Page 27 of The Heir
Answer me, Lehzen. Please.
“I do not think you should do anything,” said Lehzen.
They had reached the stone stairs again. One flight down waited her apartments, waited the lights and all her waiting women and Mama. Victoria felt exposed. There was only a thin railing between her and the long, straight drop down the empty stairwell.
“Ma’am, you must understand,” said Lehzen. “If you continue to ask questions about . . . about whatever it is that you saw, it can only lead to more arguments with your mother. This will give Sir John more and stronger criticisms of your behavior and temperament. Ones he can take to the Kensington Board.”
The Kensington Board was a committee of men—lords and members of Parliament—who oversaw Victoria’s household and Victoria herself. Sir John reported to them on a regular basis.
“I do not think that would be good for Your Highness,” Lehzen concluded. “Especially now.”
Victoria felt her brow furrow. “Why now?”
“That was what delayed me from coming to you this evening.” Lehzen paused. The silence pressed closer. “I was waiting for an answer to a note I had sent to my friend Mrs. Wilson.”
Victoria frowned, confused and not a little frightened. Mrs. Wilson attended Queen Adelaide. She served as a channel for news from St. James’s Palace, one that could not be diverted by Mama or Sir John.
“She, Mrs. Wilson, had previously communicated to me some . . . stirrings concerning you,” Lehzen went on. “I wanted to confirm them so you might better be able to judge how to approach the next few days.”
“Stirrings?” echoed Victoria. “What sort of stirrings?”
Lehzen paused again. She was listening and looking down the stairwell, alert for any movement. All remained still. Nonetheless, she moved closer to Victoria and dropped her voice to the lightest whisper.
“Their Majesties are talking about your future. Queen Adelaide has been pressing the case to His Majesty that as you are now sixteen, you should have your own household. One in keeping with your status as a young lady and heir to the throne. One which Their Majesties and Parliament organize.”
Victoria felt her mouth go dry. “Would that mean . . . ?”
“That would mean that the queen would choose your staff and your attendants,” said Lehzen. “And they would most certainly not include Sir John.”
Victoria could barely speak the next words. “And Mama?”
“That would be up to you—”
She could not finish. Down the stairs, a door flew open, and light burst onto them.
“There you are! What is the meaning of this!”
Mama. Mama still in her evening gown, but with her hair in disarray. She grabbed up her hems and climbed up the stairs, puffing and red in the face. Two footmen with lanterns raced behind to light her path. She looked ridiculous, but she also looked dangerous.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” said Victoria. “I only wanted to—”
“To frighten me half to death!” Mama grabbed her elbow, pinching her hard. “To go skipping off through the palace, playing hide-and-seek like a naughty little girl and giving no thought to how I would feel when I got back and found your rooms entirely empty!”
“Mama, Lady Charlotte was there—”
“Lady Charlotte wasnotthere. No one was there!”
Lehzen opened her mouth and closed it again. After all, what could she say? That she’d sent Lady Charlotte on ahead so she and Victoria could talk secretly?
“I just wanted to say good night to Aunt Sophia and make sure she was feeling better,” said Victoria. “We were on our way back. I had thought you would be staying with the guests for a while—”
“You mean you thought I would not catch you out!” Mama’s fingers pinched tighter. “What do you mean, Lehzen, encouraging this behavior! No, no, don’t bother. I cannot bear to listen to any more of this.” She snatched Victoria’s hand and began to pull her behind as she started down the stairs.
“Let go, Mama! I can walk by myself! I am sixteen!”
“Sixteen, but only the size of a girl half your age!” Mama spoke to the stairs, to the walls, to the empty air, pouring out her rage to the palace itself. “What if you should fall? What if someone bent on our ruin should come to push you out a window or down the stairs? Alone in the dark here. The gates were open for hours! Anyone might have gotten inside!”
And so Victoria’s hand must be held, and Mama—enumerating every possible danger, all of Victoria’s ingratitudes and reckless acts—must haul her from room to room all the way back to her boudoir so she could be locked safely inside.
