Page 4 of The Heir
The sunlight—when there was any—remained blurred by a film of dust and soot. The view—what there was of it—turned into a spoiled watercolor of green and gray, so that the whole apartment remained gloomy even on the brightest of days.
Even Dash knew it wasn’t right. He whined softly and pawed at the window.
You want to be out, too, don’t you?She kissed the top of his head.
It was true that Kensington Palace was a palace. It was huge, filled with rare and precious things, and housed a changeable cast of persons belonging to the royal family. It was also true, however, that the doors creaked and stuck, that mice had nibbled the edges of the fine carpets, and that damp bloated the trompe l’oeil murals lining the king’s staircase until the painted faces of the people depicted there bulged and cracked.
Mama told her that when they first arrived, there had been mushrooms growing in their rooms. As a very little girl, Victoria had been fascinated by the idea. It made her think of fairy rings. She’d hunted for mushrooms in all the corners, but she only ever found shadows and spiders and blossoming stains of thick black mold.
“Do not let yourself be fooled, Victoria,” Mama told her (and told her and told her).“We are lodged in this dingy hole because his family hates me, and they hate me because I will not let them get hold of you. You will never be their hostage and plaything, romping about with their bastards and cronies until you are spoilt as rotten as the rest.”
“Enough,” muttered Victoria to herself. She could not, shewouldnot, stand here anymore, waiting for the next instruction, order, or direction.
Victoria hugged Dash quickly. Then she faced the room.
“I shall go for a ride,” she declared. “Prince needs the exercise.”
“Certainly not in this weather, ma’am!” cried Lady Flora, as shocked as if Victoria had suggested she was going to dance naked in the gardens. “You mustn’t think it.”
Jane Conroy just pulled a face. “It’s going to rain.”
“Not for hours yet,” said Victoria, as if her words could make it true.
“Shall I go speak with your mother for you, ma’am?” asked Lehzen.
Victoria imagined saying,She is busy with Sir John. I will only be gone for a little while. She would then simply go into her dressing room, have the waiting maid bring out her habit, and give orders that the groom saddle Prince and bring him to the courtyard. It was what another young woman might do. Other young women could move without asking permission and without hands to hold.
Hands to hold them back. Hands to keep them from going anywhere at all.
Because those other young women were not Princess Victoria, heir to the throne of the United Kingdom. If she left these rooms without Mama’s permission, there would be a scene, and she would be locked in her boudoir for days.
Sir John and I are only trying to protect you.
“You need not bother, Lehzen. I will go to her myself.”
“What is it Lehzen need not bother with?”
Victoria started. She could not help herself. Mama had returned.
Victoire, Duchess of Kent—Mama—was a tall, elegant woman.How could I have such a short, plump little girl, hmmm? It is the influence of your father’s blood.Her dark hair fell in dramatic ringlets, much thicker than Victoria’s own blond hair.Sitstill,Victoria. You cannot be seen with your hair hanging down like a wild thing. What will people think of you?She had wide-set eyes that could take in every detail of a room, or a person, with a single glance.Payattention, Victoria. If the dean sees you drift away in the middle of a conversation, what will he think of you?
Dash squirmed in Victoria’s arms, and she set him down. He immediately ran for his basket and wriggled under the blanket. It was as if he could already sense a very different sort of storm coming.
“Victoria, why are you standing there?” Mama’s voice could contain equal amounts of weariness and anger. It was her finest accomplishment. “Come away at once. How many times have you been told not to linger about in front of the windows? What if someone on the road was to stop to gawp at you? What would they think?”
“They might think that I am looking to see if the weather is good enough to go out for a ride,” Victoria replied. “Prince needs the exercise, and I have finished my journal and my letters.”And my workbooks and my piano practice and . . .
“No, Victoria,” said Mama. “It is a foul day. What if you got wet and took cold? Besides, we must make sure you are prepared for the dinner. Prince Liechtenstein in particular should see you at your best. You are aware that he will report on your behavior to—”
“I will just go around the grounds,” said Victoria. “I will be no more than one hour. It will not rain before then, and I will be back in plenty of time for you to quiz me for the dinner.”Again.
“I said no, Victoria. Now, come along.” Mama held out her hand for Victoria to take. Under the Kensington System, Victoria could not walk anywhere alone. Especially not down the stairs. She must be held. She must be steered. She must be managed and instructed and ordered.
But she had been kept inside for three days by the rain, and this might be her only chance for some air.
“I will go riding, Mama. I will not stay here so you can listen to me recite the names and histories of your dinner guests for the hundredth time.”
Mama leaned down and gripped Victoria’s chin in her strong white fingers.
