Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Being an archduchess’ companion was not all it was cracked up to be, Pippa concluded for the tenth time that day, as she paused on the stairs and wiped her damp forehead.
When one was not being apprehended by Metternich or hunted by the secret police, one was required to run up and down endless staircases like a very determined rabbit.
This was her fifth descent within the hour, all in the noble pursuits of fetching a plate of fruit from the kitchen, a book from the library, and, most bewildering of all, discovering whether it was snowing.
The Archduchess insisted that such a matter could only be determined by standing outside and smelling the air, not by the lazy habit of looking out the windows.
So Pippa had stood outside in the courtyard, shivering, her hand stretched out like a weather vane, peering at the cloudy sky and confirming that no, there was not a single flake.
At night, the errands grew no less peculiar. She fetched pomades and teas and pillows, and just when she was about to sink gratefully into her own little bed in the adjoining room, the bell gave a delicate but tyrannical ting.
“I require another pillow beneath my back,” the Archduchess would announce. So Pippa darted off in search of a pillow, wondering whether companions could expire from exhaustion.
By the time she finally retired, she fell into a restless, abbreviated sleep, only to rise what seemed mere moments later to prepare the Archduchess’ breakfast. She lived at her mistress’s beck and call, with not a single minute left to catch her breath or reflect on the madness of the past few weeks.
She had been doing her very best to avoid Klemens.
He had visited several times, ostensibly to take tea with his sister, and each time Pippa had melted away at the last possible moment, murmuring something about duties below stairs or inventing a plausible excuse involving misplaced accounts or linen inventories.
The Archduchess had cast her a few suspicious glances, although, mercifully, she had let the matter pass.
The bell tinkled again.
The Archduchess lay in bed and looked at Pippa with a pale face, dry lips, and feverish eyes. “I do not feel like rising today. My limbs ache and my head pounds something ferocious.” She pushed away the breakfast tray.
“Oh dear, would you like me to call the doctor?” Pippa picked up the tray, noticing she had not touched the chocolate or the Kipferl.
The Archduchess shuddered. “No. I just want some sleep and no disturbances.”
“Yes, that is a good idea.”
“Oh, and Pippa. If visitors come today, you must not send them away but receive them in my stead. You must represent me today. Serve them some tea and keep them company. I do not want them to leave without having had some refreshment, having come so far. You must put on something pretty, not this dreary blue dress that you always wear. Go to my wardrobe and ask Susi for the dresses that I have set aside because they are too small. The green silk day dress. It should suit you admirably.”
Pippa repressed a groan.
This was bound to be heading for disaster, Pippa feared. What on earth was she to do in terms of small talk if Hardenberg from the German delegation appeared? Or Talleyrand, heaven forbid.
Susi helped Pippa put on the dress and brushed her hair up.
Pippa stared at her appearance in the mirror and found a stranger looking back.
Her face was narrower than it used to be, her eyes huge, but perhaps that was because of the dark rings underneath. The green fabric suited her and made her feel pretty.
She stroked the soft fabric of the shawl that Susi had draped over her shoulders. Thus dressed, she stepped into the drawing room.
And promptly came to a full stop when she saw the gentleman leaning against the mantelpiece.
He was still wearing a greatcoat and boots and was taking off his hat as if he had just stepped off the coach.
His cheeks were red from the cold air, and his blue eyes sparkled as he turned around.
“Surprise, dear sister. I thought today would be an excellent day for a vis—” He came to a full stop.
Pippa dropped into a curtsy.
“Pippa!” There was a joyful note in his voice, and he stepped towards her, taking her hands in his. “It has been so long. Let me look at you.” He pulled her toward him and frowned. “You look pale and haggard.”
“I am quite well. But your sister is not. I fear she has come down with the same illness I had previously.”
“Mimi? She normally has the constitution of a horse. I shall drop by later, but first, we must talk.” He sat down in a chair and attempted to draw her onto his lap, but Pippa resisted, sitting down across from him instead, with a straight back, and spreading the skirt over her knees.
“Thank you for getting me this position with your sister,” she began. “I appreciate your help. But I shall not be able to stay here.”
“Why not? Is there anything you dislike here? Is she not treating you well? Are you missing something?”
She shook her head. “You know I cannot stay here forever and that I must return home.”
He raised an eyebrow. “To do what, exactly?”
That, of course, was the question. Not to mention that her home had been confiscated, but that was something she staunchly refused to think about.
“Pippa.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at her.
“Stay here. As Mimi’s companion. You cannot get a better position than that.
It is well paid, and suitable to your genteel background, and on top of it all, Mimi has been craving proper company. I daresay you and she get along well.”
“Yes, we do.” It was the truth. She did like the Archduchess, and they did get along well. And there was much truth in what he was saying as well.
But it would also mean having to see Klemens regularly and enduring that stinging feeling in her heart, like she did now. She did not think she could do it.
“You did not answer my question. What are you going to do there?”
“I will find something. I will stay with Sepp and Lotta.”
“You do not even know whether they are still there. They might have found new positions long ago.”
He was right.
“I want to return anyhow,” she said quietly.
Klemens frowned. “You are being stubborn and unreasonable.”
“Am I? And why do you think you have the right to decide what I want to do and where I want to go?”
“Pippa.” He threw up his hands impatiently.
“So let us assume I stay here. As the Archduchess’ companion. It is, truly, a great honour. And then what?”
“What do you mean, then what?” An irritated look crossed his face.
“I have to watch you always, as strangers from afar, unapproachable and so far above me. Promised to someone else. Married to someone else. This is not a life I want.” The thought alone made her unbearably sad.
“I told you I would find a solution for us. I told you to trust me.”
“Trust you. Trust in what?” She stood up, hands clenched.
“Trust in me!” he shouted. “Why is that such a difficult thing to do?”
“Yes, it is difficult. It is very, very difficult.”
“Pippa!”
“I do not know who you are any more,” she cried.
“Are we back on that topic again? How often must I tell you it does not matter what cursed title I was born into, the person inside is still the same?” He thumped a hand against his chest. “Did your father not teach you that all men are equal, so rank and privilege should carry no weight?”
“It is easy for you to say so,” Pippa cried. “Only someone born to power can speak of equality as if it were a simple truth. Papa meant well, but he was mistaken in this. The world does not treat an archduke and a maid as equals. It never has.”
“You are impossible.” His voice grew rough with frustration. “You complain of circumstance, yet when I offer you the comfort and safety that my station could give, you throw it back into my face.”
“Comfort? What comfort? Do you imagine it is comfortable for me to smile at you daily, to stand before you daily, while you are pledged to someone else?”
“I do not belong to anyone else. I was talking about marriage to you,” he roared.
“What about the Grand Duchess? They say your engagement is to be announced any day now.”
He strode a few paces, turned, then raked a hand through his hair in clear agitation.
“It does not mean I belong to her. Do you think I want that arrangement? I detest it as much as you.”
“And yet you are bound by duty to honour it.”
“I told you I would find a way out of it.”
She shook her head slowly. “I do not believe you should.”
His eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself.”
She looked at him then, her expression sad and resolute. “Duty must come before matters of the heart. I would not have you neglect yours for my sake. I won’t have you sacrifice for me. Your association with me is harmful to you. I can’t bear it. We must forget that we ever knew each other.”
He went white. “You cannot mean that.”
“I mean every word.”
“You would erase all that has been between us with one sentence?”
She said nothing, though in the silence she felt her heart was being torn from her breast.
“If that is what must be done,” she said at last.
His voice roughened. “You are telling me to choose duty over love.”
“Love.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Do not speak to me of love. There can be no such thing between us. Whatever it was you felt, surely, it was trifling. Consider it a brief attachment, a summer caprice that passes as the season changes.”
“Do not dare belittle my feelings like this. Do not dare attribute motivations to me I never even considered. If you were anyone else, I would have you thrown out for speaking to me like this.”
“And yet I dare, because it is the truth.”
“Did none of it mean anything to you?” His voice was pleading.
She drew a sharp breath, clasping her shaking hands for support. “I was merely infatuated. That folly has already passed.”
Each of her words was a stab of a blade turned against herself. Still, she swung for the ultimate strike, straight for the heart.
With shaking fingers, she unhooked the necklace from about her neck and held it out to him. “Here. Take it back.”
He stared at the ring in her palm. The one he had given to her, with a vow that he loved her and wanted to marry her, one warm summer evening.
But that must have been in another life.
Since he did not extend his hand to take it, she placed it on the side table. “I had no business taking it. It was all based on lies and deception.” She steeled herself. “And I was so very young, impressionable, rather easy to have my head turned.”
His face grew ashen. “You cannot mean that.”
She threw her head back. “I mean every word.”
“Pippa!”
“It is best, Your Imperial Highness, that we no longer know each other.” Something died within her as she uttered those words, but she disregarded it and lifted her chin, cold, determined.
His face hardened, beautiful and cold as marble.
There was a silence that seemed to go on forever.
“Very well,” he bit out in a voice she had never heard before. “If that is what you wish.”
He snatched the ring, made a curt bow, turned on his heel, and left. The door closed behind him with quiet, dreadful finality.
Pippa did not move. Only her lips shaped the words, faint and trembling. “It had to be done. It had to be said.”
She buried her face in her hands.
Was it noble idiocy, to sacrifice her love to protect him? Or just a terrible kind of necessary cruelty?
It was the only way, she kept repeating to herself.
It was the only way.
The Archduchess rang the bell, and it rang and rang. Pippa rose and dragged her leaden limbs to the bedroom.
Mimi opened her mouth to scold her, then closed it at once when she saw her face.
“Pippa. What happened? You look terrible.”
“Archduke Leopold was here,” she said quietly, “but he left again.”
Were her eyes still red? She had barely had time to press a handkerchief to them. Surely the Archduchess must notice how weepy and drained she looked.
“That rascal. Without as much as a word of greeting to me.” Mimi pushed herself upright in bed, several pillows propping her up, and searched Pippa’s face. She patted the space beside her. “Sit.”
Pippa obeyed.
“I heard you quarrel all the way in my bedroom.”
Pippa looked stricken. “You did? How terrible.” She covered her hot cheeks with both hands.
The Archduchess regarded her thoughtfully. “I wasn't born yesterday, you know. I knew, of course, that you must be the mysterious woman everyone keeps talking about. Otherwise, he would never have pressed me so fervently to take you in as my companion. I would not do it for just anyone.”
Pippa bowed her head. “I am terribly sorry.”
“For what? That I discovered your secret? That I overheard your lover’s quarrel? I must say, I have seldom heard him so frustrated. He must be deeply in love with you.”
Pippa shook her head. “Please let us speak of it no more. It is not meant to be.”
The Archduchess studied her for a long moment. “Very well. I shall not mention it again if it burdens you.”
She drew the curtains, straightened a pillow, and busied her trembling hands, anything to hide the bleak certainty that something precious had ended.