“You look uncommonly thoughtful, young lady,” said a voice, making her jump. The gardener looked at her sheepishly.
“Oh! Herr Gärtner.” She placed a hand over her heart. “Well met. I am glad to see you again. Do sit down.” She moved aside, and the man sat.
“But do not let me disturb you. I apologise for having frightened you. You appeared to be deep in thought.”
“I enjoy coming here as it helps me think. The flowers keep me company. All three hundred and twenty-four.”
The man chuckled. “That is accurate. How did you know?”
“A rough estimate. I am good with numbers, you see.”
“What were you so deeply lost in thought about?”
“I am in a bit of a dilemma.” She looked at him earnestly. “And to be honest, I am not at all certain I should talk about this.”
The man put a pipe into his mouth but did not lightit. “If it is a secret, keep it to yourself, of course, and I shall not pry.”
“Yes.” Pippa was silent for a long moment, weighing her options. The gardener seemed content to wait, puffing gently on his unlit pipe. Finally, she spoke. “But what if this is a bad sort of secret? A secret that, if remaining untold, might cost many lives? Would that not be a reason to tell it? Or even more: does one not have a moral obligation to tell it then?”
“That would depend on who the bearer of the secret is.” He looked at her intently. “I gather it is not yours?”
She shook her head. “It is something I overheard just now in the servants’ hall. Two footmen, who believed themselves alone in the room, were discussing a very sensitive matter.”
“Well, if it is footmen, I gather that sensitive matter might pertain to one of our important guests here. There are countless rumours and scandals circulating these days.”
She shook her head again. “I fear it is something weightier than that.”
“Now you certainly have me intrigued.”
She paused, bit her lip, then decided to tell him. “It might be about treason.”
The man’s hand froze as he lifted it to his pipe. “Oh, dear.”
“Have you ever heard of the Society of the Torch?”
“I have indeed. It is rumoured to be a secret society, a hotbed of Jacobins, though no one knows for certain since they are so elusive.”
“I overheard that they have a meeting in the Cryptaof the Minoritenkirche on Thursday. To create, I quote, ‘a new order.’ I find that sounds rather threatening and ominous. I should report that to Metternich directly, should I not?”
“That is rather alarming, indeed. I believe that Metternich ought to be informed, yes. But he tends to be rather inaccessible these days, particularly for a young woman like you. ThePolizeihofstelle?”
Pippa grimaced. “I am not in good standing with them. They had me interrogated only yesterday.”
“Dear me! And why is that?”
“For being a Jacobin sympathiser,” she replied gloomily. “Which I am not, I assure you!”
“I gather our police minister is, at times, rather overzealous,” the gardener muttered. “He should do his job investigating that society instead of wasting his time interrogating innocent young women.”
“Yes, I emphatically agree!”
“Well, young woman, you must not tarry. Deliver your message at once to either Hager or Metternich. Who knows, but you may have done the empire a huge favour, and you shall be lauded a heroine for having prevented a revolution.”
Pippa laughed. “Hardly. I daresay in the end it might turn out to be nothing of much importance. But I shall do as you say.” She got up.
“It was a pleasure to talk to you, young lady, as always,” the gardener replied and left, looking thoughtful.
Chapter Thirty-One
