Isabella Rockwell's War (14 page)

“That’s not
going to happen though, is it? Focus on the positive. You’re going
to nick the picture, we’ll deliver it to the fence, and then you’ll
be going home. That’s what’s important. Don’t think about the bad
stuff. Do you really think I’d put you up to this if I didn’t think
you could pull it off?” His face was earnest, his eyes direct.

“No, I
don’t.”

The fire
popped and hissed. Zachariah leant further in towards it, hands out
in front of him, chin on his chest, relaxed by the warmth. Isabella
reached into the skirts of her stiff petticoat and brought out four
pastries wrapped in a white linen napkin.

“For Midge and
Lily.”

“Well done
girl.” He stood. “Hurry up and come back though. It’s too bloody
quiet without you to argue with, and Midge is driving me mad. He’s
like a lost puppy.” Isabella laughed, but Zach looked serious all
of the sudden, his eyes hooded and hard to see.

“I’ll wait for
you by the Kensington Gate at ten o’clock on New Year’s Eve,
picture or no picture.” He opened the door, then turned. “Take
care.”

Isabella
smiled.

“I will.”

She sat for a
moment after the door had closed behind him, bathed in the
firelight with her ankles crossed. Opening her father’s bag she
glanced quickly inside. All was as she had left it, except for one
thing. A rumpled piece of paper covered with a charcoal drawing. It
was a drawing of her face, grubby and smiling, and on her head was
a soldier’s helmet. It was a very good likeness. She turned it over
and on the back was a badly fashioned ‘M.’ Smoothing it carefully,
she tucked it in the folder with her father’s papers. She looked
around the room, the warm colours of the wall hangings and rugs,
the mouth-watering smell of roasting meat from the servants’
kitchen. Surely they wouldn’t miss one little picture – one that
would make such a difference to so many lives? Not when they had so
much.

The next
morning she was woken by Bea, tiptoeing around her room, banking up
the fire and laying out her breakfast from a silver tray.

“Good morning,
Miss. Would you like the curtains drawn now?”

Isabella
blushed.

“Oh goodness.
Please don’t call me ‘Miss.’ My name’s Isabella and yes, thank you.
It would be nice if the curtains were drawn.” Bea nodded and was
soon gone. On the tray before her was a bowl of kedgeree, eggs,
bacon, toast, tea and orange juice. In little glass and silver pots
sat marmalade, honey and jam glowing like jewels in the feeble
yellow sun, which pierced the grey clouds outside. The door opened
again and in came Alix her arms full of velvets and tweed. Alix
herself was dressed in a very elaborate riding outfit, complete
with golden tassels hanging from her green velvet hat.

“You look like
a lampshade,” said Isabella without thinking.

Alix’s mouth
fell open and she dumped the clothes onto the end of Isabella’s
bed.

“You
ungrateful wretch. I’ll have you know this is the most popular
trend in Paris right now. Everyone is wearing them.” She twirled in
front of the mirror and then looked a bit forlorn.

“Do you really
not like it?”

Isabella felt
like a heel and, pushing her tray aside, leapt out of bed to hug
Alix with her good arm.

“You could
wear anything and it would look nice on you. It’s just the hat… all
those tassels.”

Alix grimaced
in the mirror.

“No one ever
tells me the truth, except mother, and I never listen to what she
says anyway. You are right. It is a bit much. I’ll have some of
them removed. Anyway. How is your arm feeling?” Looking into
Isabella’s sling she made an exclamation of pleasure. “Why it looks
so much better already. Your fingers are pink.” Isabella nodded.
“Did you use some of Abhaya’s medicine?”

Isabella
smiled liking the way Alix used Abhaya’s name as if she’d known her
personally.

“Yes. A
couple, actually. The best one is Comfrey, which you can sip as a
tea. In Hindi it is known as ‘Knitbone.’”

Alix
nodded.

“Well, it’s
certainly worked. Your hand does look much better.” Isabella looked
at her arm and wiggled her fingers. The feeling that her arm didn’t
belong to her, had gone.

“Now then,”
continued Alix, “You cannot ride, of course, but I am going to. If
I don’t get on soon, I will lose my nerve. One of the grooms is
going to lead me.”

“Shall I come
with you?” Isabella was already undoing the buttons of her
nightgown.

Alix smiled
her beautiful smile and clutched Isabella’s good arm.

“Oh would you?
I would love that. I was worried you might not want to come.”

“Why wouldn’t
I?”

“Well…. it’s
not the most interesting thing to do in the world is it?”

Isabella gave
her another hug.

“What else
would I do? I like being with you and, god knows, I better come and
help with the horses, or who knows what might happen.”

Alix went pink
with pleasure.

“That’s so
kind of you. I’m never really sure who likes me for me, or who
likes me because I’m to be queen.”

“I only like
you because you’re going to be queen, if that helps.”

Alix snorted
with laughter and threw a thick tweed dress towards Isabella.

“Here, try
this on.” When Isabella had finally managed to shoehorn herself
into the outfit, Alix couldn’t contain herself.

“I think it’s
a bit small,” she said biting into a pillow to stop her from
laughing out loud as her manners wouldn’t permit it. Isabella
looked at herself in the mirror. The pantaloons came up above her
bony knees and the hem of brown velvet rested above them. The
sleeves were too tight and only came to just below her elbow. The
buttons at the back wouldn’t do up at all.

“I look like a
carthorse wearing a show bridle,” Isabella said scowling at her
reflection.

Alix rang for
Bea.

“Don’t worry I
shall get you some of my cousin’s clothes. She’s taller than me and
I’m sure they will fit you. She’s very fashionable. Maybe we could
use something of hers for you to wear to the ball on New Year’s
Eve.”

Isabella
stilled.

“I don’t think
your mother is planning for me to still be here for the ball.”

“Yes, I know,
but you never know what might happen between then and now.”

Isabella
nodded, struck by how grown-up Alix sounded.

“No, you
don’t. I could never have imagined seeing Mrs Jolyon again.”

“Oh she’s
wonderful, isn’t she? I don’t know where Mama found her, but I’ve
learned such a lot since she’s been here. She’s very well-read and
also she’s such fun. You should have seen some of the governesses
I’ve had.” Alix wrinkled her nose, which Isabella had noticed was
the closest to bad manners Alix would ever get.

“I can only
imagine,” Isabella replied. “I’ve had a few myself,” and went on to
describe the notorious Miss Parson and her obsession with silt,
making Alix laugh with descriptions of the other children in her
class.

“How lovely to
take your lessons with others.” The shadow returned to Alix’s face.
“It’s only ever me on my own.”

“But why?”

Alix pursed
her lips.

“Safety Mama
says. Everything I do has to be safe. I’m not even supposed to walk
up and down the stairs by myself.”

Isabella’s
curiosity was aroused. What, then, had the Duchess made of the
bolting horse?

“You are heir
to the throne and I suppose the rules for you are different.”

Alix face grew
hard.

“Yes, aren’t
they just.” There was a pause. “I’d give anything to be like
you.”

They walked
downstairs and were now in an open courtyard. Jack, the footman,
held the heavy oak doors open for them. The air hit them with an
icy blast, taking away their breath, and they had to slow their
pace so as not to slip on the icy cobbles. Isabella looked around
her with pleasure. The stables were built around a large rectangle
of smooth green grass, which sparkled with snow. The looseboxes
were wood and brick and were spacious with plenty of room for the
horses to turn and lie down. Sleek heads and bright eyes eyed them
from every side and there were rumbles of greeting.

“What
beautiful stables, Alix. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any as nice
as these.”

Alix walked
over to a dapple-grey with long ears and brown eyes who whickered
at her, sniffed her all over and then blew out in her ear. Alix
hugged him. “If nothing else, the royal family loves their horses.
I sometimes think they eat better than we do.”

“Certainly
better than I do,” said Isabella with a laugh.

Alix looked
embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,
I didn’t mean to be glib. How awful of me.”

“You’re not
awful, I’m just teasing you. Come on introduce me.”

Alix hugged
the horse again.

“This is
Shadow, who is very sorry for the other day.” Shadow butted her
affectionately.

“Hello, lovely
boy,” Isabella rubbed his ears and leant against his neck breathing
in the smell of warm horse. For a moment she was at home, her
father was alive and Abhaya was calling her in for her bath. She
opened her eyes.

“Isabella,
this is Simon, Shadow’s groom.” The boy in front of her was about
Zach’s age. He tipped his cap.

“How do,
Miss.”

Alix rubbed
Shadow’s nose.

“So how is he
Simon? Are we alright for a gentle walk?”

“Yes, Ma’am,
he’s fine. “ Simon led Shadow out of his stall and then linked his
hands together, so Alix could mount. The instant her seat touched
the saddle, Shadow whinnied and stretched out his neck,
side-stepping onto the grass.

Alix was
nearly unseated.

“Woah there
fella, whoa boy….” cooed the groom, but Shadow, previously serene
and untroubled was unhappy.

“I think you
better get down from there, Alix,” said Isabella holding Shadow
with her good arm and putting her shoulder against his to keep
against the wall of the stables so he didn’t move. Simon lifted
Alix down. Immediately Shadow settled. Inwardly Isabella winced.
She’d seen a horse behave like this before.

“Simon, can
you take off his saddle for me?”

“Yes, miss, if
you’ll hold his head.” He went to undo the girth.

“What is it,
Isabella?” Alix asked, alarm crossing her face.

“I don’t know…
I could be wrong… but…”

She pulled
back the saddle blanket and peered closely at Shadow’s satiny back,
running her fingers up and down his spine. There was nothing.

“No, I was
wrong,” she smiled at Alix. “He must just be having an off
day.”

Alix looked a
little pale.

“Well, thank
heavens for that. You had me worried for a moment.”

Isabella
smiled.

“Sorry. Would
you like to try a quieter horse…just to keep up your nerve?”

“Yes, good
idea. ”

A few minutes
later Alix was seated on a sweet bay mare and riding slowly along
the path with Simon leading her and Isabella walking close on her
right side. The path leading from the courtyard out to the grounds
was wide and sandy, and graceful statues stood at intervals within
the deep flowerbeds on either side. Though the day was clear, mist
rose from the ground and sat in heavy wads where the lawns sloped
away from the palace. Isabella could see how, maybe in six months,
life might grow in colourful abundance from the frozen twigs and
tightly wrapped buds she could see all around but, at the moment,
she couldn’t imagine it. As they turned at an ornamental fountain,
the palace came into full view, and Isabella looked carefully at
the lights twinkling within the windows.

“Is that room
up there my room?” she enquired casually.

Alix
laughed.

“Yes, that’s
right. Well worked out. And that…” she pointed to another window
just down from Isabella’s “…is mine. Well actually the whole wing
is mine.”

“You have a
whole wing? What for?”

Alix looked
thoughtful.

“I don’t know
really. My bedroom, my salon, my playroom, the schoolroom, my
wardrobe, Mrs Jolyon’s rooms, a spare room (your room), a night
kitchen, the bathrooms…”

Now it was
Isabella’s turn to laugh.

“Enough!
You’ve got more in your wing than I had in my whole house, though I
can certainly see why you need a whole room for your wardrobe…”

Alix threw a
glove at her.

“Just because
I take pride in my appearance….”

Their joking
was interrupted by the sound of hooves and a noise Isabella would
recognize anywhere – the jangling of sabres.

“Oh no,” Alix
hissed under her breath, “Uncle Ernest.”

Out of the
mist rode a straight backed man wearing a scarlet uniform, flanked
by two soldiers. He was middle-aged, with a shock of white hair and
a very hooked nose. There was a straight line running vertically
between his black brows, which gave him a stern look, but the most
arresting thing about him was a scar, white and raised, disfiguring
the entire right side of his face, the puckering of his skin
pulling his right lower lid downwards. He drew up beside Alix
anyway and inspected her closely.