by Sandra Heath
As they fled through the kitchens, Ellie saw sparkling crystal, exquisite china, and numerous serving platters piled high with a tempting display of suckling pig, chicken cutlets, salads, and mounds of savory rice, all waiting to be taken up after the first course of turtle soup.
Startled waiters, dark-skinned, wearing yellow jackets and turbans, stepped hastily out of the way as the fleeing party ran past. Then several gilt-domed dishes went flying as Paul’s men followed in hot pursuit, shoving and elbowing their way past in their efforts to catch their quarry.
Tatiana knew the palace well and led the way through a little anteroom where there were Tatars whose sole duty was to prepare coffee. From there she made for a dark narrow staircase that led up toward the main palace. Athan was loath to go farther and caught her arm to hold her back.
“I thought you’d take us out to the grounds again. We need to be outside, not in the palace itself!” he breathed, glancing uneasily back down the staircase as he heard their pursuers shouting to the bemused Tatars.
Tatiana shook her head. “You speak to the czar,” she said, and pulled her arm free to continue up the steps.
Athan looked at Ellie and John. “We have no choice, I fear,” he said, then gave a resigned smile. “Well, I suppose that if Alexander has to publicly choose between Prince Paul and us, it’s one way to discover just how genuinely well disposed toward the British he really is,” he said as he followed Tatiana up the steps.
Chapter Thirty-three
The door at the top of the staircase was concealed in a mirror, and opened into the brilliant world of the new Russia. Mirrors reflected dazzling chandeliers, there were flowers everywhere, and the sweetest of music carried from the orchestra of eight men with flutes and violins in the main reception rooms on the second floor.
Tatiana and Vladimir would go no farther, but the maid indicated the archway that gave way to the crowded central staircase hall. There, a double flight of pink-and-gray marble steps, edged with wrought iron railings, led up to the next floor. Then she and Vladimir hastened away, for it was literally more than their lives were worth to be apprehended.
Gwilym did not accompany his new sweetheart, but remained with Ellie, Athan, and John as they made their way toward the parade staircase. Their odd appearance caused a great stir among some late-arriving guests: the tall gangling horse charmer, Athan in his very formal British attire, Ellie in a blue taffeta gown that really was not by any means grand enough for such an occasion, and John in his crumpled day clothes, looking, as he would later ruefully admit, like something the cat had dragged in.
Several of Paul’s turbaned, yellow-jacketed servants made to apprehend them, but drew back respectfully when Athan showed the pass the czar had seen he was provided with. Something was clearly taking place on the floor above, for the orchestra suddenly died away on a jangle of notes, and instead of the babble of conversation that had hitherto issued over the staircase hall, there was something akin to a stunned silence. Ellie, Athan, and John had no idea what was happening, and were anyway only concerned with getting themselves into Alexander’s presence before their pursuers could apprehend them. Gwilym was intent upon remaining with his countrymen.
As Paul’s men burst from the hidden staircase, still in hot pursuit, the servants who had permitted the fugitives to pass had cause to regret their decision. But it was already too late, because Athan, moving swiftly ahead of the others, had reached the top of the staircase, where the guests had already formed a line to pass through an anteroom into the exquisitely decorated dining room. The guests, buzzing with startled interest in something taking place in the anteroom, were craning their necks to see what was going on in front of the czar, czarina, and Paul.
As Athan’s good luck would have it, everyone parted just as Alexander happened to glance back at the landing. Seeing Athan, but not, at first, his two less reputable companions, the czar smiled graciously and bowed his head. Paul’s men immediately drew back and quickly returned to the hidden staircase, for it was one thing to watch out for their master’s interests, quite another to do so in the face of the czar’s clear approval of the British lord.
But Alexander’s attention had already returned to the startling scene directly in front of him, wherein lay the cause of the orchestra’s shambolic halt and the guests’ less than discreet show of interest. Valentin, resplendent in dress uniform, not a button undone or a ribbon out of place, was on his knees before the czar, holding the soup tureen up as if in supplication. He was in the very act of begging his emperor’s mercy, imploring him to accept the tureen, which he promised was much more than a mere tureen.
It was at this point that the bemused guests, sandwiched between their host’s discredited nephew and the tureen to the front, and three very odd British persons to the rear, began to discuss what on earth could be going on. Valentin, aware that someone else was stealing his thunder, glanced toward Paul, whose ashen-faced attention was on the landing.
Following his uncle’s gaze, Valentin stared too, and the tureen slipped from his suddenly numb fingers. It fell with a crash that brought several screams from nervous ladies, and all eyes swung to the floor, where the incongruous sight of a walnut lay amid the fragments of what had been one of the most exquisite pieces of soft-paste porcelain the world had ever seen.
Valentin tore his eyes from the landing, and in the hope of extricating himself from disaster, scrambled frantically amid the debris in search of the diamond. But there was only the walnut.
“The diamond! Where is the diamond?” he cried, falling onto all fours and redoubling his futile efforts to find what was obviously not there.
Alexander was angry about the tureen’s destruction and alarmed by what seemed to be a display of lunacy. Gesturing for Valentin to be seized and hauled away, he then put a protective arm around the czarina’s shoulders and ushered her through into the dining room, from where another staircase led down to the gardens. Like the tail of a donkey, the great line of guests followed. There would be no grand supper that night, but something much more tranquil and digestible at the Winter Palace.
Of Paul there was suddenly no sign. In those few seconds he had slipped away unnoticed, leaving his hapless nephew to his fate by passing through a concealed door into an adjacent, almost deserted room. From there he went out onto the landing, stepped silently up behind Ellie, and grabbed her. She would have screamed, but felt a knife against her throat as he hissed in her ear.
“Be quiet now, Lady Griffin, or I will not hesitate to put an end to you.”
Terrified, she did not struggle as he began to back away, but then a lady guest saw what was happening and cried out. Athan and John whirled about, and Paul gave John a thin smile.
“Well, just when you thought I was defeated, I snatch victory after all. Now you will do as I say, or your dear niece will breathe her last.”
Athan stepped forward. “Let her go, Dalmatsky, or so help me I’ll—!”
“You’ll what, my lord?” Paul gave a mirthless chuckle. “I have the upper hand, Englishman, and I intend to go through with this until the very bitter end.”
John looked at him and realized just how unhinged he had become. “You’re mad, Paul. Nikolai feared it, but I didn’t believe him. I do now, though, because only a madman would resort to all this.”
“If it is madness to seek retribution for the loss of the only person I have ever loved, then I am glad to be mad,” Paul breathed, then he jerked his head at Athan. “Back away, my lord, or your wife will regret it.” His gaze moved to the other guests still on the landing. “The same applies to all of you. Back away now. Leave the staircase clear!”
They obeyed, and he forced Ellie toward the staircase. “Step pretty now, Lady Griffin, for I am not a man of endless patience, nor am I particularly understanding when it comes to the frailties of the fair sex.”
He glanced back at John. “You follow,” he ordered, “for you are the one I really want.”
“Then take me
!” John cried.
“I can be more certain of your compliance if I have your niece,” Paul replied frankly, and thrust Ellie down the first steps.
She tried not to stumble or do anything to anger him, for she knew he would not hesitate to kill her. As they descended, Paul ordered his amazed servants away from the staircase, and when some of the czar’s bodyguards approached, he made them retreat again by threatening her.
Athan turned desperately to Gwilym. “Help her,” he begged, although he did not know what he thought could be done.
Gwilym shook his head. “Not on the staircase, my lord, for she may fall.”
Athan gazed at him and then at Ellie, so helpless in Paul’s murderous grip. If anything should happen to her ...
At the foot of the staircase, Paul continued to force Ellie to do as he wished. He made her walk toward the mirror door that led down to the kitchens, and if anyone showed a sign of approaching him, he repeated his threat to her life. With John following as instructed, they entered the staircase and began the dark descent to the kitchens.
Athan would have followed, but Gwilym beckoned him another way. “Outside I may be able to help,” he cried, making toward the palace’s great main entrance. Athan needed no second bidding, but ran after him.
Ellie stumbled on the staircase, and choked back a cry of fear as Paul’s knife pressed harder against her throat.
“Don’t be clumsy, my dear. Don’t they teach you deportment in England?”
John called out anxiously from behind. “Leave her alone, Paul! Can’t you see she’s terrified enough already?”
“Terror always amuses me,” Paul answered.
“Let her go, and just take me. I’m the one you hate, the one who took Nikolai from you.”
“I’m not so easily diverted now, John,” Paul answered. “I know the game is up for me, but I intend to drag you down with me.”
There was a stunned silence in the kitchens as Paul forced his way through, the knife glinting against Ellie’s throat. Out into the night they went, where the St. Petersburg bells continued to ring, and the pale otherworldly light of the Russian summer seemed suddenly more eerie than ever.
Paul halted, casting around for one of his servants. It wasn’t a servant whose eyes he found, but Bruno’s. The young man flinched as Paul ordered him to see that a boat was ready at the nearest jetty. When Bruno didn’t obey quickly enough to suit, Paul’s voice rose unevenly. “Do it!” he shrieked, “Do it this instant, or I’ll have you skinned alive!”
Bruno’s eyes widened, and he ran off as if Paul had set fire to his heels.
Paul made Ellie move along the same path, and John followed wretchedly, wishing there was something he could do to save his niece, and wondering too what had happened to Athan and Gwilym, who were nowhere to be seen.
The kenneled Dalmatians, already disturbed by the earlier shouts of alarm, now sensed the tense atmosphere that pervaded the palace gardens. Their savage barking turned to bloodcurdling howls that overwhelmed the St. Petersburg bells.
The closer Paul and Ellie drew to the jetty where Bruno had the boat waiting, the more Paul began to increase their pace. He had seen the guests beginning to assemble on the other jetties, and the czar assembling his bodyguards and many of the gentlemen guests, clearly with the intention of overcoming the obviously deranged master of Dalmatsky Island. Paul’s eyes were diamond-bright. No one, not even the czar, was going to rob him of his final act of revenge!
Reaching the beginning of the jetty, Paul pulled Ellie aside and then told John to get into the boat.
“What are you going to do to my niece?” John demanded, not moving a step until he was satisfied Elite would be safe.
“If you wish to guarantee her safety, you will do as I say,” Paul replied; then his voice became shrill again. “Do it! Or I will slit her throat here and now!”
Athan stepped out of the shadows by some shrubs. “Do as he says, John,” he said quietly.
Paul turned warily, still holding Ellie. “So here we have the adoring husband? How very homely, to be sure,” he breathed.
“Release my wife, Dalmatsky.”
“Back away, Englishman, for I am in no mood to humor you.” Paul looked toward Bruno. “Release the dogs,” he said in Russian, and the young man darted away in the direction of the kennels.
Athan didn’t understand what had been said, but guessed it quickly enough. “Have you no wits left, Dalmatsky? If you let those creatures loose, they’ll savage us all!”
“Correction, my lord, they’ll savage everyone except me and this dear lady’s uncle, for we will be out on the water.” Paul began to edge along the jetty, still forcing Ellie with him. He glanced back at John, who was seated in the boat. “Undo the mooring rope, and get ready to row.”
John obeyed, being far too fearful for Ellie to think of defiance at this critical point.
Paul and Ellie were now only inches from the end of the jetty. Suddenly he gave her a ferocious push that sent her screaming into the dark water, and as Athan rushed to help her, Paul leapt into the boat and pushed it away from the jetty. He sat down and tossed the knife into the water, then drew a pistol from inside his coat and leveled it at John’s heart.
Ellie floundered in the Neva. She couldn’t swim, and the train of her gown was trapping her legs. Athan flung himself onto his stomach and stretched down to her, somehow managing to grab her fingers. After a few moments he was able to haul her to safety. He gathered her into his arms. “You’re safe now, my darling,” he breathed, his lips moving against her wet hair.
Coughing and spluttering, she clung to him, but then remembered her uncle and pulled away again to look anxiously at the boat, which was now almost midchannel between Dalmatsky Island and the next island to the south. But there was no time to wonder about John, for Bruno had released the dogs, which were racing, barking and howling toward the jetty.
Just as it seemed they were bound to fall upon Ellie and Athan and tear them to shreds, Gwilym stepped calmly in front of them. He made no move, but just stood there making soft sounds. The frenzied creatures halted, some growling savagely, others whining more uncertainly. Gwilym smiled and spoke to them in Welsh. One or two tails began to wag, and then suddenly they all decided he was a friend. They milled around him, licking and whining as gently as if they were a child’s pets.
Athan breathed out with relief. “Thank God for Mrs. Lewis’s little boy,” he said with feeling.
“I wish we were all back at Nantgarth now,” Ellie whispered, half an eye still on the Dalmatians, for fear they would suddenly cease to be spellbound.
* * *
Out on the water, Paul commanded John to ship the oars. The Neva’s current was sluggish, and the boat drifted very slowly downstream toward the Gulf of Finland.
“This is where Nikolai died,” Paul said, glancing toward the shore of the other island, “and it is where you and I will die too. Is that not fitting?”
“You clearly think so.” John searched his face in the pale night. “Will you at least answer some questions before consigning us to our watery grave?”
“What do you wish to know?”
“How did you find me? When I returned to Britain, I made damned sure I changed my name and covered my tracks, yet somehow you traced me to Nantgarth. How?”
“You did not cover your tracks as completely as you thought. My agents managed to follow you to an inn on the Pennines, where they learned you had talked much with Lord Griffin. So I ordered them to find out all they could about Griffin. Thus I discovered the new china works, and was then able to confirm your presence there by the simple expedient of questioning that foolish doxy, Miss Tudor. Her description of Mr. John Bailey tallied exactly with the John Arbuthnot Billersley I was seeking.”
“It was really that simple?”
“Yes.”
John drew a long breath. “And were you behind my brother-in-law’s ruin?”
“Your brother-in-law?” For a moment Paul’s
face was blank, but then he remembered. “Ah, you mean Mr. Rutherford? Yes, of course I was. It amused me to implicate you in such goings-on. It was an idle whim on my part.”
“An idle whim that cost him his life.”
“I am not responsible for his weakness.”
John looked at him with loathing. “Damn it all, I wasn’t aware you even knew I had a brother-in-law.”
Paul found that amusing. “My dear John, when you came to St. Petersburg before, and you and I were friends at first. You really were unguarded in the things you told me. So I knew you had a sister who married a man named Rutherford, and who resided on the Isle of Wight. From there it was easy enough to coerce the hitherto estimable Mr. Forrester-Phipps of the Unicorn Bank into doing as I wished. Most men will do as they are asked if they think their family is at risk.”
“And you went through all this simply to get me here again?”
Paul nodded. “Yes, John, and I would do it again. You took Nikolai, and you made me hunt him down. It is all your fault, and now the time has come for you to make the supreme sacrifice.”
The Neva was calm, and Paul did not think twice about getting to his feet in the rowboat. He took careful aim at John, meaning to shoot him in the forehead, but he reckoned without Gwilym and Athan.
Athan had removed his coat and wrapped it around Ellie as she sat shivering on the jetty. He had scrambled to his feet, a pistol of his own drawn and cocked, and was waiting with Gwilym for an opportune moment to pluck Paul from the rowboat. The moment their prey stood to take aim at John, Gwilym exerted all his strength to make the little craft rock from side to side.
“What the—?” Paul staggered and almost lost his balance. What was happening? The river was as smooth as a millpond! He braced himself, and took aim again. As he began to squeeze the trigger, the boat rocked more violently, and the pistol shot went wide, zinging past John’s head and striking the water ahead of the boat.
