Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
When Pippa was five, she’d survived the measles.
The epidemic had ripped through the remote little English village where she’d lived, and afterwards it was said her survival was a blessed miracle.
She remembered her mother laying her cool hand on her forehead, soothing her, feeding her spoonfuls of soup with soft, soaked bread.
She’d been so feverish that the dreams she’d had were colourful nonsense.
In between brief bouts of waking, she was aware the doctor had been in the room, talking in hushed tones to her parents, who stood by the window.
She remembered the sun flooding through the round window panes, glinting on her mother’s hair, as if surrounding her with a halo.
Like an angel, she’d thought. Like a beautiful angel.
That had been the last time she’d seen her mother alive, for she, too, succumbed to the measles, and died before Pippa herself had fully recovered.
Her father had been broken; Pippa herself numb, confused. Surely Mama couldn’t be gone; surely, she couldn’t leave like that without saying goodbye…
Then she felt herself lifted, and she did not like the feeling of being disoriented, of falling.
She made a sound of distress. A low voice murmured something, and it was black once more.
The next time she awoke, she felt something cool on her forehead.
She strained to open her eyes, but they refused to obey. Her eyelids were heavier than lead, and her limbs no longer seemed to be her own.
Papa, she thought. Surely, it must be him sitting next to her by the bed. Or Mama.
It felt good, the coolness. The gentle patting on her cheeks, her hand.
She felt warm and safe.
And she fell asleep again.
Pippa opened her eyes, blinked, and closed them again, for the light hurt.
When she opened them once more, her eyes focused better, and she saw a figure sitting by the light source, which, she figured, must be a window.
It was that of a lady, girl-like almost, gracefully bent over something that must be embroidery.
Her straight flaxen hair was tied back in a low knot, and a few strands of hair curled over her ears.
Her profile was serene, almost Madonna-like, and she looked vaguely familiar.
She wore a white dress; her movements were calm.
She must have died, Pippa reasoned. For now, she saw angels.
She was quite content lying there in the warm, soft bed, looking at the angel as she sewed.
Pippa closed her eyes again. Only to find that the lady was still there when she opened them.
She noticed some other things: that the room was quite splendid, really. The ceiling had stucco; the windows were tall and elegant, and the bed in which she lay was a lovely canopied bed, similar to the one Klemens had—
Klemens!
At one point in her dream, she’d dreamt that Klemens had been there, lifting her, carrying her, murmuring to her, and she’d clung to him, not wanting to let him go, never letting him go…
If she had died and were in heaven, and Klemens wasn’t here, then she’d rather return to earth where he was, thank you very much.
She sat up.
The lady looked up from her embroidery and smiled.
Pippa blinked at her. “You’re a person.”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “I should hope so.”
Pippa licked her dry lips. “I mean, I thought you were an angel.”
The woman laughed, and it was a light, amused sound, like bells.
Then Pippa recognised her. She was Klemens’ twin sister, the woman he’d sat next to at the gala supper.
Up close, Pippa could see that she really wasn’t beautiful at all, at least not to the conventional standards of beauty.
Her mouth was too wide, her lower lip too full, her nose too stubby, and it was clear her straight hair refused to curl.
Yet there was something lovely about her; her eyes were large and grey, and the corners crinkled when she smiled, and her movements were graceful, as if she were a dancer.
“You are the archduchess.” Pippa attempted to struggle up, but her soft hand pushed her back. “Your Imperial Highness.”
“Marie Madeleine,” she replied in a soft voice.
“But drop the Imperial Highness. I can’t bear it.
You can call me Mimi.” She rose and came to tuck at the blanket.
“Are you feeling better now? You have been sleeping nonstop for nearly three days. Doctor Philips said it would be like that. He also said I should give you medicine when you awake.” She pulled at the cord next to the bed.
“And that you must eat something and sleep more.”
“Three days!” What would Frau Benedikt say? Pippa struggled into a sitting position, aware that she was wearing a nice, new nightgown. “But why am I here? Where am I? Why am I not with Henni and the others in the attic bedroom?”
“Henni—who is she?”
Pippa explained she was her friend and fellow maid.
Then it hit her. She tore her eyes wide open in horror. “Oh no! I must have fainted smack in the middle of the gala dinner!”
Mimi giggled. “So you did. It was quite a spectacle. Nearly all the other footmen toppled over in horror, like dominoes.”
A sick feeling of horror spread through her. Frau Benedikt would kill her. That was the end of her career at the palace. “Wa-Was the Emperor very upset?”
Mimi waved her hand. “It happens to the best of us, you know. Even to the hardiest soldiers, who have to stand still under the scorching sun for hours on end. It happens that one or more faint. I daresay the Kaiser did not even notice. They brought you out quickly and with little ado.”
“But why am I here?” Pippa insisted.
She leaned back, studying her with an amused smile on her lips. “You were brought here by my brother, of course. The Archduke Leopold.”
“Ahhh,” Pippa said for the second time, leaning back in her pillows with an exhale. Her head hurt.
“Aren’t you going to ask why?”
“I’d rather not.” She clenched her eyes shut.
“I shall tell you anyhow.” She folded her hands.
“He was uncommonly distressed at having found his chambermaid—now turned into a footman serving at his table at the gala supper; you can imagine my surprise at having discovered that some of our footmen are actually women!—a delicious situation, wouldn’t you say?
—anyhow, what was I saying? Oh yes. He was uncommonly distressed at having found that she had fainted right behind him, and he did not even notice until she was carried out swiftly by the other footmen.
There was a delay in serving the ices, you see, and he turned to see when they would be served. ”
“So that was how it happened,” Pippa muttered.
“So he went after you.”
“No!” Pippa stared at her in horror.
“Yes.” The Archduchess batted her eyelids at her.
“He fairly stormed after you, with me in tow, of course, for I knew something was afoot, and found you unconscious in the antechamber. They’d placed you on the bare floor right next to the table with the champagne cooler.
” She wrinkled her nose. “Not a nice place to recuperate, if you ask me. So he picked you up and carried you here.” Her eyes gleamed.
“In his arms. Personally. All the way. To this chamber.”
Pippa lifted the blanket to hide behind it.
She leaned forward. “Did you say he did so personally?”
She laughed.
Pippa threw the blanket off and scrambled off the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“I must return to the servants’ quarters, of course.
Frau Benedikt must be furious.” She stood barefoot in her shift, and looked around for her clothes.
There weren’t any. She was in one of the elegant bedrooms with tapestried walls and gilded mirrors, and had been sleeping in a four-poster bed. “She will kill me.”
But the Archduchess would have none of it. “Relax. Get back into bed.”
“But I must leave. Where are my clothes?”
“You are still ill. You are to remain here until you recuperate entirely.”
Pippa stepped to the wardrobe by the wall to see whether her clothes were there, when the Archduchess’ tone turned sharp. “Get back into bed. It is an order.”
Pippa’s shoulders dropped. She crawled back into bed.
Mimi smoothed the blanket about her. “There. Why not right away? You are to stay here until further notice.”
“But Frau Benedikt—”
“Frau Benedikt has been informed. You are no longer working under her jurisdiction, but under mine.”
“You mean to say I am no longer to be Klem—I mean, Leopold’s chambermaid, but yours from now on?”
“No, you are to be my companion.”
Pippa blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I need one most urgently. Louisa, the girl who served me before, got married, you see. I am quite bereft without my companion!”
“What does a companion even do?” Pippa drew her brows together.
“Oh, all sorts of things. Read to me, advise me on clothes, go shopping with me.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “Do many things with me I’m not allowed to do on my own.”
Reading she could do. But advising on clothes? Shopping? “What sorts of things are you not allowed to do on your own?” Pippa asked cautiously.
“Pretty much everything.” She returned to her seat by the window and smoothed her white muslin dress under her fingers.
“I can’t make a step outside these quarters without a companion, a chaperone.
You are heaven-sent. Klem is content that you are looked after, and I am delighted to have someone at my side.
So you see, it serves all our purposes.”
Pippa tugged at her blanket with agitated fingers.
Of course, being a companion was so much better than a regular maid sweeping the palace floors.
There was no question about it. It was a much-coveted position that a girl like her could only have dreamt of.
Many women aspired to becoming a ‘court lady’; in fact, it was a position strictly controlled by the court that was only available to women of the highest aristocracy.
That the Archduchess herself was offering such a position to her, Philippa Cranwell, a commoner, was unheard of.
She shook her head. “With all due respect, Your Imperial Highness, I don’t see how this is possible.
I am neither a noblewoman nor accustomed to the workings of the court.
I fear it shall bring you great discredit to hire a commoner like me for such a high service, for I have neither the education, connections, nor breeding for such a position. ”
“No education, hmm? Since you are trying very hard to put yourself in the worst light possible, why don’t you tell me what it is you do well?” She picked up her embroidery again.
“What I do well?” Pippa thought for a moment. “I am rather good with numbers, and I enjoy mathematics.”
“I am not surprised. You can do my accounting books,” the Archduchess replied.
“Most excellent.” She set down her embroidery.
“Now that we have settled that, you must drink your medicine,” she indicated a glass and a paper satchel with powder next to it, “and sleep. For a companion who is ill is of no use to me at all.”
And with a last nod, she left the room.
Mimi forced Pippa to remain in bed another day, and would have insisted on a second, but Pippa refused. She wanted to start her new duties as companion to the Archduchess as soon as possible.
Instead of her old servant clothes, she was given lovely, fine muslin dresses in green, blue and pink, with matching shawls. Pippa had never worn anything so fine. She turned in front of the mirror to admire a dark blue day dress, simple but elegant.
“It suits you to perfection.” The Archduchess stepped back and surveyed Pippa with satisfaction. “Here, take this pink Kashmiri shawl for a contrasting colour. I want my companions to look their best. Your first function today is to attend tea with me this afternoon.”
Tea with the highest circles! The notion alone struck terror in Pippa, for she would not serve them in safe invisibility, but sit with them at the same table and, Heaven forbid, make conversation.
She would have loved to run out of the room, the palace, Vienna itself, screaming, but she had no choice but to obey.
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness,” she muttered, which earned her a rebuke from Mimi.
“I told you not to call me that,” she reminded her.