Gone by Nightfall

by Dee Garretson

  “You wouldn’t have to go away forever. When do you have time to study with all you do? The entrance exam is brutal. And missing the last year of school is going to make it that much harder for you.”

  I should have known she would keep pressing me. Raisa was relentless when she got an idea in her head. I tried one more time. “I do study on my own at night when I get back from the hospital.” I didn’t say that most nights I only managed a few paragraphs in my Greek or Latin textbook before I fell asleep. “And as soon as I manage to find a governess for the twins, I’ll have more time to study.”

  I looked over at the clock on the table. “I have to get back. It’s getting late,” I said as I pulled my hand out of hers and stood up. This hadn’t been the kind of talk I’d hoped we would have.

  “You sound angry,” Raisa said. “Don’t be, please.”

  “I’m not angry. It’s … it’s just…”

  “It’s just you don’t like to be told what you should do.” She jumped up and hugged me. “I know you. I’ll stop, but think about what I said. And give everyone my love.”

  We went out the back door, both of us acting as if we’d see each other soon. Raisa darted away, and I turned back to the grand duke’s house, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. I had to get back into the party without anyone noticing I’d been gone.

  Chapter Two

  I DECIDED THAT if anyone saw me coming back in to the ball, I could say I’d felt a little faint and needed some air. I hoped no one would question that, even though the temperature outside was well below zero, the kind of air that took your breath away rather than gave it back to you.

  The two footmen by the front door were polite enough to act as if they didn’t notice I’d walked in shivering with cold and carrying a book I hadn’t had when I left. I went into the little sitting room off the hall that had been set aside as the women’s cloakroom and left my coat, my boots, and the book there and put my dance slippers back on. I’d be too noticeable if I wandered the party looking for my stepfather all bundled up.

  Back out in the hall, the scent of the orchids was so strong it made my head ache. The grand duchess had gone overboard with the flowers, as if filling the house with a jungle of them could make the partygoers forget the bitter cold and the war raging not so far away. There were so many, she had to have ordered several heated railroad cars to bring bushels of them into the city from the southern greenhouses, taking up space that should have been used for food supplies.

  I was about to go back to the ballroom when I heard the voice of the obnoxious captain I’d been forced to listen to earlier, so I darted behind a pillar wrapped in a garland of orchids. I listened as his voice moved away from me and toward the door, hopefully on his way out.

  A little voice came from above me, startling me so much I bumped into the pillar, crushing several orchids and releasing yet more fragrance.

  “Charlotte, why are you hiding?”

  I looked up to see the grand duke’s youngest granddaughter, Anna Andreevna, wearing her nightdress and peering through the railings of the staircase.

  “Are you playing a game?” the girl asked. “Can I play too?”

  I put my finger to my lips. “I am playing a game, but it’s hard to hide in this dress. I’m waiting for a man to leave the party.”

  “Why?” She was five, the same age as my little sisters, so I should have known she’d want a reason.

  “I don’t like him very much.”

  Anna stood up. “You don’t have a very good hiding place,” she said in a loud whisper. “I always hide under a bed. Do you want me to show you a good spot upstairs?”

  I was actually tempted. A nice quiet spot under a bed would mean I could sleep for a few hours undisturbed before I had to meet Ivan coming in from the country with food supplies for the hospital. Probably not the best idea to take a nap, though. “No, but thank you anyway. Next time I bring the twins over, you can show me.”

  I peeked around the pillar to see the captain going out the door.

  “That’s not the man who was looking for you before,” Anna said.

  “I don’t think there is anyone else who would be looking for me.”

  “There was,” she insisted. “The man asked the footmen and said your name and described you. They said they hadn’t seen you. He had a mean face. I think you should hide from him, too.”

  Bless the footmen. I didn’t know why they hadn’t given me away, but I was thankful they hadn’t. I had no idea why a different man would have been looking for me, and I couldn’t really think of anyone I’d danced with who had a face Anna would call mean. And none of the men had been that interested in me besides the captain, who would have talked to a pillar if it had been wearing a dress. Even if I had wanted a suitor, which I didn’t, I’d be unlikely to attract one. My red hair, freckles, and sturdy frame did not measure up to any standard of beauty in Russian society. And besides that, my mother’s reputation preceded me.

  Everyone assumed I would follow in the footsteps of my mother: an American actress labeled a gold digger for bewitching an elderly Russian count into marriage and adding her three unruly American children into the bargain. The mothers of marriageable sons were particularly wary of me after Pavel showed an interest, and when the war took him, they saw me as a continuing threat to the others. I couldn’t exactly shout at them that I didn’t want their sons, that I had other plans, which didn’t involve marriage. Pavel had been a little like a dream out of nowhere, and I had no desire for anything like that to happen again, at least not for years and years.

  Anna forgot to whisper. “Is the party almost over? Are there any chocolates left? The chocolate mice looked very good. Mama said I could have some if there were any left, but I’m afraid they’ll all be gone.” Her mouth turned down. “The musicians are allowed to eat after the guests leave, and they always eat everything. I promised I’d bring Nadia some if I could.”

  “Who is Nadia?” I asked. I thought it was probably the name of a doll and Anna Andreevna wanted the chocolate mice for herself. It was a scheme my sisters would try.

  The girl twirled one of her braids. “Nadia is the new helper in the nursery. She’s very nice. She doesn’t pull my hair when she brushes it. She’s never had chocolate mice.”

  The taste of a chocolate mouse from one of Petrograd’s best chocolatiers was something everyone should experience. “We’ll have to make sure she gets one,” I told Anna. “I’ll go look and bring a plate of them if there are any left.” If there was enough, I could have one too. A bit of chocolate might tamp down the ache in my head. After that, I could go in search of my stepfather and try to get him away from the card table.

  “Hurry!” Anna clutched the railing. “I don’t hear the music anymore. The orchestra will be there any minute!”

  The supper room was empty when I went in, but I knew that as soon as the musicians had finished packing up their instruments, they’d be here. Grabbing a plate, I scanned the tables. There had been no skimping on the choices. Even though the party was nearly over, platters full of smoked salmon, eel, and smelts interspersed with bowls of caviar still filled the tables. If I hadn’t been aware of the severe food shortages crippling the city, I’d never have guessed it from the display of abundance.

  I realized what had bothered me about the room when I’d been in it earlier in the evening. The artful displays of white roses and ferns cascading down the walls behind the tables were supposed to give the illusion of a series of waterfalls, but they more closely resembled the shrouds we used at the hospital to cover the dead. The fishy smells from the food mixed with the heavy scent of the roses and made my stomach do a little twist. I hurried to fill the plate so I could leave.

  No chocolate mice remained on the dessert table, but there were plenty of bonbons. I selected a variety of flavors, piling the plate high. Even without adorable little eyes and ears and tails, the bonbons would taste just as good as the mice.

  I was about to go back t
o Anna when I spotted one lone chocolate mouse that had fallen off a tray. It was missing a tail, but I thought Nadia wouldn’t mind. I put it on the very top of the pile.

  I heard the clicking of boots behind me. Someone else had entered the room, and the clicking meant someone in uniform, which meant a man.

  Baron Eristov, one of the czar’s closest military advisers and some sort of cousin to my stepfather, came up to the table and stood right next to me. I hadn’t expected to see him at a party, not with the war going so badly. He should have been at the front. We’d lost so many men; every last soldier was needed there. The baron and I had never actually spoken beyond a long-ago introduction, so I assumed I could just give the man a polite nod as I left the room.

  I nearly dropped the plate when he spoke. “There you are, Miss Mason. I’ve been looking for you. I was hoping for a chance to have a private talk with you.”

  His expression was grim, not the look you’d see on the face of someone who wanted a social chat. Some found the baron handsome, but he’d always repulsed me. Everything about his face was as if someone had drawn in his features with thin lines, except for his mouth. His lips were too big and too pale, like slugs that had been plucked from the ground. I closed my eyes for a second, willing another image into my head before the thought of slugs made my stomach twist again.

  When I opened my eyes, he leaned in close and motioned to my plate. “I know Count Cherkassky’s gambling debts are building up and his money is being wasted at that ridiculous hospital, but I didn’t know he was putting his household on such lean rations that you must fill up at parties.”

  I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I wanted to snap at his rudeness, but I suspected he was bringing up my stepfather’s debts to make me react. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. I couldn’t keep quiet about his slur on the hospital, though. “Women need medical care just as much as men, even with a war on,” I said.

  He made a snorting sound and then took hold of my elbow. “Shall we sit? I believe you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

  I was too curious to say no, so I let him guide me to one of the small tables set about the room. As soon as I sat down and put the plate on the table, he began to speak. “I’ll get right to the point. Your stepfather doesn’t need the aggravation of three nearly grown stepchildren, especially not ones such as yourselves and at such a time. You should leave Russia, you and your brothers.”

  Not ones such as yourselves. The contempt in those words was like an actual slap to my face.

  I clasped my hands together so I wouldn’t make throttling motions with my fingers. “I don’t think you are the one to determine what my stepfather needs or doesn’t need.”

  “And you are?” The snorting sound came again. “Not from what I’ve seen of your actions. You and your brothers are bringing down the reputation of the Cherkassky family by associating with the wrong sort of people.”

  “Which people?” I suspected I already knew the answer.

  “The Tamm family and their disreputable theater.” He paused as if he expected me to protest. When I said nothing, he continued. “I suppose it all seems rather daring, especially for a young girl, to attend their parties and meet the radicals who associate with them, but you need to stay away. All the talk of revolution will come to nothing, and in the meantime your connection with them is drawing too much attention.”

  “I’ve met no radicals at the Tamms’.” Not exactly, anyway. I didn’t add I had heard the same talk that was everywhere, the endless gossip about the precarious state of the monarchy. We all wanted change. As much as I loved Russia, there were some parts that were terrible. We wanted more freedoms for women, more elected officials who actually had some power, and a change in the laws that allowed the horrific oppression of Jewish people, so, yes, we talked of it, but if I said anything, it would make him more suspicious.

  “Why are you worried about our reputation?” I asked. I had no intention of giving up visiting the Tamms, but I was curious as to why the baron was involving himself in our lives.

  The man sneered. “I care nothing for your reputation, little girl. Your stepfather’s gambling debts are a problem, but he is a loyal supporter of the czar. However, when you associate with radicals, you become of interest to the Okhrana, and therefore your stepfather draws their interest too. Given the past history of the family, that could be very dangerous.”

  Hearing mention of the Okhrana twice in one night made my palms start to sweat in my gloves. I didn’t understand what he meant about the “past history.” My stepfather had served in the army with great distinction as one of its top generals, and my mother had been completely uninterested in politics.

  I heard someone come into the room. The baron leaned in even more and put his arm over the back of my chair. I forced myself not to cringe away from him. I knew he was trying to intimidate me.

  When he spoke again, his voice was so low I knew he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “I realize girls are not interested in politics, but the situation is very precarious right now,” he said. “We must do everything we can to ensure stability if we are to win the war. Even though your stepfather is retired, he is still a notable figure, and unfortunately, he has enemies who have not forgotten the past. He must be seen to be unwavering in his support of the czar. If you care for him at all, you won’t want to be a burden on him.”

  His eyes were so fixed on me, I felt my mouth go dry. Did he want me to reassure him that there were no treasonous thoughts allowed in our house? What if the baron was part of the secret police himself? I wouldn’t put it past him to have some devious plan in mind to trap me. He could report any response I made.

  “Thank you for your concern,” I managed to choke out.

  A group of men came in, talking in loud voices. I shifted away from the baron to get a look. It was the orchestra. They ignored us as they surrounded the food tables.

  The baron reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He set it on the table. “Look at the quote from the American and then show this to the Tamms. See what they say. Then burn it until there is nothing left but ash.”

  I picked up the paper and unfolded it. As soon as I understood what it was, I dropped it on the table, wanting to wipe my gloves on my dress as if the words had leaped off the paper and were stuck to me, screaming for everyone to read. Being in possession of a paper calling for the overthrow of the czar could get me arrested. Even sitting at a table next to such a paper could be grounds for arrest.

  He pushed it toward me and smiled as if he was pleased with my reaction. “I suggest you read it all.” I picked it up again. It was in Russian, but as I skimmed it, I saw what the baron had been referring to. One line stood out. As the American Patrick Henry said in his country’s successful bid for freedom, give me liberty or give me death!

  I recognized the name Patrick Henry. I was a bit shaky on American history because not much of it had been taught in the French and Russian schools I’d attended, but my brother Miles had many books on the American Revolution. He had gone through a phase where he’d describe in excruciating detail seemingly every day of the fight for liberty. We’d had to beg him to stop talking.

  Did the baron think I knew who had written it because it quoted an American? That was absurd. There were thousands of Americans in Petrograd and hundreds who spoke Russian well enough to write such a thing.

  “Remember, you never know who is spying on you,” he said. “Don’t trust anyone. And you should think about how much easier your life would be in America. You don’t belong here.” He stood up and nodded to me, then walked out of the room without another word.

  As soon as he was gone, the full implication of his words hit me, almost taking away my breath. Even though I doubted the Tamms had anything to do with the flyer, if the Okhrana suspected them of revolutionary activities, my association with them turned the spotlight on me too, and that meant they might put spies on me as well. So far my black-market arra
ngements for the hospital were secret, but it would be harder to keep them that way if I was under scrutiny.

  But why give me a note to show to the Tamms while warning me away from them? I couldn’t decide if it would be safer to leave it where it lay or take it away with me. I rubbed my temples, feeling the ache come back. I needed to be away from this party so I could think.

  I folded up the paper as small as I could and tried to put it into the top of my glove, but my hand was trembling so much I dropped it instead and it fell to the floor.

  Before I could reach for it, another hand appeared and picked it up. I looked up to see a young man in the dazzling white dress uniform of the Imperial Horse Guard standing in front of me. His image wavered and the room grew hotter. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, I realized I was not seeing a ghost. Pavel would never come back, not even as a spirit, since he was buried a long way away in an unknown grave on a battlefield.

  This young man was not nearly as tall as Pavel had been, though he had the same blondish hair and dark eyes. The line of his jaw wasn’t quite as square, and there was something about him that made him look out of place in the uniform, though I couldn’t pinpoint what that was.

  He held out the paper. I snatched it out of his hand and squeezed my own tight around it as if it were going to somehow jump out and open by itself.

  I saw a shudder pass through him, and I noticed he had a cane gripped in his other hand. His fingers were very long and white against the ebony of the cane, and he wore a gold ring with some sort of bird on it. It was only then that I noticed a bulky bandage around one of his knees.

  “Where did you come from?” I blurted out.

  “I’ve been sitting over there.” He pointed behind me, and I twisted around to see a small table nearly hidden by some of the potted plants. He motioned to his leg. “Dancing does not agree with me at the moment.”