Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Evie had returned to her usual routine rather quicker than she’d anticipated.
Already on the day after her arrival, she found herself shopping with Lady Castlereagh.
Except this consisted more of window shopping, and when they did enter the shops, asking to try out every single bonnet, glove and pelisse the shop held, only to leave again without having bought a thing.
Lady Castlereagh seemed to take much delight from this.
It only left Evie feeling embarrassed and rather sorry for the Viennese shopkeepers, whose dropped faces, as the two ladies left again, indicated that they ought to have, at least, bought some ribbon.
Which was why Evie ended up with rather more bonnets than she liked, for she pity-bought one in each shop they entered afterwards.
It wasn’t entirely good for Lady Castlereagh’s reputation, Evie reflected, for the Viennese began to describe her as purse-pinched in the gossip sheets.
Having bought her third bonnet already that morning, she suggested going to a confectioner’s, rather than visiting yet another milliner.
Lady Castlereagh’s face brightened. “There is nothing I like more than going to confectioners. The Viennese do know how to do sweets best.”
So, they found themselves going to Dehne’s, located across from the Hofburg on Michaelerplatz.
The window was filled with dainty little marzipan figures and a massive five-tiered cake made of fondant.
The interior was decorated with dark panelled wood, crimson velvet curtains and upholstered chairs.
“This is the best alternative to a coffee house, where ladies, alas, are not allowed entry. Castlereagh told me the cigar smoke is so dense there, it stings the eyes. All the gentlemen do is sit around, read newspapers, and play billiards, much like in an English club.” Lady Castlereagh looked around with a satisfied air as she pulled off her gloves.
“I much prefer this arrangement, far more genteel, much like Gunter’s.
Indeed, they say this place is famous for its ices.
However, since it is rather cold today, we shall order something to warm us, shall we not? ”
After hot chocolate, a chocolate cake, a raspberry cake and a slice of apple strudel, Lady Castlereagh was hailed by a jolly-looking lady who insisted on talking to her about the soirée on the following Saturday.
Evie rose, murmuring some excuse, and made her escape.
A maid showed her the way to the ladies’ retiring room down a narrow staircase, and along a shadowy corridor. After Evie returned, she found the maid gone, and looked around, disoriented. There were many doors on each side, but which one would lead back up the staircase to the main room?
She opened one door, and since it was dark inside, she closed it again. She turned to try the other, and again it was the wrong one.
How could it be that she could not find her way back?
Suddenly, a maid appeared behind her. Not the same girl who had led her down. This one was older, unsmiling.
“It is this way, my lady.”
Evie jumped. “Goodness. What a scare.”
“Through this door, my lady. There is someone who would like to talk to you.” She held open a door.
Curious who it could be, Evie stepped inside.
She found herself in a séparé, appearing quite similar to the main room, walls swathed with dark panels and red velvet curtains, except this one was smaller, and there was a corner table, half hidden by a curtain.
Evie turned around to the maid to enquire what this was, but the girl had closed the door.
“Do step closer, Lady Evangeline,” a melodious female voice said from behind the curtain.
Curious, Evie stepped forward. “Who are you?”
There was no reply.
She took another step forward and pushed the curtain aside. Behind a round table, on an upholstered bench, sat a tall, slim woman swathed entirely in black. She wore a black dress of bombazine, a black cape over her shoulders, a black bonnet and over it, covering her entire face, a black veil.
Evie recoiled.
She had seen this figure before, hovering over Clara at the inn. She’d thought her a spectre, at first, but it was clear the woman was breathing and alive.
Curse it, she had not brought her pistol, just when she needed it most.
“Who are you?” Her voice came out steadier than she felt.
“Do not be afraid, Lady Evangeline. And please sit so we may have a chat. I have been wanting to talk to you for quite a while.”
Evie weighed her options. She did not assume the woman to be dangerous, and she was curious about who she was and what she wanted. “You were at the inn.”
The woman inclined her head. “At the inn, I made an error. It has since been corrected.”
“You knew that my companion was not me?”
“I know it now.”
“Are you a spy?”
The woman laughed softly.
“And why are you hiding behind the veil? Who are you?”
“You shall have to forgive me for not disclosing my true name, nor my true face. You may call me the Baroness.”
Evie attempted to squint through the veil, which covered her mouth but left part of her chin free. She deduced the woman was young, possibly only a little older than herself. She gave a cool nod. “Why have you led me here? For I assume you sent that maid to bring me.”
“I am not here on a personal matter, but I represent an organisation that is called the Widows’ Circle. We support and represent, as the name implies, widows.” She paused. “I am a widow myself.”
Evie listened politely. “My condolences. Except what does this organisation have to do with me? I am neither married, nor am I a widow.”
“Indeed, we are well aware of that. Yet you are about to be engaged to one of the most powerful men in the empire.” She let the silence sit for a moment. “We believe you may be considering calling it off. We would like to persuade you not to.”
Evie stiffened. How on earth had she known?
“We have eyes in a great many places, Lady Evangeline.”
“That sounds eerily similar to what Metternich told me. He wanted to recruit me for espionage.”
“Naturally. That does not surprise us. Did you agree?”
“I would never lower myself to spy on someone.”
The woman assessed her in the silence that followed. “Would you not?”
“Of course not!” Evie’s voice was outraged.
“Not even if it were to protect someone you love?”
“What do you mean?” Evie’s hand gripped her skirt.
“Your brother, the Duke of Aldingbourne. An indispensable member of the British delegation and the Congress as a whole. A man of intelligence, integrity and considerable influence. An ally to the Austrians, invested in strengthening ties even through personal means. We know of his close friendship with Field Marshal Hartenberg, and that you are engaged to him, albeit unofficially. There are not many outside of your personal circle who know of this, for the duke has orchestrated it as such. He is untouchable, really, forthright and incorruptible.” She paused.
“And yet his name has appeared on a certain list.”
The shock that shot through her cut her air off.
The list. The list she had seen and burned in the laundry room of the inn. It was impossible for the woman to know that she had seen it. Evie kept her face still. “I have no idea what list you are talking about, or why Aldingbourne should be on it.”
“A list compiled by Napoleon himself, before he was sent to Elba. The names of men he trusts to act as his agents across Europe. French, Austrian, Prussian, Russian. Men of all nations whom he considers his own. You can imagine how valuable such a list is, and how many people want their hands on it. Napoleon gave it to his aide-de-camp shortly before his exile. That aide-de-camp has since disappeared. It is believed he was killed by an Austrian agent working for a certain Austrian field marshal.”
Evie said nothing. Her throat felt tight.
“And this is where you come in. We want you to obtain it.”
Evie shook her head. “No. You are completely out of your mind. This goes against every principle I have been raised with. Firstly, how do I know this list was really written by Napoleon? Anyone could forge such a thing and put names on it out of sheer malice. Secondly, to remain engaged to Hartenberg simply to spy on him, to rummage through his personal effects to obtain a list he may not even possess, is not something I would do. Ever.” She pulled herself up.
“I am the daughter of an English duke. I am the sister of a duke. How dare you imply my brother is one of Napoleon’s agents. ”
The Baroness let her finish. The silence that followed was not an apology.
“Your loyalty to your family is admirable, Lady Evangeline. I expected nothing less.” She folded her gloved hands on the table.
“Then let me put it to you plainly. We believe the original has been lost. But Hartenberg has a secret copy of the list. Either locked away safely somewhere in the Imperial War Council, or in his own private home. My agents can’t access it because security is too tight in either place.
But you would have access. We want you to obtain it. ”
“Can’t be very secret if you know about it,” Evie muttered.
“Our information is not always certain. In this case, we believe it to be sound.”
Evie crossed her arms. “And why should I do any of this?”
“Because if your brother’s name is indeed on that list, we will remove it.
But if you do not help us, we shall obtain the list through other means.
It is not impossible for us to do so, yet we prefer to work quietly, without the taking of innocent lives.
No one would ever suspect you, and it would be a clean, safe and simple matter.
Without your aid, we will take the list and see that it is published in the papers.
All over Vienna.” She tilted her head. “And London, of course. Your brother will be declared a traitor to the English crown and quite unable to return home. Remind me again what they do to traitors in England? Here, we tend to shoot them. We care not whether they are English dukes.”
Evie’s breath left her.
The woman leaned back with glittering eyes. “So what do you think, Lady Evangeline? Can we count on your help?”