devoted to government offices. “Just a stroll in the park.”
She tugged on a golden strand of hair and pouted. “That’s just what I said too. But she was still afraid Mama might find out.”
“Would you tell your mother if you had a beau?”
“Probably not now. But I was such a baby then.”
“And now you’re much more mature and have your own thoughts on life . . . and love?” he prompted.
The youngest princess glowed at his compliment. “I do have a theory,” she whispered, “about Louise and that boy.”
“And it is?”
Beatrice stopped walking and leaned against a tapestry-covered wall, hands tucked behind her back, eyes wide. “I always felt so confused in those days. Such strange things happened.”
He tilted his head to encourage an explanation.
“Like the way Louise was acting. She stopped talking to me, you see. Stopped telling me about the school and most particularly about Donovan. She got very angry when I asked about either of them.”
“Angry,” he said.
“Yes. I thought Louise and Donovan must have had a fight and she was sad about it. Then Mama took her out of the school, and that put Louise in an even worse mood. Louise and Mama shouted at each other all the time. When Louise wasn’t acting angry, she was crying, but she refused to tell me why she was upset.”
“Did her art mean as much to her then as it does now?”
“I don’t know. I suppose it did. So you’re thinking maybe she was furious with Mama for withdrawing her?”
He nodded.
She shrugged and started walking again. “I guess it’s possible. But I don’t think that’s all of it.” She hesitated. “I think that boy broke her heart. He ran away or maybe another girl took him away from Louise. She refused to talk about him at all. You should have seen her. She was miserable. She cried for days and days.”
“Losing your first love is very traumatic,” he said, following her lead as they turned another corner.
Beatrice smiled dreamily. “Just having a first love at all, I think, would be grand.” She gave a quick look over her shoulder, back the way they’d come, as if worried someone might be following them. “I just remembered something.”
“Yes?”
“Louise would probably kill me if I told you this. She’d say it was too personal to discuss with a man. With anyone, really, not in the family.”
“Oh?”
“But I don’t care.” She beamed at him. “You’re rather nice.”
“Thank you. I like you too,” he said, meaning it.
She glowed all the brighter.
He wondered if he ought to back off now and not put her into the awkward position of going against her sister’s—not to mention her mother’s—wishes. Before he could say anything more, the little princess was rushing into her story.
“You see, my mother’s women’s doctor was summoned to the palace one day. They say he used to come and go all the time—Mama was always having babies while Papa was alive. But then after Papa died there was little reason unless she felt a pain or fell ill. We didn’t even know he was here that day until one of my mother’s ladies of the bedchamber came to summon Louise to see him. Which seemed to me very, very strange indeed, since he never came for any of us. I mean, why would he?”
“Why indeed?”
“Anyway, Louise seemed very upset but she went with the woman to see the doctor. When she came back she was sobbing and wouldn’t explain why.”
“Did you ask her what was wrong, whether she was ill?”
“Yes, of course. I was worried for her. I thought she was dying or something. But she wouldn’t tell me anything. Then, maybe three or four months later, Louise started getting fat and wouldn’t undress when anyone else was in the room.”
Byrne mentally shuddered. He didn’t like where this was going. Not at all. “What about her maid?” he asked.
Beatrice shook her head. “Louise just said she wasn’t pretty anymore, and so why should she want anyone to see her all fat. Mama hated us to get fat, you see. It was fine for Mama, but not for us. Anyway, before I could tell Louise that it didn’t matter, I’d love her even if she was immense as an elephant, she was gone.”
“Gone?” he asked.
“Yes. One day Louise told her maid to pack a trunk of clothes for her and all of her art supplies, and off she went to Osborne House.” On the Isle of Wight, he thought. This was the strange retreat