Imogen Robertson - Circle of Shadows

‘She is kind,’ said the Colonel with sudden emphasis. ‘And I should have been lost without her here. Madam, do you think we should judge people because of where they come from, because they might have kept some secrets from us?’

Harriet thought of some of the people whom she had met in the last years who had concealed their origins, lied to keep a place in the world. She weighed her words very carefully. ‘I think we should be very slow to judge others, Colonel. I once knew a lady who was brought up very harshly, and if her history were generally known it would have caused great scandal. I thought her an excellent woman and was proud to know her.’ She noticed Mrs Padfield glance towards them as she spoke, then quickly back to her companion. ‘I was shocked when this lady told me her history. But also touched that she trusted me with her confidence.’

The Colonel let out a long sigh. ‘I am glad you have come to Maulberg, Mrs Westerman.’ He lifted his head and his glass towards his wife and Harriet saw the look returned. The lady’s thin shoulders seemed to relax a fraction before she returned her attention to her neighbour.

‘Madam Westerman, I have been wondering what conversation to offer you.’ Harriet realised the gentleman on her other side was speaking to her. ‘Usually one asks visitors to the court of their impressions of Maulberg …’ He had exactly the right sort of amused but sorry smile on his face as he spoke. ‘But I dare not ask that of you.’ She smiled at him in turn. He was perhaps some ten years older than herself, nearer fifty than forty, his colouring pale and his eyes framed with a network of thin lines.

‘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.

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.