Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Evie was cross.
She was sitting in the drawing room of her new home, an elegant baroque town house not far from the Imperial Palace.
Alone.
She had more servants than she could possibly need and was running out of creative ways to keep them busy.
Two footmen were standing by the door, as they had the entire day. She considered sending them on a fool’s errand throughout Vienna to get rid of them. Anything to keep them from hovering there, throwing pitying looks at her.
The housekeeper kept asking her on a regular basis whether her ladyship needed anything. No, she did not, she replied with gritted teeth.
Now was not the time to throw fancy tea parties, nor soirées.
The city, so busy only weeks before, thrumming with parades, performances, concerts and balls, was gradually emptying of its visitors.
The streets below, once choked with carriages, fell quiet; the noise and clamour ceased and where the street performers previously filled the city with life and music, there was merely the mournful scrape of a lone violin. This, too, eventually ceased.
The monarchs, princes and diplomats had departed. Wellington left for Brussels. The Austrian field marshals rejoined their regiments in Italy and the Rhine.
Georg had left for his headquarters a fortnight ago.
Once more there would be war.
And there had been no wedding night to speak of.
He’d given her a quick kiss on the cheek, and an embrace, and then he’d left, leaving her behind with the wedding guests and the uncut wedding cake.
This, she decided, as she jabbed her sewing needle into her embroidery, was the main reason why she was so vexed.
Instead of departing for Wolfsthal, she had returned to Hartenberg’s town house, surprising the servants, who had not expected her to arrive alone.
They had scrambled to pull off the Holland covers from the bed and chairs, and kindle the fire in the main bedroom.
For the greater part of the evening, she’d sat on the floor, staring into the guttering flames, turning down a bath and a light supper.
The remainder of the night, she’d spent tossing and turning between the sheets in the big bed, waking up in a cold sweat from nightmares, where she saw him lie dead in a sea of blood.
This had been her wedding night.
She was only half-married. What kind of state was that?
There was no name for it. She was no longer a spinster; there had been two wedding ceremonies, after all, and it was all signed on paper.
There had even been a wedding breakfast. But that had been all.
Her husband had departed immediately and she had not seen him since the day that cursed rider announced that Bonaparte had returned.
Who knew when he would return (her husband, that was; Bonaparte be hanged for having interfered in her married life so rudely), and it was quite likely she would be a widow before the marriage even had a chance to be consummated. Evie stabbed the needle through the fabric right into her thumb.
“Oww.” She’d forgotten to put on a thimble and popped the finger into her mouth to suck on it. Now she’d smeared blood on the fabric, too. She cast the embroidery aside with a sigh.
She now lived alone in her husband’s town house, with far too much time on her hands, and no idea what to do.
What did a half-married wife do when she had no husband to speak of?
She’d pretended to play house on her own the first few days, wandering through the many rooms of the house, tugging at the lace doilies on the sideboards, pretending to arrange flowers in vases that were already perfectly arranged, and re-planning the menu (for one person) that was already perfectly planned.
She’d taken up embroidery again, because apparently that was what married ladies did.
And written pretty notes of thanks to the wedding guests, but that had taken up a mere few hours of the morning. What else was there to do?
She had not seen much of her brother Julius, for his duties had suddenly tripled.
With both Castlereagh and Wellington gone, driving congress matters to a satisfying close for the British had become a matter of utmost urgency.
Her friend and sister-in-law Catherine was with child and much occupied with her own family affairs these days, so she did not see much of her, either.
It was truly sad.
Just as she angrily rubbed away a fat tear that had trickled down her cheek, the footman behind her cleared his throat. “The Countess Lindenstein is here.”
Evie whirled around with a squeal. “What?”
Her old childhood friend, who had married an Austrian archduke, had been painfully absent these past few months since she had been on an extended honeymoon with her husband.
A lithe, dark-haired young woman stepped into the room. “Evie. Or should I say, Frau Feldmarschall Gr?fin von Hartenberg?” She opened her arms, laughing.
Evie rushed into them hugging her friend tightly to her. “Pippa, Pippa, Pippa! You, here? But how? And why? Aren’t you in Italy?”
“Indeed. We had the most splendid time in Venice, Klemens and I, when the news reached us of the monster’s return.
It upset our plans, for we were to travel to England afterwards.
I suppose this plan will now have to be postponed.
Klemens barely had time to change his clothes and is now on the way to his regiment.
Did you know that your husband is his superior and he has to answer to him in the field?
He says Hartenberg is absolutely terrifying when he is in his official field marshal role.
He exacts absolute obedience from his men without question.
It must be very odd, them being so close. ”
Evie shook her head. “I have no idea of how to even imagine what their relationship is like since I have not seen them together much.”
“And you? How are you, dear Evie? Can you ever forgive me for having missed your wedding?”
Evie sighed. “I am hardly married and already half widowed.”
Pippa slapped her arm. “Don’t say that. Don’t even mention it.”
“Yet widows appear to be all the rage here these days.” Evie’s humour was determined to be black. “Did you know there is an entire organisation dedicated to them? They are quite vile.”
“What on earth do you mean? I have never heard of such nonsense.”
Evie gave her an update of past months’ events, up to the point of her wedding and Hartenberg’s sudden departure.
“What an adventure you’ve had, indeed! It is unlike you to be sitting here, all alone, moping.” Pippa pointed at the embroidery that she’d cast carelessly onto the sofa. “Embroidering, too? Since when?”
Evie grimaced. “I thought that was what a proper wife did, but I confess I simply can’t warm to the activity.”
“This won’t do.” Pippa shook her head. “It also does not behove me to wait and mope while Klemens is at war.”
“Did you know that for the officers’ wives, it is quite customary to join their men in the field?
I have heard stories of English soldiers’ wives following the drum.
” Evie tugged at her lower lip. “It was not at all unheard of during the Peninsular War. Even Wellington told me about it. One of his favourite stories was of an officer’s wife following him right into battle. It must be quite exciting.”
The two women looked at each other as the same idea dawned in them simultaneously.
“Do you think we could?” Pippa said slowly. “Heidelberg is quite a distance.”
“It is, indeed,” Evie agreed. She tapped a finger against her lip. “Five days, at most? Maybe six?”
“We could do it in less time with good horses and a well-sprung coach. But one would need an escort. A male one. Where to get one, when all the men are unavailable, or gone?” Pippa fell onto the sofa, her arms spread.
A silence fell, in which both of them contemplated this difficulty with identical expressions of determination.
“I think,” Evie said slowly, “that I know just the man.”
“I am a dead man,” Schneider groaned. “First His Highness will kill me, then Hartenberg. Though if Hartenberg gets me in his clutches first, which I very much fear, His Highness will never even have the chance to do his worst.” He stared morosely out of the window of the racing carriage.
“Because I will be already dead.” He turned to the two women, who listened to his lamenting politely, yet entirely unmoved.
“I had one task left in Vienna. One. To collect the dispatches and ride to Heidelberg. A simple matter. And yet here I am.” He leaned forward.
“It is not too late, ladies. Let me return you safely to Vienna. We are on the eve of a major campaign. Headquarters is no place for ladies.”
“Stuff and nonsense,” Evie said. “I need to be with my husband.”
“Who might be less than delighted to see you,” Schneider muttered, tugging at his cravat. “He will have my neck as well as yours. Men dislike surprises of that sort, you see. Not when a battle is at stake. The last thing they need is to be distracted. What if things go awry?”
Evie’s laughter was slightly forced. “You mean if they lose the war it will now be our fault because we distracted them?”
Schneider returned her look gravely. “It is indeed a factor to consider. Do not underestimate the power of female influence in battle.”
“I do think you are overreacting,” Pippa tutted. “Klemens will not be at all surprised to see me. He will be overjoyed to have me there.” She paused, and bit on her bottom lip. “I think.” The last two words came moments later and were muttered more to herself.
Evie nodded, though she could not say the same about Hartenberg with equal confidence. “Besides, it is too late to turn around. We are already halfway there. We might as well finish the trip.”
After five days of hard travelling, their coach rolled through the city gates of Heidelberg.
Above the town towered the castle, half in ruins, its crumbling walls covered with ivy.
The narrow, cobbled streets were filled with the green tunics of Russian infantry, the dark blue jackets of Prussians and the white coats of Austrians marching with muddied boots, muskets shouldered, while officers barked orders in a chaotic babel of languages.
Crates and supply wagons blockaded the alleyways, horses whinnied, and the main road had transformed into a rancid stream of mud, manure and misery.
It was an entirely different world, and Pippa, who had been chattering excitedly, fell quiet and clutched Evie’s hand.
The carriage drove through the red gate of an imposing baroque palais and came to a halt.
“Here we are,” Schneider said with the excitement of a man about to ascend the scaffold.
The door opened, the steps were lowered.
Pippa baulked. “You go first.” She nudged Evie in the ribs. “Your presence has more consequence.”
“No, no, no,” Evie protested. “Not at all! An archduke’s wife has precedence, most assuredly.”
“I must insist, Frau Feldmarschall.” Pippa suddenly looked rather pale. “I find my courage has suddenly deserted me.”
Evie swallowed. She peeked out of the door.
The courtyard, too, was busy with soldiers and horses.
Evie drew in a breath and descended from the carriage on trembling legs.
As she stepped down, the courtyard fell silent. Every man there turned to stare.
“The Countesses von Hartenberg and Lindenstein have arrived,” Schneider informed the footman, who stood gaping at the women. “Please inform their respective husbands.”
“No, please don’t,” Evie intervened. “I think it is better if you don’t announce our arrival.” She licked her lips. “Let’s surprise them. They will be delighted, w-won’t they?”
Schneider gave her a long, eloquent look.
The footman’s expression was frankly sceptical. “His Excellency is in a meeting with the corps commanders but his imperial highness is with his troops. He is expected back later in the evening.”
Pippa’s face brightened with relief. “He is out? Excellent. Lead me to his chambers, then, where I shall await him.” She followed him with a spring in her step. “What do you offer in terms of refreshment here?” was the last thing Evie heard her ask before she disappeared inside.
Schneider took a deep breath and straightened. “Let us not tarry, then. The meeting is in the war council chamber.”
Evie’s stomach knotted tighter with every step she took as she trailed after Schneider into the palais. Up a wide staircase, down busy corridors, past countless doors.
She could hear his terse, clipped voice through a set of double doors standing open to a large room, dominated by a table covered in maps, over which several officers leaned, including a tall, broad-shouldered figure impossible to miss. Hartenberg.
“Napoleon moves to the north. His intent is clearly to fall upon Wellington and Blücher before our own preparations are complete. We shall cross the Rhine here,” he traced a line across the parchment, “two columns, near Mannheim and Basel. Our objective remains Nancy. Whatever befalls in the north, we advance.”
Schneider entered without ceremony and saluted.
Hartenberg looked up briefly and missed Evie, who had ducked behind the door just in time.
“Ah, Schneider. I had expected you back sooner. Did you bring the dispatches?”
“Yes, sir.” Schneider handed him a packet of documents, which Hartenberg promptly began to peruse. Schneider glanced back at Evie over his shoulder, but she waved him away with an urgent gesture.
She remained loitering by the door, feeling rather foolish. She now bitterly regretted not being officially announced. How long would she have to remain there before he noticed her?
Unless, of course, she announced herself.
The thought alone made her cringe.
And so she did what she had done at the Hofkriegsrat. She slid into a chair near the door and waited.
The meeting went on and on. Her head nodded forward more than once as she began to doze off.
“…and in the eventuality that the enemy proceeds on the right flank, we must—”
A sharp silence fell. The absolute stillness was more menacing than any shout.
“Schneider!”
The roar finally shattered the quiet like a thunderclap, so loud and furious that Evie jerked awake, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Not again! What in hell’s name is my wife doing here?”