Isabella Rockwell's War (18 page)

“I wish we
could keep this from the duchess, but it will be impossible to stop
Dr Monroe’s servants talking.”

“Where were
the duchess and Mr Conroy if they were not with you?”

Mrs Jolyon
raised her brows.

“I’ve no idea.
I thought they were in your coach. My heart was in my mouth as we
approached. I thought you’d all be dead with four of you in there,
but actually their absence was probably what saved you. You both
might have been crushed otherwise.” She lifted her hand. “My hands
are still shaking.”

Isabella
patted her arm.

“We’re
alright. At least I am and Alix will feel much better after a good
sleep. She had a rotten evening.”

“Did her
mother want her to ask the king for money again?” Isabella nodded.
“I’ve never met such a silly shallow woman in all my life.” She
sniffed. “Anyway. Did you get to speak to your Pathan?”

Isabella
nodded.

“It was very
short, but very pleasant to my ears,” without realizing it, she had
lapsed into Hindi.

Mrs Jolyon
nodded.

“Sometimes a
moment away is all that we need…”

“How long do
you think you will stay here with the princess?”

Mrs Jolyon
thought for a moment. “I would like to stay until she is safely on
the throne, but if the king should die before she is eighteen, I
don’t know how long I will be allowed to stay.”

“Where would
you go?”

“I would go
back to Cawnpore. My son is there.”

Isabella was
shocked.

“I didn’t know
you had a son, Mrs Jolyon.”

“Well, you’re
one of the few who does.” She looked a little bashful.

“How old is
he?”

“He is ten. I
have left him with a lovely Indian family just outside the city of
Cawnpore.” She undid a locket around her neck and passed it to
Isabella. Inside the tiny gold doors were two miniature paintings,
one of Mrs Jolyon and one of a smiley boy with Mrs Jolyon’s black
hair and eyes.

Isabella
smiled. “He’s very handsome.”

“I like to
think so.”

Isabella
thought of her father. “You must really miss him. Why did you not
bring him with you?”

Mrs Jolyon
sighed. “I didn’t feel it was fair on him. India is the only home
he’s ever known. You know how hard it is to adapt to life over
here. To exchange all that warmth and freedom for a life in the
palace would have been very hard for him.”

“I can
certainly understand that.”

“Yes,”
continued Mrs Jolyon. “Countess March was very kind in organising
it all for me. She found a place for Christopher to stay and
encouraged me to accept this position, so I might have a little
money to retire on.”

“Do you not
get a pension from your husband’s regiment?”

“Not very
much. It would have been enough for just me on my own, but not with
Christopher to support and hopefully educate when he is older.”

Isabella
pulled a face.

“What happened
to your husband?”

“He died,” she
paused, “two summers ago.”

“Oh Mrs
Jolyon. I had no idea. I am so very very sorry. I knew he had died,
but I had no idea it was so recent.”

Mrs Jolyon
sat, surprisingly dry-eyed, and stared into the fire.

“It sometimes
feels as it might have been just yesterday and then there are other
times when it feels it has been forever.”

Isabella
reached over and held Mrs Jolyon’s freckled hand. They shared far
more than she had realised. Mrs Jolyon got to her feet and wrapped
a wool blanket around Isabella’s shoulders.

“Come, I’ll
take you back to your room. I think I’ll sleep here tonight just in
case Alix wakes.” As she tucked Isabella in and turned the lantern
down low, Isabella asked,

“What do you
think happened tonight?”

“I think the
wheel came off your coach.”

“You don’t
think someone did it on purpose?”

Mrs Jolyon
looked shocked, a hot water bottle dangling from her hands. She sat
down on the edge of Isabella’s bed.

“Isabella,
what a thing to say! Why on earth would anyone do that?”

“Well, I don’t
know, I can’t think of why anyone would either, but,” she
hesitated, the burden of her secret had become too heavy to carry
alone, and she had to share it. “I don’t believe Alix’s horse ran
away with her for no reason.” Her hand closed on the Starrburr
wrapped in her pocket. Should she show it to Mrs Jolyon? It would
be like opening Pandora’s Box, and Isabella wondered if she would
then ever get the lid back on. Her hand stayed in her pocket.

“What do you
mean?’ Mrs Jolyon looked aghast. “Are you absolutely sure?” She
frowned suddenly and looked at Isabella sideways. “You’re not
making this up, are you Isabella, because it’s too important to
joke about…”

Now it was
Isabella’s turn to look upset.

“Mrs Jolyon, I
wouldn’t do that…” she felt close to tears.

Mrs Jolyon
looked at her closely and then pulled her into a warm scented
hug.

“No, I don’t
believe you would. I am sorry. I spoke without thinking. It’s just
it is a bit of a shock to think someone might mean the princess
harm.”

“I know,”
Isabella nodded into her shoulder.

“Now, try to
sleep. I’ll be sleeping in with the princess tonight, and we have a
guard outside the room, but tomorrow we had best tell your story to
Mr Conroy and the Duchess. They are, after all, responsible for her
safety.”

Tired but
still shaken, Isabella watched from her bed as the firelight danced
on the walls and ceiling. Alix’s words of that evening kept coming
back to her. Did someone think they could do the job as ruler
better than Alix?

Two accidents
were starting to look a little more than just carelessness. Imagine
how Alix must feel? No wonder she couldn’t stop crying, not daring
to say what must be going through her mind. Well, tomorrow it would
all come out in the open, there was bound to be an investigation,
and then everything would be all right. She rolled over and took
out the drawing Midge had done for her. How she missed them, the
noise and the camaraderie as they all bunked down for the night.
She missed Midge and she missed the dogs, particularly tonight.

She got out of
bed and went to the window and opened the curtain. The sky was
clear and the stars were bright, but it seemed as if they hung
further away from her than ever.

The day went
far more badly than Isabella had anticipated. She had woken to find
Bea, the maid shaking her, an anxious look on her face.

“Quickly Miss,
they want to see you downstairs.”

She hurriedly
pulled her clothes on and ran a cloth over her face. The Duchess
was alone in the Blue Salon, the Caravaggio serene on the wall
behind the fireplace.

“Ah,
Isabella.” She looked up from her papers at the desk and Isabella
was struck once again how beautiful she was; and how such a beauty
could be so cold, like a winter’s day. All thoughts of telling the
duchess of her worries left her.

“I know I owe
you a debt of gratitude for your help in saving the Princess Alix
from having a nasty accident, but I feel your arm is much better
now, is it not?” Isabella looked down at her hand. She could not
deny it; it was much improved. She nodded. “So, in the light of
last night’s unfortunate episode, I feel it is probably time for
you to return to your home. I feel you are a distraction to the
princess who has led and will always lead a very different life to
yours. I can see her getting attached to you, which will make your
leaving harder for her in the end. Don’t you agree?” Isabella had
no choice but to nod again. “Very well. I am glad you agree. I want
you to leave tomorrow morning. You can stay for dinner tonight.
Then I will have your things packed. I will order a carriage for
six o’clock in the morning.”

Isabella
narrowed her eyes.

“As you wish.”
She turned for the door.

“One more
thing, Isabella. Let’s not tell Alix any of this. It would only
upset her and, today, I don’t feel that’s necessary.” Isabella
nodded, her eyes flicking to the picture and then left the room.
The duchess could whistle for a curtsey. Outside Isabella rested
her burning face against the cool stone wall. The guard by the door
looked the other way.

That horrible
woman! Disgust for the duchess twisted her face into a grimace.
Didn’t she know how lucky she was? Yet still she wanted more. It
was rare for Isabella to find herself tongue-tied, but in the face
of the duchess’s unkindness, she’d found herself speechless. Now,
of course, she could think of a whole host of things she’d like to
have said.

She pushed her
shoulders back and took a few deep breaths. Little did the duchess
know it, but she had just sealed the fate of the beautiful
painting. Isabella would take it tonight – in the dead of night so
she didn’t draw anyone back to the den. She couldn’t wait to see
their faces. They would be proud of her and more importantly, she
would leave them rich. She wouldn’t let them down. For her, it
truly was now a matter of honour.

She found Alix
having her breakfast with Mrs Jolyon.

“Isabella, we
have an invitation to lunch at the palace. Just the two of us,
though Mrs Jolyon will come with us.”

“Did you ask
your mother?”

Alix stuck her
chin out.

“No. She knows
why. She won’t stop me.”

Mrs Jolyon let
out a wry chuckle.

Alix turned
toward Isabella, her face a picture of outrage.

“Do you know,
she actually tried to suggest last night’s accident was your doing?
It was Mrs Jolyon who vouched for you and said you couldn’t
possibly have had anything to do with it, that you were with her
all the time.”

Isabella
pulled a face. “Mmm, she definitely doesn’t like me.”

“Oh forget
about her, she doesn’t like anybody. Here, what do you think of my
new hat?”

Underneath the
pretty hat, Alix’s face was pale and her features were pinched.
Isabella could tell she was afraid, but she was putting a brave
face on it. Imagine how she was going to feel when she woke the
next morning and found Isabella gone. Isabella couldn’t bear to
think of it. She wished she could take Alix with her. It would do
her good, working outside, being teased and loved by the other
children, being mothered by Ruby. Alix might be heir to the throne
but, in a way, she was the poorest child Isabella had ever
known.

The day was
clear and, wrapped well; they had the roof to the carriage down.
Isabella was amazed at how people stopped in the street and pointed
and waved as Alix passed and how Alix smiled happily and waved
back.

“Now I see why
you need all your new outfits!” Alix laughed – her first one of the
day. She must feel better for having left the palace which, more
and more, felt to Isabella like a spider’s web, beautiful to look
at, but dangerous and hard to get away from.

The king was
in good humour and lunch was very pleasant and though Mrs Jolyon
didn’t eat with them, Isabella found herself relaxing under the
gentle questioning of the king and queen.

“So, Miss
Rockwell, this accident. Me brother thinks no harm was meant. Just
a lose screw. Could’ve happened to anyone. What do you think?”

Isabella
glanced sideways at the little white marks around Alix’s mouth.

“I agree, sir.
I once saw a whole cannon come away from its wheels because the
Risaldur forgot to tighten them after a long day’s travel.”

The king
nodded approvingly, he and she were obviously on the same page.

“Quite so,
quite so. It’s just bad luck, dear girl; you’ve had two accidents
close together. It’s understandable you should be upset. I assure
you, had there been any nasty business Ernest would have spotted
it. He has great experience in this area.” Isabella was pleased to
see this bring a smile to Alix’s face. “Tell you what, my dear. Why
don’t I give your mother and her lapdog the money they want, on the
condition you come and stay with me, for as long as you like, after
this dratted ball? What would you think to that?”

The queen
clapped her hands together causing three servants to rush forward
at once.

“Ooh Villiam,
yes, how lovely, what fun we shall have, schajtzie….”

Alix laughed
for the second time that day.

“Oh Uncle, I
would love to, if you could make mother agree, I would be so
grateful.” The king looked at Alix closely and then at Isabella,
who looked back.

“Mmm. Rather
think I should have done it sooner really. I don’t like the way
you’re looking, me dear. Rather glad you’ve got this harum-scarum
to look after you.” He winked at Isabella. “Now then Miss Rockwell,
you run along whilst I talk to the princess for a moment. Norris!”
He called for a servant. “Show Miss Rockwell to the library where
Mrs Jolyon is waiting. We will join you there.” Isabella curtsied
and left the room. Norris must have been eighty years old, if he
were a day, and he moved slowly, like a crab, so Isabella idled
along behind him, gazing at her surroundings, drinking it all in,
so she could tell the children later.

“Don’t worry
Mr Norris, I can make my own way if you tell me where I am to
go?”

Mr Norris
looked relieved.

“Why, thank
you miss, it’s the last door on the left at the end of this
corridor.”

The thick
crimson carpet hushed Isabella’s footsteps, and when she rounded
the corner, she found, much to her surprise, Hassan standing guard
outside the room she was to enter.

“Hassan!” She
exclaimed with pleasure. “How very nice to see you again.” She
pressed her hands to her forehead in a salaam.

“Isabella
Rockwell. You are well?”

“Yes, thank
you.” She gestured at the door. “Is the Ambassador here? I thought
to find Mrs Jolyon here?”