“Nonsense, of course you do.” She drew her forward and whispered in her ear. “It is the best strategy when all else fails, you see.” Her eyes twinkled.
Pippa really did not know what she was talking about. “There, take it off now. We must make sure it does not get a wrinkle so everything is perfect tonight.” Pippa took the dress off obediently.
While the abigail was curling her hair, Mimi said, “I want roses in my hair.” Pippa lifted the red rose that lay in a bowl on the dressing table.
Mimi shook her head. “No, the colour is too strong for my hair colour. I need a shade lighter. Go fetch them for me, Pippa, since Martha here is busy with my hair.”
Pippa hurried into the corridor.
Roses. Roses. Where on earth would she find roses?
Below stairs, naturally, in the servants’ quarters. She hurried down the familiar backstairs and entered the corridors that led to the servants’ quarters. In the room where they kept the decorations for the dining room, there would be flowers. She entered the room. It was empty. Her eyes swept over the tables that were spilling over with ivy, orchids, and how could it be that there was every other kind of flowers but not roses? She found them eventually, in a pile on the table next to the sink, half-hidden by the open cabinet door. She stepped behind it and picked up several when the door opened and two footmen entered with silver trays.
Pippa was hidden behind the open cabinet door. She had meant to step forward and offer a greeting when she heard a voice, low and tight, say, “They discovered the missive. I do not know about you, but I do not intend to die for this cause.”
Pippa froze.
“Neither of us shall,” another voice answered. “Just trust me.”
“Trust?” The first man’s laugh was a dry rasp. “How do I know you are not a spy for Metternich? If he gets wind of this, it is over.”
“It was planned,” the other returned, quieter now. “The missive you delivered was a decoy, a false trail for the authorities. If you find one, know it is deliberate. But listen.” He glanced left and right, then breathed the words, “The Society of the Torch meets Thursday week in the Crypta of the Minoritenkirche. If all goes asplanned, it will overturn everything. We will have a new order by nightfall.”
“I shall believe that only when I see it,” the other grumbled.
The door opened, closed, and then there was silence.
Pippa remained in the room for several minutes longer, then she opened the door carefully, looked left and right, and when no one was in the corridor, she slipped out and up the stairs from whence she had come.
Pippa’s heart hammered, and her mind whirred.
What had she just heard?
The Society of the Torch. Was that not what Von Hager had been asking her about?
They were having a meeting next Thursday.
It sounded ominous. What were they trying to do? Overthrow the empire?
Feeling increasingly uneasy, Pippa returned to the Archduchess’ rooms with the roses.
As she helped with the final touches of Mimi’s wardrobe, she could not help but have her thoughts repeatedly drawn to the conversation she had overheard.
She would have to tell someone.
But who?
Klemens?
She bit her lip.
Von Hager? He would not be present tonight. She could send a message to Agent August. But no, that was too risky. What if it got intercepted? She would have to inform him personally. But it was impossible for her to leave the palace.
Who else could she tell? Metternich? It would make sense, but how to reach the man?
She stepped out through the French double doors, welcoming the cool night. The verandah was linked to the rooftop garden with the greenhouse. She had several hours left until the ball.
Pippa entered the greenhouse and was instantly rewarded with the warmth, calm, and fragrant atmosphere. She walked among the flowers, admired their colour, and sat down on the bench, wondering what she should be doing.
