Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Whenever they met, from then on, he treated her like a stranger.
Polite, distant, neither overly friendly nor overly cold.
He called her ‘Lady Evangeline’, offered her his arm at balls, led her into the ballroom for the polonaise, seated her at supper, conversed amiably about the weather.
There was really nothing to reproach him about.
He was very gentlemanly, very polite, and he did everything right.
Evie could have screamed.
She wanted to shake him until the epaulettes on his shoulders shook, except she could hardly do so in the middle of the polonaise, when the entire ballroom including the Emperor was watching them dance.
The dance was more of a march than anything else and horridly boring, and Evie suppressed a sigh.
She had not proceeded an inch since Hartenberg had caught her in his study. What was she to do? She had to supply the Baroness with the information in three days.
Should she just fabricate something?
That might buy her some time, although probably not a lot, until the Baroness discovered she had fabricated the information.
Her gaze travelled to her brother Julius, who was dancing with his wife. It was tremendously unfashionable for a married couple to dance together, but her brother did not care a fig.
“We have been separated for a decade, and now I will not let etiquette dictate when I am allowed to dance with my wife, and when not,” he’d stated.
Lucky Catherine. His wife lifted her face up to him and she was glowing.
Evie felt a stab of jealousy.
She sighed.
Hartenberg must have noticed her lowered spirits, for he led her to the refreshment room, sat her at a table and told her he would return anon with a glass of lemonade. He melted into the crowd, and all she saw was the wide back of his uniform.
He treated her as if she were a sugar poppet about to melt in the rain. It was most infuriating.
And now, here she was, sitting all on her own in the middle of a glamorous court ball, feeling as lonely as ever.
Evie, however, was not someone to feel sorry for herself for long. She only had herself to blame, after all. Somehow, she would make everything good again, then he would trust her again, and start to love her. A little. Maybe.
She groaned.
Rather than wait for Hartenberg to return, she decided that she’d had enough of sitting around in stuffy ballrooms. She would go outside for some fresh air and see whether she could clear her mind.
She needed a plan.
And she was running out of time.
She slipped out into the corridor and pushed through the French doors onto the verandah. The cold air struck her at once, sharp and biting, and she drew a long breath of it, grateful for something that was not perfume and candlewax.
She would have to trick the Baroness somehow. But how?
A second gust embraced her and she shivered. Now she was too cold. She turned to go inside, when she heard voices, speaking in low, rapid German.
“…they are most certainly after the list too. In fact, I suspect they were the ones who shot down Hofer.” The voice sounded familiar.
“Did you find any proof?” Evie nearly jumped, for that was Hartenberg’s low voice. “Without proof, our hands are tied.”
“Nothing solid. They have covered their tracks well. The list is still unaccounted for, and until we find it, we cannot move.”
“Proceed with caution. As long as none of this is confirmed, we cannot let any information leak.” Their voices withdrew.
Evie stood behind the pillar, holding her breath.
The list was still unaccounted for.
He did not have it.
He had never had it.
Her heart hammered with something that was considerably more complicated than relief.
The next morning, Evie stood in front of the imposing neoclassical building and lifted her head to look up at the tall windows and doors.
Up, far up, past the decorative urns and statues and military emblems, perched on the roof, the proud imperial crowned double eagle looked haughtily down on her.
This was the Hofkriegsrat, the Imperial War Council, where every thread of Austria’s military power converged. This was Hartenberg’s world.
Her pulse beat a little too fast against her throat. She’d never felt so small in her entire life.
“Right.” She cleared her throat and braced her shoulders. “Forward, march.”
“Must we indeed go inside, my lady?” Her maid grabbed her by her arm and held her back. “This is a rather frightening place to be.”
“Well. It will not get any less alarming from out here.” She stared at the uniformed guards who stood with legs apart in front of the sentry boxes that flanked the door. They looked huge, uncompromising and frankly, rather terrifying.
Evie took a tentative step forward. They did not budge.
Another step. She cast a sideways glance at the soldier on the right, who remained unmovable. So far, so good.
She dared another step. Then another.
Just as she was about to heave a sigh of relief that she’d reached the door without any obstacle, both of them jumped into action simultaneously, barring their entrance with their rifles, giving them such a fright that Nellie screeched loudly into her ears, digging her fingers into her upper arm, which, in turn, caused her to squeal as well.
“Entry to civilians is strictly prohibited,” the soldier on the right rapped out in a booming voice that made her jump again.
“Goodness,” Evie groaned, pressing a hand to her chest.
“We’re terribly sorry! Please do not shoot us,” Nellie babbled, attempting to drag Evie back, but Evie withstood her pull.
“Yes, that would be most gratifying,” Evie added. “But we do need to go inside.”
“But my lady,” Nellie protested.
“I am not a common civilian. I request to speak with His Excellency, the Field Marshal Hartenberg. I want to bring him,” she tapped the basket, “some cake.”
The soldier did not even glance at the basket. “That is impossible, ma’am.”
Evie shook off Nellie’s hand, who attempted to pull her back. “You do not understand. I am Lady Evangeline. The Field Marshal’s betrothed. I must see him at once.”
She saw the soldier’s eyes meet the other one’s. Something unspoken passed between them.
“We cannot admit you, ma’am. Please move on.” The second guard spoke, his voice a tad more apologetic.
Evie stepped up to him. She stared straight into his mud-sprinkled eyes. “What is your name, soldier?”
“Egger, ma’am.”
“Egger. And your colleague’s?”
“Gruber, ma’am.”
“Well, what are you both, corporals?”
“Corporals, ma’am.”
“Corporals. I see.” She clucked her tongue. Then she pulled her mouth into an angelic smile. “How would you like to get demoted and reassigned to the furthest corner of Galicia? I need but drop a word to Hartenberg and you shall be reassigned today.”
An uneasy expression passed over the man’s face. His gaze shifted to his comrade’s for help.
“They did say he just got betrothed,” the other sentinel muttered under his whiskers. “Was all over the papers.” Both sentinels studied her anew, taking in her walking dress and her mink coat.
A hint of panic crossed the sentinel’s face.
“Papers,” the other boomed out. “You must produce papers to confirm your identity. If you are indeed who you say you are, then we shall, of course, grant you access.”
“Papers, Nellie.” Nellie pulled out the papers and handed them to him.
He studied them and paled. “I beg you a thousand pardons, my lady. We did not know.”
“Well, you do now.” She whisked past him and waited for him to open the heavy door for her.
She ignored their profuse apologies and stepped inside, allowing herself one steadying breath.
They were inside.
Good.
Now what?
Things were hardly any less intimidating inside. The Hofkriegsrat was a maze of corridors, stairs and even more corridors. How was she to find Georg in this labyrinth?
Uniformed men hustled by, barely giving them a glance.
“The trick is to pretend as though we know precisely where we are going,” she muttered to Nellie. “No confused looking around. We have a right to be here. We know where we need to go. Heavens. Left or right staircase?”
“I don’t know, my lady!” Nellie’s voice sounded panicked. “There are too many soldiers in the corridor on the left. Let us take the right.”
That was, probably, a good choice, to avoid people until they had some sort of idea where they were.
They took another turn into a quieter corridor, where Evie paused to gather her bearings.
“One must proceed at these things with logic. We could, of course, ask around, which makes us appear precisely as though we have no right to be here, and that is not the impression we want to convey. On the other hand, we will waste a considerable amount of time if we don’t know where to go.
” She interrupted herself as a pair of men walked briskly towards them, deep in conversation.
Evie turned towards the next door and pretended to reach out and open it.
As they passed by, she heard snippets of their conversation.
“He’ll bite our heads off if we’re late. He’s summoned everyone to the War Council chamber, from the sergeants down to the adjutants.”
“Do you know what this unexpected meeting is about?”
“No idea. I suspect it’s regarding the Prussian question. The Field Marshal implied the other day that troops may need to be deployed rather earlier than anticipated…”
“This way,” Evie hissed, and dragged Nellie along the corridor, following the men at a safe distance.
They turned a corner, and at the end of the corridor the double doors were open and people flocked into a grand-looking room that, no doubt, was the War Council chamber.
Evie waited until the last of the men went inside.
She bid Nellie to wait in the corridor, while she slipped in, and ducked at the back of the room.
Since the room was packed with men all facing the front, no one noticed she was there.
Evie carefully angled an empty chair towards her and positioned it behind a wide, burly man, where she could effectively hide.
She peeked around his back to the uniformed man who stood in the front, commanding everyone’s attention.
Hartenberg.
Strange, Evie thought, how he was so very different in this environment.
It was like he was a different person altogether.
He started talking in a clear, crisp voice.
In the drawing room, as a private man, he was unhurried, dry-humoured, frequently sardonic.
Here, he was sharp and clipped to the bone.
That she was not the only one thinking so was evident from how stiffly all the men behaved.
They all sat a little straighter, and one could have heard a pin drop when he talked. He was, in short, rather terrifying.
She ducked her head low and prayed he would not discover her.
The meeting dragged on. It was, as suspected, centred upon the Prussian question and the deployment of troops should Prussia attempt to annex Saxony as compensation for her lost territories. Austrian regiments were to be stationed in Bohemia as a contingency plan.
How excessively dull it all was.
Golden sunlight flooded through the windows, and the room grew uncomfortably warm. Evie felt a heavy drowsiness stealing over her and bit back a yawn.
“The question of repositioning the troops is, naturally, a logistical and diplomatic tightrope. It is understood that every precaution must be taken.” There followed a lengthy, stretching silence. “Precautions must be taken,” he repeated, his voice slowing until the words simply withered away.
Evie peered around the broad shoulder of the gentleman seated before her.
Hartenberg was staring directly at her.
Her breath stopped. What now? Should she smile? Wave? Do nothing at all? She pulled her mouth into a tentative smile.
His hand on the table, motioning at the map, had gone perfectly still.
“Sir?” an officer beside him prompted.
Hartenberg gave his head a sharp, involuntary shake.
He turned aside abruptly and lifted a finger.
An officer stepped forward, and he whispered something into his ear.
The officer stepped aside and Hartenberg turned back to the map.
“As I was saying, gentlemen, the repositioning of troops is contingent upon the prevention of a possible resurgence of aggression. If you look here…” He pointed at the map.
Discreetly, an officer made his way towards Evie. “If you will follow me, my lady,” he murmured, and indicated the door.
Caught.