AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“But I—”
“I didn’t understand from my mother that her ladyship was to learn from the feet of Queen Victoria alongside me. I thought that was to be all for me, as I am the only one here who will be queen one day. Well. Amelia might be, if something were to happen to me, but that seems unlikely.”
She heard Amelia’s sound of surprise, and honestly, she might as well have made it—she rarely spoke like this to Bardaline. Or to anyone, for that matter. Maybe she was a tiny bit afraid of him or afraid of what he could do if he were of a mind. And even now she was quaking just a very little bit on the inside. Frankly, she didn’t know what she would do if he disagreed with her. All she knew was that she was sick of being watched all the time and told what to do and treated like a prisoner.
An uncomfortable moment passed.
Justine almost laughed with relief when it became clear that Lord Bardaline did not intend to disagree or disobey. He exchanged a look with his suddenly sour-looking wife and reluctantly followed Justine out the door.
“Good day, dear sister!” Amelia cheerfully called after her.
Justine walked down the hall, her head high, refusing to look back, to give any hint of her uncertainty. She imagined herself to be Queen Elena of Astasia Castle, walking out to meet her subjects after she’d been crowned queen. She wondered how Elena had felt or what she’d done when she sensed those around her were trying to control her. Had she been as uncertain as Justine sometimes felt? She rather imagined not.
She was determined to be more like Elena.
JUSTINEHADMADEQueen Victoria’s acquaintance previously. She’d been formally introduced when she’d first arrived in London, and she and the Weslorian Ambassador had presented the queen with a small onyx sculpture of a ballerina. It was a gift from her mother as a thank-you for her “tutelage” of her daughter. The ambassador’s speech, which Justine suspected was delivered after one too many glasses of wine, had droned on—she swore she saw Queen Victoria briefly nod off.
The second time she’d met the queen had been at a small reception the queen had held in honor of Justine and Amelia. Her Majesty’s ministers, her husband, her older children and an excess of courtiers had attended, surrounding the queen and clamoring for her attention. Justine had spent most of the reception trying to appear demure and regal as her mother and Monsieur DuPree always insisted she appear, her stomach in knots, and her nerves fraying as she watched Amelia flirt shamelessly with various English gentlemen. The older she became—and especially after the debacle with Aldabert—the more uncomfortably conspicuous she felt in crowds. But at least she’d managed to resist the urge to press herself against a wall and make herself small.
Today, however, would be the first time she was to have tea with the queen alone. As it was a private meeting, none of the nerves she felt about large groups had been able to gain a footing in her. She was actually quite excited—she had so many questions!
When Justine arrived at Windsor, she was escorted to a red drawing room. She was briefly left alone, and she took the opportunity to gawk at the surroundings. The soaring ceiling had been plastered with gilded medallions, and from the center of them dropped the most massive crystal chandeliers Justine had ever seen. One might think that if a woman grew up inside palace walls herself, she would not be easily impressed. But Rohalan Palace in St. Edys was not as grand as this. At Rohalan, the ceilings were lower, designed to keep the heat in the interior, as the climate was colder than this. The furnishings were sturdy and practical—a lot of hardwood and leather as opposed to the lush, red upholstered furnishings here. And the art in any given room was almost entirely of generals and kings and nobles in military regalia. Even the drawing room in which she and Amelia had spent many hours as children had so many portraits of male dignitaries that she’d felt surrounded by men. In this room, however, the portraits included women and children. The colors were softer, the faces smiling.
She was admiring the view of the countryside out the window when a door at the end of the room opened. “Good afternoon!” The voice was high, almost childlike. Indeed, from across the room, Queen Victoria almost looked like a child, she was so small, not even five feet tall. Justine sank into a graceful curtsy...and kept sinking to get her head below the queen’s. She’d gone so low that she had to use every muscle in her body to rise up without the aid of a chair. But she managed it, and she smiled with triumph, and the queen greeted her sunnily. That was when Justine noticed the girl. And the dog. A small brown dachshund.
“My daughter, Victoria. She will join us, if you please,” the queen said. “And Boy. Isn’t he lovely? I told him he was not to come but he disobeyed me. You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you, Boy?”
The dog sat and looked up at the queen adoringly, his tail madly sweeping the rug behind him.
Justine didn’t please. She wanted the queen’s attention all to herself. But she smiled warmly and said, “I would be delighted.”
The princess royal wasn’t even as tall as her mother. She curtsied to Justine and welcomed her to Windsor. Justine thanked her, then bent down to greet the dog. Boy accepted her greeting, then scampered ahead of them to greet the footmen.
“Please, be seated,” the queen offered, gesturing to a table in the middle of the room. It was inlaid with jade and sported a gold candelabra fashioned to look like a tree with many branches. As the day was sunny and bright, the drapes had been drawn back to allow in the light, and two of the windows had been opened to air the room.
A footman came forward to hold a chair for the queen. When she was seated, two more appeared to seat the princess royal and Justine. There was a fourth chair that a footman whisked away, as if the very sight of it was offensive. If the queen seemed curious to know why Justine had come without a governess, escort, spy or zookeeper, she didn’t ask. She remarked the fine weather as they took their seats.
“I’ve asked for my favorite cake to be served,” the queen said, and a footman dutifully removed a dome from a cake platter to reveal a sponge cake covered in raspberries. “It is divinely light.” She gestured to the butler, and while he set about pouring the tea, the queen picked up the dachshund and allowed it to lick her face before setting him down again. The dog disappeared under the table, and a moment later Justine felt his weight against her foot as he settled in.
Queen Victoria took the tea the footman had served and poured it into another cup. She looked at Justine, who had yet to pick up her own tea. “You’ll want to do the same,” she advised. “It cools the tea.”
The princess royal copied her mother, and therein doing solved the mystery of why there were so many cups and saucers on the table. It seemed odd, but Justine did as the queen did, too. She was not here to question how Queen Victoria took her tea.
The queen said she was pleased that Justine had come to tea, that Vicky, as she called the princess royal, was fifteen, and that just a month ago she’d announced her daughter’s engagement to Prince Frederick of Prussia. “You might have read about it?” the queen asked.
“I have—” Justine was going to say she had not, but another thing she was swiftly learning about Queen Victoria was that she liked to do the talking.
“Her father and I agreed to the engagement but will not allow Vicky to wed until she is seventeen. Fifteen is far too young, don’t you think?”
Vicky blushed and cast her gaze to her cup.
“I, ah...”
“Have you met him? Fine young man, he is.”
“No, I’ve not had—”
“Why haven’tyoubeen betrothed, my dear?” the queen asked bluntly.
