Isabella Rockwell's War (13 page)

John Conroy’s
face lit up.

“Isn’t it
though? A work of architectural genius, I feel.”

“Mr Conroy
says the king hopes to have a ball on new year’s eve, if all is
done in time. It’s to be fancy dress!” said Alix, looking a little
more animated.

“Quite right,
your majesty. I do so hope it is completed. The king has his heart
set on it,” John Conroy agreed.

The Duchess
was fidgeting.

“Shall we
proceed now?” she asked coldly.

John Conroy
turned his attention back to her. “Of course.”

Isabella
waited until Mrs Jolyon gestured for her to come and then followed
the Duchess, Mr Conroy and Alex across the hall, with a rustle of
skirts and the tapping of kid slippers. On the opposite side of the
hall was the dining room, which held a long table laid with silver
and crystal, sparkling in the soft light from lanterns scattered
around the room. The room was all white and silver and the seats
were upholstered in grey velvet and the walls lined with grey silk.
It felt cold, as if one should just admire it rather than eat in
it.

There were
others at the table. A tall thin lady, rather like a well-dressed
ostrich, was the Duchess’s lady-in-waiting and there were assorted
bewigged courtiers. Isabella sat amongst the other attendants,
though Mrs Jolyon was nearby. Not that she minded, as it gave her
time to eye the silverware. There was so much of it she could feel
her fingers start to itch and she had to sit on her hands.

After their
fish, Mrs Jolyon leant over to her.

“So,” she said
looking around to see if they could be overheard. “What really
happened to you? I met Mrs Trotter in Regent’s Park and she said
you ran away.”

Isabella
looked at her sideways. She’d always liked Mrs Jolyon, but could
she trust her?

“Mrs Trotter
and I parted ways.”

Mrs Jolyon
nodded.

“Somehow that
doesn’t surprise me. When did you part company?”

“The day after
the ship docked.”

Mrs Jolyon’s
eyebrows rose.

“But that was
six weeks ago. How have you been surviving?” Isabella said nothing,
and Mrs Jolyon gave a wry smile. “Maybe it’s best you don’t tell
me. However I am extremely glad you have survived. I very much
enjoyed your company on board and I cannot tell you how grateful I
am for your helping Princess Alix in her hour of need.” She looked
over to where Alix was trying, and failing, to be interested in
what her mother was saying. “She is as dear to me as if she were my
own.”

Isabella
nodded.

“I can see
why. I like her very much; she seems very unspoiled for a
princess.”

Mrs Jolyon
smiled.

“Yes, she is
very unspoiled considering her position.”

“What is her
position?” Isabella’s knowledge of history was shaky, at best.

“She is to be
queen, when King William dies. He has no children, not legitimate
ones anyway, and none of his brothers had children except the Duke
of Kent. Alix is the Duke of Kent’s daughter.”

Isabella’s
eyes were wide.

“What if he
died tomorrow, would she become queen then?”

Mrs Jolyon
shook her head.

“No, there
would have to be a regent until she was eighteen. At the moment it
would be the Duchess of Kent.”

There was a
pause whilst they both looked at the Duchess who was fussing about
what she was going to drink, and then Mr Jolyon continued in Hindi.
“Let us hope the king keeps in good health,” and she winked.

Despite her
long night’s sleep, Isabella found the lunch exhausting and even
before desert, her arm was aching and she felt her head might drop
into her trifle.

The Duchess’s
unkindness to Alix, and John Conroy’s fawning over the Duchess was
making her feel sick. The conversation was only about whatever the
Duchess wished to talk about, and every time Alix tried to ask
about India, the Duchess would interrupt and bring the conversation
back to herself.

A full two
hours later Mrs Jolyon gestured to both girls it was time to leave.
Isabella had to stop herself from running from the room.

“Thank you
Ma’am for such a lovely lunch,” she said before she left the room,
bobbing another curtsey, rather proud she seemed to be getting the
hang of it. The Duchess nodded, barely giving her a glance, but
just as they were to quit the room, Isabella heard the Duchess’s
voice carry across the room surprisingly clearly.

“Oh Isabella,
just how long do you think you might be staying with us? Alix
doesn’t need any more distractions from her schoolwork than she
already has.”

“Doesn’t need
to have any fun you mean… you old bat…” Isabella muttered to
herself whilst turning to face the Duchess.

“Mama,” Alix
had interjected. “Dr Monroe feels she will be much improved in a
week.”

“A week? But
her arm is not broken. What nonsense. She can stay for three
days.”

“Mama, please,
four days… just until New Year’s Eve?” Isabella wondered how the
Duchess could refuse Alix anything such was the sweetness of her
pleading face.

“Ma’am, if I
may,” John Conroy placed a hand on the Duchess’s arm. “Mightn’t the
child stay a little longer? We are, after all, indebted to her.” He
smiled winningly.

The Duchess
hesitated.

“Very good
then. Just until New Year’s Eve.”

As the double
doors closed behind them, Isabella breathed freely. What a relief
to be away from them, with their smiles, which didn’t reach their
eyes and their surfaces, so brittle they might break at any moment.
And Alix’s mother? She’d been the worst of them all.

“You are not
like your mother.” Isabella remarked as they made their way back to
Alix’s suite of rooms.

Alix shook her
head.

“No. I look
mostly like my father. Come,” she pulled Isabella’s good arm. “I’ll
show you a picture.” Isabella wondered if Alix had understood what
she’d really meant by her remark.

At dusk,
Isabella was back in the yellow and white bedroom, resting in an
easy chair. The lanterns had been lit and gave a soft pink glow and
the fire hissed and crackled, sending shadows up the heavy satin
curtains.

“That was the
nicest afternoon I’ve had in a long time, thank you, Alix.” She
stretched, allowing the warmth of the fire to wash over her
well-fed body. She’d forgotten how it felt to have a really full
stomach.

“That tea was
divine. I’m not sure I should have had the last éclair.”

“I’m not sure
I’ve ever seen anyone eat so many pastries in one sitting before. I
think you might have set a record,” replied Alix with a smile, “
either that or you will be sick.” There was a knock on the door and
Bea poked her head around the door.

“Yes, Bea,
what is it?”

“Ma’am if you
please, the young man your miss was with. He’s brought something
for her. He won’t leave it with the kitchen staff. Insists on
giving it to her himself. Wants to see she’s all right. He’s in the
servants’ dining room.” Bea sniffed to let them know what she
thought of this.

Alix stood
up.

“That’s fine,
Bea. He said he’d return. Take him to the library, if Mrs Harrison
will let you. Jack can wait outside for Isabella.”

Bea curtsied
and left the room.

“There, isn’t
that nice of him to keep his promise. Are you looking forward to
seeing him?”

Isabella
smiled.

“I’m looking
forward more to having my bag.”

Alix
frowned.

“Why what’s so
precious about it? Are you carrying illicit cargo?”

Isabella
laughed.

“I was – not
so much anymore, but it’s my father’s bag and it has something of
Abhaya’s in it. I feel it’s my last link with her and I’d be
terribly upset to lose it.” Isabella got to her feet. “Are you
coming?”

Alix shook her
head.

“No, I best
not. If mother found out I’d been fraternizing with anyone else of
your acquaintance she’d have you put out without a second
thought.”

Bea didn’t
trust Zachariah, and had left him in the servants’ part of the
palace where the footmen could keep an eye on him. It was still
grand enough to have shaken him out of his customary cool.

“Have you seen
these plates?” Was the first thing he said to Isabella as she
closed the door.

“Shh. There’s
a footman outside and don’t think you won’t be searched when you
leave. Don’t touch anything,” she hissed. Then in a more normal
voice she asked, “How are you all anyway?”

Zachariah
smiled his sudden smile.

“’Ere Miss
India, you look like a toff.”

Isabella
smiled and twirled.

“What do you
think?”

Zachariah
nodded.

“Very nice…
don’t you scrub up well. I like your necklace.” Isabella shot him a
warning look.

“It’s not
mine.”

“Never thought
it was.” He looked a picture of innocence. “Never stopped you
before though.” He reached down and picked up her bag and tossed it
to her.

“There you
go.”

Isabella held
it to her chest.

“Thank
you.”

He turned away
from her and settled himself close to the fire in a deep red chair.
How out of place he looked was not lost on Isabella, his face white
and pinched, his clothes filthy.

“Seriously
though gel, how long are you going to be here for?”

“Four more
days.”

Zachariah sat
forward.

“That’s
perfect.” He stood and went to the door and listened.

Isabella
narrowed her eyes. What was he up to? He came and sat back down
next to her.

“I’ve found a
‘fence.’” Isabella looked blank. “You know, someone who’ll sell on
expensive stuff, no questions asked about where we get it
from.”

“What, stuff
from here?

“Exactly – you
do catch on quick. It’s all a bit posh, the stuff here, so we
needed someone who was a bit more in-the-know. Anyway, I’ve found
’im. He’s an expert, albeit a crooked one. He even knows the names
of all the paintings in all the palaces, if you can believe it. If
you could steal something to order, he’s willing to pay us very
well for it… very well indeed and Isabella?” Zachariah’s face was
alight.

“What?”

“There’s a
boat.”

Isabella felt
the confusion on her face.

“What
boat?”

“A boat for
India.

“But I thought
none would sail until Spring?”

“She’s been
chartered by a merchant especially for this journey, something
about a crop of tea. She’s a clipper and she’s really fast and
there’s two spaces left on board.”

Isabella’s
heart started to beat more quickly and she felt blood rush to her
face.

“When does she
sail?”

“January
first.”

“How
much?”

“Twelve
pounds.”

Her heart sank
again.

“I’ve only got
four.”

Zach smiled
triumphantly.

“If you nick
the picture the fence wants, he’ll give us twenty five pounds for
it. Half of that would be yours.”

For a split
second Isabella smelled the scent of the warm sea air, saw dolphins
leaping free of the shining spray off the coast of Africa, but then
thoughts of honour and friendship crowded into her mind, driving
her dreams away before them. She came and sat down next to
Zachariah on the sofa.

“I don’t know
Zach. This would be different.”

“How so?”

“Well, it’s
not like stealing a few apples from a fat farmer, is it?”

Zachariah
raised his brows. “Stealing’s stealing, Miss India. Whichever way
you look at it. Apples, paintings… whatever.”

“I know, but
we don’t need to steal the painting to put food on our table do we?
You and me, we just steal what we need to live on, don’t we?” It
was as if this point was vital to her.

Zachariah
paused. For a moment his face looked drawn.

“Everything I
steal is for me to live on.” One of the logs blazed suddenly
casting an orange glow over them both. He looked at her closely.
“Don’t do it if you don’t want to. You’ve got to be sure.”

Isabella
looked down at her sling and moved her wrist into a more
comfortable position. As she did so, she caught sight of the heel
of Zachariah’s boot, worn down to the sole, his skin, a mottled
blue, showing through a jagged hole. She thought of the bath she’d
had and the food she’d eaten and the warmth and luxury she would
encounter over the next few days.

“Which one
does the fence want?”

“It’s by
someone called,” he rummaged in one of his pockets and pulled out a
piece of paper, which he gave to Isabella. “’Ere. I can’t
read.”

“C-a-r-a-v-a-g-g-i-o.”

“Mmm,” Zach
nodded. “Yeah Eye-talian he said. It’s small, so you can get it
under your coat. It hangs in the Blue Salon, wherever that might
be. Might be best to wrap it in something if you do get it. He said
it’s really precious.”

“I wonder who
it’s for?”

“Some rich
church no doubt,” replied Zach, tying his scarf more tightly around
his neck. “We will need to get to the docks by ten at night on New
Year’s Eve. The tide turns at midnight and the boat will want to go
with it.”

“You don’t
think the tickets will have gone by then?”

“Nah, the
fence put a deposit down for you.”

Isabella
looked wide-eyed. “He must really want that picture.”

Zach stood up.
“Yup. He really does.”

“Zach, just
one thing.”

He paused.
“What?”

“What happens
if I’m caught?”

Zach’s face
was calm.

“You won’t be
caught. There’s tons of times you’ve nicked stuff in much more
dangerous situations. I’ve never seen a thief as good as you,
except of course, meself.”

“But if I
am?”

“You’ll be
hanged.”

Isabella
nodded. Zach came and sat back down next to her, and his voice was
gentle.