Why Kings Confess

Chapter 14

That afternoon, Hero went to visit her mother, Annabelle, Lady Jarvis.

Her affection for her mother ran deep, although the two women were little alike. Whereas Hero was tall, dark haired, and determinedly frank in her manner, Annabelle had in her youth been pretty and petite, with soft golden curls and melting blue eyes and a sweetly charming smile. Hero had a dim memory of that woman, vivacious and loving and far more intelligent than she ever allowed anyone-least of all her husband-to suspect. But an endless succession of miscarriages and stillbirths had gradually drained her energy and sapped her confidence and joy. And then, one dreadful night, her last brutal labor had ended with another dead child, and Annabelle had suffered an apoplectic fit that left her weak in both mind and body.

Yet even with her nerves shattered and her memory and reason a shadow of what they’d once been, Annabelle still somehow managed to hold her own in the glittering, often cutthroat world of the haut ton. And Hero knew she grasped far more about her husband’s clandestine affairs than Jarvis had ever realized.

The two women settled down for a cup of hot chocolate before a roaring fire in Annabelle’s dressing room and chatted for a time about the latest cut of sleeves and the newest rosewater tonic. Then Hero looked over at her mother and said, “I hear there’s a French peace delegation in town.”

Annabelle’s soft blue eyes clouded with wariness as she groped for her chocolate cup. “Where did you hear that, darling?”

Hero gave her mother a good-natured smile. “From Devlin.”

“Oh, dear. I fear Jarvis will not be happy to learn that he knows.”

“Devlin already confronted him about it. He denied it, of course.”

“Yes, it’s all very secretive.”

Not for the first time, Hero found herself wondering if her mother listened at keyholes or if Jarvis was so convinced of his wife’s idiocy that he no longer took care what he said around her.

“And it’s still quite preliminary, as well,” Annabelle said. “At least, that’s what I heard your father saying to someone the other night.”

“Yet it’s encouraging that the delegation is here at all.”

“It is, yes. It seems difficult these days to remember a time when we were not at war with the French.”

Hero said, “But surely the British and French positions are quite far apart? I mean, I can’t believe Napoleon will agree to abdicate.”

“Oh, no; he’s definitely not the type to slip quietly off the world stage, now, is he?”

“Would Britain agree to a peace that left Bonaparte as Emperor of France?”

“Well, some would be willing to see it happen.”

But not others. The words, although unsaid, hung in the air.

Hero fiddled with her cup. “I would imagine the British position is somewhat conflicted, given the French royal family’s presence here as the Prince Regent’s personal guests. Obviously, Prinny would like to see the Bourbons restored to France-both because he feels for their situation as a fellow royal, and because deposed kings by their very existence tend to undermine the legitimacy of every royal still stubbornly clinging to his own crown. And yet, which is more of a threat to the English monarchy? The survival of Napoleon’s empire? Or the continuation of a long, expensive war that has lost the support of England’s hungry people and threatens to bankrupt the state?”

“Well, from what I understand, Prinny is certainly most vocal in his determination to see the Bourbons restored to the throne of France.”

“And Papa?”

An unexpectedly wise smile curled her mother’s lips. “Must you ask? As far as your father is concerned, a compromise now would be folly. He insists that we shall soon see Napoleon driven from Paris by force of arms and a full restoration of the old ways.”

“Yet Wellington is still many miles from France, let alone Paris.”

“He is, yes.”

“And I’m not convinced it would be either easy or wise to reimpose ‘the old ways’ on a people who have been rid of them for nearly twenty-five years. The French have overthrown the Bourbons once, which means they’ll know they could do it again should they be so inclined. Next time, they might be shrewd enough not to set up an emperor in their king’s place. And then we would once again have a republican government right across the Channel-as opposed to far across the Atlantic-inspiring all sorts of dangerous urgings amongst the downtrodden masses.”

Annabelle’s hand fluttered up to press against her lips. “Good heavens, Hero; don’t let your father hear you talk like that! He’ll take you for a radical.”

“But I am a radical,” said Hero, and laughed softly at the look of horror on her mother’s face. She sipped her chocolate in silence for a moment, then said, “So if Jarvis is convinced Napoleon can be defeated by force of arms, why entertain this peace delegation at all?”

“From what I gather, the Prime Minister and certain members of the cabinet are more interested in the peace proposals than your father would like.”

“Ah.” Hero set aside her empty cup. “In that case, I should think the delegation’s presence in London is causing a few nervous spasms out at Hartwell House.”

“I don’t believe the Bourbons have been told of the delegation. Although of course that doesn’t mean they’re necessarily ignorant of its presence.” Lady Jarvis set aside her own cup and reached to take her daughter’s hand. “Now, enough of this boring nonsense. I want to hear how you are feeling.”

“I’m fine, Mama. Although I swear I am getting big enough to be carrying an elephant.”

She regretted the words as soon as she saw the look of anxiety flit across her mother’s face. “I’ll be fine, Mama.”

“I can’t help but worry. You are my daughter.”

Hero tightened her hold on her mother’s hand. “Mama. I’m a good foot taller than you and quite sturdily built. I’ll be fine.”

“When do you see Richard Croft again?”

Hero pulled a face. “Tomorrow.”

Annabelle’s forehead puckered with new concern. “I know you don’t care for the man, dear. But there’s no denying he’s the best accoucheur in Britain. Why, they say that the Regent has already secured Croft’s promise that when Charlotte marries and is with child, he’ll manage her confinement.”

“Pity poor Princess Charlotte.”

“Hero-”

“Mama.” Hero laughed again and leaned forward to kiss her mother’s cheek. “I swear, you are worse than Devlin. I am not only as big as an elephant, but as healthy as one too. You must stop worrying!”

Annabelle tilted her head as she searched Hero’s face. “Are you happy, darling?”

“Yes, very.”

Annabelle patted her hand. “I’m so glad for you.”

But the troubled frown remained.