Velvet Undercover Read online

  I feel as if I’m losing who I really am.

  Plus, I can’t get over the uneasy sensation that I’m missing something important. Like I’m on the edge of a discovery and yet I can’t quite grasp the last piece. As I near the schoolroom, the rise and fall of heated voices reaches me and I pause just outside the door.

  “You know this is the last chance you’ll get,” I hear Mrs. Tremaine say.

  Last chance to do what?

  “I can’t do as you want. I’m risking everything as it is. If anyone found out . . .” Lillian sounds on the verge of tears.

  “As you wish. I think you’re being unwise.”

  “Perhaps, but I think you’re deceiving yourself.” Lillian’s voice drops and I have to lean closer to the door to hear her words. “Remember Napoleon’s words, a throne is only ‘a bit of wood gilded and covered in velvet.’”

  The word velvet reverberates in my ears. Is that a clue?

  I hear voices down the hall and quickly step into the room to avoid getting caught eavesdropping.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  The effect of my greeting is like a shot going off. Both women startle.

  “Good morning,” Lillian says quickly. “Mrs. Tremaine just offered to give the children singing lessons, but I told her it wasn’t appropriate.” This last part is directed at Mrs. Tremaine, who just shrugs.

  “You know where to find me if you change your mind.” Mrs. Tremaine gives Lillian a hard stare. “And I truly think it in your best interest to change your mind.”

  Mrs. Tremaine sweeps out of the room, so angry that she gives me only a frigid nod. To my surprise, Lillian says nothing about the incident. The morning passes slowly. When we break for some air, I take out the chocolates I’d procured the night before and hand them out to all the children.

  “Where did you get the chocolates?” the duchess asks when she and Marissa join us.

  “Frau Sophia Thérèse gave them to us.” Prince Wilhelm licks melted chocolate from his fingers.

  “You spoil them, Cousin,” the duchess says.

  “I don’t do it often,” I assure her.

  “She only gave them to us because I promised not to tell the secret about her burbmark,” Prince Hubertus says.

  I freeze as the duchess turns to me with an inquiring look on her face.

  Lillian hushes him. “It’s called a birthmark, Hubertus, and I told you we weren’t to speak of that.”

  Marissa’s eyes narrow.

  Think fast.

  “The secret is that it’s shaped like a crescent moon,” I tell them all. “I told him that was my little secret. And it’s all right if the children talk about it. It’s plain as day, after all.”

  “And quite lovely,” the duchess says. “Now, Hubertus, you promised to show me how you can walk the garden wall.”

  I stand still as the duchess follows the children to the low wall surrounding the winter garden. I’m praying that no one can see the trembling that has seized my entire body. Lillian and Marissa kindly change the subject and my heart finally returns to normal.

  That was entirely too close.

  As I watch Marissa and Lillian talking, I’m wondering if Lillian is indeed Velvet. Why else would a mild-mannered governess have a gun? But if she is, then what is Marissa doing with someone else’s travel papers? Could she have them as just a safety net? A way to get out of the country?

  I see several men walking across the courtyard and recognize one of them as Prince Wilhelm. Lillian notices him as well. “He may want to see the children doing their lessons,” she says to me. “He occasionally checks in on their progress.”

  One of the guards flanking the prince is Maxwell, who acknowledges my presence with an almost imperceptible nod.

  The tension is almost palpable when we reach the prince and the duchess.

  “I don’t have time to go with you to Potsdam,” Prince Wilhelm says to her. “I’m working on some critical negotiations. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a war going on.” The prince sounds weary and his face is drawn.

  “Oh, really?” the duchess asks, her voice deceptively sweet. “I thought you were too distracted by your singing lessons to worry about the war.”

  He shakes his head, disgusted. “You know nothing. The only thing you have to worry about is where you’re going to get your silk now that trade with China has been interrupted.” He turns to Lillian, whose eyes are downcast. “Fräulein, I would very much like to return to the schoolroom with you to see how the children are doing with their lessons.”

  “Of course,” Lillian says.

  She and I herd the children into the schoolroom while the duchess departs in a huff, with Marissa on her heels. The prince joins the older children as they write out their math problems on the chalkboard while the little ones watch. Prince Hubertus looks longingly at his father and I hope for his sake that the prince remembers him, as well as the older ones.

  “How are you settling in, Sophia Thérèse?” Maxwell asks, his voice pitched low enough so only I can hear.

  “I’m doing well, thank you.”

  “Are you craving more of that delicious gingerbread yet?”

  The question comes out of the blue, and chills run down my spine. Frantically, I try to figure out if his words have a double meaning. Does he suspect that the bakery is a drop spot, or is he simply asking if I’d like to go on another outing with him? I glance at him from the corner of my eye, but he’s staring straight ahead, his jaw tight. My eyes widen. He’s angry with me. Why? I take a deep breath. “Sadly, it didn’t taste as good as it did when I was young.”

  “Things seldom do, Fräulein,” he says before moving to stand closer to the prince.

  I stare after him, baffled. What did I do?

  Getting the children to settle back down into the routine of lessons is almost impossible after the prince leaves. Finally Lillian throws up her hands. “I give up; go ahead and take out your art supplies or your books. You can even play some games, if you like.”

  The children give a raucous cry and the boys break out their marbles while the girls get out the watercolors.

  “Does this always happen after their father visits?” I ask, helping her put away the schoolbooks.

  “Yes. Thankfully, it doesn’t occur very often.” She smiles, her pretty eyes tired. “Would you like me to order up some tea after we’re finished for the day? I feel as if we haven’t had a chance to talk much in the past few days and I was looking forward to getting to know you.”

  The wistfulness in her voice tugs at my heart and I place a hand on her arm. “That would be lovely.” I hesitate and then ask, “Are you all right, Lillian?”

  Her mouth tightens and tears spring up in her eyes. “I just really love my position here. My own governess was such an inspiration in my life that while other young women were planning their debut parties, I made plans to teach. When I obtained this position, I couldn’t believe my good fortune. And then the war began. . . .”

  She shakes her head and, with a glance at the children, lowers her voice. “It isn’t easy, knowing my family in France might be in danger. That’s all. Some days it’s harder than others. And if given the choice to return home or stay here, I’m not sure what I’d do. . . .” Her voice trails off as she watches the children play. Then, with a quick glance at me, she gives a little laugh and waves her hand. “I’d stay here, of course. The children need me. I don’t know why I’m so maudlin today. I must be tired.”

  I think of my father and mother and nod. “Wars tend to tear families apart,” I tell her softly.

  “Indeed they do. And there’s no reason to mention this conversation. I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.” She gives me a sideways glance, her fair skin reddening.

  “Of course not.”

  She squeezes my shoulder. “I’m so glad you came. I’ve needed someone to talk to for a long time.” Her voice lightens. “Not to mention that the boys are just too active for one woman!”r />
  She claps her hands. “Put your things away. Fräulein Sophia Thérèse will take you out to play in the Lustgarten.”

  She leans toward me. “Let’s see if we can wear them out before finishing up their French lessons.”

  She shoos me off, and the children follow me dutifully out of the palace and over to the Lustgarten. As we leave the building, another guard joins us, and I tense. Maxwell is the only guard I’m comfortable with, though after his odd behavior this afternoon, that might change. After all, I’m a British spy taking care of the royal children. There wouldn’t even be a trial if I were discovered—I’d be executed immediately.

  Once we reach the garden, the children scamper off and I amble after them, trying to put my whirling thoughts into some semblance of order. What if I just asked Lillian if she’s Velvet? I straighten, mulling over the idea. If she is Velvet, I’d know by her reaction. If not, I could make something up. Maybe tell her that one of the children told me that her middle name was Velvet.

  Relief washes over me. That’s what I’ll do. If she is Velvet, she’ll tell me what Mrs. Tremaine’s involvement is. We can escape the country and I can get the information Captain Parker has concerning my father.

  It could all be over soon.

  I turn back to the children, who are playing a game of tag around the statue of Friedrich Wilhelm. Taking a seat on a bench nearby, I will myself to relax. The breeze is cool but intermittent enough that the sun has a chance to warm me before it blows again. I want to forget about Velvet, Miss Tickford, and everything else for just five blessed minutes. The muscles in my neck ache from days of nonstop tension.

  It feels as if I’m on a carousel that never stops.

  My relaxation deepens as the children run amok all around me. It’s easy to forget that under their royal accoutrements—the imported linens and silk, the velvet and the gold braid—they’re just children like any other children and occasionally need to be allowed to behave as such. And it is rather amusing watching the guards try to keep an eye on all of them.

  So why are my instincts suddenly pinging, as if something’s wrong? I almost feel eyes grazing along the back of my neck. Shivers race up my spine as I stretch, using the movement to look all around the park. The Lustgarten is strangely empty for such a lovely day, no doubt due to so many men off fighting. The feeling doesn’t leave me, however, and when a dark cloud obscures the sun and the wind picks up, I use it as an excuse to call the children in.

  “Come along, children. Line up, it’s time to go in.”

  As I gather my things, someone bumps into me so hard, I almost fall over the bench I’d been sitting on. After righting myself, I turn to see a man in a black suit and bowler walking swiftly away. It happened so quickly that it’s hard to believe it happened at all.

  If not for the bit of paper he’s left in my hand.

  “Are you all right, Fräulein?” a guard asks.

  I nod, my hand curling around the paper.

  The children line up obediently and follow me to the palace with the guards bringing up the rear. My step quickens. I hurry inside, my heart racing. I need to get to my room and read the note. A feeling of foreboding presses down on me and the back of my neck prickles. LDB isn’t supposed to contact me except in the usual manner. Something is very wrong. The children giggle behind me as I accelerate my pace, wanting nothing more than to get to the safety and security of the schoolroom. As we hasten through the Grand Hall, I see Maxwell, ahead of me, hurrying away from the staircase. His hat is askew; I wonder if he just came from the tunnel. I’m about to call for him when I remember the guards bringing up the rear. Instead, I turn to the children. “I’ll race you to the schoolroom!”

  I have the unfair advantage of being in front, but Prince Wilhelm is hot on my heels as we run. The other children fall a little further behind as I race up the stairs, two steps at a time. I reach the door moments before he does and we burst into the schoolroom laughing, knowing that Lillian is going to turn to us with a smile, asking us what all the commotion is about.

  Only she doesn’t, because she’s lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

  SEVENTEEN

  VHYHQWHHQ

  The Take: Information gathered by an agent or agents during an undercover operation.

  I freeze, then whirl about, looking for a possible intruder. Prince Wilhelm’s eyes are wide as he stares at his teacher, still and quiet on the Noah’s Ark rug. The stomping of the younger children nearing the schoolroom grows louder and I bend to look the transfixed boy in the face.

  “Wilhelm! Look at me. Fräulein Lillian is very ill. We mustn’t let the little ones see or they’ll have nightmares.” He nods, but his eyes keep going back to where Lillian is lying. I grab his shoulder and give him a little shake. “You must take them all back to the nursery. Can you do that for me? Tell them they will get treats if they obey. You have to be in charge.”

  His small shoulders square as he turns and heads back out into the hallway. I hear his voice ordering the children away.

  “Guard!” I call, rushing to Lillian’s side. I kneel next to her and pick up her hand. It’s lifeless and cold, and my heart sinks. She’s so pale I can see delicate blue veins tracing her eyelids. Her shining blond hair is matted with blood on one side of her head and my stomach heaves as I spot a neat round hole in her temple. Several feet away, I see a small-caliber gun. For a flash of a moment I remember the gun I found in Lillian’s pocket, and my stomach heaves. Dropping her hand, I scramble backward, whimpering as the guard hurries past me. He skids to a stop and looks away, cursing under his breath.

  The next few minutes are a blur as the guards sound the alarm. Someone leads me to a chair and shoves a glass of water in my hand. Clutching the glass, I sit and watch as guards come in and out of the room, creating disorder where this morning there had been only peace and orderliness.

  Someone thoughtfully covers Lillian’s body with a blanket. No matter how hard I try to keep from looking, my eyes keep darting in her direction.

  How could this have happened? Just an hour before, we’d been discussing her calling as a teacher, and now she is dead. My throat swells. We will never have that tea and chat.

  As chaos reigns all around me, I’m suddenly stricken with a horrifying thought.

  If Lillian was Velvet and she is now dead, what does that mean?

  My blood runs cold as I consider the ramifications. If Velvet is dead, how will we know what new weapon the Germans have? Did someone kill Lillian for that information? If so, who? I swallow hard, knowing that the spring offensive is just around the corner. What could this mean for the men in the trenches?

  “Sophia Thérèse! Are you all right?”

  Maxwell’s voice reaches me from across the room and, for a moment, I almost run to him. Then I remember how upset he had seemed with me earlier and my grip tightens on my water glass.

  I meet his gaze and his eyes show only concern. Remembering how many other officers and soldiers are in the room, I nod formally. “Yes, Corporal Mayer. I am fine, though considerably shaken. I don’t understand how this could have happened.”

  He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “Neither do I.”

  “We were hoping you could tell us.” A burly police officer has joined Max. “I am Captain Friedrich and I need to ask you a few questions,” he says. “Can you tell me your whereabouts the last hour or so?”

  “I was with the children in the Lustgarten. Lillian told me to take them for an outing. We were gone only a little while.”

  The captain nods as if I am confirming a story he already knows. Heard it from the children’s guard, no doubt.

  “Did Fräulein Bouchard seem upset today?”

  I’m about to shake my head, then I stop, remembering. “A bit,” I answer. “She told me she was worried about her family in France.”

  Max and Captain Friedrich exchange glances.

  “Has Fräulein Bouchard ever seemed deranged or unstable?” the captain asks.
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  “Of course not!”

  “What is going on, Captain Friedrich?” The crown prince muscles his way into the crowded schoolroom and then stops dead when he spots the body on the floor. His face pales.

  The captain steps forward. “Fräulein von Schönburg took the children to the Lustgarten for some exercise, and when they returned, they found your governess on the floor.”

  The prince winces and glances my way. “How much did the children see?”

  “Prince Wilhelm saw everything,” I tell him. “But together we kept the little ones out of the room.”

  He nods, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

  I wrap my arms about myself, suddenly cold.

  “Someone get a blanket,” Max says. “The Fräulein has had a terrible shock.”

  “It’s a sad episode, Prince Wilhelm, but the children were never in any danger,” the captain says. “At least your governess had the tact to wait until the children were gone before ending her life.”

  Shock jolts through my body and my head jerks up. “Lillian didn’t kill herself! She wouldn’t! She was murdered!”

  The room falls silent and the captain clears his throat. “And how would you know that, Fräulein? Who would want to kill a governess?”

  Beside me, Maxwell stiffens, and everyone stills, waiting for my reply. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. How can I explain to them without giving myself away?

  There’s a moment of silence before Max puts his hand on my shoulder. “I think Fräulein von Schönburg is just dazed by the events of the afternoon. She and Fräulein Bouchard were no doubt good friends.”

  I nod, still speechless. I’d almost made a terrible tactical blunder. I glance at Lillian’s shrouded body. But who could blame me?

  The captain and the prince continue to question me, though I don’t have a lot to add. Max moves from my side and I watch him as I give my answers. He circles the schoolroom, peering under tables and behind bookshelves, finally reaching the alcove where the toy box is kept. Is he merely investigating a crime scene? None of the other guards are poking about so obviously. They’re all standing in the middle of the room talking.