Read Prisoners in the Palace for Free Online

Duchess has her way,” said Mr. Jenkins, “the Princess will always be treated like a little girl.”
    “Pas du tout!” Mademoiselle Blanche shook her head vigorously. “The Duchess is protecting Victoria, who is immature. She willprotect her even when she becomes Queen, as her regent.” She made a face in the housekeeper’s direction. “Then she will be more important than the Princess. Which is why I sit higher at table.”
    Simon joined in, “But if Sir John Conroy lived in the Palace, his valet would sit higher than all of us.”
    “That man aims to be King in all but name,” said Mr. Jenkins.
    “King John,” Mademoiselle said. “Or, as I hear the King calls him, ‘Con-royal.’”
    There was laughter all around the table.
    Bewildered, Liza asked, “I’ve never heard of a Sir John. Who is he?”
    “The Duchess’s personal secretary and comptroller,” Mr. Jenkins said. “He manages her accounts.”
    “More than just her accounts,” Simon said with a leer.
    “He’s insufferable!” said the butler. “Yesterday, he suggested we were drinking too much port wine. I told him the household was drinking just as much as it always had.” He hiccoughed.
    “He accused me of eating the Duchess’s bonbons,” Mademoiselle Blanche added. “As if I could keep my figure if I stole candies. It must be the Princess. She is always sneaking food when she can get away with it.”
    Liza glanced around the table nervously. How was it a maid could speak so familiarly about the Princess? To her surprise, many of the servants, even Mrs. Strode, were nodding.
    “Sir John thinks we’ve a thief in our midst,” Mr. Jenkins pronounced.
    “Aren’t there guards at the Palace?” Liza asked.
    “Who would pay for ‘em?” Simon asked with a laugh.
    “But the Princess is the heir to the throne!” Liza said. “Doesn’t she need protecting?”
    They all burst out laughing again. “The Princess barely has friends, much less enemies,” Mr. Jenkins said. “Sir John and the Duchess keep her sequestered as much as they dare. They want her to rely on them for everything.”
    Liza felt a twinge of worry for the Princess.
    Mrs. Strode gave a sharp glance around the table as though the conversation had gone too far. “It is not for us to question our betters.” She took a sip of ale and then spoke to Mademoiselle Blanche. “Mademoiselle, as you are familiar with Miss Hasting’s duties, I will look to you to help her settle in.”
    The maid scowled and began muttering under her breath in French. Liza listened carefully, not to the words, but to how she pronounced them. After a moment or two, she put down her fork and turned to Mademoiselle Blanche.
    “Where are you from, Mademoiselle?” she asked sweetly.
    Simon said in a smooth voice full of malice, “Mademoiselle is from Paris, where all the most superior maids come from. As she tells us. Frequently.”
    “I spent a summer in Paris once with my family,” Liza said. “It’s curious, but you don’t speak like a Parisian at all.”
    Nell gasped, then giggled.
    “You are mistaken, Miss Hastings.” Spots of color appeared under the French girl’s face powder. “I was born and trained in Paris.”
    Liza deliberately made her voice artless. “I heard your exact accent when we visited a pig farm in Normandy.”
    Simon chortled. “Miss Hastings has exposed you, Mademoiselle Pig-Keeper. What else have you lied about?”
    “C’est insupportable! I’ll not stand to be interrogated like this.” Pushing back her chair, Mademoiselle Blanche leaned down and whispered in Liza’s ear, “As the highest servants in the house, wemight have been friends. But it will never be! Jamais!” She flounced out of the room, her nose in the air, like an insulted poodle.
    “That will teach her to tangle with a real ‘lady.’ Silly cuckoo,” Simon said, holding up his glass to toast Liza.
    Liza cast her eyes to her plate to hide her flushed cheeks. Her first meal, and she had