. Mama had been at her desk, writing yet another letter to Uncle Leopold. Victoria had stood beside her desk and swiftly read her looping handwriting. She’d read . . .
Stop, Victoria told herself firmly.No need to distract yourself with that.
But even as her heart had thudded heavily at the sight of what Mama had written, Victoria had mustered her courage and told Mama what happened on the tour, had told her about Sir John’s shouting, his bullying, the way he tried to force her to sign his foul, lying letter.
“You misremember,” Mama had said.
Victoria had felt her jaw fall open.
“Close your mouth, Victoria,” Mama said immediately. “If you cannot control yourself better, you can leave this instant.”
“Mama—”
