Page 64 of The Heir
“Dr. Maton was walking the route that would take him to your house.” Victoria threw the ball again. Dash barked and ran, delighted.
“We know he was working closely with Father, so that’s really not a surprise,” said Jane. “And if Father wanted to dictate what rumors the doctor was spreading or find out what new gossip he was hearing, that would not be a conversation they could safely have in the palace.”
“So was Dr. Maton keeping your father’s secrets or spreading them?” muttered Victoria.
“Perhaps both,” whispered Jane, glancing over her shoulder. Lehzen and Lady Flora were still there, of course, but too far away to hear.Hopefully.“Perhaps that’s why he was so dangerous.”
“Sir John is much with my mother, of course, but during lesson time, he is frequently about his own business. They could have met then.” Victoria paused to take the ball from Dash and toss it out again. “Would your sister have seen them? Might she have overheard something?”
“She might. I can ask. Although, if it was in the morning, she would generally be out of the house on Mother’s errands, if she’s awake at all.”
“Mmm. Yes. There’s that. But would you ask, anyway? Just in case?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Jane, but her mind was not on the words. She had gone distant and grave.
“What is it?” Dash was barking at a bee in the clover. “Dash! Leave it!” Dash gave the insect one more good bark and turned back to hunting for his ball.
“It’s just . . . Something happened yesterday,” Jane said. “My mother, she called me into her, and she tried to get me to talk about you. She never does that. She talked about how well I’m getting along with you and how pleased Father is.”
Victoria laughed. “If he only knew.”
A smile flickered across Jane’s features. “But then she said something about Father. She said, ‘He is not always careful with the little things. Small details, small men . . . He leaves them scattered about.’”
“Do you think she knows something?”
“Or suspects something. Maybe. It’s difficult to tell with her. She makes such a show of not wanting any bother.”
“You must talk to her if you can.” Motion caught Victoria’s eye. It was Lehzen, signaling it was time they returned to the palace. Victoria nodded and walked on. She must be back for luncheon and afternoon lessons and afternoon exercise and a nap and then to dress for the dinner and all the rest.
“But our most urgent task,” Victoria said, “is to contrive a way for me to speak with Dr. Gerald Maton.”
“You can’t possibly,” said Jane. “You even aren’t allowed to go downstairs without someone holding your hand. They’ll never let you out to see a strange man. And there’s no reason for him to come to the palace . . .”
“There will be a way,” said Victoria. “I’ve spent half my life finding the cracks in Sir John’s system. This is just one more.”
Jane fell silent, but Victoria knew what she was thinking.
But none of the other times involved sneaking out of the palace.
It makes no difference.Victoria lifted her chin.There will be a way.
Victoria repeated that to herself several times to make sure she believed it.
Chapter 29
In the end, slipping the net took far more people, and far more time, than Victoria would have liked. Indeed, it took several days to arrange matters properly. And then two more after that for a frustrating rainy spell to let up sufficiently to allow Mama (and the system) to agree it was acceptable for Victoria to take a carriage ride through the village.
Sir John, Mama, and the system permitted these on occasion for the same reason they permitted the crowds to gather at the palace gates: they believed it was good for people to see Victoria and be reminded that she was their future queen.
Dull routine had never seemed to gnaw so painfully at her patience—standing still to be dressed; sitting still to have her hair done; reading; writing; sitting to dinner; listening; writing; reading; walking in the garden; parading before the ladies and their lords, reciting pleasant, approved answers to their questions, and then standing in silence while Mama extolled and lamented.
Fancywork, drawing, sitting to dinner.
Being put to bed and rising in the morning to begin it all again.
She had heard nothing from Aunt Sophia. Several times she had sent Lehzen to her with a smuggled note. Each time word came back that her aunt was not feeling well. It was a summer cold, Victoria was told. Nothing to worry anyone, but she was choosing to stay in bed.
But all these messages came from Uncle Sussex.
