“And now,” he got up to stroll over to the side table to pour himself some coffee, “do your part and tell me of any notable events or information.” The coffee smelled divine, and her stomach growled. It had been fourteen hours and twenty-six minutes since her last meal, weak coffee and a crust of black bread, and it did not occur to August to offer her a cup.
Eyeing his coffee with envy, she cleared her throat, opened her mouth and paused.
The problem was, she had absolutely nothing to report. The entire week she had not encountered anyone notable other than her fearful encounter with Metternich,a nervous-looking secretary who had scuttled along the corridor, dropping some files on the way, and some foreign diplomat who had nearly slipped on the wet floor she had been mopping. As for the remaining people who passed through the corridor, Pippa suspected they might have been important people, but she simply did not know who they were. And Greta was not always with her to help her identify them. So the best she could do was give August a list of people who arrived at the Hofburg tonight for supper with the emperor. But that was hardly a secret since the entire palace was informed of it.
August, indeed, was not pleased.
“Details, Fräulein Cranwell. Details!” He rapped his knuckles on the table.
“Details. What details?” Pippa looked at him crossly. “What details are there to report when all I have to do all day is sweep the corridors and clean the grates?” Then something occurred to her. “Oh. I know. Metternich wore cream-coloured stockings and had golden buckles on his shoes, and the man who dropped his files was wearing a grey wig with a black ribbon.”
“Did you at least manage to have a glimpse of the files? What papers were they?”
“How was I to know that? I’m merely a cleaning maid of the lowest rung, I never even got near the man.”
“Can you at least confirm which monarchs are to be staying at the palace, and in what apartment?”
That Pippa could, for it was not a secret. The Tsar, the King of Prussia, the Danish king and the King of Bavaria were all to reside in Hofburg palace. It was an organisational nightmare for the servants.The empress personally had redecorated all the apartments with modern, brand-new furniture, that, according to Pippa’s calculations, must have cost a fortune. All carried by the taxpayers, no doubt.
Pippa relayed him the information. “But I’m not certain whether the King of Prussia or the Tsar is to stay in the Amalienburg. If I had to wager, it would be on the Tsar, because the empress herself furnished it so expensively.”
But August pulled his mouth down, dissatisfied. “Young lady, this won’t do at all. You’ll have to do better and supply us with more substantial information.”
“But I’m already doing the best I can!” Pippa was tired, hungry, and now he started to spread a thick layer of butter over hisKipferlbefore biting into it. Cruel man! “What am I to do when I’m not allowed to set my foot into the imperial apartments? I don’t even come near them. You should have given me a better position, if you expect me to get you more important intelligence.”
“You’re a clever girl,” August replied with a full mouth. “Use your resources and gain access somehow. Archduke Leopold’s apartment, for example. All you need to do is get hold of his wastepaper basket and rifle through that. More often than not, it’s full of discarded letters and notes.”
“Prince Lucifer?” Pippa blurted out.
Both of August’s eyebrows shot up. “Prince Lucifer indeed. What do you know of him?”
Pippa shrugged. “Not much. Other than what people on the street say.”
“And what do they say?”
Pippa recalled the discussion she had overheard on the first day of her arrival. She recounted it.
“And? Are they right? Has he had any parties or orgies since?”
Pippa nodded. “According to Greta, she is a fellow maid, at least three. He invites all manner of folk from the street, mainly women, and they drink all night. The mess they make is horrifying, Greta says. It’s a problem for the cleaning maids because they have to clean the rooms but cannot because they have drunken bodies lying about everywhere, in all sorts of state of undress. Not to mention Prince Lucifer, who, they say, is the worst.”
His butter knife paused mid-air. “Says who? This Greta?”
“Greta got it from Hans, the doorman in the eastern corridor, whose cousin is sweet on a maid whose friend’s friend is part of the Archduke’s household.” Pippa thought. “Or was it the nephew whose girl’s friend is working for the Archduke?”
“In short, nothing but unspecified tales and exaggerated rumours so far removed from the source they cannot be relied on at all.” He huffed. “I need details. Evidence. And facts!”
Details. Evidence. Facts. If only it was that easy!
“Let this be your next assignment then: bring me the contents of the wastepaper basket of Archduke Leopold. If you cannot manage to do that, you’re of absolutely no use to us and will be dismissed from your post. Your papers will be revoked and you’ll be back where you started.”
Pippa glared at him. How dare he threaten her? “Very well,” she said through gritted teeth. “I will get you the contents of the Archduke’s wastepaper basket and of his chamber pot too, if you so desire. In return, I ask of you one thing.”
August uttered an astonished laugh. “The audacity of this girl! You dare to make stipulations?”
Pippa pulled out a letter from her pocket. It was addressed to Klemens. “Please have this delivered to theGoldene Lamm. I am certain that if it arrives with the police courier, this letter will be treated with more…respect.” She would get down on her knees to beseech him, if that was what he required.
August looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Klemens Lindenstein, the mysterious man whom you claim to be affianced to. I find it interesting that the man does not appear anywhere in any of the records.”
