When she knew that that was the very last thing she could ever do.
She was hurting too much; she was missing him too much.
“I can’t do it,” Pippa whispered.
“Yes, you can.” Frau Benedikt’s voice was hard. “And you will. The Archduke has noticed you. That is a great privilege. Seize the opportunity with both hands. If yougo about this wisely, you will not have to worry about a thing for the rest of your life.”
Pippa’s face fell as the meaning of her words sank in. “Is that truly your advice?”
Her hard eyes seemed to melt a fraction, and Pippa seemed to detect a hint of pity in them. “No. My true advice would be not to lose your heart over him. For that would be a veritable disaster.”
With a nod, she left the room.
Pippa stared at the piece of soap that smelled sweetly of lavender.
Too late, she thought with a sick lurch in her heart. For I have already done so.
ChapterFifteen
As a chambermaid attachedto the Archduke’s apartments, Pippa’s duties differed greatly from those of a kitchen or scullery maid.
She was required to rise at half past four, snatch a crust of bread for breakfast, and make her way to the Archduke’s chambers, where she waited for the water carrier to deliver the heavy buckets filled to the brim with water from the well. She was grateful that she did not have to carry those herself along the endless corridors and staircases. Her task was to pour fresh water from a smaller jug into the Archduke’s washstand. Normally, one poured the water from the pitcher right at the moment the person was washing himself. But he preferred the water to be in the bowl already. It was one of his eccentric preferences, she was told, and it was only one among many.
Pippa scowled, for back at home, Klemens had never exhibited any such strange preferences.
This duty was not physically exhausting, but it was tricky. She had to enter his bedroom while he was still asleep, refill the basin, and silently lay out linens, towels, soap, and combs on the stand, together with a pitcher of warm water. She was expected to move like a shadow, leaving everything in order without waking him.
After he rose and was dressed by his valet, she had to wait for his signal so she could enter the bedroom again to make the bed, air the mattress, change the linens, collect the soiled linen, sweep the floors, dust the furniture, and polish mirrors. The tiled stoves were maintained by the oven heater, but she had to make sure the hearth looked tidy and that firewood or coal was at hand. She also had to remove the chamber pot discreetly from the privy room and place it in the antechamber, where Henni emptied and scrubbed it with water and lye before returning it.
In the evening she turned down the bed, warmed it with a bedwarmer, and set out fresh water for the Archduke’s washing. Once more she tidied the chambers, cleared away supper trays, and carried out chamber pots. She might be sent on various other errands at any time. She answered to the Archduke’s valet, Severin Drimmel, as well as to the steward’s office. Only when every task was done late at night was she permitted to turn in.
“You must remain invisible, do you understand?” Frau Benedikt insisted. “A chambermaid working in the Archduke’s apartments must remain unseen. You must anticipate His Imperial Highness’s needs before he is himself aware of them. And perform your duties without him noticing you. Never disturb his slumber. Do not talkto him. Ensure he doesn’t notice you. When he is awake, you are never to be in the same room as His Imperial Highness. Is that understood?”
A chilly feeling of panic assailed Pippa. For one wild moment, she thought of falling on her knees and begging Frau Benedikt to please let her sweep the general palace corridors again. It was far less terrifying than setting foot into his bedchamber.
But looking into Frau Benedikt’s stern, implacable face, she swallowed and said meekly, “Yes, Frau Benedikt.”
It was before dawn, and Pippa now stood in the servants’ antechamber, where a small tapestry door led directly into the bedchamber. She had never crossed that threshold before. Her heart was beating so loudly, she feared it might rouse him. Her fingers tugged at her apron and her bonnet. Really, there was no reason for her to be so absurdly nervous. She curled her hands into tight fists. How often had she entered Klemens’ bedroom to bring him dinner trays, books, and water pitchers? More times than she could count.
She had even nursed him once when he was ill, and spent the entire night by his bedside, putting her hand on his fevered brow. When she had wanted to remove her hand, he had groaned, “Leave it.”
And so she had stayed the entire night by his bedside, falling asleep next to him, with her hand over his brow. It wasn’t as though she had never seen him in bed, either.
She had read him books and poems while he listened with closed eyes, a contented smile playing about his lips. It was after that Klemens suddenly regarded herdifferently. No longer as his professor’s daughter, but as a girl worth courting. And how ardently he had courted her! With flowers and poems and stolen kisses, and that invincible, irresistible charm that was Klemens.
So why was she so foolishly nervous now?
“Calm yourself,” she muttered, and drew a deep breath. Once. Twice. Then exhaled. “You can do this, Pippa.” She gently pushed the door open and tiptoed inside.
The room was dark. The furniture was mere shadows. Somewhere on the left loomed the shape of a tremendous canopied bed, the windows were across from it, and the washstand was on the right. That meant she had to cross through the entire room to reach it.
She squinted into the darkness. There was no doubt a lump of a figure lying somewhere in there, and when she held her breath and listened, ignoring the sound of her own wildly thundering heart, she could hear the even breathing of a sleeping person.
Clutching the pitcher, which grew heavier and hotter by the minute, she tiptoed across the room. In the middle she paused, held her breath, listened again.
He was still sleeping.
She crept on.
