Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Pippa had thought that being a companion to the Archduchess would give her more free time, but that was not so.
It appeared to her that she had even less free time than she had when she was a maid.
Now, she had a pretty but narrow room in the antechamber to the Archduchess’ bedchamber, which meant that she was required to be available at all hours, even at night.
Cleaning had allowed her to be on her own and to ruminate on her own thoughts.
Now, she was constantly in someone’s company; if not the Archduchess’, then with her guests.
She not only helped the Archduchess with her toiletry and wardrobe, but with everything else that occupied her during the day, whether that was reading, embroidering, playing music, or visiting.
Pippa was fetching and running, and giving orders, as suddenly the servants she’d been intimidated by were beneath her.
The entire hierarchy had been put upside-down.
That included Frau Benedikt.
That woman was nothing short of extraordinary, Pippa concluded. One morning, she’d appeared in the Archduchess’ rooms, standing tall and silent in front of them, giving Pippa such a fright she nearly jumped out of her skin.
The woman gave not a single sign of recognition, not even a blink.
Instead, she gave Pippa a half-bow. “I would like to confirm with Her Imperial Highness the menu for tomorrow’s supper,” she said, adding formally, “Fr?ulein Cranwell.”
The address was so unexpected that it threw Pippa off balance entirely. She stuttered that she would have to enquire with the Archduchess first, but Her Imperial Highness was still sleeping.
Frau Benedikt nodded. “I shall await your message, then.” She turned to go.
“Frau Benedikt.”
“Yes, Fr?ulein.”
“I wanted to enquire how Henni is doing.”
A fine eyebrow rose. “She is doing fine, Fr?ulein.”
If the girl were dying on her deathbed, she would say the same.
Pippa thought quickly. “Her Imperial Highness has a need for staff, and I was wondering whether Henni might be transferred here to her service. Would it be possible?”
“One would have to consult with the Obersthofmeisteramt about whether that is a possibility, Fr?ulein. Given the current lack of maids in the palace, and the increasing festivities as Christmas approaches, I do not believe it is possible for us to release yet another maid.”
The pointed emphasis was not lost on Pippa. “Whether a regular palace maid can join the personal household staff of an archduchess, that needs to be confirmed by Her Imperial Highness herself.”
“But I too was a regular palace maid,” Pippa argued.
Frau Benedikt regarded her steadily. “If I may say so, Fr?ulein Cranwell, you were not.”
Pippa blinked, confused. “No?”
“It is no secret you were sent from the secret police. Also, your background is not that of a regular commoner, but that of the daughter of a well-known professor.”
“You knew?”
She raised a fine eyebrow. “Naturally. It is my duty to know such things. Now, Fr?ulein, if you will excuse me, I must return. I shall await your message regarding the Archduchess’ meal requirements.”
She left, leaving Pippa staring after her.
One major advantage of being the Archduchess’ companion was that Pippa was sent on errands outside the Hofburg.
Whether it was to fetch a bag of sugar confections from Demel, a pair of silk stockings, or a newly trimmed bonnet, she enjoyed those brief excursions immensely and frequently made detours to extend her liberty.
She had never had the chance to see the sights of Vienna properly, to take a turn in the Prater or explore the parks on the Bastei.
Today, the Archduchess had sent her to the Kohlmarkt to collect freshly roasted chestnuts from the street vendors, along with a selection of ribbons and lace from the haberdashery.
“It isn’t the same when they are roasted in the palace kitchens,” she claimed.
Pippa was inclined to disagree.
Before she did so, Pippa had another obligation to fulfil. One for Metternich.
She walked briskly across the Josefsplatz toward the Augustinerkirche. The heavy door yielded to her push, and she slipped inside.
The air was cold and dim, thick with the scent of candle wax, incense, and holy water.
She walked down the centre aisle of the Gothic church, white pillars soaring high on either side.
She counted the pews. There. The third. She slipped into the hard wooden seat near the outer edge, close to the ornamented bench end.
Her fingers slid along the walnut panelling, pressing lightly until she heard a faint click. A small drawer opened beneath.
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. The church was empty.
She retrieved the missive she had written earlier, folded into a neat square, and slipped it inside the compartment.
There. Done.
Her first intelligence delivered to Metternich, as requested.
She’d followed his instructions and left the missive in this secret hiding place rather than handing it over to a footman.
He had wanted her to discover the identity of the woman Archduke Klemens loved. He wanted a name.
Well, she had given him one. And it was so thoroughly encrypted that he wouldn’t be able to make head nor tail of it.
Her mouth quirked into a smile.
She took a moment of silence, said a prayer for her father, then slid out of the pew and left the church as quietly as she had come.
She did not see that behind the farthest column, merging with the shadows, stood a female figure who had observed her every move.
Pippa bought two bags of roasted chestnuts, one for the Archduchess and one for herself, and dawdled on her return to the palace, stopping to watch a puppet theatre. The exaggerated antics drew chuckles from the crowd.
A puppet appeared with a pompous roll of hair and a white military uniform.
“I am Prince Lucifer!” a voice proclaimed behind the wooden stage.
“And I am to marry the Russian Grand Duchess this Christmas! She is more beautiful than the sun and moon combined.” Another puppet jerked into view, a princess in a glittering crown.
“But oh, oh, oh, what am I to do when I love another?” A third puppet appeared bashfully in the corner, a lady with painted cheeks and golden curls.
“Marry both!” shouted a voice from the audience.
“Marry the Russian Grand Duchess and keep the other as a mistress. That’s the way of it, heheh,” called another.
Pippa nearly choked on her chestnut.
“I have heard it is to be a grand wedding at the Augustinerkirche,” said a voice beside her. A woman speaking to her companion. “The Russian Grand Duchess has a tremendous dowry. An entire chest stuffed with diamonds.”
Pippa went still. A sharp pang shot through her chest; whether alarm or jealousy, she could not say.
The antics onstage continued, the puppets now mocking the Tsar and his amorous entanglements.
Pippa decided she had had enough. She turned to leave.
As she crossed the street toward the Hofburg, a man appeared before her, blocking her way.
“Fr?ulein Philippa Cranwell.”
He wore a nondescript brown suit and a plain hat, his face impassive.
She inclined her head.
“You are to accompany me to the Polizeihofstelle. Come with me, if you please.”
Pippa’s fingers cramped around the paper bag with the chestnuts. “Polizei? But why?”
“I am not at liberty to say. I am under orders from Baron von Hager directly.”
Pippa paled. To be ordered to the Polizeihofstelle by Hager directly meant only one thing: she was in trouble.
Her eyes shifted to the side of the street as she calculated how quickly she could sprint across and disappear into a side alley. If she could make it to the Graben, surely she could lose him there amongst the hustle and bustle.
But she barely had time to move before the man stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “You can come with me quietly now, or I can call over my three colleagues, who are surrounding us, and we can make more of a public procession as we officially arrest you.” His eyes were merciless, grey and hard.
“Arrest me? For what? I have done nothing wrong.” Looking around, she saw three other men in civilian dress standing at each corner of the street. If she ran, they would catch her, no doubt.
“Then there is nothing to be worried about, is there? Come with me and have a chat with Baron von Hager. There is no need to fear if you have nothing to hide.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Very well. I shall come along. But do not touch me.” She pulled her arm from his grasp.
He marched her to the same building where she had hoped never to set foot again. “Arresting innocent people in the middle of the street in plain daylight,” she muttered. “Like criminals.”
Once more she was led down a dim corridor into a plain room with a desk and a chair.
There was Agent August again, unsmiling, and by the window stood another gentleman. He had narrow lips, bushy eyebrows, and a pointed nose.
Pippa disliked him instantly.
“Fr?ulein Cranwell.” Agent August bade her sit in the chair.
The man by the window, whom Pippa took to be Baron von Hager, studied her with a slight sneer about his lips.
Pippa sat.
“It appears we have run into some difficulty regarding your cooperation and the agreement we made.” August tapped his fingers on the table. Before him was a pile of notes that Pippa recognised as hers. These were the missives she had composed, the results of her espionage.
“I do not understand what you mean. I have faithfully submitted my reports as requested.”
Hager snorted. “A useless compilation of disinformation, unnecessary detail, and fabricated stories. Your intelligence has been worthless to misleading, Fr?ulein.”
Pippa swallowed.
“But this is secondary. What concerns me more is this missive here.” Hager walked over to the table and tapped his finger on a folded missive that Pippa instantly recognised.
She squirmed.
“Explain.”
“It is not mine.”