Page 92 of The Heir
Victoria believed she was well used to keeping her own counsel. But these few days with a friend of her own to talk to had changed her absolutely. Now sitting in silence and muffling her secrets felt like a form of torture.
All through her morning lessons, Victoria kept looking toward the doors, waiting for Jane to slip through. This, of course, earned her a scolding from Mama and repeated gentle reproofs from her tutors.
Now it was half ten, and according to the system, it was time for her lessons to pause so she could take some exercise or engage in other improving activity. Jane still had not appeared. But Sir John had.
He surveyed the room, counting its occupants the way Victoria used to count her dolls in their boxes.
“Where is Jane?” he asked.
“You don’t know?” said Mama, surprised.
Something was clearly wrong, and now Jane would be in trouble when she did appear.
“I sent her on an errand,” said Victoria quickly. “To the bookshop. I’m sure she told you about it.”
“Again?” Sir John frowned, and Victoria wished she could kick herself. But she kept her countenance and answered him easily.
“I want to make sure I have plenty to read when we leave on the tour, and Jane has such amusing taste, don’t you find?”
Sir John could not exactly fault her praise of Jane when he was the one who had pressed her on Victoria as a friend and companion. He gave an irritable shrug. “Your mother and I will have to approve these books.”
“Oh, of course.”
If her amiable acquiescence raised any suspicion in him, he did not show it. He just settled in behind his desk and opened the first of the folios laid there for his attention.
Victoria glanced out the window. Rain drummed hard against the glass. Dash caught her agitation and whined. She ruffled his ears, but it did little to soothe either of them.
She could not just sit here. She was so filled with nervous energy, she felt she might scream. So, with Dash at her heels, Victoria walked over to her mother’s desk.
Mama was not writing letters this morning. She was making a list. Victoria tried not to squint as she skimmed it. It was the names of ladies and of prominent families.
“Mama?”
“Mmm?” She added the Marquess of Exeter.
It’s the tour, Victoria realized. Mama was writing out the names of the people they were to be staying with.
“May I go see Aunt Sophia? Just to—”
“After the way she behaved last night?” Mama dipped her pen again. “I should say not. I will not have her influence spoiling you at this time.”
“What time?”
Mama wrote,Countess of Leicester. “Go read your book, Victoria, or write your journal. As you can see, I have work to do.”
Yes, but what is that list for?“Please, Mama. I’m worried about her.”
Mama sighed and laid her pen in the holder. She turned to face Victoria. Sir John looked up, as well.
“Your aunt has her brother and her waiting women,” he said. “It is their duty to look out for her, not yours.”
“Yes, but—”
“But what, Victoria?” said Mother.
“Old people begin to wander when their time is near. I do not want her to . . . well . . . I want to be sure I’ve told her I love her, Mama.”
Naturally, Mama looked to Sir John. Victoria wanted to stamp her foot and shout.Look at me! I am the one talking to you!
