Free Victoria Confesses (9781442422469) by Carolyn Meyer Page B

day before we were to leave for Tunbridge Wells, we found ourselves alonewhen dear Daisy was indisposed and Lady Flora had not yet arrived in her place. Maggie, against all the rules, suddenly confided that she had fallen in love. Her plain round face glowed when she described the boy she loved—his fair hair, his sweet smile missing a tooth that made it all the sweeter.
    â€œI’ll miss my Simon like anything when we go to Tunbridge Wells and he must stay behind,” she admitted, drawing a comb through my hair and parting it in the center.
    â€œMaggie,” I begged, “tell me what it’s like to be in love! I truly have no idea of it.”
    â€œOh, mistress, ’tis the most wonderful feeling! When my Simon holds me in his arms and kisses me, I think I’m going to melt—just like butter,” she said rapturously, the comb in one hand, a lock of my hair in the other.
    â€œHe kisses you?” I asked. “And you’re not yet married?”
    â€œWe hope to marry someday, your highness,” she said, her cheeks growing rosy. “Once we’ve put aside a little money for our wedding.”
    I was eager to hear more about her plans for the future, her feeling like melting butter. My hair was finished doing, and we were deep in conversation when Lady Flora came upon us. Her disapproving look was enough. Maggie fled. I knew that my chaperone would report the incident to Sir John, and I was correct. The next day Maggie was gone, replaced by Agnes, a doughy woman with thick, clumsy fingers.
    I flew at Conroy in a tearful rage. “How could you do this? Maggie did nothing wrong!”
    â€œYou are not to speak personally to any servant, Victoria. I felt sure you understood that, but apparently you do not. It was your chaperone’s duty to report it to me.”
    â€œI won’t do it again! Let Maggie come back!” I pleaded.
    â€œYou’re being childish,” Sir John said coldly. “As usual.”
    We left for Tunbridge Wells without her. At least now she will not miss Simon , I thought glumly.
    We stayed for three months, drinking several goblets of water each day from the mineral spring. It was said to be good for one’s health, but I felt neither better nor worse for drinking it. At the beginning of November we moved on to St. Leonard’s-on-Sea.
    Sir John strutted about in his usual offensive manner, breathing deeply, his nostrils flared, arms thrown wide. “Nothing like it,” he declared in a loud voice. “Nothing like the sea life!”
    I pretended to ignore him.
    The hostility increased daily between the two women with whom I spent my time: my dearest Daisy and the sharp-tongued Lady Flora Hastings. I felt caught between them, pulled first one way and then another. The tension made me ill, and I slept poorly and ate little. I composed a letter to my dear, good uncle, but I knew it would be read by Mamma before it was sent and I could not tell him what was troubling me—my growing hatred of Sir John, my dislike and suspicion of Lady Flora, my fears that Daisy would be sent away, my aching loneliness. And so I wrote to him about things that didn’t matter at all. My journal was the same, because Mamma read every word in that as well. For her benefit I wrote that my misery was caused by the incessant roaring of the sea—a lie.

    When we returned to Kensington at the end of January 1835, a surprise awaited me. My sitting room had been freshly papered and newly furnished, even down to the carpets. Mamma’s room,too, had been redecorated. My bed was placed opposite hers.
    I hid my disappointment and did not say what I was thinking: Am I not yet old enough to have a bedroom of my own? I will soon be sixteen!
    It would have been futile. I knew exactly what she would say: It is for your own protection, Victoria. Your welfare is my chief concern. I am responsible, not only to you, but to the people of England. And to the