Isabella Rockwell's War (26 page)

Isabella had
seen the guards pause at each door to the ballroom, scarlet and
gold, their faces hard above their high collars as they scanned the
crowd for her. So she’d opened one of the French windows and
slipped out. The gardens were black and grey before her, the yews
like giant sleeping dogs, guarding the broad stone path down to the
lake. Where to now? The palace, spreading and tentacled lay behind
her. Where on earth would she start?

There was a
distant plop and then another. Ducks landing
.

At night,
baba?

Isabella
started down the path to the lake, feet hesitant. Then the moon
came out from behind a cloud and something glinted on the path in
front of her. It was a satin strand of pale pink ribbon, frayed and
ripped, as if pulled at by teeth.

“Isabella?”

She jumped as
she heard her name gasped, and two figures staggered around the
corner of the giant yew. Blood blossomed and spread on the girl’s
white, patched apron and frayed blue dress.

It was Ruby.
Zachariah half carrying, half dragging her.

“Isabella, the
princess….”

Isabella ran
to her, catching her as she collapsed onto the stone.

“Oh my God!
Ruby? What are you doing here?”

Ruby smiled,
her face white.

“Came back…to
ask young miss…pardon…for Midge.”

Isabella
forced herself to look downward at Ruby’s wound. “Who did this to
you?” She already knew the answer.

“Mrs Jol… Mrs…
the teacher lady.” A tiny bubble of blood rose to the corner of
Ruby’s mouth, and she clutched at Isabella’ s arm.

“The
princess…teacher poisoned her. I think she’s dead.” Isabella
hunched over Ruby, cradling her head and shoulders, her hot tears
falling on Ruby’s cooling face. Zachariah sat soundless, but the
hand with which he clutched Ruby’s was white-knuckled.

She made a
crooning sound.

“Don’t worry,”
she rocked back and forth, “don’t worry. You’re going to be fine.
The princess will be fine. It will all be alright…”

But Ruby’s
eyes were sightless.

“Midge?”

“I’ll take
care of Midge.”

There was a
last breath and the beat of Ruby’s heart grew fainter until
Isabella could no longer feel it under her own. The sound of
lapping water came through the still night air.

“Zachariah,
where is Alix?”

He moved as if
in slow motion, placing Ruby’s hand gently back on her chest.

“You’re too
late. She’s gone.”

“No, no, no,
she can’t be, come on, help me find her.”

Isabella’s
voice was a shout, and she was trying to drag Zachariah to his
feet, but he didn’t seem to hear her. Still he gazed at Ruby, two
statues together. Isabella stumbled down the grassy slope to the
lake.

Alix’s pink
dress fanned out like a water lily, her hair a golden halo around
her head. She was face down in the lake. Isabella didn’t notice the
cold knock the breath from her lungs as she leapt in, up to her
neck and swam to Alix’s still body. With a mighty effort turned her
over in the water. She mustn’t look at Alix’s face!

The distance
to the jetty couldn’t have been more than twenty feet, but her
limbs were heavy in her woollen dress, stockings and boots, and she
knew she wouldn’t make it. Tucking Alix’s arms over one of her
elbows, she kicked off her boots, but she was still too heavy. The
cold of the lake hadn’t been obvious to her, but now the movements
of her arms and legs had slowed, like the last frantic efforts of a
fly caught in a web. With the last of her energy, Isabella undid
her money belt and let it drift off to the bottom of the lake. Then
she half pulled and half swam, lungs nearly bursting, to the muddy
shore and dragged Alix’s body free of the water.

A figure
crouched at the far end of the jetty, shuddering and crying, a gun
in her hand.

Isabella
walked towards her, her feet echoing dully on the wood. With each
step she expected to be shot, but she no longer cared.

“Why?” She
stood over Mrs Jolyon. “I thought you loved her?”

Mrs Jolyon’s
face was white and streaked with tears.

“They’ve got
my son.”

“Who has?”

Mrs Jolyon
rocked back and forth.

“I can’t tell
you, they might hurt him.” She opened her eyes wide. “I have to get
away, I have to rescue Christopher.” She struggled to her feet and
made as if to run, but Isabella blocked her way.

Mrs Jolyon
blinked, and then blinked again. Her face relaxed and she smiled;
the same sweet smile Isabella knew so well.

“Why Isabella,
what are you doing out here in the cold with no coat? Here,” she
put down the gun and undid her wrap. “Put this on.”

Isabella put
it on, and then took her hand.

“Come Mrs
Jolyon. The princess is not well; we must go to her.”

Mrs Jolyon’s
eyes widened and she gripped Isabella’s arm in fear, her face
alarmed.

“Oh dear, yes.
Of course we must. Let us hurry.”

Isabella bent
to pick up the gun, and wondered if this were a dream. Mrs Jolyon
was running down the jetty, to where Alix lay on her side in the
mud.

“Your majesty,
what has happened? Oh no, oh Isabella, her face is blue! Oh please,
quick, Isabella, we have to get her warm.”

Isabella bent
down over her friend and forced herself to look at Alix’s face,
steeling herself, but the moonlight showed Alix’s dear face as
grey, and her lips were not blue, but white and one of her hands
lay next to her head, muddy and wrinkled by the water. There was
the blister beneath her third finger, from the night Shadow had run
away with her, the bitten cuticles which Isabella had teased her
about.

Alix’s
hands.

Roll her on
her side, baba. Come on, you know what to do. Check her mouth is
clear.

Alix skin was
icy, but Isabella rolled her nevertheless and prised open Alix’s
mouth with her fingers. Then she pushed gently with one hand on
Alix’s stomach, whilst supporting Alix’s back with the other. She
was aware of another figure nearby, Zachariah’s hands supporting
Alix’s back.

She remembered
Chittesh’s son, wet and lifeless next to the river, how he’d
miraculously come back to life after Abhaya had pushed on his chest
and stomach. She looked down at Alix’s still shape. Chittesh’s son
hadn’t had the creeping, bitter cold to contend with; cold dreadful
enough to kill on its own.

Isabella
looked up at the sky, at Mrs Jolyon crouched down next to Alix’s
feet, eyes alight with madness, and knew her efforts were
futile.

A hard, frozen
stone of grief lodged under her chest, closing her throat and
numbing her hands, even as she pushed them against Alix’s wet body.
She felt as if she could no longer breathe. The pain of Alix dying
was going to break her, and there would be nothing she could do
about it.

From beyond
the slope towards the palace, she heard shouts and running feet.
Then burning torches held aloft, bobbed along the path toward her,
as if of their own accord. Some stopped where Ruby’s body lay, the
rest continued down the path to the lake, more and more streaming
behind them.

Al Hassan was
the first to reach them. He gently lifted Mrs Jolyon to her feet,
and passed her to several guards who escorted her away, but not
before Isabella heard her say;

“Where are we
going? Is it time for the fireworks? The Princess Alix and I were
so looking forward to them…”

Al Hassan bent
down next to Isabella and took her frantically working hands in his
own.

“Come away now
dear-heart,” he said in Pashtu. “You have done enough. The
princess’s final journey is one she must make alone.”

Isabella stood
and allowed Al Hassan to lead her away. She was dimly aware of
someone pushing past her, and then of screaming echoing out across
the lake, but the noise seemed far away, and she couldn’t be
sure.

In the
ballroom, the guests stood silent. One or two began to cry when
they saw her. She looked at the orchestra, their instruments
dangling in their hand. Then Bea was in front of her with a thick
blanket.

“Take her
upstairs. She needs to be made warm…the doctor is on his way,” were
the last words she heard Al Hassan say, before the ground in front
of her yawned, showing teeth like knives, and she fell down,
headlong, into it.

It was a
difficult dream, full of noise and shapes, but nothing Isabella
could really make out, save for a feeling of impending disaster.
She felt she had something very important to say, but she couldn’t
make herself heard. There was a moan and then another, then she
realised it was herself. A warm hand enclosed hers, and she was
comforted.

She went back
to sleep and dreamt of Abhaya.

The next thing
she knew was the sound of birds and the smell of fresh air. She
opened her eyes. White muslin blew at a window, and yellow flowers
clambered up the wall and over her bedspread. She was in her room
at Kensington Palace. Realisation hit her, and she closed her eyes
against the pain. Tears crept from her closed lids down her cheeks
and into her hair.

“Isabella-Bai?” She turned over. There on a chair next to her bed
was Al Hassan and, next to him, in a yellow dressing gown and
frilly, yellow nightcap, pale-faced, but bright-eyed, was Alix.

“What have you
got on your head…?” Isabella croaked.

Alix burst
into tears. “Oh, Isabella, you’re all right!”

Alix got up
and stumbled toward her, hugging her close. Isabella thought she
might still be asleep, so she looked Alix over closely; still
keeping her at arm’s length and not really believing her eyes. She
darted a glance at Al Hassan, who nodded and then smiled.

“I thought…”
Isabella’s voice was shaking. “I thought you were…” but she
couldn’t bring herself to say it, and found herself starting to
cry. Once she’d begun, she wasn’t able to stop and, embarrassed,
she turned her head away, into her pillow. Alix sat on the edge of
her bed and stroked her shoulder.

“I will leave
you now.” There was a scrape of a chair.

Isabella sat
bolt upright in bed.

“Midge! He’s
in prison, we must get him out…” She began to struggle out of bed,
but Alix laid her hand on Isabella’s arm.

“Shhh, it’s
all alright. Midge is free, don’t worry. It’s all been taken care
of.”

“By whom?
Where is he?’

Alix
smiled.

“Mr Al Hassan
told Prince Ernest everything, and Prince Ernest had Midge released
at once.”

Isabella’s
eyes filled with tears and her throat closed.

“Oh, Alix,
lovely Ruby. She’s dead…isn’t she?” Isabella looked up hopefully.
If Alix had come miraculously back to life, so might have Ruby, but
Alix was nodding, her face etched with sadness.

“I am so very
sorry. She was so brave. She deserved to live.”

“Does Midge
know?”

Alix nodded.
“Mr Al Hassan told him and then brought him back here. He wanted to
run away, but Mr Al Hassan wouldn’t let him. He was worried we’d
never find him again.”

“Poor poor
Midge.” She struggled to sit up. “I must go to him.”

Alix pushed
her back down.

“He is alright
at the moment. Prince Ernest is showing him his medal
collection.”

“Zach will be
worried about him though, about all of us. Is there a way we could
get a message to him?”

“He’s here
too. He’s with Midge.”

There was a
knock at the door and Bea came in with a jug of hot chocolate and
some pastries.

“Glad you’re
awake, Miss,” she said, giving Isabella a little hug and putting a
cup of chocolate into her hands. “You gave us all a fright.”

Alix walked to
the window and opened it a little more. The sun was streaming in
now, brighter than Isabella had ever known it, and the air carried
the sound of bells.

“Why are the
bells ringing?”

Alix turned to
her. “It’s New Year’s Day.”

Both the girls
chose to wear black when they got dressed. It suited their mood.
Delight at Alix’s survival was overshadowed by the sadness of
Ruby’s death, one not quite cancelling out the other. So they
dressed silently, and Isabella kept all her questions to herself,
not feeling able to take in any more.

Bea put her
head around the door to Alix’s dressing room.

“It’s time
your majesty.”

Isabella sat
down on a footstool. Her limbs still felt like lead.

“Time for
what? I’m sorry Alix, I don’t think I’ve got the energy to sit
through lunch with your…”

Alix shook her
head.

“You will
never have to sit through lunch with my mother again, I promise.”
Her face looked grim and, as Isabella looked at her, she realised,
not only did it look grim, Alix’s face had changed. It had lost
some of its childish sweetness and her eyes were serious. Above the
black velvet of her dress collar, her jaw was set in a stubborn
line. Her blonde hair gleamed almost white, and she wore no
jewellery. She looked very grown up.