Chapter 27 #2
Hager sighed. He nodded at August, who got up, opened the door, and in came Greta.
Pippa gasped.
Her face was entirely expressionless, and she refused to look at Pippa.
“Tell us where you found it.”
“I followed her to the Augustinerkirche this morning, and she hid the missive in the third pew in a secret panel. I retrieved it and had it sent to you.”
“Excellent work.” August looked satisfied.
“Greta is a spy, too?” Why was she so surprised? Had they not said that almost every servant in the Hofburg was spying? She simply had not known they would set a spy on her.
Greta did not look at her as she left the room, and the sense of betrayal coursing through Pippa was deep.
“Explain yourself.” Hager’s voice shot like a bullet through the room, making her jump.
Pippa looked at the missive and licked her dry lips.
What was there to say? Of course, she had invented the content of the missive.
But if she admitted to that, not only would it bring her a great deal of trouble, but it would also cause trouble for Klemens.
And that, she decided, she must avoid at all costs.
“It is what it is,” she eventually said slowly.
Hager unfolded the missive, lifted his quizzing glass, and read the message.
“Highness, the gentleman in question is showing a marked affection for the Black Poppy.”
In the end, Pippa had told Metternich the truth. But she would not make it easy for him.
The Black Poppy being herself, of course. Poppy was a nickname her papa had given her, and she had added ‘Black’ to make it sound a bit more mysterious, possibly referring to her hair colour. Those were all the clues she was willing to give them.
No one would know it was her.
Or would they?
, A feeling of unease crept over Pippa at the narrowed eyes of Hager and the grim set of August’s jaw.
“To whom did you address this missive? It was not to me, unless I have been, unbeknownst to myself, elevated into the rank of royalty.” A mere baron was not exactly addressed as ‘Highness.’
Pippa shrugged. Surely there was no harm in telling him it was Metternich? He was his superior, after all.
“Prince Metternich, of course.”
Hager banged both hands on the table, making her jump. “You lie. You expect me to believe this was meant for Prince Metternich? More likely, the Tsar. Or if not that, a French connection! King Louis the eighteenth.”
Pippa blinked. “Who?”
“The gentleman in question being a Jacobin prince flirting with revolutionary tendencies who eyes the French throne,” Hager added grimly.
“And the Black Poppy,” mused August, “of course represents blood, death, secrecy, revolution, anarchy. Everything associated with the Jacobins.”
Pippa’s jaw dropped. “It is no such thing!”
“Fr?ulein Cranwell.” Hager looked at her sternly. “Are you not aware that any expression of sympathy towards Jacobinism is treasonous? Any expression of radicalism in any form or manner is considered to be conspiracy against the state. Tell her what happened at the last purge.” He nodded at August.
August cleared his throat. “A Jacobin conspiracy was discovered in the army, of all places. Everyone received their due punishment, with two officers being publicly executed: hanged and gibbeted.” He smirked.
“It is the only way to make a statement. We have uprooted every nest of conspiracy since, with much success. But one finds they keep reappearing at the most inopportune moments.”
Pippa paled.
“We do not take these things lightly, Fr?ulein. So, you must speak. If this is referring to an Austrian prince and his affiliations with the Jacobin group, we must know who it is so that appropriate action can be taken. If, otherwise, our interpretation is correct, and it refers to the French Jacobin connection, it will make you a French spy.”
“Good heavens,” Pippa whispered.
“Well?”
“What would happen if, say, this concerned an important person? Say, a prince, is the gentleman in question?” Pippa asked carefully.
“It would be a scandal beyond measure,” Hager said. “I do not even care to contemplate it. Particularly now, in the middle of the congress.” He shuddered. “It would bring shame over the entire imperial family, and he or she would be put under house arrest. The worst that could happen is exile.”
Pippa felt the blood drain from her face. Under no circumstances could she mention Klemens’ name, even if they had the connection to the Jacobins entirely wrong.
She shook her head vehemently. “You have completely misunderstood the reference. It does not refer to Jacobins at all. It really is a simple flower.”
“I have yet to run across a black poppy, Fr?ulein.”
“Surely you do not believe that with your father’s legacy, it could mean anything other than a reference to Jacobins?” Hager’s cold eyes bore into hers.
She began to sweat. “My father was a professor of natural sciences. He was not a Jacobin sympathiser.”
“Was he not? He called himself an Enlightened Radical. For which he was thrown out of the English court.”
“He was a Whig, sympathising with liberal ideas,” Pippa replied hotly. “He never approved of the anarchy and bloodshed of the revolution.”
Hager brushed it off. “Whig Radical. Enlightened Radical. It is all the same, and can be summed up under the term of Jacobin Sympathiser.” He flicked the note with a finger. “This note is a testament that it seems to have rubbed off on you, too.”
Pippa stared at him with horror. “This is not true. I have no political sympathies with the Jacobins.”
“What do you know of the Society of the Torch?”
“I have never heard of them.” She shook her head emphatically. “Who are they?”
“I do believe she is speaking the truth, sir,” Agent August said.
“Then how do you explain this?” Von Hager tossed several books on the table with a loud crash that made her jump. “These were found in your possession when your things were moved to your new quarters in the Archduchess’ apartments.”
“How dare you go through my things!” Pippa flared up.
“Greta brought them earlier. Why are you harbouring forbidden books?”
The truth was that she had forgotten she had them. They were some of the books she had found hidden in Klemens’ desk, and taken with her. Thank the heavens they had found them with her, and not with Klemens. And Greta! She had trusted the girl, and believed her to be her friend.
“They came from my father’s library. He was a thinker and philosopher and natural scientist. If you read the title, you will recognise one book to have been written by my father.
Of course I would want to keep it as a keepsake, since he died recently.
It would never, ever occur to him to collude against the government and to cause a revolution. He was a man of peace.”
Von Hager looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Prove it.”
Pippa threw up her arms. “It is me. The Black Poppy. I am the Black Poppy! It is a reference to myself.”
Both Von Hager and August scowled, but August laughed.
“So you were deliberately trying to deceive Metternich.” Turning to Hager, he said, “It is harmless. We know that sometimes they invent messages when they cannot find anything of consequence. She attempted to play a trick on Metternich. That is all.”
Pippa nodded so emphatically that her curls bounced. “Yes. A trick. That is it, exactly. Metternich put pressure on me to deliver messages and threatened me, but in the urgency of the moment I did not know what else to write, so I wrote this. Poppy really is a nickname for myself.”
“But the Black Poppy...” Von Hager was not quite convinced yet.
Pippa pointed at her hair. “What colour is my hair, pray?”
Both men stared at her hair.
“Are you telling me you wasted our time over nothing at all?” demanded Von Hager.
August grinned. “Not necessarily.” He folded the missive. “Your lordship could decide to have the message delivered anyhow.” He paused. “To confuse the Prince. Just a bit.”
Von Hager stared at him, then his face broke into a smile. It was rather frightening to behold. He wagged his finger at him. “You are quite something. In revenge for all the trouble he gave us the other day. Yes. Let us do that.”
Pippa looked from one to the other. It appeared they were not particularly on good standing with Metternich, either, she concluded. Which was just fine, as long as she was kept out of it.
“Well. If there is nothing else, I must return to the palace. The Archduchess is waiting for me.” She pushed her chair back.
“The books have been confiscated,” Von Hager announced. “And if you draw attention to yourself again in this matter or cause any trouble at all, we shall arrest you on the spot. Is that understood?”
Pippa bit her tongue to prevent herself from saying he could go jump in the nearest pond, swallowed, and smiled. “Yes, mein Herr. I thank you a million times for your most gracious graciousness in releasing me.”
She dipped a curtsy and swept out of the room.
Pippa returned to the Hofburg in a daze.
What had just occurred? It had been a perilously close escape.
If the secret police had truly uncovered her connection to Klemens, the consequences might have been catastrophic.
Von Hager’s warning echoed through her mind, that whispers of radical thought or Jacobin sympathies could stain Klemens’ reputation and land him in serious trouble. It could ruin him.
And so the cold truth settled over her like frost on glass. To protect him, she must place as much distance between them as she could manage.
To save their future, she might have to surrender it entirely.