Chapter 24 #2
A sharp hiss from the footman behind recalled her to herself, and she forced herself to march in step with the procession.
There was the table of the Emperor, at the head of the hall, and she saw from the corner of her eye a white, regal figure sitting in the middle.
The table she headed for was to the right.
All she had to do was follow in exact precision the movement of the page boy in front of her, and he, thankfully, knew what he was doing.
Since their lineup was organised with precision, Pippa automatically ended up standing behind her archduchess.
She saw her back: a delicately coiffed head full of blonde ringlets, with feathers in it, and a simple white gown adorned with silver.
The gentleman next to her, was that Klemens?
His long, blond hair tumbled at his neck, and from the back he looked so sinfully handsome, Pippa nearly sighed.
He was dressed in a white gala uniform with golden embroidery, orders and decorations pinned to the chest. He was a prince from the top of his hair down to the diamond-buckled shoes.
He did not know she was right behind him, next to him, so close that she could lean forward and reach out and touch his hair…
He bent forward to murmur something into his sister Marie Madeleine’s ear, and she giggled.
When the signal was given, she stepped forward, lifted her arm to pour the champagne into the Archduchess’ glass—but which one was it?
There were four glasses of different shapes and sizes in front of her!
She cast a quick, panicked look aside and saw the footman who was serving the Archduke pour it into a goblet.
Pippa did the same. Her hesitation caused her to miss a beat, and she had to lift her arm again before the goblet was fully filled.
Too bad; she hoped the Archduchess wouldn’t notice that she had less champagne in her glass than the other guests…
They retreated and were told to get ready to bring in the hors d’oeuvre.
These initial plates were small, and the portions were tiny, and the golden serving trays, she was relieved, weren’t half as heavy as they looked.
She served the plate, and once more Pippa was struck by how neither she, nor Klemens, nor anyone else, really, looked at her.
She stared at Klemens’ neck so hard, he surely must have felt her gaze.
But he remained oblivious of her. She was but a mere servant. Someone one did not notice.
“Tell me, Klem, who is she?” the Archduchess asked Klemens playfully, while they were eating pheasant with fruit compote. “Is she in this room? She must be. Let’s see.” Her gaze wandered from their table to the lower ones in the room.
“She isn’t here,” he growled.
“I wager it must be that charming lady across on the other table. The pretty one with the diamonds in her hair. Or, no, wait. She is Talleyrand’s mistress, isn’t she?” A soft gasp. “Isn’t she his niece…?”
“Yes, to both. She is Dorothea Courland, his niece by marriage. But do you really want to discuss this topic in the middle of the second course?” Klemens replied, a slight teasing in his tone. It was clear they were very close and seemed to get along well.
“Yes I must. I have made it my life's mission to find out who my twin brother's great love is.”
Pippa nearly choked. Twin brother? Klemens and Marie Madeleine were twins? Why hadn’t she known that?
“So it isn’t her. Let’s see.” She tapped her fork against her lips. “The Princess Bagration certainly not, nor the Duchess of Sagan, though…” She hesitated. “It is possible. She is spectacularly beautiful and just your type. And she may be why you and Metternich hate each other with a vengeance.”
“Trust me, Mimi. It’s not because of a woman.” He shuddered. “I am insulted that you would go as far as insinuating that Metternich and I share the same taste in women.”
Mimi. Pippa’s head whirled. So she was the Mimi from the letter she’d found in his study. Not some mistress, not some obscure lover—but his twin?
“So not the Duchess of Sagan. Hm. How intriguing!” His sister turned to him just as Pippa was about to present the dish. She helped herself without looking at Pippa, talking all the while to Klemens, who played with the food on his plate.
Look at me, look at me, look at me, Pippa chanted to herself.
But he did not.
“…Oh, do tell me! The entire court is abuzz. You are the most talked-of sensation, do you know? Everyone is placing wagers. And Metternich is dying with curiosity about who the lady could be.”
“Is he behind the spreading of such rumours?” Klemens frowned. “It is most disconcerting.”
“You can’t keep delaying the engagement to the Russian Grand Duchess forever.” She bent forward to whisper in his ear, but Pippa heard her clearly. “No, don’t look at her; she is sitting right across from us and no doubt aware that we are gossiping about her.”
Pippa’s eyes flew to the lady on the other side of the table, sitting erect in her chair.
So that was the famous grand duchess whom he was supposed to marry.
Her heart grew heavy.
She looked like she had stepped out of a painted miniature. Beautiful, perfect, and cold. Her heart-shaped lips were sweet but unsmiling, her pencil-thin brows arched over unexpressive eyes.
“I must say I don’t like her, and I’d be glad if you didn’t have to marry her and move to St Petersburg,” his sister muttered. “So I am quite on your side if you decide to marry someone else entirely. But pray tell me now, who is the woman you’ve lost your heart to?”
He sighed. “I told you, she isn’t here. Now, can we change the topic, please? Humboldt is making moon eyes at you. Isn’t he the man for you? Highly intelligent, too. They say he is a linguist in addition to being a statesman.”
“Isn’t he married?” The Archduchess took a sip from her glass.
“Now that you mention it, he might be.”
“What about the man next to him? He is more to my taste.”
Klemens uttered a short laugh. “Oh no. He is not in your league, dear sister.”
“But who is he? Of all the men, he looks the most distinguished. And so very good looking. Isn’t he your friend? I recall seeing him in your company.”
“He is a very good friend indeed. One of the best, in fact. He is the Duke of Aldingbourne.” Klemens’ voice warmed.
“Ooh! That British duke! So he is Aldingbourne. You have told me so much about him, and now I get to see him.”
“And he is married, too.” He leaned forward.
“Now here’s an interesting story; you will like this.
Listen closely. Aldingbourne believed his wife dead only to find her here in Vienna, of all places!
Except she can’t remember a thing about him and is living under another name with another family.
And to get her to remember him, he has joined them.
I’m actually surprised he’s here and not dancing attendance on his wife. ”
“How romantic!” The Archduchess clasped her hands together. “Imagine a kind of love that transcends time like that. I am certain she will remember him and they will rekindle their love.”
Klemens toyed with his fork. “Yes. Well, that remains to be seen. I have seen Catherine, or Lena Arenheim, as she calls herself now, and as far as I know, she hasn’t regained her memory yet.”
His sister sighed. “But when she does, how wonderful that will be for her and the duke. To find one’s true love…
again. They may count themselves twice lucky to experience that.
Even more so to have married their true love.
That is not a destiny that awaits either of us, I am afraid.
” His sister leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
“Though the Grand Duchess seems to have taken a liking to you. She has been trying to catch your eye throughout the entire supper, haven’t you noticed? ”
Pippa nearly dropped the soup tureen that she was holding. She cast a swift look across the table and concluded the Archduchess was right. The Grand Duchess was trying to catch Klemens’ attention by batting her eyelashes.
Klemens met her look, and she simpered.
A dark feeling of jealousy coursed through her.
If she could dump the soup over her head, she would, but she was out of reach, alas.
Besides, Pippa had no time to investigate the feeling, because the choreography of the footmen was relentless.
She had to turn and march back with the tureen in her hands.
She felt a trickle of sweat on her neck, and suddenly her limbs felt heavy. Walking felt like treading through water. She lined up behind the other footmen, and it took all her strength to carry the tureen back without dropping it. Her hands were sweaty, and shivers racked her body.
The last course was coming, then it was over, she told herself, wiping her wet hands on her breeches. She could do this.
Klemens still hadn’t noticed her; he had not an inkling that she’d been standing right behind him for nearly four courses. She wanted him to know she was there. Now, even more so, with the Grand Duchess sitting across from him trying to catch his eye.
The opportunity came when the sweets were served. Pippa handed the Archduchess a platter with colourful confections, which caused her to break out in delight, and as she reached out to touch a piece of fondant shaped into a pink swan, she dropped it on the ground.
“Oh, dear,” she exclaimed.
Pippa instantly knelt to pick it up. The head had broken off the swan, and she wondered what to do with it.
She could hardly hand it back to the Archduchess, nor could she put it back onto the serving plate.
If she kept holding it in her hand, she couldn’t hold the golden serving plate properly.
As she knelt on the ground, hesitating, Klemens glanced down at her.
And then he looked away.
Pippa narrowed her eyes. That really couldn’t be. Did he truly not recognise her? Was he blind?
“No worries, Your Highness, there are other swans on the plate,” she murmured in a low voice.
Klemens’ head snapped back.
This time, their eyes met.
Finally.
His eyes widened in astonished recognition.
He spluttered.
Pippa threw him a speaking look, but she had to get up, as the footmen were about to retreat.
Pippa stepped back just as Klemens was turning his head to look after her.
She made an unobtrusive motion with her hand to indicate that he should turn around again.
He did so, with a frown.
Exhaustion seeped through her. They had to stand motionless along the wall behind them, in a straight line, until the guests finished eating their sweets. How long would that take? Afterwards they had to serve liquor. It was never-ending.
She heard the clinking of silver on porcelain, the conversation of the people, and the soft plucking of the harp that played in the background. The heady smell of flowers mixed with food and alcohol had grown thick and overpoweringly sweet.
It was hot; too hot.
The entire room swam in front of Pippa’s eyes.
She felt the walls tumble in upon themselves, and then—everything was black.