Page 80 of The Heir
“Your very own Jane, of course.” Victoire looked over her latest letter from Leopold. It was filled with his usual long paragraphs of sound and excellent advice, exhortations to trust herself to his adviser Baron Stockmar’s excellent judgment, and so forth. It begged for news of the king and Parliament and whether they meant to continue paying his pension. Being king in Belgium, it seemed, was an expensive proposition, and he needed the money.
She laid that letter down on the least urgent pile.
“She has begun badgering me to let her go out riding again,” Victoire said. “I suppose I will have to. We have told so many people she took no hurt from her fall, and . . . what happened.”
“As it happens, I agree that she should go riding as soon as possible.” He paced around the desk, then came to stand within her field of vision. He wanted her undivided attention. “It will help dismiss any lingering gossip about what happened, and I’m sure you agree that now more than ever, it is important the princess be shown in the best light. We want buoyant crowds on her tour, not fearful ones.”
Victoire looked up at Sir John. How many years had he been at her side now? How much had she relied on him because her husband had urged her to? And because she desperately needed an ally—any ally?
Was it possible she had made a colossal mistake?
“The king does not approve of this new tour.”
He chuckled. “The king has never approved of any tour. With any luck, he will give himself an apoplexy.”
Victoire permitted herself a tiny smile to indicate she understood the joke but did not approve. One should not joke casually about the death of kings. Not even Silly Billy.
“What is bothering you, Victoire?”
Victoire stood. She walked to the window, indicating that he should join her. The windows had been opened wide to catch the slightest possibility of a breeze. Therefore, it was easier than usual to see down into the gardens. There Victoria walked arm in arm with Jane Conroy, with Dash gamboling at their heels.
From the corner of her eye, she watched Sir John smile down on the little trio affectionately. Indeed, triumphantly.
“What a remarkable change you have wrought, Sir John,” said Victoire. “My daughter, who was so indifferent to yours, has now clasped her close.”
“And I have explained it to you,” he said oh so patiently. “Victoria has turned her fancies to this business of Dr. Maton. She has always had a girl’s love of the dramatic, and this engages her overheated imagination. She wants to uncover a great scandal. Jane is humoring her, which is why they are now friends. Jane is also keeping me informed of what Victoria is up to. There is no reason to be concerned. You know I will not let the matter go too far.”
“And you are certain that’s what she’s doing?” inquired Victoire.
“I don’t understand you.”
“No, I expect you do not.” She turned abruptly and stalked away. She did not know where she planned to go, but she could not be so close to this man anymore.
“Ma’am, what is the matter?”
“Sir John, I have trusted you all these years.”
“And you can always trust me.” He was coming close again. She could feel his warmth, his worry. She could all but hear the wheels of his mind turning as he tried to guess what she was about to say.
She whirled around suddenly and was rewarded by the sight of him taking a step back in surprise.
“Trust you? When you have made such a terrible blunder!”
“What blunder?” he demanded. “Who have you been talking to?”
“I have been talking to my daughter, Sir John, and my friends in the palace. They inform me that you have been entirely taken in by a little girl, and it may cost us everything we have worked for!”
Sir John drew himself up, silent, furious, astonished.
“Did you know that the king is planning to demand that Parliament give the money to create a separate household for Victoria? And that the queen supports this?”
“Of course. It is of no matter. You are the girl’s legal guardian. Nothing can be done about her living arrangements without your permission. That is the law.”
“The law, the law,” she mocked. “What your English law gives, it takes away.”
“You cannot believe that the king or Parliament is interested in going to war with us over custody of—”
“The sole heir to the British throne?” inquired the duchess sweetly. “Especially now, when the king’s health is failing? Especially when the men of your great English Parliament believe that I am morally unfit to be her mother?”
