“Look at me, Lucie,” I ordered. My voice was sharp.
She raised her eyes. The expression in them was almost unbearable to behold.
“You’re going to leave on that ship at ten o’clock next Thursday night,” I told her. “I promise you that, and it’s a promise I intend to keep come what may. Do you believe me?”
“But—but how?” she whispered.
I didn’t know that yet. “You’ll just have to trust me,” I said.
Chapter Twenty
Timing was everything. I realized that. We were due at the Hermitage at eight o’clock. We would leave the Marble Palace at seven-thirty. It was now twenty minutes before seven and my nerves were on edge and I felt I was going to fly into pieces. I knew it was a wild, foolhardy plan that would never, never work and would only bring disaster down upon all of us. My hands trembled as I fastened the hooks of my gown. How could I have ever believed such an incredibly risky plan would work? Gown properly fastened at last, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself to banish the panic inside. You must be calm, Marietta. You must be calm. If you can’t go through with your part of it, everything will fall apart.
Calm. Serene. Cool. Perfectly natural, as though nothing untoward were afoot. You can do it. You must. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes and gazed at myself in the mirror. Monsieur André had come to do my hair again, and I had wanted to scream the whole time he had fussed and fiddled and plied his trade, chatting incessantly. The rich coppery red waves were artfully arranged atop my head, with three long sausage ringlets draped over my left shoulder, a spray of diamonds and sapphires fastened above them. Monsieur André had clapped his hands with glee upon completing his job, declaring it perfection, a masterpiece of hairdressing. Had there been a pistol in my hand I would have shot him.
My gown was of pale sky blue silk brocade embroidered with tiny, delicate flowers of rich sapphire blue. The short, puffed sleeves were full, the neckline heartshaped, cut extremely low, and the skirt swelled out from the tight waist, spreading over half a dozen stiff sapphire underskirts. The skirts responded noisily to my every movement, rustling, crackling, swishing, as though imbued with a life of their own. It was a sumptuous garment, but I was in no mood to appreciate its beauty.
I picked up the diamond necklace I had worn to the Winter Palace, looking at the glittering stones worth several fortunes. Because of its extreme value Gregory kept it locked up in his safe—along with all the jewels he had taken from Lucie—and a servant had brought it up to me only a few minutes ago. It didn’t go with the gown, Lucie’s diamond and sapphire necklace would have been much more appropriate, but that wasn’t why I had requested it tonight. It was the final touch, my own contribution, and I felt not the slightest compunction about the use I intended to make of it.
Ten minutes before seven. Was I ready? Could I go through with it? I still felt tremors of panic, but they were under control now. My heart was no longer palpitating. My hands were steady. I studied my face in the glass and saw it betrayed none of the emotions trembling inside. My sapphire eyes were serene, the lids lightly shaded with pale gray-blue shadow, and the high cheekbones were skillfully tinted with a suggestion of natural pink. The lips were a deeper pink, no longer trembling at the corners.
I was as ready as I would ever be. I longed for a glass of brandy to fortify my nerves, but I didn’t dare have one. Wrapping the necklace in a large white handkerchief, holding the handkerchief at my side, half concealed in the folds of my skirt, I left my rooms and started down the hall. You’ve done a number of things far riskier than this, I reminded myself. There’s nothing to be alarmed about. If you can’t handle Vladimir, you might as well give up and retire to a convent.
He was stationed in the hall outside Lucie’s room, and he glared at me as I approached, eyes dark and hostile, filled with suspicion. I held my chin at a haughty tilt, gazing at him imperiously, the handkerchief with its fabulously valuable enclosure completely hidden by folds of sky blue silk. He stepped in front of me, blocking my way. He seemed to loom there before me, towering, exuding menace. My knees felt weak. My throat tightened. He scowled, and my courage seemed to ebb.
“What is it you want?” he growled.
“That’s none of your bloody business,” I said tartly. “Kindly step out of my way.”
“I have my orders.”
“I believe your orders are to see that Lucie doesn’t leave her room at night, not to prevent me from seeing her.”
My voice was like the cutting edge of a knife. My eyes gazed at him with demolishing hauteur. Vladimir hesitated a long moment, then reluctantly moved aside. I swept past him and opened the door. My heart was palpitating again as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Lucie was seated on the sofa. She leaped to her feet and started to say something. I shook my head and put a finger to my lips. She understood at once.
“I promised to come show you my gown before we leave,” I said. “Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” she replied. Her voice, like mine, was loud enough to be heard in the hallway outside.
“I love the color. I love what Monsieur André did with my hair, too.”
“He’s wonderful.”
“I couldn’t decide on a perfume. I want everything to be just right.”
“I have several perfumes in my dressing room. Perhaps one of them would suit you.”
“I’m tired of the essence of poppy,” I said as we moved across the room. “I want something provocative yet—yet subtle.”
We passed through the bedroom and on into the dressing room and I sank onto the dressing stool in a state of almost complete collapse, my skirts protesting with silken hisses and angry crackles. Lucie wrung her hands, ready to collapse herself. Neither of us spoke for several moments, and I was finally able to control my jangling nerves. I sat up straight. Lucie’s face was pale, and a vein throbbed at her temple.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” I told her.
“I—I’m so scared, Marietta.”
“There’s no need to be. Everything is arranged.”
Setting the bulky handkerchief down on the dressing table, I began to examine the bottles of perfume. I felt sure Vladimir had been eavesdropping outside the door, and he would notice if I wasn’t wearing perfume when I came out. I intended to be very close to him.
“You saw Bryan today?” Lucie asked.
“Vanya and I went riding this afternoon, and Bryan met us in the park. He has all his instructions. I’m sure the closed carriage is already waiting just beyond the back gate.”
“I—I just hope this works.”
“It’s going to,” I said, confident now. “In three hours you’ll be on your way to England.”
Opening a bottle of perfume, I sniffed the scent and dabbed some behind my earlobes.
“Where’s the cloak?” I asked.
“It’s hanging in the wardrobe.”
“You’d better go ahead and put it on,” I said. “Poor Lizzie. I hope she doesn’t miss it right away.”
The cloak had been a last minute inspiration. Even though they would take the back stairs and avoid the main rooms, Vanya and Lucie could hardly slip out of the house and, passing the barracks, reach the back gate without being seen. If Lucie was wearing one of the maid’s cloaks, if she kept the hood pulled well over her head, anyone who might see them would think Vanya was stealing out for an amorous night on the town. I had gone up to Lizzie’s attic room this morning and, in the rickety wooden wardrobe, had found two cloaks, one blue and one brown, the latter decidedly shabby. I had lifted it deftly and brought it down to Lucie’s room without being seen. Lucie put it on over her muslin frock now. It was much too large, but that was good. It would completely cover her clothes and, pulled forward, the hood would conceal most of her face.
“Before we met Bryan, I went to several shops,” I said, touching the back of my wrist with the perfume stopper. “I bought you several dresses, shoes, und
ergarments, a heavy cloak, everything you’ll need on your journey. I had them delivered to Bryan’s room, along with a small trunk.”
“I was worried about clothes,” Lucie confessed.
“We couldn’t risk your trying to take anything tonight. It would look too suspicious. I hope you’ll approve of my selections. There’s a violet-blue velvet I know you’ll love.”
“How—how did you pay for all these things? You don’t carry that much money around with you.”
“I billed them to your uncle.”
“Wasn’t that—risky?”
“By the time he gets the bill I intend to be on a ship myself.”
“I—I wish you were going with us tonight, Marietta. I hate to leave you behind. When he—when he discovers I’m gone he’s going to be insane with anger. If he suspected you’ve helped me—”
“He won’t,” I said. “Vladimir will receive all the blame for neglecting his duty.”
“Still—”
“Don’t worry about me, darling. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it successfully for quite a few years now.”
Replacing the crystal stopper into the top of the perfume bottle, I stood up, sky blue skirts rustling like dry leaves. Lucie’s cheeks were still pale, and her lovely violet-blue eyes were full of emotions she tried valiantly to control.
“I—I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered.
“I’ll miss you, too, Lucie.”
There was so much more she wanted to say, but the emotion was too strong. She wrapped her arms around me and held me close for a moment, trembling, and I found it difficult to control my own emotions. I stroked her hair and, finally, gently, loosened her arms and eased her away. She brushed a tear from her cheek and forced a brave smile onto her lips.
“I’ll never forget you,” she said.
“And I’ll never forget you either, darling, but I’ll have the consolation of knowing you’re with Bryan.”
“I can’t believe it’s all going to come true.”
“Sometimes it does,” I said lightly. It was difficult to keep the sadness out of my voice.
“Bryan wants me to go ahead with my plans to become an actress. He’s going to help me. He promises to write a play for me as soon as I’m ready. He thinks we should both have careers.”
“You’re going to be wonderfully happy, darling.”
“And all because of you.”
“I—I have a gift for both of you,” I said. “Times aren’t always easy for struggling playwrights and aspiring actresses. Sometimes they can be difficult indeed. This should help.”
I unwrapped the necklace and held it out to her. The diamonds sparkled with a thousand shimmering fires. Lucie stared at them in amazement, unable to speak for a moment.
“When sold it should bring enough to keep you both very comfortable for quite some time—for the rest of your lives if you’re sensible. I suggest you contact Robert Bancroft at the Bank of England and let him handle investments for you.”
“Marietta, it—that necklace is worth—”
“I have a rough idea what it’s worth,” I said tersely.
“My uncle will—”
“Your uncle bought it for me. I’m giving it to you, and I don’t intend to argue about it.”
“He—”
“Take it, Lucie.”
I placed it in her hand, and Lucie looked at me. Another tear slid down her cheek, which was still faintly discolored. She finally slipped the necklace into the pocket of her cloak.
“I’d better leave now. Vladimir will be even more suspicious if I stay any longer.”
“Oh, Marietta—”
“We must both be strong, Lucie.”
She nodded, wiping away a tear. I fought back my own.
“Vanya is waiting at your end of the hall, hiding behind one of the tall Boulle cabinets. As soon as I lead Vladimir away, Vanya will come for you and lead you downstairs and to the back gate. Bryan will be waiting with a carriage, and Vanya will accompany the two of you to Kronstadt and see you safely off.”
“I—I’m going to break down.”
“No you’re not. Keep the cloak wrapped around you and keep the hood up around your face. Good-bye, Lucie.”
She tried to speak. She couldn’t. The tears streamed down her cheeks. I gave her a quick hug and left the room. Lucie followed me through the bedroom and paused at the doorway leading into the sitting room, one hand gripping the frame as though for support. I moved on to the hall door, and then, my hand on the knob, I paused and turned, and I shall never forget the sight of her standing there in the doorway, so young, so lovely, on the brink of a whole new life. I blew her a kiss.
“Be happy, darling,” I whispered.
And then I opened the door and stepped into the hall and pulled the door shut behind me. Vladimir was standing a few feet away, his arms folded across his chest. I gave him a haughty look and, tilting my chin up, started toward him. Vladimir scowled. I took another step and let out a little cry, pitching forward. His arms flew out instinctively as I toppled against him, and he clutched me, supporting my full weight.
“Oh—oh dear—” I cried.
“What is it?” he growled.
“I—I think I’ve turned my ankle—”
“If this is some—”
“It hurts. Oh, Lord—”
I winced and made a pained, moaning noise, playing it to the hilt, leaning heavily against him. Vladimir glowered, extremely discomfited, his hands gripping my shoulders. I pulled away from him angrily and attempted to stand and stumbled, falling against him again. He grabbed my upper arms and pulled me up straight.
“You don’t have to be so rough!” I snapped.
“You can’t walk?”
“I can’t even stand! Do you actually think I enjoy having your hands on me? Stop squeezing so tightly. You’ll bruise my arms!”
He curled his lower lip, dark eyes glowing. He would much prefer bruising my throat, I knew, but he loosened his tight grip. I took a deep breath, wincing again, and then I pulled my arms free and managed to stand on my own for several seconds.
“You are all right now?”
“I think so—”
I started to take a step, wobbled perilously and seized his arm.
“Damn!” I cried.
“It still hurts?”
“It hurts like bloody hell! Tonight of all nights, with the Empress expecting us at the Hermitage in less than an hour. Maybe—maybe it’s just a light sprain. You’ll have to help me to my room.”
“My orders are—”
“I don’t give a good goddamn about your orders! And I’ve had just about enough of your insolence! You’ll help me to my room and fetch Court Orlov or I’ll see that you’re flogged!”
The threat had no effect on him, but my tone of voice did. Despite what he might think of me, I was clearly his superior, and Vladimir was a servant, trained to obey. Scowling fiercely, extremely unhappy at this turn of events, he curled an arm around my shoulders, and I shifted position, leaning against his side. Slowly, awkwardly, we began to move down the hall. I hopped, halted, hopped again, gasping every now and then.
“Careful! Not so bloody fast!”
Vladimir grunted, supporting most of my weight, and we moved on, passing the elegant Boulle cabinets and the tables laden with priceless porcelain figurines, passing the stairwell. I stumbled, clung to him, made him stop for a moment while I caught my breath, and Vanya, I knew, was creeping down the hall behind us toward Lucie’s door. Perhaps he had reached it and the two of them were already scurrying off in the opposite direction, Lucie wrapped up in the shabby brown cloak.
I dared not look back. Vladimir and I continued our erratic progress toward my door, and it was so clumsy and uncomfortable I was afraid I might turn my ankle for real, hopping as I was in high-heeled shoes. A full ten minutes must have passed before we finally reached the door to my sitting room, but I couldn’t be sure that was enough time. I had to delay him a
while longer. He opened the door and helped me inside and I hopped over to the large chair and tumbled into it with noisy crackling of silk:
“I need a stool,” I told him. “There’s one over there by the fireplace. Get it for me.”
Vladimir gave me a murderous look, but he brought the stool over and set it in front of the chair. Slowly, wincing all the while, I lifted my injured ankle onto it and gnawed my lower lip as the pain swept over me. Mrs. Robinson would turn green with envy if she could see this performance, I thought. I emitted a weary sigh. Vladimir stood over me, scowling.
“Anything else?” he asked insolently.
“I’d better massage it,” I said. “There’s a small bottle of alcohol on my dressing table. Bring it to me.”
He hesitated. I stared up at him with icy hauteur, silently defying him to disobey. He muttered something under his breath and stalked into the bedroom and on into the dressing room beyond. He spent a good three or four minutes looking for the bottle of alcohol which, actually, was in one of the bottom drawers. He brought it in, handed it to me, and I had difficulty opening it. The cap was screwed on much too tightly. Two bright spots burned on his broad cheekbones as I handed him the bottle and told him to open it.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the bottle back. “And now if you would be kind enough to bring me a handkerchief, I’ll be quite finished with you. My handkerchiefs are in the middle drawer of the wardrobe.”
It took him several more minutes to find a handkerchief and bring it to me, and I knew I shouldn’t press my luck any further. I thanked him with icy politeness and told him to find Count Orlov and ask him to come up to my room. Vladimir left, closing the door behind him much too forcefully. I leaned back against the velvety softness of the chair, absolutely spent yet still plagued with nervous tension. Would someone see them crossing the yard and stop them, challenge them? Would there be a hue and cry? Would they make it? I closed my eyes, praying they were even now in the carriage and on their way to Kronstadt.
The clock over the mantel ticked slowly. One minute, two, three. In the interests of verisimilitude I lifted my skirts and rubbed alcohol over my left ankle and then set the bottle aside. Six minutes went by, seven, eight. The house was very quiet. No angry shouts in the distance. They must have made it. They must be on their way. The ship sailed at ten, and by the time Gregory and I returned from the Hermitage they would be long gone, sailing out into the Baltic. Five more minutes passed and I heard footsteps in the hall and braced myself as Count Orlov opened the door and stepped inside, his eyes full of concern.
When Love Commands Page 40