Isabella Rockwell's War (24 page)

Isabella
walked up to him and prodded him with her finger.

“No you have
not. You just got here, those are fresh footprints. And anyway,
we’re early.”

“Whose we?”
smiled Zach.

Isabella
turned around proudly to Alix and Mrs Jolyon.

“Alix these
are my friends. May I present Midge and Ruby Thompson and Zachariah
Graves.”

Ruby had
already dropped a deep and graceful curtsey, and Midge bowed
clumsily. Zach was the only one not to be fazed by meeting the heir
to the throne.

“How do, your
majesty.”

Alix smiled.
“I do very well, thank you.”

Isabella
pulled Mrs Jolyon forward. “This is Mrs Jolyon. She and I came over
on the boat together. I don’t know what I would have done without
her….”

“It’s a
pleasure to meet you both.”

Even in the
moonlight, Isabella could see Alix was blushing. “Why, what’s been
happening?” asked Zach.

I don’t think
I’ve time to tell you now, I’ll tell you on the way to the
boat.”

Mrs Jolyon
nodded.

“I think that
would be better. I worry the princess might be missed, then we will
all be in trouble,” she laughed.

Zach
nodded.

“The tide
turns at eleven, so the boat leaves at three. It will take us an
hour to get over to the docks, so we should leave now.”

Isabella
gulped at the approach of the moment she’d been dreading, but Alix
sensed her distress.

“Pull yourself
together Rockwell. You’re a soldier’s daughter.” Alix shook her by
the shoulders. “I’ll see you again one day. This isn’t good-bye
forever. Here…” she reached down and took off the heavy gold ring
she wore on her little finger. “I promise you on this ring that we
will meet again. Take it and wear it, and think of me.”

Isabella held
the gold ring up, so she could see what was on it.

“I knew it was
a lion and a unicorn, but what are these initials?”

Ruby leant
forward to look over Isabella’s shoulder and then spoke in her soft
voice.

“I know what
they are,” she said. “They’re the initials of her majesty, aren’t
they?” She looked at Alix with raised eyebrows.

Alix nodded.
“Well done Ruby, you can read!”

Ruby blushed.
“Well, a little.”

“Do you know
what they stand for?” asked Isabella. “I know the A and the H, but
what’s the V in the middle for?”

“It’s V for
Victoria, isn’t it your majesty?”

“That’s right.
It’s Mama’s name.”

Isabella held
the ring so it shone in the moonlight. “It’s pretty.”

Alix
sniffed.

“Take the ring
and keep it safe. Try not to sell it – well, not unless you have
to.”

Isabella held
Alix close to her, her heart beating and her throat closing with
tears.

“Good-bye,”
she muttered. “Please take care.”

Alix smiled.
“I will… and Isabella,” Isabella had turned away to wipe her eyes
on her sleeve. “Thank you.”

Isabella gave
Mrs Jolyon a swift hug, and then she and the others tiptoed out of
the gate. When she turned to look behind her, she could see Alix,
her hand still raised standing on a grass knoll, then Zach led her
through a gap in the trees and Isabella lost sight of her.

None of them
spoke until they reached Kensington Gore. To Isabella it was like
waking from a dream, being out in the lamplight and chilly bustle
of a main road.

“I think it’s
best we cut across the park, that’s probably the quickest route,”
said Zach.

“Let’s take a
hansom,” said Isabella recklessly. “We’re rich now.”

Zachariah did
a double take.

“Are we?”

Isabella
nodded, smiling and patted her bag.

A smile
transformed Zachariah’s face and he lifted her high up off the
ground and swung her around and around.

Laughing, she
reached under her dress and took out a note.

“Blimey, look
at her, Moneybags finally started spending,” teased Midge. Zach
waved over a cab. The driver was careful to take their money first
before letting them get in.

Zach sat back
and said in an excited voice.

“Let’s see it
then.”

Isabella
smiled and reached into her bag.

“You can’t see
it, it’s all wrapped up.”

“Oh go on,
just a quick peek.”

“Alright
then,” she said, gently undoing the tightly wrapped sari.

The gold and
reds of the tiny picture lit their faces in the leathern darkness
of the cab. They all let out a sigh of pleasure at the sight of
it.

“It
is
beautiful,” said Zach to himself, as if he’d wanted to make sure it
had been worth all the effort.

Isabella
nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“The fence
said it would be. I’m glad he knew what he was talking about.”

Isabella
looked at Zach.

“Do you know
who he wants it for yet?”

Zach shook his
head. “Nah. That’s top secret. Probably best that way.” The cab
bounced along.

“Well, whoever
they are, they’re lucky,” cooed Ruby. “That’s the most beautiful
thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

The cab
stopped suddenly and Isabella wrapped the painting back up and
tucked it into her bag.

“What’s
happening?”

As Zach stood
to open the window, their door was flung open. A burly peeler
stood, red faced and out of breath, in front of them.

“Alf! They’re
here.” Isabella’s stomach dropped through the floor.

“Run,”
commanded Zach.

Isabella
looked at him for moment, unable to comprehend what was
happening.

“I said… RUN!’
shouted Zach.

Isabella was
first to leap from the cab, past the outstretched hands of the
Peeler and past the other men running towards the cab, their heavy
boots clattering on the slippery cobbles. A crowd had already
gathered, but Isabella managed to run through a gap, and turned in
time to see Ruby and Zach run in different directions, causing
confusion.

But it was not
to be so for Midge.

“Oi Gerrof,
you big bully…” Isabella could see him hanging like a cat caught by
the scruff of its neck from the Peeler’s knotted arms. She paused
for a fraction of a second and then, with tears blinding her, she
sped on through the crowd running, running, running to where? She
had no idea.

It wasn’t
until she was in the deep dark of Hyde Park, surrounded by trees,
with the sounds of Kensington Gore far behind her that she finally
slowed to a panting, gasping walk. She walked underneath a giant
laurel, icy and dripping and sat at its base, rocking and crying so
hard she didn’t hear the skidding footsteps on the path nearby.
There was the thud of leather boots.

“What happened
there, then?” Zachariah’s voice was harsh with worry. “You blew it,
Miss India. You must have told someone…the Peelers…they was tipped
off.”

Isabella
looked at him uncomprehendingly. Then she got to her feet and
slapped him, once, hard.

“How dare you.
I didn’t tell anyone. Don’t you accuse me….”

Zachariah’s
hand was already raised in retaliation, but Ruby was quicker than
both of them.

“Stop it, stop
it! What are you doing?” She took a mighty breath. “We’ve got to
think about Midge.”

Zachariah had
his head in his hands.

“Oh my God.
He’s going to hang.”

Now it was
Ruby’s turn to sound angry.

“That’s
enough. No he’s not. We’ll get him out….”

Isabella
shoulders slumped as she walked back towards the path leading out
of the park. In the far off distance she could hear whistles. No
doubt they were for her.

“Where are you
going?” Zachariah’s voice was a growl.

“I’m going to
turn myself in.”

Zachariah
laughed, a horrible sound which made Isabella think of all her
darkest, coldest moments rolled into one.

“What, so’s
they’ll let Midge go? Grow up! They won’t – they’ll just hang you
both. Your life has no price. You can’t barter with it and you’re a
fool to think you ever could.” Then, just as quickly as he’d come,
Zacahariah turned on his heel and walked away.

Ruby looked at
Isabella, her face white.

“I know you
didn’t mean for it to happen,” was all she said, before melting
into the darkness after Zachariah.

Isabella sat
back down With her head in her hands, she tried to get her thoughts
in order.

What had
happened?

The duchess
must have discovered the painting missing already. What terrible
luck! Surely though, Alix would have persuaded her mother not to
come after them? Maybe she’d been unable to or, even worse, maybe
she didn’t even know about it and the duchess had planned to have
them caught and hanged, before Alix was any the wiser. Isabella
felt her face harden.

That awful
woman.

The duchess
had hated Isabella from first sight, and now she was blaming her
for Alix leaving.

This, then,
was to be her revenge.

The worst of
it was that it had been Midge who’d been caught and not her. She
should have gone back for him. What kind of friend was she? Not
only that, her father’s bag with the painting, Abhaya’s letter and
pouch, and her nutmeg shells were all still sitting on the seat of
the coach.

Isabella
scored her scalp with her nails, the momentary physical pain
distracting her from the pain of having lost the few reminders of
her past. She heard her breath, ragged and dragging against the
thickness of the icy fog around her. She must try and control
it.

“Think, think,
think, Isabella! Most battles are won before they are started.” Her
father’s voice was harsh.

“Why is that
Papa?”

“Planning. You
must have a plan, always.”

“But Papa what
happens if you have a plan and it goes wrong?”

“You will have
a contingency plan.”

“Contingency?”
The ten-year-old Isabella’s mouth stumbled over the unfamiliar
word.

“Yes,
contingency. Your back up plan.”

“And if you
don’t have one?”

“Then use
RPO.”

“RPO?”

“R as in
Reconnaissance, where am I? P as in Provisions; what do I have
available to me? And O as in Objective; what is it I want to
achieve? Do the first two help me achieve the last one? If they do,
then go ahead with your plan. If they don’t, then withdraw.”

Bumblebee had
been eating Abhaya’s roses.

“What is your
contingency plan going to be, now your pony has eaten all of
Abhaya’s best blooms?”

“Retreat?”

Isabella’s
father had let out a shout of laughter.

“In this case
yes.” Then his face had changed again. “But you would do a lot
worse than to remember, there is always more than one way to
achieve something. Just because life doesn’t work out as you
expect, doesn’t mean it won’t work out all.”

The foliage
around her sparkled with ferny icicles and the earth, though
frozen, smelt sweet. Next to her left boot, a tiny shoot of
brilliant green had pushed up one inch above the ground.

What would a
soldier do?

“Reconnaissance,” she said to herself. “Where am I?” A long low
bell sounded, as if in answer to her question. She lifted her head.
The bells were coming from the east. She must be near Westminster
Abbey. A distant call of the night watch came through the mist. Ten
o’clock. Was that all? This night seemed to be going on
forever.

“Provisions.”
What did she have? She tapped her person. Her belt of money hung
securely at her waist. It was all she had left.

“Objective?”

It could only
be to rescue Midge, couldn’t it?

Even if she
had the money to pay for her ticket, she couldn’t leave Midge to
hang for her crime. No doubt the duchess would make sure Alix knew
nothing of it, until it was too late. She would hand herself in if
she thought the Peelers would let Midge go, but she knew they
wouldn’t. Zachariah was right – they’d charge Midge with being an
accomplice.

No, nothing
else but a full rescue mission was called for now. The hairs on the
back of her arms lifted, and she felt her toes curl upward in her
boots, forcing the blood through her frozen feet, getting them
ready to move.

So what if she
had to spend another year here? She had friends and a home. Things
could have been a lot worse. What she wasn’t going to do was to be
responsible for the death of someone she loved.

Not again.

Running at a
steady lope, Isabella found herself in Parliament Square in fifteen
minutes. Traffic around it was light and the windows of the houses
all around the square were open. The sound of happy laughter and
the chinking of glasses trickled down to where she stood. She
crossed the street trying not to look at the gallows, which stood
lonely and forbidding outside Westminster Abbey. A low blackened
building stood next to the church and she came to a halt outside
it. A girl was unloading pails of milk onto the pavement.

“Are you
taking them inside?” Isabella had sidled up to the girl.

“Law! You made
me jump! Yeah, what of it?”

Isabella took
out another shilling note. “Can I take them in, in your place.”

The girl
snatched the note. “For that, you can do what you like. The
storeroom is past the cells. Your name is Mercy.” She lifted the
reins of the cart and clicked her tongue at the thin white pony

“Thanks,
Mercy,” Mercy nodded back at Isabella and clopped off down the
street.

She lifted the
pails and made her way down the steep steps to the dank corridor
beyond. There was a foetid smell of mould, excrement and fear. How
could the prisoners bear it?

“Ere, where
you going?” A voice came at her through the dark.

She peered
into the gloom. “I’ve got to take these pails of milk to the
storeroom.”

The guard
grunted. “Alright.” He stood and unlocked an iron gate. As she
passed through, Isabella could see a row of cells crowded together
on her left. At the end of the corridor was another locked
gate.