Page 70 of The Heir
Susan had now turned beet red.
Victoria laughed and then pressed her hand. “Oh! I shouldn’t tease you. I am sorry. Please, forgive me.”
Susan’s high color subsided. “What I meant to say is that if you’ve never had to do a thing, you can’t be expected to know how it works, can you?”
“Just so,” said Victoria. “But thank you, anyway.” Susan dropped her gaze and mumbled something. Victoria sat back and let her breathe.
The carriage rattled and jolted its way across the cobbles. Mr. Saddler, she observed, had a deft and patient hand with their underfed and clearly dispirited horse. She idly wondered if she might convince Saddler to purchase the poor creature. Surely it deserved a better life than it had now.
“Ma’am?” said Susan hesitantly.
“Yes?”
“What was said in there”—she flicked one finger vaguely toward the passing street—“about the doctor being murdered. . . was that true?”
“I don’t know. It may be.”
Susan was no longer blushing. In fact, she no longer had any color to her cheeks at all.
“Are you quite well?” Victoria asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Susan said weakly. “Don’t like doctors that much and all the talk . . . Why would anyone want to murder Dr. Maton? I mean, Dr. Maton’s father?”
“I don’t know,” said Victoria. “But that is exactly what we must find out.”
Chapter 31
It was possibly the strangest moment of Jane’s life. She sat in Victoria’s place in the shining black and gilt carriage. She wore the light silk bonnet with pale blue ribbons, the white coat of superfine wool, and spotless kid gloves. When they drove past, people took off their hats and bowed. She raised a hand, and people cheered.
None of them noticed how badly the ensemble fit or that she couldn’t button the princess’s white gloves fully, because they were too small. They saw the carriage, the tall woman in tidy gray, and the girl in white, with a spaniel in her arms. It was enough.
Jane thought about Father and all his dreams, about the story he told about Mama’s secret parentage, and how they deserved so much, how they were as highborn, as worthy, as the royals.
She wondered what he’d say if he saw her now.
It was all very odd and, in some crooked way, terribly funny. Jane found herself smiling.
“Miss Conroy,” said Lehzen.
Jane’s tentative enjoyment dropped straight through the carriage floor. How long had Lehzen been watching her without speaking? Jane didn’t know. Lehzen had allowed Jane to forget she was there.
Jane cringed. Dash whined and wriggled to complain he was being held too tight.
“Keep your head up, Miss Conroy,” said Lehzen coolly. “We do not want people thinking the princess is not well.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jane dutifully raised her chin. Lehzen nodded her approval, and Dash settled more comfortably into her lap.
They passed a cluster of men standing around a stout woman who held a cow by a rope halter. They pointed, and they bowed, and the men took off their hats. Even the cow dipped her head. Jane raised her hand. One of the men grinned and waved his hat in the air as he cheered.
But even in the middle of the cheers, Jane saw the crowd shift. All at once, a young man shoved his way onto the cobbles, splashed through the gutter, and sprinted down the street.
Recognition jolted Jane.Ned?She twisted in her seat.
It was Ned. She knew him even from the back. Her brother bolted through the streets, hanging ridiculously on to his hat, while the boys and old men jeered.
Another young man—this one a roughly dressed stranger, his hat sliding back and threatening to fall off—shoved his way through the same crowd. He pelted hard after Ned, fists clenched, face red with exertion and anger.
Ned disappeared around the corner. The other man shouted and ran after him.
