Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
They found no trace of the Baroness or her organisation, despite a thorough search of the city. It was as if she had dissolved into thin air, returning to the shadows from which she’d come. Not even the Secret Police had been able to find anything substantial regarding her whereabouts.
“It is a mystery, Your Excellency,” von Hager, the head of the Secret Police, reported to him personally about his findings, or lack thereof.
“There is no paper trail regarding the woman. The Baroness does not exist. She is a phantom. There is not a single trace; in fact, everything we know about it has been nothing but rumour and hearsay. It could very well be a one-woman operation.”
Georg did not think so. “While that is possible, it is more likely that they have simply gone underground until it has blown over. We shall have to put more agents on the case.”
Von Hager shook his head. “Impossible. We have run out of agents. All our manpower is concentrated on maintaining security around the palace and the congress grounds.” He threw up his hands.
“Secret societies and forbidden organisations are springing up like mushrooms, and I consider this one to be one of them. They come and go. We have only recently uprooted the Society of the Torch. For every Jacobin society we root out, three spring up in its place.” He heaved a heavy sigh.
“Yet these are only women. How much harm can they do?”
“Don’t underestimate women,” Georg snapped. “That is precisely why they will succeed in the end.”
Von Hager rose. “Still, unless we gather more evidence, I will consider this a one-woman affair. Inconvenient, yes. But no real danger as yet. If you wish, we will keep an eye on it and report should we note anything of consequence.”
Georg nodded curtly. At last, he had to do the thing that weighed most heavily on him. He had to summon Julius, who had been his friend these twenty years, to the Imperial War Council for a formal interview.
* * *
“My,” Julius murmured as he entered the interrogation room, dangling his quizzing glass from his fingers as he eyed the heavily armed soldiers who guarded the door.
“I vow I am terrified. I would have you know that I was in the middle of a most agreeable nuncheon with Catherine and the children when the soldiers arrived with your, err, how shall we put it? Summons? Arrest? Are you about to pull out the thumbscrews and the rack?”
“Sit.” Georg gestured at the chair in front of the plain table. The room was bare save for a small writing table by the window, where Schneider sat with his notes.
Georg arranged his papers, waited until Julius had settled himself, and only then spoke.
“What we discuss here will not leave these walls. This interview is necessary to determine whether certain allegations regarding you have substance.”
Julius’s eyebrows rose. “Allegations?”
“Of a very serious sort.”
“I see.” He paused and pulled out a handkerchief to polish his quizzing glass. “And if they do have substance?”
“Then I will have no choice but to have you arrested as a spy.”
Julius’s hand paused for a fraction of a second before he resumed his activity. “Ah.”
“Should they prove unfounded, your name will be officially cleared.”
Julius gave a curt nod. “Understood. What is it you need to ask me?”
“There is a certain list that is of utmost importance to us.”
“By us, I take it you mean to say the Austrian Imperial Army.”
Georg gave a curt nod. “It contains names of double agents hand-picked by Napoleon himself. The list was written by him.”
“Surprisingly careless of the Emperor of the French. I wonder what he intended by it.”
“So you have never heard of that list.”
“I have not.”
“Very well. Then you will also not know about the rumours that the list had surfaced. Before it could be revealed, I sent out my own agent to recover it.”
Julius forgot to polish his quizzing glass. “And?”
Georg observed him closely. “Word got out that there are names on it that had better not be on it.”
“Intriguing. Do you suppose my name was on it? Ah. I see from your expression, or its lack thereof, that it must be. This of course explains your polite invitation to these charming premises.” He waved a hand.
“Your name is indeed on it.” Georg crossed his arms.
A thoughtful frown appeared on Julius’s face.
“How fascinating. And now you have called me here to ask why the deuce that is. The fact of the matter, my friend, is that I have not the faintest idea.” There was a beat of a pause.
“You can either believe me or pull out the thumbscrews. Though even then my answer will not differ. You know how careful I am in whom I trust. I trust only Castlereagh and Wellington, and I refuse to discuss matters of diplomacy with anyone else. Not even with you.”
Georg could not deny the rush of relief that swept through him.
“I do know that. But I need to know what the deuce you did, or who it is you might have antagonised, for you to land on that list. You appear to have made a powerful enemy. If we could discover who that is, it might give us an important clue.”
“I suppose I have many enemies,” Julius said slowly. Then his hand stilled. “Wait. There was indeed an incident.”
Georg leaned forward.
“Shortly after my arrival here in Vienna. I received a call from Orlovsky. He had the temerity to attempt to recruit me as a spy. I took him by the collar and had him thrown out of my home.” His lips twitched. “I gather he did not take the humiliation well.”
Georg drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Orlovsky. It is no secret that he works for the Russians. That might well be the explanation. An act of petty revenge for having humiliated him.”
“Where is that list now?”
“Gone. Your sister destroyed it.”
Julius shot up. “What the devil has Evie to do with it?”
“Everything,” Georg groaned. “I take it she did not tell you.”
“No, she did not,” Julius bit out. “Pray, fill me in.”
Georg told him the entire story.
Julius grew white when he reached the part where the Baroness’s gun went off. “I shall lock her in a tower for the rest of her life.”
“That will be my privilege,” Georg countered.
“And you! How dare you use my sister as bait in this most dangerous operation?”
“It was never my intention to use her in the first place. Though you know Evie. I count us fortunate that she told me at all. She could have gone ahead and met the woman without our knowledge, and it doesn’t bear thinking about what might have happened then.”
Julius pointed his finger at him. “You. You had better take her off my hands, soon.”
“There would be no greater joy. I was about to ask for your permission to bring forward the wedding.”
Julius got up. “You can marry her tomorrow for all I care.”
“Alas, we shall have to wait until the manoeuvres are done. I should much prefer the beginning of March to June.”
Julius nodded. “It shall be done. And now, may I return to my nuncheon?”
“Do, my friend, do.” Georg slapped him on the shoulder.
Herr Dehne, the owner of the confiserie, was so distraught at what had happened that he closed the place for the remainder of the month. He swore he had no idea who the woman was; he had never seen her before, nor had he known that she would use his establishment for such a vile purpose.
“I am ruined,” he moaned. “No one will ever want to visit again.”
Happily, he was mistaken, for on the day he reopened, at the very height of Carnival, on Shrove Tuesday, no less, a long line of impatient patrons waited outside the shop.
To top it all, he received a most magnificent order: he was to create a wedding cake for the most important wedding of the Season, complete with four tiers covered in almond and sugar icing, a profusion of roses made of fondant, and gold and silver pearls.
Evie thought it all somewhat excessive, but she was told that for the most important wedding in the congress, people were expecting a fashionable cake, particularly if all of Europe’s royalty were attending.
She would have preferred a quieter wedding in the English style just with the family, but that might have been a problem too, since Georg’s family included rather extensive relations consisting of Austrian archdukes and archduchesses, his mother having been born a Habsburg archduchess.
However, she, as she had already announced, would not attend.
Evie understood that Georg’s relationship with his mother was not the best and found that to be a pity, for she herself had never had any mother at all, and part of her had hoped that Georg’s mother might fill that gap.
But, it appeared, that was to remain wishful thinking.
“Things would be simpler if we could just elope to Gretna Green,” Evie declared, quite tired and cross with all the wedding preparations.
“Besides, in England, all we have is a wedding breakfast without much fanfare after a simple ceremony at church. I do not know why we must make such a to-do here. We are just getting married, nothing more. Why must we do so twice?”
It really was most tedious. Because her bridegroom was an Austrian officer, they were obliged to marry first in a Viennese church under Catholic rites, and to secure her own protections under English law, an Anglican service had to follow.
“You don’t appear to look forward to our wedding celebration,” Hartenberg observed. There was an odd glint in his eyes. “It is meant to be a joyous event that we have decided to share with the rest of the world.”
“If you say so.” Her voice was deflated.
He grabbed her by the wrist and drew her up to him so that she was pressed up to his chest, looking up at him. “What is it you are worried about?”
The sudden closeness took her breath away. “Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well, and I am tired.”
His finger traced a dark shadow under her eye. “Is that all?”
She wanted to affirm that of course it was, though oddly enough, entirely different words came out of her mouth.
“Shall we truly be all right?” she whispered. She did not mean the wedding or the celebration, and Hartenberg immediately understood that.
He looked down at her, cradling her face between his hands.
“Whatever happens, we will be all right, Evie. I am certain of that. But I can’t promise you eternal happiness, or that we will never encounter any problems. I wish I could, but I am not God.
But I can promise you that I will care for you for the rest of my life and will be loyal to you. ”
What about love? her heart cried. What about love?
But she only nodded, the words dissolving in her throat.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, heavy and expectant.
Say it, she commanded herself. Ask him. What about love?
Instead, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
She had intended it to be brief, but his mouth answered before she could retreat, and whatever she had meant it to be, it became something else entirely.
Every resolve crumbled. There was nothing left but the scent of musk and forest, and the quiet rhythm of a shared breath.
And the final thought that maybe, just maybe, Georg was right and everything would be all right after all.