‘Do you dine at court often, Count?’ she asked.
‘Oh, an excellent notion, I shall talk about myself. Yes, since I took a position with the Duke, before last year hardly at all. I have an estate which I hold unmittelbar an hour’s ride away. I return there often.’ He saw her confusion. ‘Unmittelbar. My estate lies entirely within Maulberg, but I am not subject to the Duke. In my more limited territory I have the same power as he does.’
‘I confess I find the complexities of the country confusing.’
‘As Mr Voltaire said, the Holy Roman Empire is neither Holy, Roman, nor an Empire. We are a family, but like most families more often at war with each other than with outsiders. But we find you equally difficult to understand. Your people seem to think they are all Kings, the judges Lords and the King himself your servant.’
‘Our people value their freedom.’
‘They abuse it. A glance at your newspapers tell us that.’ He tutted a little. ‘No, matters are a great deal better organised on the continent. Of course, we have our little philosophers who like to rail against the established order, but they will not triumph. Here and in France the people know their place. It is better so.’
Harriet began to find his smile less pleasing than she had at first thought, then noticed that a young gentleman on the opposite side of the table had been listening intently. It was the Major who had ridden with them from the border. He wore a similar uniform to that of Colonel Padfield and rapped his fingers on the table as he spoke.
‘Indeed? And when we have crushed the will out of the people, and squeezed out every Thaler from their pockets, who will pay for your toys then, Frenzel?’
He shrugged and waved his fork. ‘They do breed, Major Auwerk.’
Harriet believed the Major was about to say something else, but she noticed him glance along the table towards a much older man; thin and bent, she thought he looked a little like Crowther might have become, had she not dragged him into the sunlight. He was looking very steadily at Major Auwerk, and though his expression seemed neutral, the younger man only bit his lip and summoned his glass from the footman behind him.
Harriet turned to the plate in front of her. It was silver-gilt, with the arms of Maulberg emblazoned on it. She saw the shadow of her face reflected there among the fragments of rich food and wondered again how she could possibly come to an understanding of those people. She felt, heavily, that Rachel’s trust in her was misplaced.
Pegel had not been able to get any more details of the secret society. Instead, Florian instructed him on the glories of Rousseau till Pegel felt like throwing himself into the fire. It was deep in the night when Florian finally let himself lie down on the couch, but if the drink hadn’t exhausted him, his own rhetoric had. He was snoring lightly even before Pegel had thrown a blanket over him. Pegel himself had no intention of sleeping. It only took a moment to go through Frenzel’s satchel and he now sat cross-legged on the floor and considered. Three volumes lay on the boards in front of him, and in front of each was a sheet of paper with a crease to show it had been folded once and placed into the book. On each was a nonsense stream of letters, grouped into little islands of five. There was also a small medallion with an owl embossed on one side. With its claws it held open a book with PMCV stamped across the pages.
With a sigh Pegel got to his feet. The bag, with its less interesting content returned to it, and the medallion slid once more into its lining, he placed by Frenzel’s head. The books and codes he took to the desk by the window and lit a candle. Having sniffed and shaken each sheet, and held it up to the light, he set about making his copies, carefully noting the titles of each book and the page where the note was hidden. The copies made, the books and their contents were returned to the satchel.
Frenzel still snored, and Jacob smiled at him, then reached down and smoothed one lock of blond hair away from his face. A very promising beginning, and now dawn had become day.
PART III
III.1
3 May 1784, Ulrichsberg
Harriet woke early. It seemed to take her a strangely long time to remember where she was and why. Then the impressions of the previous day rushed over her and she lay back down in her bed with a groan.
Her maid arrived to help her dress.
‘You are being looked after, Dido?’ Harriet asked as the little maid smoothed her petticoats down.
‘Yes, bless you, ma’am,’ she said. ‘We have a little trouble understanding each other, but they are helpful enough and everything is to hand. Couple of them have enough English to chat.’ She paused to pull Harriet’s laces tight at her back. ‘Everyone speaks nicely of Mrs Clode. Seems they’ve taken quite a liking to her below stairs, as far as I can tell.’
Harriet felt Dido’s quick fingers at the ties. ‘Have you ever left England before, Dido?’
‘Never, ma’am. Though I am glad to have had the chance now! William is so full of stories of the time he served with your husband. Now I shall have some stories of my own.’ She pursed her lips and went to gather Harriet’s riding dress in her arms. The heavy green fabric dwarfed her. ‘Now, I understand this will do nicely during the day.’ Harriet allowed herself to be pinned and smoothed into the folds. It was more comfortable than court dress, at any rate. ‘They are a superstitious lot though.’
‘Indeed?’
‘Yes, full of all sorts of ghost stories. If I believed half of it, I swear I wouldn’t sleep at night. Not enough work to do, I believe. Can you imagine Mrs Heathcote’s face if she found me and Cook trying to talk to spirits and paying our wages to folks who claimed powers in that way? Lord, they’d hear the shrieks in Thornleigh Hall.’ Harriet grinned. ‘There, ma’am. If you will just tidy your hair a little while I fetch your coffee, you will do us credit.’
Florian groaned and Pegel saw his arms stretching from his perch by the window.
‘What is the time?’
Pegel glanced out at the clock in the market square. ‘Something after ten. Are you hungry? Shall we eat?’
Florian pulled himself into a sitting position and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘No, no. I have … I have business I must attend to. How is your jaw?’
‘Stiff, but it still works. What of your ribs?’
Florian got to his feet and pressed his hand gingerly to his side. ‘Sore, but I am whole, I think. Will you attend lectures today?’
Pegel shook his head. ‘No, my head is too swollen with your talk to deal with the Professor. I will work here.’
Florian buttoned his waistcoat, wincing, then picked up his coat. ‘Will you be here this afternoon? I still have questions about your formula, if I may call on you?’ There was a slight, awkward formality in his tone.
‘Just as you wish. I shall probably be here. Throw a rock at the window, if you want to save yourself the climb. If I’m here, I shall hear it and call down to you.’
‘Very well.’ Florian picked up his satchel and fitted it over his shoulder. ‘Jacob …?’
‘Hmm?’ Pegel said, already apparently engrossed by the papers on his desk.
‘Thank you.’
Pegel raised his hand in a lazy farewell, and Florian left the room. Jacob heard his steps disappearing down the stairs, then went to the side of his window and looked out. Charles emerged into the square, hesitated and then headed north.
‘Home rather than the lecture hall, hey?’ Pegel said to himself, then grabbed up his coat and tripped off in pursuit.
It was not that Pegel went in disguise, but rather he had the talent to assume a shape in the air that seemed to take up no room in it. He waited in the shadows opposite Florian’s lodgings, a straw in his mouth and his hands in his pockets, and no one paid any mind to him. He might have been one of the paintings on the Town Hall watching the people move about him and no one ever looking up and across. Florian’s rooms were in a far nicer corner of Leuchtenstadt than Pegel’s. But then Florian was nobility, and though he might not seem to like the system of nobility, he took the money, it seemed, and spent it. It was almost half an hour before the door opened again and a young woman stepped out into the road. She wore the neat linen and slightly harried expression of a maid asked to abandon her duties when she had not time enough as it was to complete them. She looked up and down the street. Still with his straw and his slouch, Pegel emerged from the shadows and joined the stream of people passing, just glancing up as he got close to her.