CHAPTER TWELVE

EMMA didn’t return that night. Few words were exchanged between Phyllida and me at the breakfast table. She gazed glumly at her porridge, stirring it constantly, and she didn’t carry the extra burden of knowing she’d soon miss Blackford as well.

I decided to bring up the person whose absence worried us both into silence. “She’s fine, Aunt Phyllida,” I said, using her honorary title. “Blackford assures me Sumner would lay down his life to protect her.”

“That’s what worries me. His death would crush her. Just as her death would crush us.” She shoved her bowl of porridge aside uneaten.

“No one is going to hurt Emma, and no one is going to hurt Sumner. They’ll both return in fine shape as soon as they learn what the anarchists are doing. Then they’ll take us both to task for being silly.”

Phyllida rose and gave me a shaky smile. “You’re right. Now, you need to check on the bookshop before you go sleuthing for the day, and I need to make up my marketing list before the Ternbulls come for the laundry.”

I had on my hat and gloves and was heading for the door when Phyllida popped her head out of the kitchen. “Georgia, I’ve been thinking about what you told me last night about the count. I think you should be very careful of your surroundings. He’s a Hungarian, and I’ve heard they’re all crazy.”

“He’s crazy enough to think his explanation is sufficient. I don’t need to worry about him. He needs to worry about me.”

“You don’t think he’ll attack you since he admitted he killed your parents? You’re a danger to him.”

“He has diplomatic immunity. Also, he thinks of me as an unimportant middle-class bookseller who doesn’t have his precious Gutenberg. I’m not important enough for him to bother with.”

All of Phyllida’s fears and insecurities were written on her face.

I gave her a big smile. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about that shopping list.”

When I arrived at the bookshop, I discovered the front door unlocked. I doubted Frances had arrived before me, and Grace didn’t have a key. Had they left the shop unlocked all night?

I entered quietly, looking around the unlit space. Enough sunlight came in the front windows that I could tell by a quick glance that no one lurked among the shelves. The back hall and office would be a different matter, though. I picked up the duster I kept behind the counter and moved forward cautiously. It wasn’t much of a weapon. I’d have felt safer with Emma and her knife. Drat that girl for not being there.

I stopped at the entrance to the back hall and saw motion in the office. “Who’s there?” I called out, lowering my voice to hide any quavering.

My heart jumped as I saw more motion. Someone was coming out of the office. Had Frances Atterby chosen today of all days to arrive early? Had I misjudged Count Farkas? Had someone used a skeleton key to break into my shop?

Clutching the feather duster with its wooden handle, I stood my ground. Blood rushed to my head, taking my breath away with it.

“I thought you’d never come in,” Emma said, stepping forward. Sumner was right behind her.

“What are you doing here?” Not the brightest reply, but it was hard to think with my heart galloping around my chest.

“We can’t meet at home. We suspect that we were followed. So we’re here to rob you.” She shrugged and added, “It’s as good an excuse as any.”

I stared at Emma as she made her matter-of-fact statement. “I think you’d better tell me what’s going on.”

“We’ve joined a group of anarchists. Russians mostly, but a few Poles, Hungarians, and native English East Enders. Ivanov is involved with them.”

“He doesn’t know who you are?” I thought back over my travels with Princess Kira to meet her sister and my meeting with Nadia in the East End.

“No. I saw him when Nadia escaped, but he didn’t see us. He didn’t seem interested in catching her, fortunately. Still, he doesn’t trust us.”

“He didn’t like my boots.” Sumner’s rough voice cut through the air between us.

I looked down. Sumner wore the handcrafted, smooth leather boots he always wore no matter the disguise. They appeared to be his one concession to comfort. “Be careful. Ivanov is a crafty, dangerous man. If he doesn’t trust you, you’re in trouble.”

“Sumner was brilliant. He knew how to convince Ivanov. He started a fight about it, saying he’d stolen them from his last master when he was fired. Said they fit like a dream. Said he’d kill rather than give them up. They’re all a bit frightened of him now.” Emma smiled at him with pride.

“We took Nadia to Hereford House early this morning,” Sumner added in his familiar rumble. “She’s safely out of there until we find out what they have planned.”

“So they have something planned?”

Emma nodded. “It’s the reason the guard was killed. To slip Ivanov in. We learned Ivanov killed the guard and stole a button and an epaulet so they could be copied. A tailor in the group made his uniform. I made friends with the tailor and he told me. He’s afraid of Ivanov.”

“Is Ivanov there to learn the layout of the house?”

“No. They have someone else inside for that. He carried messages and a package. Now, we need to steal a few pounds from you in coins.” Emma gave me a grin.

“You’ve wanted to do this since you first heard about the bookshop. And Phyllida thinks you’re so respectable,” I teased her. There was nothing funny about the situation, but I couldn’t show how afraid I was for them. It wouldn’t help. “I’ve got a small burlap sack in the office for coins. Use that.”

“Blackford will make it up to you,” Sumner said, backing up so Emma and I could fit into the crowded office. “Tell him to take it out of my wages.”

I ignored his words. Sumner would need all his wages to provide a home for Emma.

“If he asks, Sumner said he was hired by the duke for muscle, and then fired after the job was done. He refused to say what the job was,” Emma told me as she dropped coins into the sack.

“What’s the plan? Who are the targets?”

“We don’t know the plan, but the princess is the target. Plus someone else.”

“Sussex?” I asked.

“No, I don’t think Sussex is a target. Most of the anarchists, led by a man named Mukovski, talk a lot about revolution all over Europe but they have no plans to fight with anyone. The attack will come from Ivanov and a couple of others. And Ivanov’s people don’t seem to be upset about who might be hurt. Whatever it is should happen in the next few days.” Emma cinched up the sack, handed it to Sumner, and added, “Wait a couple of minutes before you raise the alarm. And put on a good performance.”

“I will. Good luck. And be careful.” I hugged her.

“Tell Aunt Phyllida not to worry.” With a nod to Sumner, Emma walked out of the bookshop by the unlocked front door. Sumner followed, shutting the door quietly behind him.

I watched them out the window, glad there was still little traffic in the lane. Then I went back into the office, leaving the safe door open. I lay down on the dirty floor and then disheveled my hair as I rose again. I counted to ten and then walked slowly to the front door.

Knowing they’d be around the corner on the main road by now, I walked out, holding my head and calling, “Help. Police,” in a feeble voice. The jeweler’s apprentice from next door and Grace, arriving to help out at the bookshop, appeared at the same time.

I caught Grace’s eye and she urged the apprentice to find a bobby while she took care of me. She helped me inside while the lad ran off and then whispered, “What’s going on?”

I murmured in return, “I heard from Emma and Sumner. The robbery was a ruse to talk to me. They were being followed. Just play along.”

“Tell me later,” she said as the jeweler and the wife of the greengrocer filled the doorway. A boy selling a halfpenny broadsheet preaching revolution and equality craned his neck to see what the excitement was.

I told my story twice, once to them and then again to the bobby. I sniffed and moaned and said how two men had forced their way in when I arrived and threatened me to make me open the safe. They’d hit me on the head and knocked me out. When I revived, I found money taken from the safe and the men gone.

Frances arrived while I was telling the bobby my tale of woe and she and Grace sprang into action, ushering out the other merchants from our street and encouraging me to go home and rest. They’d take care of the shop for the day.

Since I had to hurry to get to Hereford House, I readily agreed. As soon as the bobby left, I told them what I’d learned from Emma and Sumner and walked home to change clothes.

Phyllida took one look at me and said, “It’s a good thing the Ternbulls haven’t arrived for the laundry yet. Quick. Get out of those clothes. What have you been rolling in?”

I told her part of what Emma had told me, focusing on how, because someone was following her and Sumner, she couldn’t come home to see Phyllida. I also told her what Emma had said: that this would only be for a few more days.

I didn’t tell her the anarchists planned to attack shortly.

•   •   •

WHEN I FINALLY arrived at Hereford House that morning, I found excitement had already arrived. After I left my gloves and hat on the table in the back hall with those of Amelia Whitten, Lady Daisy’s governess, I went upstairs to see if either the princess or the duchess needed me. In truth, I wanted to see how Nadia fit into the household.

I met the duchess coming down the hall with her lips pursed together and clutching her hands in fists. “Never invite Russians into your home. Never,” she told me as she walked by in the direction of her painting studio.

At least she hadn’t noticed I’d arrived late.

Knocking on the door of Princess Kira’s room, I found myself instantly facing Lady Raminoff. “Ungrateful wench,” she said in French.

“Pardon, madame,” I said, wondering what I’d done now.

“Not you,” she snapped. “Nadia wants her hair dressed like Kira’s, and Mila refuses to wait on a bastard dropped on her by Kira’s whim. The duchess says she has no one to spare to be lady’s maid to Nadia, which sounds like a poorly managed household to me. And I’m being moved to another room so Nadia can stay in here with Kira while they plan their crazy behavior. Such boldness.”

“Who’s Mila?” I asked the room in general in English.

“She is.” Nadia pointed at a young, thin, dark-haired woman in a black dress, who unleashed a stream of loud Russian back at her. I’d not seen the maid since the day the Russians had arrived.

Kira responded in a nasty tone in Russian, interrupted by Lady Raminoff shouting something short. The room fell silent.

“Princess Kira,” I said in French, hoping Nadia and Mila wouldn’t understand my questions of the princess, “how long has Mila worked for you?”

“Not long. She was lady’s maid to a friend in St. Petersburg. When she heard where I was going, she begged to come along as my maid. My own maid didn’t want to leave Russia, so I agreed.”

“How did you know about Nadia’s story?” I asked Mila in French.

She looked at me blankly.

I asked again in English and she answered in a thick accent, “The story is all over St. Petersburg. Anarchists attack important people all the time. But there is no reason to attack this woman or her mother. They are unimportant. Whores. Beneath contempt.”

This was where I expected her to spit on the floor. Fortunately for the duchess’s expensive Turkish carpet, Mila restrained herself.

Unfortunately for all of us, Nadia unleashed a stream of vindictive English. “At least my father is somebody. A prince. Who’s your father? Nothing.”

“At least he married my mother. She wasn’t a whore, like yours.”

Then the name-calling began in earnest. In English. I discovered the Russians knew words I’d never before heard a woman utter. I was glad Lady Raminoff didn’t speak English.

It was abundantly clear Mila wouldn’t be serving as lady’s maid to Nadia. “Princess Kira, I suggest you ask the duchess to have an agency send over a lady’s maid and you will pay the woman’s salary.”

I forgot to switch back to French and so did Princess Kira. “I pay for nothing. Embassy pays my bills.”

“Then you’d better ask the ambassador, nicely, to pay for your sister’s lady’s maid.”

She gave a sniff. “I write him letter.”

While she readied stationery and ink, I turned to Lady Raminoff and spoke in French. “I think we’ve found a solution, if the ambassador will go along with the idea.”

She gave an unladylike snort. “He’s already grumbling about her bills and her behavior. I’ve been ordered to keep her in line.”

“At least the Duke of Sussex is happy with her.”

“And he’s the one who must be. I suppose we should be grateful for that.” She gave me a weak smile before returning to her chair to work on her embroidery.

I joined Kira as she finished her letter. “Would you post this to the embassy, Miss Peabody?”

“Of course, Princess.” I curtsied and left the room, searching for the duchess on my way downstairs.

I found her engrossed in her painting. She looked up after a moment and said, “I suppose I asked for all that has befallen me, since I agreed to have the princess stay here.”

I waved the message the princess had given me for posting. “The princess has written the ambassador, asking him to pay for a lady’s maid for Nadia while she stays here. The lady’s maid is to come from the agency you use. Is that satisfactory, Your Grace?”

She smiled. “Very. Good for you for suggesting what I can’t say within the bounds of good manners.”

“The princess has been an expensive visitor?”

“It’s worse than entertaining our royalty. She takes the carriage whenever she wants; orders new clothes she doesn’t plan to pay for and has them sent to this address, which will hurt my reputation with tradesmen; then she plans an elaborate dinner party at my home using my servants, my food, and my silver; her maid steals food from the pantry; they disrupt—”

“Her maid, Mila, steals food?” I was certain the duchess fed her servants well, and that would include Mila.

“Yes. And so far my cook and housekeeper haven’t been able to figure out what she does with it. It’s too much for a little thing like her to eat.”

“They can ask her. She speaks English. I learned some new words today, but nothing that can be used in polite company. Mila and Nadia could both teach me how to curse, and it’s my native tongue, not theirs.”

“Mila speaks English? I’ve been told by the servants and by Kira that her lady’s maid can’t speak English. Of course, we all thought Kira couldn’t speak English, either.” The duchess looked pensive.

“The Russians, at least the ones I’ve met, are a deceptive bunch.” And I couldn’t wait for them to leave. I was constantly trailed by fear for Emma and Sumner’s safety.

The anarchists Emma and Sumner were involved with were crazy, dangerous people. And if the whole Russian ruling class were like Princess Kira and Lady Raminoff, I could understand the anarchists wanting to be rid of them.

“My staff will be glad to know Mila speaks English. It will make questioning her easier.” She picked up her paintbrush again. “Is there anything else?”

“I have an idea. The Duke of Blackford has a parlor maid, Mary Thomas, who was once a lady’s maid. She’s a clever young woman and could help us keep an eye on the Russian ladies.”

“I don’t think Blackford would mind lending her to us for a short while. Do you want to ask him, or shall I?”

“I will. I’ll have to set this up with Mary.” I dropped a small curtsy and left to post the princess’s letter.

I walked back to the morning room to see if anything was there that I needed to do as part of my supposed job. I opened the door to find Amelia Whitten, Lady Daisy’s governess, searching through the desk.

She straightened up, shut the drawer she’d been rifling through, and looked me in the eye. She didn’t even blush.

“May I help you, Miss Whitten?”

“I was looking for some blank paper to use for Lady Daisy to practice her handwriting. I’ve run out.”

I picked up several sheets from the stack by the door. “Will these do?”

“Nicely.” She took them from my hand as she tried to leave.

I blocked her way. “Where’s Lady Daisy?”

“Having a tea party with her nursery maid.”

I stared hard at her. “Next time you come to borrow something, bring her along. She livens up the house, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” She shoved past me and escaped at just short of a run.

I sat down and gazed into the back garden. What was Miss Whitten up to? For that matter, why was Mila stealing food? Then I leaned forward, watching as a figure slipped along the edge of the garden from the direction of the carriage house. Ivanov.

He wore worn, dark trousers and a jacket with a workingman’s cap, letting him blend in on the London streets, but it was definitely Ivanov. I’d know his unkempt beard, his craggy face, and his tall bulk anywhere.

Leaping up, I raced to the back door and skidded to a stop. One of the maids watched me curiously—the maid still displaying the black eye and bruised face given to her when Ivanov escaped. “Are you expecting a visitor?” I asked.

She looked down at her damp dress and the bucket of dirty water she was using to scrub the stairwell coming up from the kitchen. Then she looked at me as if I’d grown a horn out of my forehead. “Yeah, the Prince of Wales.”

“Ivanov is back. Better inform your mistress.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Gawd.” She plunked the bucket on a step, sloshing water, and ran back down the stairs. “Mrs. Green. Mrs. Green.”

I stepped backward into the lavatory on the landing, hoping I wouldn’t be noticed.

I left the door open a crack and held my breath as Ivanov entered. He blinked at the darkness after the bright day outside. I held still, wondering how he couldn’t hear the pounding of my heartbeat. I could have reached out and touched him. And I was certain if he found me spying on him he would kill me. I was terrified my trembling would give me away.

After what felt like an eternity but must have been mere seconds, he moved past me and up the three steps to the main level.

I stayed where I was, afraid he’d notice me before he did whatever he came to do. When I peeked out, sure I’d see him partway down the hall, he was gone. I blinked. He had vanished. Where was he?

Slipping out of my hiding place, I heard the rumble of his voice and the softer murmur of a woman’s voice. I couldn’t make out their words, and I couldn’t tell who the other voice belonged to. Tiptoeing forward, I hoped none of the boards would squeak and give me away. His voice, the louder of the two, was distinct enough that I was certain he was speaking English, but I still couldn’t make out the words. He had to be close by, but the morning room and the library were both empty and I knew he couldn’t have gone past me to use the back stairs.

I reached the front hall, still on my tiptoes. No sign of Ivanov, and I could no longer hear the sound of his voice. Where had he gone? I quickly peered down the other hallways and started up the steps when the duchess came down toward me.

“Where is he?” She sounded as imperious as Blackford. A skill they both must have learned in the nursery.

I looked around as if I expected him to suddenly appear. “I don’t know. He came in the back door past me and down that hall, but then I lost him.”

“Good Lord. He could be anywhere. Kendrick, look upstairs. Check the nursery, check with Princess Kira.” The butler mounted the stairs at a rapid pace.

“Come with me.” A young, dark-haired footman hurried to obey the duchess’s command and I trailed behind as we opened one door after another on the main floor.

Ivanov was nowhere to be found.

“Sally.” The black-eyed maid hurried toward her mistress. “Run out to the carriage house and ask any of the men out there to come here quickly. We’ll search the whole house from cellar to attic until we find him.”

The maid turned and hurried toward the back door, when a young man half-dressed in a footman’s uniform raced in. “You’ll never guess who just walked out of here and into the carriage house.” Then he looked past Sally and saw the duchess. “Your Grace.” His bow was as sloppy as his apparel.

“Ivanov.” The duchess gazed at him as he nervously tucked in his shirttails. “I’m glad you came in to tell us. We were about to start searching for him. Which way did he go?”

“Coachman stepped in to stop him, but Ivanov punched him. Knocked the wind right out of him. The Russian kept marching into the alley and then headed south.”

“Was he carrying anything?” I asked.

“Not that I saw, ma’am.”

“He didn’t appear to carry anything in, either,” I told the duchess.

“So why did he come back?” she asked, her eyes widening. “If you hadn’t seen him and warned the household, what would he have done?”

A crash echoed inside the walls. I looked around in surprise, expecting the roof to cave in at any moment. The duchess scowled and the servants froze. After what felt like an eternity but was probably thirty seconds, footsteps could be heard pounding toward us. There was no one in sight.

The wall across from the morning room swung out into the hall and nearly hit me. I gasped and leaped backward. Kendrick, the butler, stepped ungracefully into the hall and said, “We have a problem, Your Grace.”

Peeking around the section of wall, I could see a dark bundle of clothes. And a hand.