The Russian White, page 9
The cart jolted and swayed and a strong smell of manure wafted over them in waves. Gregor took a drink from his leather skin and passed it to her.
Isobel poured water into her hand and splashed her face. Refreshed, she shut her eyes and let the wind dry her skin. “I’m so pleased you’re with me Gregor. The thought of running back to London by myself frightened me.”
“It is lucky we meet.”
“I know.”
She studied his scarred cheek. The cut was deep and broad and the new skin had grown into a lumpy ridge. Had the wound pierced his cheek? How had it happened? She wanted to ask, but she sensed Gregor’s reticence or an unwillingness to talk about it, which she didn’t want to provoke. She wasn’t frightened of him anymore, but he was guarded, which suggested secrecy, and that made her wary.
Gregor suddenly asked; “Where James?”
Isobel remembered her promise from the night before, but caution tempered her reply. She wanted to know more about him first. “In London.”
“You tell me that, but where you do not say.”
“I think he is a prisoner.”
“In prison?”
“But I’m not certain.”
She couldn’t remember James ever speaking about a Russian named Gregor. She needed clarification of Gregor’s story about coming to rescue her, and until then she would treat him with caution.
“Some people, you know, don’t like the work he does with The Classical Beauties. It offends them. That’s why he’s always on the move, but this time I think the authorities caught up with him in London.” She spoke with airy unconcern, concealing her real worry for his welfare.
“Prison is bad.”
“That’s why I have to get back to London to get him out.”
Gregor’s mouth twisted into strange shapes, as if tasting the right words to ask the next question. “Is it-your brother-does this to him?”
“Yes. He caught us together. He brought me back here, and threw James into prison.”
“He does not like that you are together?”
“Not one little bit. I’m a lady, or so everyone keeps telling me, and James is an actor. Our paths should never have crossed. When William brought me back to Parklands he put drugs in my food to keep me quiet.”
Gregor whistled. “It is bad to have so much hate.”
The kindness in his voice surprised her. Tears welled, and she squeezed her eyes to stop them falling. She cleared her throat and hoped that her voice didn’t crack. “Did you meet James in Europe?”
“Yes. We meet France.”
“With The Classical Beauties?” she persisted.
“Yes.”
“So-you’ve been in England a long time?”
“Many months-yes.”
“And you meet with James in London too?”
“Many times-yes.”
She couldn’t ask the next most immediate question. The chances were that Gregor had seen her perform. She gazed into the wide expanse of open land. The eastern sky had filled with thick grey clouds, and the sunlight dimmed to a milky haze.
“It’s strange.” She took a deep breath, she had to know. “That we haven’t met before.”
The cart jolted sideways and she grabbed the edge of the tailboard to stop herself from falling. Gregor gripped her shoulders and steadied her.
“Thank you.”
“You must not have any more hurt.” Her balance restored, he released his grip. “You want water?”
“Thank you.”
She took the skin, and drank. The warm water tasted stale, with a lingering aftertaste of leather.
The fields and hedgerows slid past. Sheep grazed on a hillside. Isobel squinted into the distance. No sign of any pursuers, she couldn’t believe her luck. They had got away. She handed the skin back to Gregor. “What were you going to do?”
“Sorry-I have-no meaning.”
“I mean, you were hiding in that den, in the forest, and then-what? Break into Parklands to rescue me?”
“I am thinking that.”
“But the House is enormous. You wouldn’t have known where to look.”
“I guess. I know House.”
“You had a plan?” He looked blank. “I mean a map? Of the House?”
He clicked his fingers and smiled, and his scarred cheek bunched into a fleshy mass. “No map. I work at House in summer. I know how it is made.”
She frowned, had she heard right? “You worked there?”
“Yes, with my brother.”
“William gave you work?”
“No, foreman, Mister Jennings. Wants help in summer. Lots of work.”
This was hard to believe. “And didn’t he mind that you were Russian?”
“He not know.”
“But he must have heard you accent.”
“I not speak. My speaking bad. My brother, speaking good. I-no speaking.”
She found this explanation incredible. “And is your brother still at Parklands?”
“We leave.”
“Why?”
“No work, say Mister Jennnings.”
It sounded extraordinary; two Russians working right under William’s nose. Did Gregor and his brother know that the Russian White was at Parklands? Had William become suspicious and moved it to London? It would explain how she had found it in his study. But then she remembered The Brotherhood’s rule that it should never leave London. It seemed strange that William had it at Parklands already. Her mouth went dry as she asked the next question.
“Were you looking-for the Russian White?” She stared straight ahead and waited for his reply. Perhaps he hadn’t heard. “Were you..”
“Yes.”
“I knew it.” She grabbed his shoulders and hugged him, and her sudden burst of affection surprised him into muttered embarrassment. She didn’t care. Now she knew she could trust him. “You were lucky not to be caught. William’s searching for Russian spies more than ever at the moment. Well not just him, The Brotherhood too. Have you heard of them?”
“Yes.”
“I found the diamond in William’s study in our house in Regents Park. I found it.” She laughed at the unlikely occurrence. “All that time and it was right under my nose; of course I would never have known about it if I hadn’t met James. He made me see how wrong it was that something as precious as the diamond was being denied the people who need it most. That it was right that devout Russians should have it back. After all, the founding stone of the Russian Orthodox Church, consecrated at the birth of the Russian Nation, of course it should be in Russia, not in the hands of a bunch of aristocrats in London.” She squeezed his arm with excitement. “I couldn’t believe it.”
Then her excitement dulled as she remembered what happened next. “But it was a trick. William was onto me. He found out about The Classical Beauties and caught me. He caught James too. He threw us into Bedlam, Gregor, the mad house.” She hugged his arm, seeking reassurance.
“That place-evil. But James not mad.”
“DoctorHood works there. He’s one of The Brotherhood. He uses the hospital to torture prisoners.”
“You know this?”
“I heard him say it. That’s why I have to get back to London, to rescue James-and Peter too.”
“Peter?”
“Pietor. Pietor Vishny? Do you know him?”
“Only name.”
“He came to London with the troupe. He was waiting to-move on.”
Her stomach tightened. What had happened to James and Peter? How many weeks had they been in Bedlam? Everything had gone wrong and it was all her fault, and she covered her face and burst into tears. “Oh Gregor, we were caught because of me, because I’m William’s sister.”
How many times had she told herself that everything would be all right? That she would find James safe and well? That somehow, they would escape together from this terrible mess? This was the first time she had spoken her thoughts aloud, and they sounded hollow. The happiness, nurtured deep inside her, evaporated, and in its place trickled the dread of deep uncertainty.
Through her sobs she heard Gregor speaking softly. “You cannot take blame. The Russian White makes people do bad.”
“I had it Gregor.” She showed him her open palm, as if that might prove her honesty.
The farmer’s voice boomed out a loud greeting, which made them jump. A young boy passed the cart herding a flock of honking geese. Ahead, built on a rise of land, stood a village made of stone cottages, all huddled around a squat Norman church. Barrows and stalls lined the track, and village folk bustled from one to another. The air hummed with vendor’s shouts.
“It must be Market Day.” She sniffed, and wiped away her tears.
They trundled past a stall covered with cheeses, and the foetid smell replaced the sharp tang of damp manure. Vegetables spilled over the sides of barrows and boxes. A butcher beheaded a chicken.
Ducks quacked in a make-shift pen made of willow, and a herd of pink pigs burrowed in the dirt for food, and caked their noses in mud.
The cart jolted to a sudden stop. Gregor jumped to the ground, and reached up to help her down.
The grinning farmer pointed to a low-roofed building next to the Church. Above the door hung a wooden sign which read; “The Rising Sun.” Underneath the lettering, a picture, painted in gaudy colours, of a young lady sitting up in bed and stretching after a good nights’ sleep. A cockerel perched on her window sill; its head thrown back, as if crowing at the bright yellow sun rising above the orange horizon.
The farmer jerked his thumb towards the Inn and mimed going to sleep. He pointed at Isobel, and mimed going to sleep again.
Isobel pretended not to understand and waved back. She clasped hold of Gregor’s arm and whispered; “Time to move on I think.” Then she called back; “Thank you so much for the ride.”
The farmer scratched his beard, and grinned.
Chapter Twenty
The Brotherhood sat in silence in the upstairs room of the Socrates Club in Pall Mall.
William waited for their reaction. He had told them everything. They all knew about Isobel, The Classical Beauties, and James Turney.
He felt relieved that it was over. One less anxiety, but he had risked a lot by being so forthcoming. The Brotherhood’s Constitution insisted on absolute openness in dealings with the Russian White, and his actions were a betrayal of that trust.
Doctor Hood already knew the details, of course, and he hoped for his support. Buffrey could be persuaded to follow whichever argument seemed the strongest, but The Chief’s response depended on his mood, and this evening his mood was mercurial, his mind preoccupied with the imminent outbreak of war.
William feigned indifference to the silence, and glanced up at the diamond glittering on the mantelpiece. The reflected firelight played across its surface in shades of fluttering red. Well, he mused, if it could speak, now would be its chance.
The Chief’s face had frozen into one of amazement, but it was he who broke the silence first. “Well William. This is-unbelievable.”
“Unbelievable that your sister is a part of all this,” agreed Buffrey.
William maintained his demeanour of cool detachment. “Understand Chief that I had to be sure of Isobel’s involvement before presenting my findings to you.” His voice echoed round the room, and he hoped that its volume covered his unease.
“Our family has endured much scandal in recent months and if these events became known, before my investigations were complete, the newspapers would have a field day.”
“That’s true,” Buffrey nodded. “William’s sister taking her clothes off in public, for money. Imagine!”
“I understand your concerns.” The Chief’s hard gaze fixed on the carpet. His furrowed brow lined his face in dark shadow. “But you have made a mockery of us all and everything that The Brotherhood stands for.”
William had expected his sense of shock, but now he had to gauge and temper The Chief’s rising anger.
“There are four of us,” The Chief growled. “Just four of us William, sworn to keep the Russian White secret and safe.” His head snapped up, his glare sharp and fixed. “How dare you undertake a course of action that might jeopardise its safety.”
“I thought you said that the Russian White was of no importance anymore.” Hood rested his head on one languid hand.
“Don’t be stupid,” The Chief retorted. “And don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t be saying.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m just reminding you of your earlier statement. You said, it has no importance in Russian politics now, and all the Church wants it for is the money.”
The Chief punched his fist into his open palm. “It has symbolic power. Its return to Russia has the potential to ignite civil war between the Church and the State, with possibly cataclysmic results for all of Europe and The Empire.”
“Most Orthodox Russians have forgotten that the Russian White even exists,” Hood drawled.
“How do you know that?”
“Well if you hadn’t set eyes on something for over two centuries, wouldn’t you forget about it?”
Buffrey squirmed, and his chair squeaked. “But Hood, you said that if the Russian Church got it back, they would use it to stoke up religious fervour to overthrow the Tsar. I remember you saying it.”
“Quite right Buffrey, so I did, how observant. Pity The Chief wasn’t listening at the time, he thought it irrelevant, though perhaps he’s changed his mind now?”
The Chief clasped his hands behind his back. “I didn’t know what William was about to tell us then, did I?”
Hood smirked. “True. I suppose that does put the situation into a wider perspective.”
“Meaning?”
Hood rose nimbly out of his chair and crossed to the fireplace. He peered at the diamond, his lips almost touching the stone. The diamond’s faceted surface reflected the tip of his nose, and repeated it over and over again.
“I have a confession to make too. Now Chief, don’t be angry, but William told me about his sister several weeks ago. In fact I helped him catch her. He needed somewhere secure and my Hospital was the obvious choice. I was happy to oblige. All in the service of the Russian White you understand. In fact James and his Russian friend are still in St. Bethlehem’s.”
William watched The Chief’s face lurch from disbelief, to astonishment, to unbelieving amazement. If he fitted, would Hood be able to revive him? Buffrey too, had the surprised look of a shocked trout.
“Two little conspirators.” Menace sharpened The Chief’s reaction. “I might have guessed.”
Hood blew on the diamond and clouded its surface. “It’s out in the open now.”
“I can always rely on you to be a knife in the dark.”
The Chief’s humour rarely revelled in sarcasm. William spoke swiftly to diffuse the tension.
“I asked him to help me. It was a deliberate flouting of The Brotherhood’s rules, I admit that, but I didn’t want to drag all of you into something that might easily be resolved within my family.”
The Chief roared. “So make The Brotherhood redundant will you? Two centuries of carefully constructed subterfuge dismissed with a flick of the fingers.”
William took a deep quiet breath. If he could twist his story enough, he might just appease him. “All I will say in my defence is that my situation was delicate. My investigations needed stealth and secrecy.”
“But that is the very reason why The Brotherhood exists,” The Chief boomed. “The whole purpose of it is to be devious and misleading.”
William acknowledged this fact with a slow deferential bow. He refused to be scared, and continued in his quiet deliberate way.
“I thought it unnecessary to burden The Brotherhood with knowledge which might in the end turn out to be inaccurate.” He traced the toe of his boot around the carpet’s swirling pattern. “And unimportant.”
“Exactly Chief.” Doctor Hood spun round and faced the room. “Keeping the Russian White safe was our most important consideration. And it is safe, as you can see. But remember Chief, you said at our last meeting that the Russians were bolder, unwilling to talk under questioning. Now we know why. It was because of William’s sister. Her involvement has opened the door to the English aristocracy which the Russians have never been able to infiltrate before, and with new leads they’ve started picking up the scent. Of course they’re not going to divulge any new knowledge, because they’re closing in on the diamond, and if William hadn’t set a trap to catch his sister, well, there is every reason to believe that they would have got it.”
Buffrey’s chair squeaked as he shifted his bulky figure. “They are closer than we think.”
William grasped the opportunity of deflecting The Chief’s anger by acknowledging his own show of anger and outrage. “I feel sick and disgusted with her.”
“But she escaped from Parklands.” The Chief’s face resembled carved granite.
“Yes, dam her.” He leapt up, grasped the fire tongs and stoked the dying fire. This was his chance to load all the blame onto Isobel. “I locked the room. I had the one and only key, but she still managed to get out. My guess is that she will head for London and try to reach James.”
“Then leave him with me,” sneered Hood. “Let her come to Bedlam, I’ll catch her.”
“I want to talk to this James.” The Chief joined him by the fire.
“He’s tough. He’s not co-operating,” Hood replied.
“Did he target you sister deliberately William?” asked The Chief. “Did he know where the diamond was already?”
“She met him in France, she said.” He stoked harder, encouraging the flames into life. “By chance, I think, but I can’t be certain.”
“The increase in Russian activity is because of her involvement,” Hood repeated. “I’m sure of it.”
“It’s tantamount to treason,” shouted Buffrey. “She should hang-oh, sorry William.”
“And look at this Russian business,” Hood continued. “The Tsar flexing his military might against the East..”
“The sick man of Europe,” Buffrey interrupted. “That’s what the papers are calling Turkey. It’s getting terribly hot in here William.”
