He was going to Vienna now, without even waiting for morning. And there were things she hadn’t yet asked him. He couldn’t go now and leave her indefinitely.
Without thought, she seized her own cloak and swung it around her shoulders before climbing into her theatrical boots and hurrying out of the room. However, the pitch blackness of the passage brought her up short and she dashed back to light her candle. Thus armed, she found her way downstairs, through the kitchen, and out into the yard, just as Garin emerged from the stables, leading his saddled horse. Catching sight of her, he froze.
Hastily, she set the candle in its saucer on the ground and hurried across to him. The cold air cut through her cloak.
“Are you going now? In the dark?” she demanded in a whisper.
“I can’t wait.”
Her breath caught with more than cold. “You deciphered the document. What was Otto party to?”
“The Russians, who are currently based in Saxony, are about to pull out and let the Prussians just march in and take it. Kriegenstein will open its borders and let them; in return for Prussian favors, which are not clearly specified. They’re saying it’s with Austrian and British agreement.”
“But it isn’t!” she exclaimed, horrified. She frowned up at him in the darkness. “Is it?”
“Of course not, but Europe will not believe that. I have to go now to have any chance of stopping this.”
She blinked. “Can you stop it?”
His lips twitched. “God no. But perhaps the Emperor or Metternich can. Go back inside before you freeze.”
She nodded and stepped back to let him mount. But the words wouldn’t stay inside. “Why did you tell me your name was Garin?”
Landing in the saddle, his gaze flew down to her. “It is.”
“Then who is Zelig?”
For the space of a heartbeat, he didn’t answer. She thought he wouldn’t, that he’d just ride away in silence. Instead, his breath caught.
“I am.”
“Garin Zelig,” she said. “Agent Z.”
“Close enough.”
She frowned, peering at him through the darkness. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Nothing. You confuse me.” The horse shifted nearer her, and without any clear intent, she stretched one hand up to Garin. He bent, seizing her fingers in his warm grasp. “I say things to you I shouldn’t.”
His grip was too tight, the caress of his thumb too bold. The eyes she’d always imagined to be hard and cold and utterly controlled, seemed now hot and turbulent. Imagination. And yet…
“I’m listening,” she whispered.
“Don’t,” he said, anguish in his voice.
Without warning, he bent low from the saddle and pressed his lips to her fingers, to the inside of her wrist, like a brand. Her pulse raced under his mouth. She turned her fingers, touching his cheek and heard him gasp. And then he released her and the horse trotted toward the already open gate.
The wind was icy on her skin as she watched him ride away, and yet she felt warm and excited and happy.
Chapter Twelve
Zelig settled back on the slightly sticky corner bench and took a sip of beer. From his corner, he could see the whole of the unprepossessing tavern; from the fat landlord, and to the undernourished unemployed, who seemed to be the bulk of his customers. Just a few, ragged men sipping their beer because they had nothing else to do. And where else could they numb their hopelessness for so little coin? He didn’t judge them, but he watched them. Hopeless men with nothing to do were ripe for discontent and sedition. And he waited.
Baron von Hager had not been encouraging about the Prussian invasion of Saxony. “Something like this has been on the cards for weeks. I’ll do what I can, but I suspect it’s too late.”
“I’m sorry,” Zelig had muttered. “I should have gotten the document earlier and stopped worrying so much about finding those involved.”
“No, I think knowing who and what we’re dealing with is important. I doubt we’d ever have been able to prevent this mess. But now, knowing exactly when and how before it actually happens, might at least allow Prince Metternich to form a strategy to deal with it—a strategy that does not involve war!”
Zelig devoutly hoped so. Dressed inconspicuously in clothes that could pass as a clerk, he blended into his surroundings and waited for his quarry. Since he had many other things to deal with that day, he hoped he wouldn’t be kept long.
He wasn’t. Only ten minutes after Zelig had arrived, Weber walked in and ordered a beer. His quick searching glance passed right over Zelig’s corner and came to rest on a man in a torn jacket and cap, whom he crossed the room to sit beside. After a quick, murmured conversation, there was an exchange of coin and the torn man, presumably one of Weber’s informants, stood up and left. Weber finished his beer and rose, but instead of following his man outside, he came straight toward Zelig.
Zelig hunched over his beer with his fist clenched inside his pocket, but Weber brushed past him without even looking, and went through the back door. Zelig almost smiled, then stood up and followed. The door led, as he knew, through a grimy storage area to a small, gloomy yard surrounded by windowless buildings. As he stepped into the yard, he let the door fall noisily back. Ahead of him, at the outside door leading into the alley beyond, Weber paused. He knew someone was following him.
Zelig ran at him, giving him no time to think. He didn’t even care when Weber caught him and slammed him against the wall, his thick forearm across Zelig’s throat. As he’d known, the instant of shocked recognition as their eyes met, gave Zelig all the time he needed to knee him between his beefy legs, break free, and grab him in a headlock, forcing him to his knees, and then flat on his front on the ground.
“You’re dead!” Weber panted as Zelig sat on his back. “I got you rather than the girl.”
“You winged me,” Zelig allowed. “Who told you I was dead?”
“Hager covered it up! I implicated you and the girl, leaving her pistol at the doors—they lead to the Emperor’s own apartments.”
“I know where they lead. And yes, Hager did cover it up, but not because he bought your ridiculous story. You’re stupid, Weber. A traitor and a liability. I have no further use for you.”
Weber began to buck under him. “You can’t kill me!” he raged. “I’m twice your size and you only chase shadows! I’m the one who catches real criminals.”
“Weber, you are a real criminal. Still, I’d have let you live if you hadn’t gone after the girl.”
There was true fear in Weber’s eyes now. Zelig just hoped it was enough.
“Unfortunately, the baron doesn’t want me to kill you. Personally, I think it’s a mistake, but for now, you go to prison.” Zelig rose, hauling the man to his feet.
In that moment, Weber seemed to personify everything that was wrong with the world. He was happy to murder and to cause chaos and war in his own country for a few extra coins. Even without his attempt on Esther’s life, he deserved to die. But it wouldn’t be today, and not by Zelig’s hand.
Which was a pity. He just hoped Hager was right, because it seemed to Zelig that few prisons could hold Weber. He had too many friends among the men who guarded them.
Dragging Weber out of the gate, he delivered him up to the waiting wagon, and turned his mind to the rest of the day’s tasks, and to making his plans to bring down Meyer.
*
After calling on General Lisle, delivering Esther’s letter, and obtaining a bag of necessities, kindly and suspiciously packed by Mrs. MacVey, Zelig rode out to the suburbs for his final call before returning to the monastery in the Woods.
The summer palace of one of Austria’s wealthiest noblemen was very fine, with pretty formal gardens to be enjoyed in the autumn sunshine, especially in the glass house which extended out from the main building. It was here that the servant led Zelig, pronouncing, “Herr Schmidt,” to the air as if already offering to throw him out again.
“Goo
d God,” said the amused voice of the new Lord Launceton, who leapt to his feet from the tea table where he’d been sitting with his bride. “How the devil did you find us?”
“I think we should rather ask why,” Lizzie said wryly. “Come, sit down, Herr Schmidt and tell us all. We’ve had no gossip for three days. Or is it four?”
“Who cares?” Launceton passed him the tea Lizzie poured as he sat down.
“No gossip,” Zelig repeated. “Then you won’t know that Esther Lisle has disappeared from Vienna.”
Lizzie, in the act of offering a plate of pastries, paused. “You’re not serious?” she said anxiously.
“Not really, but she needs your help. I understand you are friends?”
“Amiable acquaintances, rather, but I wish her well. What does she need?”
“A chaperone,” Zelig said.
Lizzie’s mouth showed a tendency to fall open.
Her husband grinned. “Lizzie? Really? Poor girl must be desperate.”
“I’m assured a respectable married lady is what is required.”
“Esther has a duenna,” Lizzie objected. “She’s a large, indolent Spanish lady; Mrs. MacVey.”
“Yes, but Mrs. MacVey has been seen in Vienna without Lizzie, yesterday and today. I need someone who can pretend to have been with her then, too.”
“Why?” Lizzie demanded.
“To preserve her reputation. I’ve been obliged to hide her from danger, but I confess I never thought of her reputation until it was pointed out to me.”
Lord and Lady Launceton exchanged glances, in which questions and mischief were more or less equally blended. “Do you mean, I can help Esther and still have fun?” Lizzie asked. “Is she here?”
“I hope so, and no she isn’t. I’m afraid you’d have to come with me, swear your servants to secrecy, and tell no one.”
Lizzie’s lips twitched beguilingly. “Can Vanya come, too?”
“Of course.”
“Then we’re in,” Lord Launceton said promptly. “When?”
“Er…now.”
“I sense a mystery here,” Launceton stated, getting to his feet. “Give us half an hour?”
“Ten minutes,” Zelig said impatiently, and Lizzie laughed.
*
Since Josephine grew quickly bored with just admiring the prettiness of the countryside, Esther looked around for things for them to do. Dietmar had the boys busy repairing a bed in the building directly opposite the main house. Guiltily, Esther supposed Garin felt driven to be there since she’d taken his bedchamber. When Esther tracked the men there, she found a pile of old but decent linens, and velvets and other fabrics.
“Curtains,” she said brightly, and called for Josephine. As a result, by the time they heard the sounds of approaching horses, there were curtains up in the new part of the house and they were working on others.
Esther’s heart lurched and she jumped up to look out of the kitchen window.
“All’s well,” Dietmar said from the door. “It’s Herr Zelig.”
Esther, who’d more than half-expected him to be gone for days, bent closer over her curtain to hide her emotion.
“But more than one horse,” Josephine said from her place at the hearth, where she was cooking supper. “I hope we have enough food.”
The boys burst into the kitchen first—backwards so that they could talk to Zelig at the same time. Zelig hauled two of them back out by their collars. “Manners,” he snapped and Kai hastily leapt out again, too. Zelig stood aside, somewhat ironically, and waved a lady and gentleman into the kitchen.
Her dignity forgotten, Esther dropped her needle and leapt to her feet in astonishment. “Lizzie! Goodness, I mean Lady Launceton, what on earth…” Not only Lizzie, but her dashing new husband seemed to fill the kitchen, as Esther moved toward them with her hand held out. “I’m delighted to see you, only… er…what on earth are you doing here?”
Lizzie laughed. “I’m your chaperone, believe it or not, and I’ve been here quite as long as you.”
Esther blinked. “No, you haven’t! Miss Gaunt—that is, Lady Launceton—”
“You remember my husband?” Lizzie interrupted.
Esther flushed. “Of course, how do you do, sir?”
Lord Launceton grinned and kissed her hand in continental fashion. “Very well. And I have so many names, you’d better just call me Vanya. Everyone else does.”
Baffled, Esther looked beyond him to Zelig.
“Is everything well?” he asked civilly. There was no trace now of that other, warmer man she’d glimpsed last night.
“Yes, indeed, we’ve been making curtains, and Dietmar has kept the boys busy… And you? Your arm?”
“Fine, I thank you,” Zelig muttered.
“What’s wrong with your arm?” Lizzie inquired.
“He was shot,” Menno said proudly, crowding in behind the others.
Vanya glanced at Esther as though entertained. “What, did you shoot him, too?”
“No!” Esther exclaimed, just a little wildly.
“Serves him right, though, if you ask me,” Josephine said, coming to stand beside Esther.
“No it doesn’t,” Esther and the boys said at the same time.
Vanya’s eyes widened in astonishment—and surely disastrous recognition—as they landed on the courtesan. “Josephine?”
Too late, Esther remembered the courtesan’s remarks about the Russian officers being the worse. Vanya was a Cossack colonel. Not for anything would Esther have put Lizzie in this position.
Although Josephine was dressed for supper in her best gaudy gown, she had the speech and manners of a lady when she chose. But any hope Esther might have harbored of concealing the girl’s profession vanished when Vanya simply kissed her cheek and turned to his wife. “Lizzie, I have the rare pleasure of presenting to you Fraulein Wolters, the prettiest courtesan in Vienna.”
Lizzie actually shook hands with Josephine, betraying something of the same interest Esther had felt on first discovering her profession.
“You can see why she needs a chaperone,” Josephine said, bluntly. “Even without my presence.”
Vanya, despite his friendly greeting, was regarding Zelig with rather cold eyes. “I think you need to explain a little more.”
“Over supper, then,” Josephine said cheerfully. “Five minutes to wash your hands and be comfortable!” She lowered her voice. “And just so we can be comfortable, I’ve been in the colonel’s company many a time, but he’s never been a client of mine, nor will he be. That is his choice, not mine.”
“And Herr Schmidt?” Lizzie asked outrageously.
Esther turned away, as if she’d neither heard nor cared, but not before she’d seen the rueful regret in Josephine’s smile. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Josephine said. “He wouldn’t look at me if I were the only woman in Vienna. I’m only here because I’m in the same danger as Miss Lisle, and he didn’t know what else to do with me. None of us want me to be here, but it seems we all must make the best of it.”
“I want you here,” Esther said stoutly. “You’ve been a good friend to me without reason and good company. But Lizzie, are you sure you want to be here? It’s a very odd bridal trip!”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Lizzie assured her. “I knew you would be fun.”
“Let me show you the room I’m assured is ready for you,” Zelig suggested, though in the end, the boys went, too, since they were desperate to see Zelig’s reaction.
Esther began to set the table, while Josephine returned to the stove. “Sweaty work,” the courtesan said cheerfully. “I’d forgotten!”
A few minutes later, the boys returned, jubilant that their labors were appreciated. “And your curtains were much admired!” Kai told Esther and Josephine.
“I have to thank you for that,” Zelig said with rare awkwardness.
“No, you don’t,” Esther said lightly, distributing glasses to each place. “We wished for something to do and found
it.”
“Miss Lisle helped the boys with their letters, too,” Josephine volunteered, and Esther found herself flushing, unwilling to meet Zelig’s gaze. She didn’t know whether she was afraid or desirous of seeing last night’s turbulence again in his normally cool eyes.
“Little enough,” she murmured. Then, despising her cowardice, she set down the last glass and forced herself to straighten and face him. Leaning his shoulder against the corner of the arch, he was watching her steadily. “Did you achieve what you hoped in Vienna?” she asked.
He stirred. “Some. The larger matters are out of my hands. I saw your father and Mrs. MacVey, who were grateful for your letter.”
“If you’re caring for my reputation,” Esther said, “shouldn’t you have brought them rather than Lizzie Gaunt?”
“Not at this stage. I should have kidnapped you all at once if I’d been more considerate. As it is, those two”—he jerked his head toward the building opposite, where he’d presumably left Lord and Lady Launceton, “…were the best I could think of.”
Curiosity stirred as to his relationship with them, but at this moment, she couldn’t quite think of the right questions to ask. Her tongue seemed to be tied.
“And Count von Meyer?” she managed.
“He is watched day and night while we gather evidence and pursue all his associations.”
“Including the man who shot you?”
“He is dealt with already. But I won’t consider you safe until I have all his creatures—and I believe he has many.”
“As many as you, Herr Z?” Josephine interrupted with deliberate insolence.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He shifted his shoulder as the Launcetons entered from the outside door.
And that, Esther thought, with wholly out of proportion gladness, was the truth of his relationship with Josephine. The girl was one of his informants. She spied for him and worked for him, which was why he now looked after her. And that’s why Esther knew instinctively there could be no intimacy between them. Zelig would never take such advantage.
Vienna Woods (The Imperial Season Book 2) Page 13