Prisoners in the Palace Read Online Free PDF Page B

“What does it matter?”
    The hostile expressions on everyone’s face told Liza she had blundered.
    “Miss Hastings, in the future, do not presume to substitute your judgment for mine,” said Mrs. Strode. “Since Miss Hastings is already seated, we will discuss it another time.”
    Mademoiselle Blanche smiled triumphantly.
    Eating alone might not be such a burden.
    The door swung open and a scruffy kitchen boy strode in carrying a roast on an enormous platter. He placed it in front of Mrs. Strode, and handed her a carving knife and fork. Everyone watched reverently as she reduced the roast to thick slices, then the kitchen boy served everyone as though they were royalty.
    “Excuse me, Mrs. Strode, is there any chicken?” Liza said. “Beef tends to give me indigestion.”
    Everyone at the table burst out laughing and the now familiar, forbidding look on Mrs. Strode’s face gave Liza her answer. Mutely, she held out her plate and accepted a slice of roast beef.
    Liza let the conversation flow over her head as she avoided bits of congealed fat floating in the meat’s juices and wolfed down the overcooked cauliflower and stewed spinach. She looked up, startled, when she heard her name.
    “Miss Hastings’s belongings need to be collected, Mr. Jenkins,” said Mrs. Strode.
    Mr. Jenkins nodded. “I’ll send Simon.”
    Simon turned out to be the handsome footman in green livery. He nodded to her, his mouth stuffed full of beef.
    “I’ve only one trunk,” Liza gritted her teeth to keep her jaw from trembling. “My other things are in storage.” She prayed Mr. Arbuthnot would honor their agreement. “Should I accompany him?”
    More tittering, instantly quelled by Mrs. Strode’s glare. “Of course not! That would be unsuitable, Miss Hastings. Simon is perfectly capable of picking up another servant’s trunk without your assistance.”
    Liza stared down at her plate, fingering her locket. Mama and Papa would be mortified to see her so humbled.
    “What is the direction, Miss?” Simon asked, flashing her a glimpse of bright white teeth in a reassuring smile.
    “Claridge’s Hotel in Mayfair,” Liza said.
    There was a murmur at the name of the prestigious hotel.
    With an avidity that Liza found distasteful, Mr. Jenkins asked, “With whom were you in service?”
    “Pardon me?” Liza asked.
    Mrs. Strode answered for Liza, “Miss Hastings was a guest at the hotel.”
    Each diner’s fork stopped in midair as everyone stared at Liza.
    Mademoiselle Blanche said to the table at large, “That explains her wardrobe.” She leaned toward Liza and shamelessly inspectedher jewelry. “Unless she learns to dress like what she is, she’ll be on the street more quickly than the last one.”
    Liza’s hand went protectively to her necklace.
    Mr. Jenkins started to laugh, which turned into a fit of coughing when Mrs. Strode raised her eyebrows. “The Duchess will not countenance a maid dressing more fashionably than she,” Mr. Jenkins said when he recovered.
    “I’m in mourning,” Liza protested. “I don’t have many other clothes.”
    Mrs. Strode shrugged. “Make do. In time the Baroness will give you her old dresses. Once you’ve removed any frills which mark the dress as a lady’s, you may wear them.” She stared disapprovingly at the lace of Liza’s dress.
    “But I can’t wear her clothes, she’s much too tall,” Liza blurted out.
    Mademoiselle Blanche sniffed. “You alter them for yourself or sell them. It is a perquisite of the position. You will also get the Princess’s clothes. Her clothes are beautifully made, even if they are not à la mode.” She sounded envious.
    Her curiosity about the Princess’s oddly immature dress getting the better of her, Liza asked, “Why doesn’t the Princess dress more suitably for her age?” The servants exchanged knowing looks.
    “The Duchess feels the Princess is too young to follow fashion,” Mrs. Strode said.
    “She’s sixteen!” Liza said.
    “If the