Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Pippa opened and closed her mouth like a fish, without a sound coming out.
“By Jove, you were right. So much for this room being the safest in the entire palace,” the blond-haired man said, his scowl deepening. Pippa deduced he must be Viscount Castlereagh, the British Foreign Secretary. Which meant the other man with the intimidating stare was Aldingbourne.
“How long have you known I was hiding behind the curtain?” Pippa blurted out.
A look of surprise crossed over the faces of both men, and Pippa realised immediately she had made a grave error. She should have spoken German and pretended she had not understood a word.
“An Englishwoman? Metternich is becoming more and more creative,” Aldingbourne marvelled.
“I wonder where he discovered you. And to answer your question, halfway through our conversation, I realised we were not alone in the room when I perceived the curtain moving when the window was closed and there was otherwise not a single gust of wind.”
“Ah.” She had shifted from one leg to another because the muscle in her lower calf had started to cramp. That must have been why the conversation suddenly switched from politics to oddly personal.
Pippa cleared her throat. “I was merely wanting to sweep the floor, when your, err, lordships suddenly appeared out of nowhere. I truly didn’t mean to overhear your conversation. I most humbly beg your pardon and hope you will forgive me.” She made a neat curtsy.
“Her English really is impeccable,” Castlereagh marvelled.
Aldingbourne pushed himself off the desk and strolled towards her. Pippa took a step back.
“Not only does she speak impeccable English, but judging from her bearing, I do not think she is a maid at all. She lacks that typical fawning aspect that servants exhibit towards their superiors,” Aldingbourne deduced.
“You must be right. Look. The creature’s actually scowling at you without an ounce of fear at all.” Castlereagh appeared fascinated. “Who are you?”
“Anna Braun.”
“Anna Braun,” Aldingbourne said meditatively. “An Austrian name to someone who speaks perfect King’s English. Your parents are English? Or partly?”
She assented. “And who are you?”
Castlereagh lifted a chin at him. “His Grace, the Duke of Aldingbourne. And I am Castlereagh.”
Pippa nodded. That much she had figured out.
Once more the men exchanged glances. “How much did you understand from our conversation?”
“You need not worry at all, sir, for I really am quite stupid,” Pippa said eagerly.
“I don’t care about politics at all. I didn’t understand anything that was said, nor are any of the names you mentioned familiar, except maybe for the Tsar and Talleyrand and Metternich.
” She paused, thinking. “And maybe the Archduke.”
“In short, all the principal figures,” Aldingbourne put in dryly.
“Go on. What else did you pick up?”
Pippa shrugged. “As I said, nothing at all. Except maybe that you don’t trust Metternich, as rightly enough no one should, and he is trying to make secret alliances with Russia and possibly France and Prussia, so you—you are the British Foreign Secretary, correct?
—are worried and want to use His Grace’s personal connection to the Archduke to see whether he has some political influence over the emperor, which you deem unlikely.
” She shrugged again. “And if Metternich gets his will, the Archduke is to be married off to the Russian Grand Duchess, much as he married off our poor Marie Louise to the Emperor of the French.”
“Former Emperor of the French,” Castlereagh corrected, emphasising the ‘former’. “Best to just refer to him as Bonaparte.”
“In short, she understood absolutely everything. And she appears anything but stupid,” Aldingbourne concluded. Then he pulled himself up. “Very well. Do you know what we do with spies?”
Pippa ran a tongue over her dry lips. “No. What?”
“We have them shot.”
Pippa paled.
“Ah, yes we do.” Castlereagh nodded in agreement. “Indubitably. Unless…” He looked at Aldingbourne meaningfully.
“Unless…” Aldingbourne, in turn, looked at her with hooded eyes.
“Unless?” Pippa’s eyes flew back and forth between the two men anxiously.
“Unless you’re willing to lend your services to us as well. There is such a thing as patriotism, after all.”
“Is there?” Pippa looked at him blankly. She didn’t have a single patriotic bone in her, but neither of the men needed to know that.
“Well said, Aldingbourne.” Castlereagh turned to Pippa. “Patriotism. Loyalty to the British crown and to your King George.”
“He isn’t my king…” Pippa grumbled. “The last time I set foot on British soil was when I was a child.”
“Nonetheless, you’re English.” Castlereagh paced. “The Crown needs your services, and your loyalty to King George ought to be greater than to the emperor.”
Pippa looked at him with misgiving. “In other words, you want me to spy for you.” She hadn’t been too successful spying for one party, so how on earth would she go about doing so for two?
“Exactly. Precisely.”
Aldingbourne didn’t say anything at all but merely proceeded to stare at her with this cold steel gaze of his, which unnerved her, and she didn’t know where to look.
“And if I don’t?”
“And if you don’t…what do you say, Your Grace? Shall we have her judged and tried right away according to the weight of the British law?”
“By all means,” he said pleasantly, not taking his eyes off Pippa.
Pippa started to sweat. Then she threw up her hands. “Oh. Very well! I’ll do it. I don’t know why you’d think I’d make a great spy when I so evidently bumbled this spying effort already, but there it is. What do you want me to do?”
“Her language is rather rude, wouldn’t you say?” Castlereagh said to Aldingbourne.
“Hm.” He traced a finger along his upper lip, deep in thought, as he kept observing her.
Frightful man!
“What we want you to do, Miss Braun, is to do exactly the same you are doing for Metternich. Relay to us all the information you can gather. I’m particularly interested in how many of your fellow maids are also spying for Metternich. That would be tremendously valuable to know.”
Pippa chewed on her lower lip. “Very well. But what, in return, will you give me?”
“She is quite a cheeky little maid, wouldn’t you say?”
“It is a reasonable request.” Aldingbourne said. “Very well. What is it you want? A financial reward? A better job? Come, tell us, Miss Braun.”
Pippa stepped forward, clasping her hands eagerly. “I need your help to find someone who is very dear to me. I am trapped here in the palace unable to go searching for him. If you help me, I’ll do anything you want from me. Anything at all.”
“Intriguing. Who is it you are looking for, Miss Braun?”
“My betrothed,” Pippa said eagerly. “Can you help me find him? The police claims they have no records on him whatsoever, which I find quite puzzling. He is a student, and his name is Klemens Lindenstein.”
“Dear me.” Aldingbourne’s gaze sharpened, as if seeing her anew.
“Has he gone missing in the wars?” Castlereagh enquired.
“No. I believe him to be here in Vienna, but he isn’t responding to my letters. I can’t find him. And since I am bound to this workplace, I don’t have the liberty to go out in the city to search for him.”
“My dear,” Castlereagh said heavily, “there may be all sorts of reasons as to why a fellow might not be writing any more.”
She looked at him with big eyes, as she attempted to decipher the meaning of his words.
“Hidden in plain sight,” Aldingbourne said lazily. “How extraordinary. My friend’s quest, it appears, is like a cat chasing its own tail, when the answer has been staring him in the face all along.”
“No idea what the deuce you’re talking about, Aldingbourne.” Castlereagh said testily.
“All the better for me. I need not lift a finger, then. Let him discover the treasure on his own doorstep.” A flicker of amusement crossed through his eyes.
But Pippa’s brow furrowed. “A cat chasing its tail? You mean he’s going in circles because—oh. You mean that he might be ill, or dead. Or worse.”
“Most certainly worse,” the duke muttered under his breath, but Pippa wasn’t entirely sure whether that was what he really said; if not, it must have been some other sarcastic remark.
“But he isn’t. I’m certain he isn’t. I simply know it! I would know it here,” she pressed her hand over her heart, “and here,” and then on her forehead. “Because I love him very dearly, and he loves me, because he told me so, and I would feel it if something were ever to happen to him.”
Castlereagh cleared his throat and looked away, and Aldingbourne gave her another one of those intensely quizzical looks. Truly, she would throw a vase at his head if he continued looking at her in this manner.
Superior. Patronising. Secretly amused. As if he knew something she did not.
Thankfully, he decided not to, for he nodded curtly.
“Very well. Let this be our agreement, then. In return for information, we will assist you in finding your beloved. Although it must be said at this point that if you simply do your work thoroughly, you will reach your goal.” He paused meaningfully. “Sooner than you think, perhaps.”
That was a quizzical thing to say.
Pippa left the rooms with her brain whirring.
Castlereagh. A British politician. Famous, she supposed. But she didn’t follow politics too much and really couldn’t care less about the machinations of this congress.
And Aldingbourne. Aldingbourne… In the deepest recesses of her mind, the name seemed to have a familiar ring to it. But why?
She scratched her head. “Bah. Surely it will come to me in good time.”