Page 25 of The Heir
With no one now to see, Lehzen let go of Victoria’s hand. Freed, Victoria ran up the stone stairs, her slippers making fluttering echoes against the walls.
Uncle Sussex and Aunt Sophia both resided in the farthest wing of the palace. There was no proper corridor between their apartments and Victoria’s, only a long, straight succession of doors that opened between unused chambers.
Drafts curled across the bare floorboards. No guests were expected here, only the family, so these rooms had not been lit. All the windows were shuttered, allowing just the faintest smear of moonlight to shine on the floorboards. The only other light was from the lamp Lehzen carried. The patter of their slippers combined with the soft scratching of the mice and other vermin that lived in the walls.
Safe in these thick, rustling shadows, Victoria asked, “What kept you so long, Lehzen? What did you learn at the stables?”
“Very little. By the time I was able to speak with Mr. Saddler, Sir John had already dismissed your groom Hornsby.”
“Dismissed him! Why?”
“He said it was for insolence toward Your Highness.”
“Ridiculous,” snapped Victoria.
Lehzen’s silence said that she agreed on this point.
“You heard Sir John’s story?” Victoria asked. “That it was an elderly gardener I saw? That the man had been walking home, and his heart failed him?”
This time, Lehzen’s silence was less easy to read. The lamp threw more shadows than light across her face and hid her expression.
“I do not believe it,” Victoria told her.
“I dare say,” muttered Lehzen.
“Don’t tell me you do believe?”
Lehzen shook her head. “I lost my ability to believe Sir John long ago.” Her attention seemed to drift to the darkness around them, as if she sensed something looming just beyond the circle of lamplight. “Ma’am,” she said. “Why are you doing this?”
“I want to talk to Aunt Sophia,” Victoria said, deliberately misunderstanding Lehzen’s meaning. “She knows more than she lets on, and there was something behind her scene in the music room, and I want to know what it is.”
Lehzen did not look happy about this, but neither did she argue. She simply said, “Yes, ma’am,” and held the lamp higher so Victoria could see her way.
Chapter 11
Aunt Sophia’s apartments were very much like the princess herself—out of date, threadbare, and perpetually befuddled. The furniture was all higgledy-piggledy. The ornaments and pictures were constantly being rearranged according to some scheme that Sophia could never quite finish to her satisfaction. Sewing boxes with their tops open and their threads hanging over the sides rested on footstools and chairs. A spinning wheel stood sentry between Sophia and the hearth. It was a rainy day, but it was still summer, and the rooms were warm and stuffy, so no fire had been lit.
When Victoria and Lehzen were let in, Aunt Sophia was bent near double over her prayer book. But she was not alone. When the door opened, Uncle Sussex turned away from his contemplation of the empty hearth.
“Victoria!” he cried. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, my child?”
Uncle Sussex was a tall, round-faced man. Like most of his brothers, he possessed an ample belly and stooped shoulders. His hair was so white he joked he would have no need of powder, even if that was still the fashion. He was often shabby, preferring to wander about the palace in an old coat, threadbare breeches, and slippers that Victoria felt sure were older than she was.
Mama did not often let Victoria visit her uncle’s rooms, but Victoria always found them a kind of wonderland. Where Aunt Sophia indulged herself in knickknacks, prayer, and needlework, Uncle Sussex collected books. His shelves were lined with ancient volumes, and more were stacked on the tables, even piled on chairs. Any surface not covered in books was filled with antiquities of all sorts, but primarily clocks. One of Victoria’s dearest possessions was a Christmas gift Uncle Sussex had given her—a tiny gilt clock with a dancing bear that came out to strike the hour.
Somewhere on the Continent, Uncle Sussex had a wife and a pair of children. The marriage, however, had been declared illegal and the children illegitimate, because Uncle Sussex had not gotten the king’s (and Parliament’s) approval before he took the lady to church. Unlike his brother King William, however, Uncle Sussex had never remarried. Instead, he had let himself be moved into Kensington Palace, choosing exile from court over his place in the line of succession. It was impractical and romantic, and Victoria had always liked him better for it.
“Hello, Uncle.” Victoria turned her cheek up so Uncle Sussex could kiss her. Lehzen retired to a place beside the door, along with Aunt Sophia’s waiting woman and Uncle Sussex’s man. “I wanted to say good night, Aunt Sophia.”
“That was very kind of you.” Aunt Sophia closed her book. She wore her massive spectacles, which made her look perpetually goggle-eyed. “She is a good girl, is she not, Sussex?”
“As she has always been,” he said fondly.
Victoria took her aunt’s hand. “I was worried that you might be ill after—”
“After that little scene I made at your concert?” said Sophia. “Yes, well, I can understand your feeling that way. I confess, I behaved very badly, even if it was only to Sir John.”
Victoria’s skin prickled. She did not like this swing into cheery calm.
