“Speedwell,” I supplied.
I had not expected her to know the name, but her eyes went wide. “Not Veronica Speedwell? Bertie’s girl?”
“You know who I am?”
“Of course,” she told me. “I was newly married when all the business with your parents happened.” She waved a hand as if to brush aside the unpleasantness of my parents’ marriage, my father’s abandonment, and my mother’s subsequent suicide. “Bertie—His Royal Highness,” she corrected swiftly, “and I have always been close. He wrote to me often in Berlin. I helped him with his troubles.”
I did not much care for being characterized as one of his “troubles,” but there seemed little point in quibbling with her over the matter.
She tipped her head, her gaze bright as a bird’s as she looked me over. “You are very like Gisela. The resemblance is remarkable, in fact. But these things happen in families and you both do share a connection some generations back. Little wonder the chancellor thought to make use of you. But how did he come to meet you?”
“I was introduced to the princess a few days ago. The Baroness von Wallenberg noted the resemblance and when the princess went missing, she suggested the impersonation to the chancellor.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Gisela is missing?”
“Not precisely. She seems to have left of her own accord and means to return in due course. It is just that no one is certain of where she is.”
“So she is missing,” she replied tartly. “And Scotland Yard know nothing of this?”
“The chancellor thought it best not to tell them. He was afraid that the princess’s absence might signal disrespect to the French and the treaty might never be signed.”
She considered this a moment, then nodded. “He was right to worry. General de Letellier is a touchy sort of man. Very conscious of French dignity and easily offended. But how on earth did the chancellor think he could get away with this ridiculous charade?”
“But he has,” I pointed out. “You are the only one who has detected the masquerade. The French have signed the treaty. The chancellor has a secret document giving authority to me to sign on behalf of the princess. I am dubious of the legality of the thing—no doubt I have broken a dozen international laws—but the chancellor does not seem terribly worried about the prospect.”
She shrugged. “The Alpenwalders are acting in good faith inasmuch as they are committed to aiding the French against my son.” Her mouth twisted a little on the last word. How thankless to be the mother of such a child! She seemed to intuit my thoughts, for she gave me a thin smile. “You have never met your cousin, the kaiser. Be grateful, child.”
There was no tactful answer to this, so I did not attempt one.
“Do you mean to unmask me?” I asked with more bravado than I felt.
Her response was oblique. “Do you know why I wanted this treaty, Miss Speedwell? Not simply to thwart my son. It was my husband’s great ambition to bring Germany into the modern age, no more looking fondly backwards to the military parades and battlefield glories. He was a good man, the Emperor Friedrich. His father wanted nothing to do with his liberality, with his desire to bind Germany to the rest of Europe. My Friedrich waited all of his life to ascend the throne and remake his fatherland. By the time he became emperor, he was dying.”
There was no bitterness in her words, only resignation to the cruelties of fate. “My poor Fritz was emperor for three months. For the whole of his short reign, they ignored him, those ministers and generals and Bismarck,” she said, fairly spitting the name. “They took one look at a dying man and knew his grip was too weak to hold power. They passed him over and went directly to the son, praising him and promising to make his wildest dreams of German domination come true. This was the great mistake, you know. They think they can control him, can use him for their own ends. But no one can control my son, and they will learn this too late. My only hope is that it will not be too late for the rest of the world.”
She paused, fixing me with that austere blue stare. “You are really doing this for the sake of the treaty?”
“I am.”
Silence stretched between us, brittle, until she gave a sigh. “Well, I have worked a year to bring it about. I am hardly going to take a hammer to it with my own hands, am I?” she asked. Something within me, taut and painful, eased when she said those words.
She inclined her head to my stained glove. “Take that off. Carefully. You don’t want to spot Gisela’s gown.”
I peeled away the soiled glove as well as its spotless mate. I washed my hands carefully to remove all traces of the ink, taking my time. The soap was good plain stuff, smelling faintly of lavender. There would be no cakes of finely milled French soap here, I reflected. Only good, honest English soap scented with lavender.
“The lavender is grown in the fields around Sandringham, in Norfolk,” she told me as she played handmaiden, holding out a towel for me to dry my hands. “It is his favorite house. Have you met him?”
She did not say my father’s name. She did not have to. “Never.”
“Would you like to? Properly, I mean. And privately. It could be arranged. After all, I suppose I owe you something for what you have done tonight.”
I thought of that sharp twist of longing I had felt when I looked at him. Was it the call of blood to blood? Or was it simply the childish wish to be recognized, to be owned by one’s begetter? I imagined that brilliant winsome smile turned upon me as I basked in its warmth, the kindly eyes crinkling as he looked at me.
“No,” I told her.
The empress gave me a long look. “Are you certain?”
I nodded, the jewels in my tiara clattering.
She touched one. “I never cared for tiaras with the gems en tremblant. Terribly noisy, I always think.”
Impulsively, I put out a hand, laying it gently on her sleeve. “Please, ma’am. I do not want to meet him at all. Not like this.”
She considered me a long moment. “Very well. Give me ten minutes. I will make your excuses and say you are unwell. Your carriages and entourage will be waiting for you out front.”
I thought of the suite at the Sudbury, yet to be searched. “If you please, can you keep the others here as long as possible? I need only one carriage and the black-haired gentleman with the eye patch.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Is this to do with Gisela’s disappearance?”
“In part. And another matter.”
“As you wish. Ten minutes. Find your way to the front of the castle and I will have the fellow meet you there. I will keep the others as long as I can.”