Page 28 of The Storybook Hero
The girl remained silent for several moments, then asked in a tentative voice, “What will happen to us?”
Octavia had no idea. But she wasn’t eager to find out. Though she had no firsthand experience with the ravages of war, she had read enough of both past and present conflicts to know that there would be terrible destruction and chaos if the enemy forces marched into Moscow. Perhaps it would be possible to take refuge at the embassy, but as England was also at war with the French, it seemed likely that would offer little real protection.
Emma was still looking at her, eyes clouded with apprehension.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted frankly. “However I think it best to be prepared for any emergency. I would like you to pack a small bag and have your warmest garments ready in case we must leave in a hurry. Can you do that, Emma, while I make some inquires downstairs?”
A slight smile came to the girl’s lips. “I’ll not throw a fit a vapors, if that is what you mean.”
“Good girl.”
Octavia hurried toward the kitchen. The Russian cook had taken a liking to her on account of her interest in learning the language. As he spoke some English as well, they had enjoyed a number of pleasant conversations over a steaming cup of tea.With friends and family in the city, surely he would have some idea of what was going on.
Her hand flew to her throat as she regarded an empty room, pots in disarray, the stove nearly cold. “Mr. Shishkov?” she ventured.
A grunt came from the pantry. He emerged a moment later, dragging a sack filled with turnips and onions. He added it to a growing pile of staples near the scullery door, then turned and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Is the news that dire?” she asked.
“Miss Hadley, rumors are swirling everywhere, but from the best I can make out, our troops have suffered a grievous defeat at the village of Borodino. If that is true, the French may enter the city in a day’s time, if not sooner.”
She went very pale.
“Already there are fires breaking out in parts of the city, whether by chance or by Count Rostopchin’s orders, I don’t know, but it’s a very dangerous situation. Already there was a near riot at the market near the Kremlin when bread ran out. If I were you, I would not stay here in Moscow.”
Her jaw tightened. “Where might one have a chance of catching a coach for the north?”
The cook’s face betrayed his surprise. “The master has made no provisions for you and the little one to leave?”
She shook her head.
He muttered something in Russian she didn’t understand, which was probably just as well. “I suppose it should not surprise me. He and his lady are as cold as our Siberian steppes.” He hesitated as he placed several sharp cooking knives on top of the other items he had gathered. “My son will come around with our wagon in an hour. We are leaving the city to stay with my wife’s family in Gzhatsk. If you wish, you may travel with us fora way. It will be easier to find transportation to St. Petersburg once you are away from Moscow.”
Octavia took only a second to make her decision. “That is most kind of you. Emma and I will be ready.”
There was little time to lose. Her first stop was Mr. Renfrew’s study. Heading immediately to his desk, she began a careful search of the drawers. On finding one of them locked, she grabbed up the heavy iron poker by the fireplace and, without hesitation, smashed the brass fixture. As she had hoped, there was a leather purse hidden under a sheaf of documents. It was not quite as heavy as she might have wished, but at least the coins were all gold Imperials.
Tucking it into one of her pockets, Octavia continued to go through the rest of the contents, in case there was anything else that might be useful. She came across a wooden case at the very bottom of the drawer. Inside it was a pistol, along with a supply of powder and bullets. She relatched the case and tucked it under her arm. After a quick look in the rest of the compartments, which turned up a small brass compass as the only other item of interest, she hurried back up to her own room to collect a few extra garments and personal things.
Emma was seated on the edge of her bed, a small valise at her feet. Her face looked serious, but Octavia was glad to note there was no trace of panic.
“Mr. Shishkov has offered to take us out of Moscow, to a place where we might more easily catch a coach to St. Petersburg. But we must leave immediately.” Octavia crouched down so her eyes were level with those of the girl. “I think it the best decision, Emma. I don’t think we can trust that the Renfrews will give a thought to our being trapped here.”
Emma’s lips curled slightly at Octavia’s frank assessment. “I imagine you are right.”
“It may be a difficult journey, and mayhap even frightening or dangerous at times, but I truly believe it is our only choice.”
“If you think it is right decision, Miss Hadley, then you may count on me to do as you say.” The girl’s eyes took on a decided gleam. “Why, it sounds like we are embarking on some adventure just like out of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels. All we need is a tall, handsome hero to come to our assistance.”
Octavia was secretly relieved that the girl was excited rather than terrified at the idea of setting off alone and unprotected into a strange country. However, she sought to put a damper on such fanciful notions.
“Pray, do not count on that, Emma. Real life is rarely as romantic as the tales in those horrid novels.” A wry smile. “I’m afraid that I’m all you’ve got.”
Seven
The wagon was piled so high with furniture and household goods that there was scarcely room for Octavia and Emma to squeeze in. Shiskov’s wife made no comment at the sight of the two foreigners, but the slight narrowing of her eyes as they climbed aboard betrayed what she thought of the additional burden. The son helped his father load the foodstuffs into the back, then went to take up the reins. With an apologetic shrug, Shiskov handed them their meager luggage before joining his family on the high planked seat.
Despite being wedged between a painted chest and several chairs, Octavia felt nothing but relief as the wheels started to roll. She shifted a large sack of grain to serve as a seat and arranged several blankets to create a passably comfortable nook for Emma and herself. Then draping her arm around the girl’s shoulders, Octavia gave a squeeze and flashed a reassuring smile, which was returned without hesitation.
