A Matter Of Delicacy

The Break-In

     'This is insane,' Lady Brue scowled at me, her puffed sleeves scrunched under her crossed arms.
     Princess Caroline batted at her, 'oh stop! I think it's all rather cavalier.'
     Sarah worried at her lip, 'it's too dangerous; there are so many ways you could be caught.'
     'That's the fun of it!'
     'It won't be fun when you're hauled in front of the King to explain why you broke into your own daughter's home. The Prince will claim you tried to kidnap her, and it might be the last straw to force through a divorce.' Lady Bruce shot me a pointed look, 'I'm surprised at you, Miss Wentworth. You seemed more sensible than this.'
     I breathed deeply from my chair, watching as the women around me bickered over my proposed plan. 'Trust me, your Ladyship, I don't like this any more than you do. But, short of actual kidnap, and therefore execution on my part, this may be the only way of getting to the Princess.'
     'I wouldn't let you be executed,' Caroline squared her shoulders. 'I have a right to see my own daughter.'
     'Technically, you don't.' I rubbed my hand over my eyes, trying desperately to push the exhaustion away. Despite going to bed the minute Sarah left last night I had struggled to sleep, tossing and turning all night with the start of a plan forming in my head. How to get the Princess into Rothwell House without being seen. Eventually, I had got up and gone to the stables, where the blacksmith had grumbled about being dragged from bed by an uppity girl with no respect for the common man. Under my stern gaze, and a bribe to keep quiet, he had poured molten metal into the clay mould of Miss Kingsley's keys, and the Devonshire seal. The results were slaphappy, with rough edges and lumps and bumps on most surfaces, but they should be functional. The seal was now wrapped in several handkerchiefs and stuffed deep into my locked drawers, while the keys lay in the middle of the table where the Princess, Lady Bruce, Sarah, and I stared at them. 'If the Prince finds out, I will be hanged for treason, and you will probably be exiled for attempted kidnap.' I dragged myself to my feet and stared the Princess straight in the face. This was no time for ceremony. 'It is risky. But it is possible. So I need you to be sure that this is something you want to do, that you're willing to risk everything for it. Because if it doesn't work there won't be another chance.'
     Sarah glanced between us. Lady Bruce huffed and turned to look out the window. Princess Caroline just raised her chin and smiled, 'tell me what to do, Miss Wentworth.'

     Rothwell House in the dark was not nearly as approachable as I had thought it would be. Light glowed from a couple of the windows but the majority were pitch black, making me feel watched even when I knew the Princess and I were totally hidden.
     Caroline fidgeted beside me, pulling at the bodice of her plain dress. Her lip had curled when she'd seen it, in all its roughshod and wholesome glory. 'It's hideous.'
     'It's practical.'
     'Look at it, it's beige.'
     'It's basic.'
     'It's boring.'
     'And it'll get you in to see your daughter without anyone looking twice.' I smiled at her and pushed the pile of rustic fabric in her direction. 'Put it on, then we'll see what we can do about your hair.'
     She scowled at me, 'what are you wearing?'
     I nodded towards a similar dress slung across the back of a chair, 'don't worry, Your Highness, we'll make a fine pair.'
     A fine pair we did not, in fact, make. The dresses hadn't been made for us, so they stretched across my shoulders and pinched at the Princess' arms in a way that made both of us look like stuffed sausages. The cotton caps tucked over our hair and pulled around our face did enough to make us unnoticeable, however, and we'd made it to the street backing onto Rothwell House undisturbed. The street around us was silent and dark, all the locals having finally gone to bed, and the last carriages of the wealthy had rolled away into Bloomsbury. The only company we had now, tucked into a shop doorway across the street from Rothwell House's gates, was a stray cat and Walter, our coach driver, waiting a couple of streets away with the Princess' carriage.
     'Which room is Charlotte's?' Princess Caroline peeked over my shoulder and scanned the house.
     'Third from the right, the one with the balcony.'
     She nodded and, together, we turned our attention to the large wicker basket between us. Walter had frowned when I'd told him it needed to come with us, but he hadn't asked any questions. Now, the Princess and I grabbed a handle each and pulled it to the corner of the servant's courtyard. I peeked around the gatepost and sighed in relief, there was only one person outside, a young man smoking a pipe, while a tall spade rested against the cart next to him. Excellent.
    'All clear?' Caroline was already shovelling aside the piles of cloth in the basket.
     'We're clear.' I grabbed an armful of the fabric and pulled it out. She grabbed the sides of the basket and grinned at me, hopping in with a grace that surprised me. I piled the sheets on top of her and smoothed the bundle, tucking the edges down around her.
What the hell am I doing? I had to smile to myself, while burying the future Queen of England in discarded sheets in the street outside Rothwell House. Once I was sure it was tidily arranged and no one would spot a rogue arm or flash of hair I straightened my apron and pinched my cheeks a little. Poking my head around the column, I waved at the man with the pipe, 'excuse me! I do beg your pardon, but would you mind helping me?'
     He frowned and looked around at the empty streets.
     'I'm with the laundry, just bringing the nursery sheets back, but they left me here and it's too heavy for me,' I wrinkled my eyebrows and wrung my hands, putting heart and soul into this performance. If I needed to tremble my lip or drop a single tear then by God I'd do it.
     The man tapped his pipe against the cartwheel and came over, looking down at the basket at my feet. 'Laundry came this morning.'
     'I know! But I forgot this one, it's my first week with them and Mistress will be so angry if she knew I'd left this one behind.' I gazed up at him and hoped he was as stupid as he looked. 'Please sir, It's all here, I just need help carrying it inside, then I can get one of the maids to help me.'
     He sniffed and pocketed the pipe, grabbing a handle. 'Alright then, grab the other side.'
     Please stay still, Princess, I begged to Caroline, taking hold of the other side of the basket and heaving it up. The man grunted under the weight of it and I braced it against my hip, grimacing like it was too heavy for me. Honestly, I would have been able to carry the Princess slung over my shoulder for miles if she'd needed me to, but as society was keen to underestimate me I wasn't about to correct them and lose my advantage. Wobbling together the man and I hobbled over the courtyard and deposited the basket, none too gently, on the flagstones just inside the servants' quarter's entryway.
     'Thank you so much!' I beamed at him.
     'S'no bother,' he huffed and turned to go. I leapt forward to grab the door behind him, easing it closed so the slam wouldn't bring the housekeeper running. As soon as it clicked shut there was a groan from the basket.
     'Gracious, you do treat me so well, Miss Wentworth,' Caroline burrowed up and glowered at me through the pile of sheets. 'I've never been so manhandled in all my life.'
     'A thousand apologies, Your Highness.' I helped her out and patted her down, tugging the creases out of her skirts. She shot me a mischievous look and I grinned back. 'Ready?'
     Grabbing an armful of the sheets each, we hid the basket and made our way through the servants' corridor towards the stairs leading up to the main house. Twice we had to duck into doorways as people passed, but aside from a sleepy maid and a suspicious footman hurrying a flustered girl out the back door, the house seemed to have retired for the night. I had expected the Princess to be a difficult partner-in-crime, but she had a single-minded determination about her that both touched and saddened me. She was, at this moment, just a mother on the warpath to see her child.
     We hurried up the stairs, trying not to tread too loudly, and eased out of the door into the main House. I hadn't been here before, never having needed to get past the servants quarters' at my last visit, but I had studied the layout of the house for so long it felt seared into my brain. We turned left and crept up a staircase tucked into the crook of two corridors. Thank the Lord for the aristocracy's aversion to seeing their servants, I thought, where would I be without these hidden passageways.
     The corridor we came to looked promising, and a window looked out over the street where we had hidden mere minutes before. We were on the right side of the house, but I could tell we were too low, the top of the garden wall hid most of the view, whereas Princess Charlotte's floor was high enough to look out unhindered.
     'We need to go up again,' I led Caroline along the corridor towards the next servant's staircase.
     'You there!' A voice barked at us from a few doors back. My heart jumped to my throat but I turned, shooting Caroline a steady look. Don't panic, please don't panic.
     A man had stuck his head out from a doorway and now leaned out. 'What are you two doing out and about so late?'
     'Just taking some sheets to the nursery, Sir,' I said, indicating the pile in my arm. 'They were delivered late.'
     The man looked both of us up and down and frowned. 'Damned inconsiderate.'
     We waited, Caroline getting visibly twitchier as the silence lengthened. A dozen possibilities ran through my head, but most involved either raising the alarm or actual physical violence, none of which seemed to be the most prudent course of action. And I doubted I could reach the man to incapacitate him before he yelled.
     Just as I was about to try something drastic Caroline piped up, her voice high and as clear-cut as a crystal port glass, with not a hint of her German accent coming through, 'can we take anything down for you, Sir?'
     His face lightened immediately, 'ah well, now you mention it.' Disappearing inside, there came the sound of rummaging. I widened my eyes at Caroline but she just bobbed her eyebrows and smiled.
     'Here you are!' The man returned with a shirt draped over his arm, a lurid wine stain across the breast and sleeve. He piled it onto Caroline's stack of sheets and nodded satisfactorily. 'See that's cleaned by morning, I need it for cards.'
     'Of course, Sir,' we bobbed curtseys and left, my heartbeat so loud in my head I could almost hear it echoing around the tall corridors of Rothwell House.
     'How did you do that?' I hissed at her.
     'You forget, Miss Wentworth, that I have been waited on my entire life. I know what a man who is waiting to be asked what he needs looks like. And I also know that Mr Sherriden there, my daughter's Tutor, is not supposed to be drinking wine.' She shot me a wicked look, 'doctor's orders apparently. He won't tell anyone he saw us.'
     I laughed, shaking my head at her in awe, 'well, Your Highness, you may have just saved the day. I was about to leap in and knock him senseless.'
     'Would be a shame to damage that pretty face.'
     With a new sense of determination, we hurried on to the staircase and climbed to the next level. It was as quiet as any other, and the window looking out over the garden confirmed that we were on the right floor. I went over and unlatched it, leaning out to survey the scene and count the windows. We were at the right height, but the wrong angle. We needed to move around the corner to our right, then Princess Charlotte's room should be along there.
'Round the corner,' I whispered to Caroline, and we moved on. I could feel the tension in the air, see the nerves in the set of Caroline's shoulders. She wasn't an athletic woman by any stretch, much more inclined towards indolence and luxury, but tonight she moved like nothing would stand in her way.
     I stopped at the corner and glanced around, hiding behind a large vase of flowers. 'Damn it.'
     'What?' Caroline hissed.
     A pair of footmen were stationed outside a door, perhaps twenty metres along. They were braced, legs firm, back straight, hands clasped behind them. I knew that look. They were in it for the long haul.
     'We won't be able to get in that way. There are guards.'
     She peeked over my shoulder and pursed her lips, 'well, at least they're keeping her safe. How do we get in if not the door?'
      I chewed my lip and glanced around. It only really left us with one option, which I'd be loathed to do on my own in an unfamiliar setting, and was especially cautious now I was escorting precious cargo. But alerting the House to our presence by overpowering the guards was far riskier in the long term. My heart sank remembering the copies of Miss Kingsley's keys in my pocket. So much for just walking up to the door and unlocking it. It may be that one of them unlocked the adjoining room, which acted as both a wardrobe and linen closet for the Princess' room. But that door was directly next to the one the footman guarded, and I couldn't risk fiddling with a potentially useless key right in front of them.
     I turned to the Princess and gave her a firm look, 'Your Highness, how do you feel about heights?'