“Did you enjoy it?” asked Alix, her face pink from the dancing.

  “I did. I liked your uncle and aunt.”

  Alix nodded.

  “Me, too.”

  As they left the palace, Isabella heard a bell strike eleven. Her head started to nod and she fancied she could feel the snug warmth of her bed.

  The shriek of wheels on gravel brought her to her senses, sharply, unpleasantly. Opening her eyes she found herself lurching to one side and putting her hands out she steadied herself as the coach seemed to corner on two wheels. Alix’s eyes were wide with horror.

  “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know, but sit still! If we crash, we are safer sitting down.”

  There was another lurch and Isabella wrapped her good arm around Alix, and pushed her head down. There was shouting and hoof beats from outside as their escort tried to bring the coach to a stop, but it was too late. With a terrible shriek of wood and metal the coach swerved all the way over the road and rolled over onto its side. The horses still continued to pull it and Isabella lay on her side and prayed for them to stop. Her right arm was painfully crushed beneath her, but at least she could hear Alix moaning, so she was still alive. Slowly, slowly the coach came to a skidding sideways halt. Isabella lay still.

  “Are you all right, Alix?”

  Alix groaned.

  “I think so. Are you?”

  A soldier’s worried face appeared at the window above them.

  “Your Majesty, Miss Rockwell, are you well?”

  “I think we are, sir,” replied Isabella.

  The door above them was opened and strong arms lifted first Alix, then Isabella, to safety. The coach stood on its side on the bridge over the Serpentine lake; one of its wheels had rolled down the bank and half into the frozen water. The horses blew steam crossly, their flanks heaving.

  “Did we lose a wheel?” Isabella asked, unable to believe they were still alive. The coach was a wreck. The head guard was shaken to his polished boots, but was spared replying by the arrival of another coach. It was Prince Ernest, his wife and Mrs Jolyon.

  “My God, man, what happened here?” Prince Ernest bent over the axle where the wheel had sat.

  “I don’t know, sir.” The soldier was quaking. “One minute we were fine, and the next the wheel was bouncing down the road and the horses bolted.”

  The Prince was running his hand over the metal and Isabella saw his face change; become suddenly closed, like a sheet of music suddenly put into a piano stool. Alix started to cry and Isabella put her good arm around her. Mrs Jolyon rushed to her with a blanket.

  “Come dearest, let’s get you warm.”

  Both she and Princess Fredericka made clucking noises as they bundled the two girls into the scented fug of their coach.

  The Prince addressed the coachman.

  “Get the ladies home and then send for Dr Monroe. I’ll follow on.”

  There was the crack of a whip and they moved off.

  Alix couldn’t stop crying.

  “I’m so sorry, I’m not usually this wet …”

  They were in Alix’s peaceful little white living room just off her bedroom, having had a warming bath in which Isabella had put the remainder of her lavender. “For shock,” she had said. It wasn’t until Dr Monroe had given Alix a sedative that she started to calm down.

  Mrs Jolyon brushed her charge’s hair. Isabella, dressed in her nightwear squeezed Alix’s hand.

  “You had a horrible night, what with one thing and another. I’m not surprised you’re crying. It’s just shock.”

  “You’re not crying, though.”

  “No, but I didn’t get slapped in the face by my mother beforehand …”

  Alix gasped and looked at Mrs Jolyon, who smoothed a tear from her cheek.

  “Don’t worry, dearest. I’ve known for a long time how unkind to you your mother is. It is my deepest hope she finds out how much she loves you before it is too late.”

  Alix’s face crumpled again and she cried herself out against Mrs Jolyon’s shoulder; she was nearly asleep by the time Mrs Jolyon led her to her bed and tucked her in. Isabella sat on a chair next to her.

  Alix smiled sleepily at her. “You really are my lucky charm now.”

  Isabella waited until her new friend’s breathing was regular and then returned to the living area off the bedroom. Mrs Jolyon was warming a scone for her in front of the fire.

  “I cannot believe neither of you was hurt. How extraordinarily lucky!”

  “Very,” agreed Isabella as she sat down in front of the fire. She didn’t think she’d ever been so tired.

  Mrs Jolyon handed her the scone.

  “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 frowned.

  “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 all right. 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 realising 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 smiling 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. “The Countess March was very kind to organise 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 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 if it might have been just yesterday and then there are other times when it feels it has been for ever.”

  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 stone hot-water bottle water bottle unmoving in 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 starr burr wrapped in the pocket of her dressing gown. 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 from the evening kept coming back to her. Did someone think they could do the job of ruler better than Alix?

  Two accidents were starting to look a little more than just bad luck. 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, seated at her desk, the Caravaggio serene on the wall beside the fireplace.

  “Ah, Isabella.” She looked up from her papers and Isabella was struck once again by 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 we are of one mind. 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 about 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 wouldn’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 out her chin.

  “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 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 of the carriage down as they rode to St James’s palace. 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. Although 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 loose screw. Could’ve happened to anyone. What do you think?”

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

  “I agree, your majesty. I once saw a whole cannon come away from its wheels because a soldier 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.”

 

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